XIX
The Count de Tremorel did not anticipate that the respite which Berthabegged would last long. Sauvresy had seemed better during the last week.He got up every day, and commenced to go about the house; he evenreceived numerous visits from the neighbors; without apparent fatigue.But alas, the master of Valfeuillu was only the shadow of himself. Hisfriends would never have recognized in that emaciated form and whiteface, and burning, haggard eye, the robust young man with red lips andbeaming visage whom they remembered. He had suffered so! He did not wishto die before avenging himself on the wretches who had filched hishappiness and his life. But what punishment should he inflict? Thisfixed idea burning in his brain, gave his look a fiery eagerness.Ordinarily, there are three modes in which a betrayed husband may avengehimself. He has the right, and it is almost a duty--to deliver theguilty ones up to the law, which is on his side. He may adroitly watchthem, surprise them and kill them. There is a law which does notabsolve, but excuses him, in this. Lastly, he may affect a stolidindifference, laugh the first and loudest at his misfortune, drive hiswife from his roof, and leave her to starve. But what poor, wretchedmethods of vengeance. Give up his wife to the law? Would not that be tooffer his name, honor, and life to public ridicule? To put himself atthe mercy of a lawyer, who would drag him through the mire. They do notdefend the erring wife, they attack her husband. And what satisfactionwould he get? Bertha and Tremorel would be condemned to a year'simprisonment, perhaps eighteen months, possibly two years. It seemed tohim simpler to kill them. He might go in, fire a revolver at them, andthey would not have time to comprehend it, for their agony would be butfor a moment; and then? Then, he must become a prisoner, submit to atrial, invoke the judge's mercy, and risk conviction. As to turning hiswife out of doors, that was to hand her over quietly to Hector. Heimagined them leaving Valfeuillu, hand in hand, happy and smiling, andlaughing in his face. At this thought he had a fit of cold rage; hisself-esteem adding the sharpest pains to the wounds in his heart. Noneof these vulgar methods could satisfy him. He longed for some revengeunheard-of, strange, monstrous, as his tortures were. Then he thought ofall the horrible tales he had read, seeking one to his purpose; he had aright to be particular, and he was determined to wait until he wassatisfied. There was only one thing that could balk hisprogress--Jenny's letter. What had become of it? Had he lost it in thewoods? He had looked for it everywhere, and could not find it.
He accustomed himself, however, to feign, finding a sort of fiercepleasure in the constraint. He learned to assume a countenance whichcompletely hid his thoughts. He submitted to his wife's caresses withoutan apparent shudder; and shook Hector by the hand as heartily as ever.In the evening, when they were gathered about the drawing-room table, hewas the gayest of the three. He built a hundred air-castles, pictured ahundred pleasure-parties, when he was able to go abroad again. Hectorrejoiced at his returning health.
"Clement is getting on finely," said he to Bertha, one evening.
She understood only too well what he meant.
"Always thinking of Laurence?"
"Did you not permit me to hope?"
"I asked you to wait, Hector, and you have done well not to be in ahurry. I know a young girl who would bring you, not one, but threemillions as dowry."
This was a painful surprise. He really had no thoughts for anyone butLaurence, and now a new obstacle presented itself.
"And who is that?"
She leaned over, and whispered tremblingly in his ear:
"I am Clement's sole heiress; perhaps he'll die; I might be a widowto-morrow."
Hector was petrified.
"But Sauvresy, thank God! is getting well fast."
Bertha fixed her large, clear eyes upon him, and with frightful calmnesssaid:
"What do you know about it?"
Tremorel dared not ask what these strange words meant. He was one ofthose men who shun explanations, and who, rather than put themselves ontheir guard in time, permit themselves to be drawn on by circumstances;soft and feeble beings, who deliberately bandage their eyes so as not tosee the danger which threatens them, and who prefer the sloth of doubt,and acts of uncertainty to a definite and open position, which they havenot the courage to face.
Besides, Hector experienced a childish satisfaction in seeing Bertha'sdistress, though he feared and detested her. He conceived a greatopinion of his own value and merit, when he saw the persistency anddesperation with which she insisted on keeping her hold on him.
"Poor woman!" thought he. "In her grief at losing me, and seeing meanother's, she has begun to wish for her husband's death!"
Such was the torpor of his moral sense that he did not see the vilenessof Bertha's and his own thoughts.
Meanwhile Sauvresy's state was not reassuring for Hector's hopes andplans. On the very day when he had this conversation with Bertha, herhusband was forced to take to his bed again. This relapse took placeafter he had drank a glass of quinine and water, which he had beenaccustomed to take just before supper; only, this time, the symptomschanged entirely, as if one malady had yielded to another of a verydifferent kind. He complained of a pricking in his skin, of vertigo, ofconvulsive twitches which contracted and twisted his limbs, especiallyhis arms. He cried out with excruciating neuralgic pains in the face. Hewas seized with a violent, persistent, tenacious craving for pepper,which nothing could assuage. He was sleepless, and morphine in largedoses failed to bring him slumber; while he felt an intense chill withinhim, as if the body's temperature were gradually diminishing. Deliriumhad completely disappeared, and the sick man retained perfectly theclearness of his mind. Sauvresy bore up wonderfully under his pains, andseemed to take a new interest in the business of his estates. He wasconstantly in consultation with bailiffs and agents, and shut himself upfor days together with notaries and attorneys. Then, saying that he musthave distractions, he received all his friends, and when no one called,he sent for some acquaintance to come and chat with him in order toforget his illness. He gave no hint of what he was doing and thinking,and Bertha was devoured by anxiety. She often watched for her husband'sagent, when, after a conference of several hours, he came out of hisroom; and making herself as sweet and fascinating as possible, she usedall her cunning to find out something which would enlighten her as towhat he was about. But no one could, or at least would, satisfy hercuriosity; all gave evasive replies, as if Sauvresy had cautioned them,or as if there were nothing to tell.
No complaints were heard from Sauvresy. He talked constantly of Berthaand Hector; he wished all the world to know their devotion to him; hecalled them his "guardian angels," and blessed Heaven that had given himsuch a wife and such a friend. Sauvresy's illness now became so seriousthat Tremorel began to despair; he became alarmed; what position wouldhis friend's death leave him in? Bertha, having become a widow, would beimplacable. He resolved to find out her inmost thoughts at the firstopportunity; she anticipated him, and saved him the trouble of broachingthe subject. One afternoon, when they were alone, M. Plantat being inattendance at the sick man's bedside, Bertha commenced.
"I want some advice, Hector, and you alone can give it to me. How can Ifind out whether Clement, within the past day or two, has not changedhis will in regard to me?"
"His will?"
"Yes, I've already told you that by a will of which I myself have acopy, Sauvresy has left me his whole fortune. I fear that he may perhapsrevoke it."
"What an idea!"
"Ah, I have reasons for my apprehensions. What are all these agents andattorneys doing at Valfeuillu? A stroke of this man's pen may ruin me.Don't you see that he can deprive me of his millions, and reduce me tomy dowry of fifty thousand francs?"
"But he will not do it; he loves you--"
"Are you sure of it? I've told you, there are three millions; I musthave this fortune--not for myself, but for you; I want it, I must haveit! But how can I find out--how? how?"
Hector was very indignant. It was to this end, then, that his delays hadconducted him! She thought that
she had a right now to dispose of him inspite of himself, and, as it were, to purchase him. And he could not,dared not, say anything!
"We must be patient," said he, "and wait--"
"Wait--for what? Till he's dead?"
"Don't speak so."
"Why not?" Bertha went up to him, and in a low voice, muttered:
"He has only a week to live; and see here--"
She drew a little vial from her pocket, and held it up to him.
"That is what convinces me that I am not mistaken."
Hector became livid, and could not stifle a cry of horror. Hecomprehended all now--he saw how it was that Bertha had been so easilysubdued, why she had refrained from speaking of Laurence, her strangewords, her calm confidence.
"Poison!" stammered he, confounded.
"Yes, poison."
"You have not used it?"
She fixed a hard, stern look upon him--the look which had subdued hiswill, against which he had struggled in vain--and in a calm voice,emphasizing each word, answered:
"I have used it."
The count was, indeed, a dangerous man, unscrupulous, not recoiling fromany wickedness when his passions were to be indulged, capable ofeverything; but this horrible crime awoke in him all that remained ofhonest energy.
"Well," he cried, in disgust, "you will not use it again!"
He hastened toward the door, shuddering; she stopped him.
"Reflect before you act," said she, coldly. "I will betray the fact ofyour relations with me; who will then believe that you are not myaccomplice?"
He saw the force of this terrible menace, coming from Bertha.
"Come," said she, ironically, "speak--betray me if you choose. Whateverhappens, for happiness or misery, we shall no longer be separated; ourdestinies will be the same."
Hector fell heavily into a chair, more overwhelmed than if he had beenstruck with a hammer. He held his bursting forehead between his hands;he saw himself shut up in an infernal circle, without outlet.
"I am lost!" he stammered, without knowing what he said, "I am lost!"
He was to be pitied; his face was terribly haggard, great drops ofperspiration stood at the roots of his hair, his eyes wandered as if hewere insane. Bertha shook him rudely by the arm, for his cowardiceexasperated her.
"You are afraid," she said. "You are trembling! Lost? You would not sayso, if you loved me as I do you. Will you be lost because I am to beyour wife, because we shall be free to love in the face of all theworld? Lost! Then you have no idea of what I have endured? You don'tknow, then, that I am tired of suffering, fearing, feigning."
"Such a crime!"
She burst out with a laugh that made him shudder.
"You ought to have said so," said she, with a look full of contempt,"the day you won me from Sauvresy--the day that you stole the wife ofthis friend who saved your life. Do you think that was a less horridcrime? You knew as well as I did how much my husband loved me, and thathe would have preferred to die, rather than lose me thus."
"But he knows nothing, suspects nothing of it."
"You are mistaken; Sauvresy knows all."
"Impossible!"
"All, I tell you--and he has known all since that day when he came homeso late from hunting. Don't you remember that I noticed his strangelook, and said to you that my husband suspected something? You shruggedyour shoulders. Do you forget the steps in the vestibule the night Iwent to your room? He had been spying on us. Well, do you want a morecertain proof? Look at this letter, which I found, crumpled up and wet,in one of his vest pockets."
She showed him the letter which Sauvresy had forcibly taken from Jenny,and he recognized it well.
"It is a fatality," said he, overwhelmed. "But we can separate and breakoff with each other. Bertha, I can go away."
"It's too late. Believe me, Hector, we are to-day defending our lives.Ah, you don't know Clement! You don't know what the fury of a man likehim can be, when he sees that his confidence has been outrageouslyabused, and his trust vilely betrayed. If he has said nothing to me, andhas not let us see any traces of his implacable anger, it is because heis meditating some frightful vengeance."
This was only too probable, and Hector saw it clearly.
"What shall we do?" he asked, in a hoarse voice; he was almostspeechless.
"Find out what change he has made in his will."
"But how?"
"I don't know yet. I came to ask your advice, and I find you morecowardly than a woman. Let me act, then; don't do anything yourself; Iwill do all."
He essayed an objection.
"Enough," said she. "He must not ruin us after all--I will see--I willthink."
Someone below called her. She went down, leaving Hector overcome withdespair.
That evening, during which Bertha seemed happy and smiling, his facefinally betrayed so distinctly the traces of his anguish, that Sauvresytenderly asked him if he were not ill?
"You exhaust yourself tending on me, my good Hector," said he. "How canI ever repay your devotion?"
Tremorel had not the strength to reply.
"And that man knows all," thought he. "What courage! What fate can he bereserving for us?"
The scene which was passing before Hector's eyes made his flesh creep.Every time that Bertha gave her husband his medicine, she took ahair-pin from her tresses, and plunged it into the little vial which shehad shown him, taking up thus some small, white grains, which shedissolved in the potions prescribed by the doctor.
It might be supposed that Tremorel, enslaved by his horrid position, andharassed by increasing terror, would renounce forever his proposedmarriage with Laurence. Not so. He clung to that project moredesperately than ever. Bertha's threats, the great obstacles nowintervening, his anguish, crime, only augmented the violence of his lovefor her, and fed the flame of his ambition to secure her as his wife. Asmall and flickering ray of hope which lighted the darkness of hisdespair, consoled and revived him, and made the present more easy tobear. He said to himself that Bertha could not be thinking of marryinghim the day after her husband's death. Months, a whole year must pass,and thus he would gain time; then some day he would declare his will.What would she have to say? Would she divulge the crime, and try to holdhim as her accomplice? Who would believe her? How could she prove thathe, who loved and had married another woman, had any interest inSauvresy's death? People don't kill their friends for the mere pleasureof it. Would she provoke the law to exhume her husband? She was now in aposition, thought he, wherein she could, or would not exercise herreason. Later on, she would reflect, and then she would be arrested bythe probability of those dangers, the certainty of which did not nowterrify her.
He did not wish that she should ever be his wife at any price. He wouldhave detested her had she possessed millions; he hated her now that shewas poor, ruined, reduced to her own narrow means. And that she was so,there was no doubt, Sauvresy indeed knew all. He was content to wait; heknew that Laurence loved him enough to wait for him one, or three years,if necessary. He already had such absolute power over her, that she didnot try to combat the thoughts of him, which gently forced themselves onher, penetrated to her soul, and filled her mind and heart. Hector saidto himself that in the interest of his designs, perhaps it was well thatBertha was acting as she did. He forced himself to stifle his consciencein trying to prove that he was not guilty. Who thought of this crime?Bertha. Who was executing it? She alone. He could only be reproachedwith moral complicity in it, a complicity involuntary, forced upon him,imposed somehow by the care for his own life. Sometimes, however, abitter remorse seized him. He could have understood a sudden, violent,rapid murder; could have explained to himself a knife-stroke; but thisslow death, given drop by drop, horribly sweetened by tenderness, veiledunder kisses, appeared to him unspeakably hideous. He was mortallyafraid of Bertha, as of a reptile, and when she embraced him heshuddered from head to foot.
She was so calm, so engaging, so natural; her voice had the same softand caressing tones, that he could
not forget it. She plunged herhair-pin into the fatal vial without ceasing her conversation, and hedid not surprise her in any shrinking or shuddering, nor even atrembling of the eyelids. She must have been made of brass. Yet hethought that she was not cautious enough; and that she put herself indanger of discovery; and he told her of these fears, and how she madehim tremble every moment.
"Have confidence in me," she answered. "I want to succeed--I amprudent."
"But you may be suspected."
"By whom?"
"Eh! How do I know? Everyone--the servants, the doctor."
"No danger. And suppose they did suspect?"
"They would make examinations, Bertha; they would make a minutescrutiny."
She gave a smile of the most perfect security.
"They might examine and experiment as much as they pleased, they wouldfind nothing. Do you think I am such a fool as to use arsenic?"
"For Heaven's sake, hush!"
"I have procured one of those poisons which are as yet unknown, andwhich defy all analysis; one of which many doctors--and learned ones,too--could not even tell the symptoms!"
"But where did you get this--this--"
He dared not say, "poison."
"Who gave you that?" resumed he.
"What matters it? I have taken care that he who gave it to me should runthe same danger as myself, and he knows it. There's nothing to fear fromthat quarter. I've paid him enough to smother all his regrets."
An objection came to his lips; he wanted to say, "It's too slow;" but hehad not the courage, though she read his thought in his eyes.
"It is slow, because that suits me," said she. "Before all, I must knowabout the will--and that I am trying to find out."
She occupied herself constantly about this will, and during the longhours that she passed at Sauvresy's bedside, she gradually, with thegreatest craft and delicacy, led her husband's mind in the direction ofhis last testament, with such success that he himself mentioned thesubject which so absorbed Bertha.
He said that he did not comprehend why people did not always have theirworldly affairs in order, and their wishes fully written down, in caseof accident. What difference did it make whether one were ill or well?At these words Bertha attempted to stop him. Such ideas, she said,pained her too much. She even shed real tears, which fell down hercheeks and made her more beautiful and irresistible than before; realtears which moistened her handkerchief.
"You dear silly creature," said Sauvresy, "do you think that makes onedie?"
"No; but I do not wish it."
"But, dear, have we been any the less happy because, on the day afterour marriage, I made a will bequeathing you all my fortune? And, stop;you have a copy of it, haven't you? If you were kind, you would go andfetch it for me."
She became very red, then very pale. Why did he ask for this copy? Didhe want to tear it up? A sudden thought reassured her; people do nottear up a document which can be cancelled by a scratch of the pen onanother sheet of paper. Still, she hesitated a moment.
"I don't know where it can be."
"But I do. It is in the left-hand drawer of the glass cupboard; come,please me by getting it."
While she was gone, Sauvresy said to Hector:
"Poor girl! Poor dear Bertha! If I died, she never would survive me!"
Tremorel thought of nothing to reply; his anxiety was intense andvisible.
"And this man," thought he, "suspects something! No; it is notpossible."
Bertha returned.
"I have found it," said she.
"Give it to me."
He took the copy of his will, and read it with evident satisfaction,nodding his head at certain passages in which he referred to his lovefor his wife. When he had finished reading, he said:
"Now give me a pen and some ink."
Hector and Bertha reminded him that it would fatigue him to write; buthe insisted. The two guilty ones, seated at the foot of the bed and outof Sauvresy's sight, exchanged looks of alarm. What was he going towrite? But he speedily finished it.
"Take this," said he to Tremorel, "and read aloud what I have justadded."
Hector complied with his friend's request, with trembling voice:
"This day, being sound in mind, though much suffering, I declare that Ido not wish to change a line of this will. Never have I loved my wifemore--never have I so much desired to leave her the heiress of all Ipossess, should I die before her.
"CLEMENT SAUVRESY."
Mistress of herself as Bertha was, she succeeded in concealing theunspeakable satisfaction with which she was filled. All her wishes wereaccomplished, and yet she was able to veil her delight under an apparentsadness.
"Of what good is this?" said she, with a sigh.
She said this, but half an hour afterward, when she was alone withHector, she gave herself up to the extravagance of her delight.
"Nothing more to fear," exclaimed she. "Nothing! Now we shall haveliberty, fortune, love, pleasure, life! Why, Hector, we shall have atleast three millions; you see, I've got this will myself, and I shallkeep it. No more agents or notaries shall be admitted into this househenceforth. Now I must hasten!"
The count certainly felt a satisfaction in knowing her to be rich, forhe could much more easily get rid of a millionnaire widow than of a poorpenniless woman. Sauvresy's conduct thus calmed many sharp anxieties.Her restless gayety, however, her confident security, seemed monstrousto Hector. He would have wished for more solemnity in the execution ofthe crime; he thought that he ought at least to calm Bertha's delirium.
"You will think more than once of Sauvresy," said he, in a graver tone.
She answered with a "prrr," and added vivaciously:
"Of him? when and why? Oh, his memory will not weigh on me very heavily.I trust that we shall be able to live still at Valfeuillu, for the placepleases me; but we must also have a house at Paris--or we will buy yoursback again. What happiness, Hector!"
The mere prospect of this anticipated felicity so shocked Hector, thathis better self for the moment got the mastery; he essayed to moveBertha.
"For the last time," said he, "I implore you to renounce this terrible,dangerous project. You see that you were mistaken--that Sauvresysuspects nothing, but loves you as well as ever."
The expression of Bertha's face suddenly changed; she sat quite still,in a pensive revery.
"Don't let's talk any more of that," said she, at last. "Perhaps I wasmistaken. Perhaps he only had doubts--perhaps, although he hasdiscovered something, he hopes to win me back by his goodness. But yousee--"
She stopped. Doubtless she did not wish to alarm him.
He was already much alarmed. The next day he went off to Melun without aword; being unable to bear the sight of this agony, and fearing tobetray himself. But he left his address, and when she sent word thatSauvresy was always crying out for him, he hastily returned. Her letterwas most imprudent and absurd, and made his hair stand on end. He hadintended, on his arrival, to reproach her; but it was she who upbraidedhim.
"Why this flight?"
"I could not stay here--I suffered, trembled, felt as if I were dying."
"What a coward you are!"
He would have replied, but she put her finger on his mouth, and pointedwith her other hand to the door of the next room.
"Sh! Three doctors have been in consultation there for the past hour,and I haven't been able to hear a word of what they said. Who knows whatthey are about? I shall not be easy till they go away."
Bertha's fears were not without foundation. When Sauvresy had his lastrelapse, and complained of a severe neuralgia in the face and anirresistible craving for pepper, Dr. R--- had uttered a significantexclamation. It was nothing, perhaps--yet Bertha had heard it, and shethought she surprised a sudden suspicion on the doctor's part; and thisnow disturbed her, for she thought that it might be the subject of theconsultation. The suspicion, however, if there had ever been any,quickly vanished. The symptoms entirely changed twelve hours later, andthe next day th
e sick man felt pains quite the opposite of those whichhad previously distressed him. This very inconstancy of the distemperserved to puzzle the doctor's conclusions. Sauvresy, in these latterdays, had scarcely suffered at all, he said, and had slept well atnight; but he had, at times, strange and often distressing sensations.He was evidently failing hourly; he was dying--everyone perceived it.And now Dr. R--- asked for a consultation, the result of which had notbeen reached when Tremorel returned.
The drawing-room door at last swung open, and the calm faces of thephysicians reassured the poisoner. Their conclusions were that the casewas hopeless; everything had been tried and exhausted; no humanresources had been neglected; the only hope was in Sauvresy's strongconstitution.
Bertha, colder than marble, motionless, her eyes full of tears, seemedso full of grief on hearing this cruel decision, that all the doctorswere touched.
"Is there no hope then? Oh, my God!" cried she, in agonizing tones.
Dr. R--- hardly dared to attempt to comfort her; he answered herquestions evasively.
"We must never despair," said he, "when the invalid is of Sauvresy's ageand constitution; nature often works miracles when least expected."
The doctor, however, lost no time in taking Hector apart and begging himto prepare the poor, devoted, loving young lady for the terrible blowabout to ensue.
"For you see," added he, "I don't think Monsieur Sauvresy can live morethan two days!"
Bertha, with her ear at the keyhole, had heard the doctor's prediction;and when Hector returned from conducting the physician to the door, hefound her radiant. She rushed into his arms.
"Now" cried she, "the future truly belongs to us. Only one black pointobscured our horizon, and it has cleared away. It is for me to realizeDoctor R--- 's prediction." They dined together, as usual, in thedining-room, while one of the chambermaids remained beside the sick-bed.Bertha was full of spirits which she could scarcely control. Thecertainty of success and safety, the assurance of reaching the end, madeher imprudently gay. She spoke aloud, even in the presence of theservants, of her approaching liberty. During the evening she was morereckless than ever. If any of the servants should have a suspicion, or ashadow of one she might be discovered and lost. Hector constantly nudgedher under the table and frowned at her, to keep her quiet; he felt hisblood run cold at her conduct; all in vain. There are times when thearmor of hypocrisy becomes so burdensome that one is forced, cost whatit may, to throw it off if only for an instant.
While Hector was smoking his cigar, Bertha was more freely pursuing herdream. She was thinking that she could spend the period of her mourningat Valfeuillu, and Hector, for the sake of appearances, would hire apretty little house somewhere in the suburbs. The worst of it all wasthat she would be forced to seem to mourn for Sauvresy, as she hadpretended to love him during his lifetime. But at last a day would comewhen, without scandal, she might throw off her mourning clothes, andthen they would get married. Where? At Paris or Orcival?
Hector's thoughts ran in the same channel. He, too, wished to see hisfriend under the ground to end his own terrors, and to submit toBertha's terrible yoke.