CHAPTER XII.
"RASH WORD, RASH DEED."
After her repulse by Norbert, Diana, with the cold chill of death in herheart, made her way back to the Chateau of the De Laurebourgs, overthe same road which but a short time before she had traveled full ofexpectation and hope. The sudden appearance of the Duke de Champdocehad filled her with alarm, but her imagination was not of that kind uponwhich unpleasant impressions remain for any long period; for after shehad regained her room, and thrown aside her out-door attire, and removedall signs of mud-stains, she once more became herself, and even laugheda little rippling laugh at all her own past alarms. Overwhelmed with theshame of her repulse, she had threatened Norbert; but as she reasonedcalmly, she felt that it was not he for whom she felt the most violentanimosity. All her hatred was reserved for that woman who had comebetween her and her lover--for Marie de Puymandour. Some hidden feelingwarned her that she must look into Marie's past life for some reason forthe rupture of her engagement with Norbert, though the banns had alreadybeen published. This was the frame of mind in which Diana was when theViscount de Mussidan was introduced to her, the friend of the brotherwhose untimely death had left her such a wealthy heiress. He was talland well made, with handsomely chiseled features; and, endowed withphysical strength and health, Octave de Mussidan had the additionaladvantages of noble descent and princely fortune. Two women, bothrenowned for their wit and beauty, his aunt and his mother, had beenintrusted with the education which would but enable him to shine insociety.
Dispatched to Paris, with an ample allowance, at the age of twenty, hefound himself, thanks to his birth and connections, in the very centerof the world of fashion. At the sight of Mademoiselle de Laurebourghis heart was touched for the first time. Diana had never been morecharmingly fascinating than she was at this period. Octave de Mussidandid not suit her fancy; there was too great a difference between him andNorbert, and nothing would ever efface from her memory the recollectionof the young Marquis as he had appeared before her on the first day oftheir meeting in the Forest of Bevron, clad in his rustic garb, withthe game he had shot dangling from his hand. She delighted to feast herrecollection, and thought fondly of his shyness and diffidence whenhe hardly ventured to raise his eyes to hers. Octave, however, fell avictim at the first glance he caught of Diana, and permitted himselfto be swept away by the tide of his private emotions, which upon everyvisit that he paid to Laurebourg became more powerful and resistless.Like a true knight, who wishes that he himself should gain the love ofhis lady fair, Octave addressed himself directly to Diana, and aftermany attempts succeeded in finding himself alone with her, and then heasked her if she could permit him to crave of her father, the Marquisde Laurebourg, the honor of her hand. This appeal surprised her, forshe had been so much absorbed in her own troubles that she had noteven suspected his love for her. She was not even frightened at hisdeclaration, as is the patient when the surgeon informs him that hemust use the knife. She glanced at De Mussidan strangely as he put thisquestion to her, and after a moment's hesitation, replied that she wouldgive him a reply the next day. After thinking the matter over, she wroteand dispatched the letter which Francoise had carried to Norbert. Theprisoner in the dock as he anxiously awaits the sentence of his judge,can alone appreciate Diana's state of agonized suspense as she stood atthe end of the park at Laurebourg awaiting the return of the girl. Heranxiety of mind lasted nearly three hours, when Francoise hurried upbreathless.
"What did the Marquis say?" asked Diana.
"He said nothing; that is, he cried out very angrily, 'Never! no,never!'"
In order to prevent any suspicions arising in the girl's mind,Mademoiselle de Laurebourg contrived to force a laugh, exclaiming: "Ah!indeed, that is just what I expected."
Francoise seemed as if she had something to say on the tip of hertongue, but Diana hurriedly dismissed her, pressing a coin into herhand. All anxiety was now at an end; for her there was no longer anysuspense or anguish; all her struggles were now futile, and she feltgrateful to Octave for having given her his love. "Once married,"thought she, "I shall be free, and shall be able to follow the Duke andDuchess to Paris."
Upon her return to the Chateau, she found Octave awaiting her. His eyesput the question that his lips did not dare to utter; and, placing herhand in his with a gentle inclination of her head, she assented to hisprayer.
This act on her part would, she believed, free her from the past; butshe was in error. Upon hearing that his dastardly attempt at murder hadfailed, the Counsellor was for the time utterly overwhelmed with terror,but the news that he had gained from M. de Puymandour calmed his mindin a great measure. He was not, however, completely reassured until heheard for certain that the Duke had become a helpless maniac, and thatthe doctor, having given up all hopes of his patient's recovery, haddiscontinued his visits to the Chateau. As soon as he had heard thatNorbert's marriage had been so soon followed by his father's death, heimagined that every cloud had disappeared from the sky. All danger nowseemed at an end, and he recalled with glee that he had in his strongbox the promissory notes, signed by Norbert, to the amount of twentythousand francs, which he could demand at any moment, now that Norbertwas the reigning lord of Champdoce. The first step he took was to hangabout the neighborhood of Laurebourg, for he thought that somelucky chance would surely favor him with an opportunity for a littleconversation with Mademoiselle Diana. For several days in successionhe was unsuccessful, but at last he was delighted at seeing her alone,walking in the direction of Bevron. Without her suspecting it, hefollowed her until the road passed through a small plantation, when hecame up and addressed her.
"What do you want with me?" asked she angrily.
He made no direct reply; but after apologizing for his boldness, hebegan to offer his congratulations upon her approaching marriage, whichwas now the talk of the whole neighborhood, and which pleased him much,as M. de Mussidan was in every way superior to--
"Is that all you have to say to me?" asked Diana, interrupting hisstring of words.
As she turned from him, he had the audacity to lay his hand upon theedge of her jacket.
"I have more to say," said he, "if you will honor me with yourattention. Something about--you can guess what."
"About whom or what?" asked she, making no effort to hide her supremecontempt.
He smiled, glanced around to see that no one was within hearing, andthen said in a low voice,--
"It is about the bottle of poison."
She recoiled, as though some venomous reptile had started up in front ofher.
"What do you mean?" cried she. "How dare you speak to me thus?"
All his servile manner had now returned to him, and he uttered a stringof complaints in a whining tone of voice. She had played him a mostunfair trick, and had stolen a certain little glass bottle from hisoffice; and if anything had leaked out, his head would have paid thepenalty of a crime in which he had no hand. He was quite ill, owing tothe suspense and anxiety he had endured; sleep would not come to hisbed, and the pangs of remorse tortured him continually.
"Enough," cried Diana, stamping her foot angrily on the ground. "Enough,I say."
"Well, mademoiselle, I can no longer remain here. I am far too nervous,and I wish to go to some foreign country."
"Come, let me hear the real meaning of this long preface."
Thus adjured, Daumon spoke. He only wished for some little mementoto cheer his days and nights of exile, some little recognition of hisservices; in fact, such a sum as would bring him in an income of threethousand francs.
"I understand you," replied Diana. "You wish to be paid for what youcall your kindness."
"Ah, mademoiselle!"
"And you put a value of sixty thousand francs upon it; that is rather ahigh price, is it not?"
"Alas! it is not half what this unhappy business has cost me."
"Nonsense; your demand is preposterous."
"Demand!" returned he; "I make no demand. I come to you respectfullyand with a little cha
rity. If I were to demand, I should come to you inquite a different manner. I should say, 'Pay me such and such a sum,or I tell everything.' What have I to lose if the whole story comes tolight? A mere nothing. I am a poor man, and am growing old. You and M.Norbert are the ones that have something to fear. You are noble, rich,and young, and a happy future lies before you."
Diana paused and thought for an instant.
"You are speaking," answered she at last, "in a most foolish manner.When charges are made against people, proofs must be forthcoming."
"Quite right, mademoiselle; but can you say that these proofs are not inmy hands? Should you, however, desire to buy them, you are at liberty todo so. I give you the first option, and yet you grumble."
As he spoke, he drew a battered leather pocket-book from his breast,and took from it a paper, which, after having been crumpled, had beencarefully smoothed out again. Diana glanced at it, and then uttered astifled cry of rage and fear, for she at once recognized her last letterto Norbert.
"That wretch, Francoise, has betrayed me," exclaimed she, "and I savedher mother from a death by hunger and cold."
The Counsellor held out the letter to her. She thought that he had nosuspicion of her, and made an attempt to snatch it from him; but he wason his guard, and drew back with a sarcastic smile on his face.
"No, mademoiselle," said he; "this is not the little bottle of poison;however, I will give it to you, together with another one, when I haveobtained what I ask. Nothing for nothing, however; and if I must go tothe scaffold, I will do so in good company."
Mademoiselle de Laurebourg was in utter despair.
"But I have no money," said she. "Where is a girl to find such a sum?"
"M. Norbert can find it."
"Go to him, then."
Daumon made a negative sign with his head.
"I am not quite such a fool," answered he; "I know M. Norbert toowell. He is the very image of his father. But you can manage him,mademoiselle; besides, you have much interest in having the mattersettled."
"Counsellor!"
"There is no use in beating about the bush. I come to you humbly enough,and you treat me like so much dirt. I will not submit to this, as youwill find to your cost. _I_ never poisoned any one; but enough of thiskind of thing. To-day is Tuesday; if on Friday, by six o'clock, I do nothave what I have asked for, your father and the Count Octave will have aletter from me, and perhaps your fine marriage may come to nothing afterall."
This insolence absolutely struck Diana dumb, and Daumon had disappearedround a turning of the road before she could find words to crush him forhis vile attempt at extortion. She felt that he was capable of keepinghis word, even if by so doing he seriously injured himself withoutgaining any advantage.
A nature like Diana's always looks danger boldly in the face. She had,however, but little choice how she would act--for to apply to Norbertwas the only resource left to her--for she knew that he would do allin his power to ward off the danger which threatened both of them sonearly. The idea, however, of applying to him for aid was repugnant toher pride. To what depths of meanness and infamy had she descended! andto what avail had been all her aspirations of ambition and grandeur?
She was at the mercy of a wretch--of Daumon, in fact. She was forced togo as a suppliant to a man whom she had loved so well that she now hatedhim with a deadly hatred. But she did not hesitate for a moment. Shewent straight to the cottage of Widow Rouleau, and despatched Francoisein quest of Norbert.
She ordered the girl to tell him that he must without fail be at thewicket gate in the park wall at Laurebourg on the coming night, whereshe would meet him, and that the matter was one of life and death.
As Diana gave these orders to Francoise, the woman's nervous airand flushed features plainly showed that she was a mere creature ofDaumon's; but Mademoiselle de Laurebourg felt it would be unwise totake any notice of her discovery, but to abstain from employing her inconfidential communications for the future.
As the hour of the meeting drew near a host of doubts assailed her.Would Norbert come to the meeting? Had Francoise contrived to see him?Might he not be absent from home? It was now growing dark, and theservants brought candles into the dining-room, and Diana, contriving toslip away, gained the appointed spot. Norbert was waiting, and when hecaught sight of her, rushed forward, but stopped as though restrained bya sudden thought, and remained still, as if rooted to the ground.
"You sent for me, mademoiselle?" said he.
"I did."
After a pause, in which she succeeded in mastering her emotion, Dianabegan with the utmost volubility to explain the extortion that Daumonwas endeavoring to practise upon her, magnifying, though there was butlittle need to do so, all the threats and menaces that he had made useof. She had imagined that this last piece of roguery on the part ofDaumon would drive Norbert into a furious passion, but to her surpriseit had no such effect. He had suffered so much and so deeply, that hisheart was almost dead against any further emotion.
"Do not let this trouble you," answered he apathetically; "I will seeDaumon and settle with him."
"Can you leave me thus, at our last meeting, without even a word?" askedshe.
"What have I to say? My father forgave me on his death-bed, and I pardonyou."
"Farewell, Norbert; we shall see no more of each other. I am going tomarry, as you have doubtless been informed. Can I oppose my parent'swill? Besides, what does it signify? Farewell; remember no one wishesmore sincerely for your future happiness than I do."
"Happy!" exclaimed Norbert. "How can I ever be happy again? If you knowthe secret, for pity's sake break it to me. Tell me how to forget andhow to annihilate thought. Do you not know that I had planned a life ofperfect happiness with you by my side? I had visions; and now plans andvisions are alike hateful to me. And as they ever and anon recur to mymemory, they will fill me with terror and despair."
As Diana heard these words of agony, a wild gleam of triumph shot fromher eyes, but it faded away quickly, and left her cold and emotionlessas a marble statue; and when she reappeared in the drawing-room, aftertaking leave of Norbert, her face wore so satisfied an expression, thatthe Viscount complimented her upon her apparent happiness.
She made some jesting retort, but there was a shade of earnestness mixedwith her playfulness, for to her future husband she only wished to showthe amiable side of her character; but all the time she was thinking.Will Norbert see Daumon in time?
The Duke kept his word, and the next day the faithful Jean discreetlyhanded her a packet. She opened it and found that besides the twoletters of which the Counsellor had spoken, it contained all hercorrespondence with Norbert--more than a hundred letters in all, someof great length, and all of them compromising to a certain extent. Herfirst thought was to destroy them, but on reflection she decided notto do so, and hid the packet in the same place as she had concealed theletters written by Norbert to her.
Norbert had given Daumon sixty thousand francs, and in addition owed himtwenty thousand on his promissory notes. This sum, in addition to whathe had already saved, would form such a snug little fortune that itwould enable the Counsellor to quit Bevron, and take up his abode inParis, where his peculiar talents would have more scope for development.And eight days later the village was thrown into a state of intenseexcitement by the fact becoming known that Daumon had shut up his houseand departed for Paris, taking Francoise, the Widow Rouleau's daughter,with him. The Widow Rouleau was furious, and openly accused Mademoisellede Laurebourg of having aided in the committal of the act which haddeprived her of her daughter's services in her declining years; and theold woman who had acted as housekeeper, who on Daumon's departure hadthrown open the place, did not hesitate to assert that all her latemaster's legal lore had been acquired in prison, where he had undergonea sentence of ten years' penal servitude.
In spite of all this, however, Mademoiselle de Laurebourg was secretlydelighted at the departure of Daumon and Francoise; for she experiencedan intense feeling of relief a
t knowing that she no longer was in anyrisk of meeting her accomplice in her daily walks. Norbert, too, wasgoing to Paris with his wife; and M. de Puymandour was going aboutsaying that his daughter, the Duchess of Champdoce, would not return tothis part of the country for some time to come.
Diana drew a long breath of relief, for it seemed to her as if all thethreatening clouds, which had darkened the horizon, were fast breakingup and drifting away. Her future seemed clear, and she could continuethe preparations for her marriage, which was to be celebrated in afortnight's time; and the friend of Octave who had been asked to act ashis best man had answered in the affirmative.
Diana had taken accurate measurement of the love that Octave lavishedupon her, and did her utmost to increase it. She had another cruel idea,and that was that the bewitching manner which she had assumed towardsher betrothed was excellent practice, and by it she might judge of herfuture success in society when she resided in Paris. Octave was utterlyconquered, as any other man would have been under similar circumstances.
Upon the day of her wedding she was dazzling in her beauty, and her facewas radiant with happiness; but it was a mere mask, which she had put onto conceal her real feelings. She knew that many curious eyes were fixedon her as she left the chapel; and the crowd formed a line for her topass through. She saw many a glance of dislike cast upon her; but a moresevere blow awaited her, for on her arrival at the Chateau de Mussidan,to which she was driven directly after the ceremony, the first personshe met was Montlouis, who came forward to welcome her. Bold andself-possessed as she was, the slight of this man startled her, and abright flush passed across her face. Fortunately Montlouis had had timeto prepare himself for this meeting, and his face showed no tokenof recognition. But though his salutation was of the most respectfuldescription, Madame de Mussidan thought she saw in his eyes thatironical expression of contempt which she had more than once seen inDaumon's face.
"That man must not, shall not, stay here," she murmured to herself.
It was easy enough for her to ask her husband to dismiss Montlouis fromhis employ, but it was a dangerous step to take; and her easiest coursewas to defer the dismissal of the secretary until some really goodpretext offered itself. Nor was this pretext long in presenting itself;for Octave was by no means satisfied with the young man's conduct.Montlouis who had been full of zeal while in Paris, had renewed his_liaison_, on his return to Mussidan, with the girl with whom he hadbeen formerly entangled at Poitiers. This, of course, could not bepermitted to go on, and an explosion was clearly to be expected; butwhat Diana dreaded most was the accidental development of some unseenchance.
After she had been married some two weeks, when Octave proposed in theafternoon that they should go for a walk, she agreed. Her preparationswere soon completed, and they started off, blithe and lively as childrenon a holiday ramble. As they loitered in a wooded path, they heard a dogbarking in the cover. It was Bruno, who rushed out, and, standing on hishind legs, endeavored to lick Diana's face.
"Help, help, Octave!" she exclaimed, and her husband, springing to herside, drove away the animal.
"Were you very much alarmed, dearest?" asked he.
"Yes," answered she faintly; "I was almost frightened to death."
"I do not think that he would do you any harm," remarked Octave.
"No matter; make him go away;" and as she spoke she struck at him withher parasol. But the dog never for a moment supposed that Diana was inearnest, and, supposing that she intended to play with him, as she hadoften done before, began to gambol round her, barking joyously the wholetime.
"But this dog evidently knows you, Diana," observed the Viscount.
"Know me? Impossible!" and as she spoke Bruno ran up and licked herhand. "If he does, his memory is better than mine; at any rate, I amhalf afraid of him. Come, Octave, let us go."
They turned away, and Octave would have forgotten all about theoccurrence had not Bruno, delighted at having found an old acquaintance,persisted in following them.
"This is strange," exclaimed the Viscount, "very strange indeed.Look here, my man," said he, addressing a peasant, who was engaged inclipping a hedge by the roadside, "do you know whose dog this is?"
"Yes, my lord, it belongs to the young Duke of Champdoce."
"Of course," answered Diana, "I have often seen the dog at the WidowRouleau's, and have occasionally given it a piece of bread. He wasalways with Francoise, who ran off with that man Daumon. Oh, yes, I knowhim now; here, Bruno, here!"
The dog rushed to her, and, stooping down, she caressed him, thus hopingto conceal her tell-tale face.
Octave drew his wife's arm within his without another word. A strangefeeling of doubt had arisen in his mind. Diana, too, was much disturbed,and abused herself mentally for having been so weak and cowardly. Whyhad she not at once confessed that she knew the dog? Had she said atonce, "Why, that is Bruno, the Duke of Champdoce's dog," her husbandwould have thought no more about the matter; but her own folly had mademuch of a merely trivial incident.
Ever since that fatal walk the Viscount's manner appeared to havechanged, and more than once Diana fancied that she caught a look ofsuspicion in his eyes. How could she best manage to make him forget thisunlucky event? She saw that for the rest of her life she must affect aterror of dogs; and, for the future, whenever she saw one, she uttereda little cry of alarm, and insisted upon all Octave's being chainedup. But for all this she lived in a perfect atmosphere of suspicion andanxiety, while the very ground upon which she walked seemed to have beenmined beneath her feet. Her sole wish now was to fly from Mussidan, andleave Bevron and its environs, she cared not for what spot. It has beenfirst arranged that immediately after the marriage they should make ashort tour; but in spite of this, they still lingered at Mussidan; andall that Diana could do was to keep this previous determination beforeher husband, without making any direct attack.
The blow came at last, and was more unexpected and terrible than shehad anticipated. On the afternoon of the 26th of October, as Diana wasgazing from her window, an excited crowd rushed into the courtyard ofthe Chateau, followed by four men bearing a litter covered with a sheet,under which could be distinguished the rigid limbs of a dead body, whilea cruel crimson stain upon one side of the white covering too plainlyshowed that some one had met with a violent death.
The hideous sight froze Diana with terror, and it was impossible for herto leave the window or quit the object on the litter, which seemed tohave a terrible fascination for her. That very morning her husband,accompanied by his friend the Baron de Clinchain, Montlouis, and aservant named Ludovic, had gone out for a day's shooting. It was evidentthat something had happened to one of the party; which of them couldit be? The doubt was not of very long duration; for at that moment herhusband entered the courtyard, supported by M. de Clinchain and Ludovic.His face was deadly pale, and he seemed scarcely able to drag one legafter the other. The dead man therefore must be Montlouis. She needno longer plot and scheme for the dismissal of the secretary, for histongue had been silenced for ever.
A ray of comfort dawned in Diana's heart at this idea, and gave her thestrength to descend the staircase. Halfway down she met M. de Clinchain,who was ascending. He seized her by the arm, and said hoarsely,--
"Go back, madame, go back!"
"But tell me what has happened."
"A terrible calamity. Go back to your room, I beg of you. Your husbandwill be here presently;" and, as Octave appeared, he absolutely pushedher into her own room.
Octave followed, and, extending his arms, pressed his wife closely tohis breast, bursting as he did so into a passion of sobs.
"Ah!" cried M. de Clinchain joyously, "he is saved. See, he weeps; I hadfeared for his reason."
After many questions and incoherent answers, Madame de Mussidan at lastarrived at the fact that her husband had shot Montlouis by accident.Diana believed this story, but it was far from the truth. Montlouis hadmet his death at her hands quite as much as the Duke de Champdoce haddone. He had died bec
ause he was the possessor of a fatal secret.
This was what had really occurred. After lunch, Octave, who had drunkrather freely, began to rally Montlouis regarding his mysteriousmovements, and to assert that some woman must be at the bottom of them.At first Montlouis joined in the laugh; but at length M. de Mussidanbecame too personal in remarks regarding the woman his secretary loved,and Montlouis responded angrily. This influenced his master's temper,and he went on to say that he could no longer permit such doings, and hereproached his secretary for risking his present and future for a womanwho was worthy neither of love nor respect, and who was notoriouslyunfaithful to him. Montlouis heard this last taunt with compressed lipsand a deep cloud upon his brow.
"Do not utter a word more, Count," said he; "I forbid you to do so."
He spoke so disrespectfully that Octave was about to strike him, butMontlouis drew back and avoided the blow; but he was so intoxicated withfury that this last insult roused him beyond all bounds.
"By what right do you speak thus," said he, "who have married anotherman's mistress? It well becomes you to talk of woman's virtue, when yourwife is a--"
He had no time to finish his sentence, for Octave, levelling his gun,shot him through the heart.
M. de Mussidan kept these facts from his wife because he really lovedher, and true love is capable of any extreme; and he felt that, howeverstrong the cause might be, he should never have the courage to separatefrom Diana; that whatever she might do in the future, or had alreadydone in the past, he could not choose but forgive her.
Acquitted of all blame, thanks to Clinchain's and Ludovic'sevidence--for they had mutually agreed that the tragical occurrenceshould be represented to have been the result of an accident--theconscience of M. de Mussidan left him but little peace. The girl whomMontlouis had loved had been driven from her home in disgrace, owing tohaving given birth to a son. Octave sought her out, and, without givingany reason for his generosity, told her that her son, whom she had namedPaul, after his father, Montlouis, should never come to want.
Shortly after this sad occurrence, M. de Mussidan and his wife quittedPoitiers, for Diana had more than once determined that she would makeParis her residence for the future. She had taken into her service awoman who had been in the service of Marie de Puymandour, and throughher had discovered that, previous to her marriage with Norbert, Mariehad loved George de Croisenois; and she intended to use this knowledgeat some future date as a weapon with which to deal the Duke de Champdocea deadly blow.