CHAPTER XVI.
HUSBAND AND LOVER.
The writer of the anonymous communication had only known the secret toowell, for the Duchess de Champdoce was awaiting a visit that eveningfrom George de Croisenois; this was, however, the first time. Step bystep she had yielded, and at length had fallen into the snare laid forher by the treacherous woman whom she believed to be her truest friend.The evening before this eventful night she had been alone in Madamede Mussidan's drawing-room with George de Croisenois. She had beenimpressed by his ardent passion, and had listened with pleasure to hisloving entreaties.
"I yield," said she. "Come to-morrow night, at half-past ten, to thelittle door in the garden wall; it will only be kept closed by a stonebeing placed against it inside; push it, and it will open; and whenyou have entered the garden, acquaint me with your presence by clappingyours hands gently once or twice."
Diana had, from a secure hiding-place, overheard these words, andfeeling certain that the Duchess would repent her rash promise, she keptclose to her side until George's departure, to give her no chance ofretracting her promise. The next day she was constantly with her victim,and made an excuse for dining with her, so as not to quit her until thehour for the meeting had almost arrived.
It was not until she was left alone that the Duchess saw the full extentof her folly and rashness. She was terrified at the promise that she hadgiven in a weak moment, and would have given worlds had she been able toretract.
There was yet, however, one means of safety left her--she couldhurry downstairs and secure the garden gate. She started to herfeet, determined to execute her project; but she was too late for theappointed signal was heard through the chill gloom of the night. Unhappywoman! The light sound of George de Croisenois' palms striking one uponthe other resounded in her ears like the dismal tolling of the funerealbell. She stooped to light a candle at the fire, but her hand trembledso that she could scarcely effect her object. She felt sure that Georgewas still in the garden, though she had made no answer to his signal.She had never thought that he would have had the audacity to open a doorthat led into the house from the garden, but this is what he had done.In the most innocent manner imaginable, and so that her listener inno way suspected the special reason that she had for making thiscommunication, Diana de Mussidan had informed George de Croisenois thatupon this night all the domestics of the Champdoce household would beattending the coachman's wedding, and that consequently the mansionwould be deserted. George knew also that the Duke was away at histraining establishment, and he therefore opened the door, and walkedboldly up the main staircase, so that when the Duchess, with the lightedcandle in her hand, came to the top steps she found herself face toface with George de Croisenois, pallid with emotion and quivering withexcitement.
At the sight of the man she loved she started backwards with a low cryof anguish and despair.
"Fly!" she said "fly, or we are lost!"
He did not, however, seem to hear her, and the Duchess recoiled slowly,step by step, through the open door of her chamber, across the carpetedfloor, until she reached the opposite wall of her room, and could go nofarther.
George followed her, and pushed to the door of the room as he enteredit. This brief delay, however, had sufficed to restore Marie to the fullpossession of her senses. "If I permit him to speak," thought she,--"ifhe once suspects that my love for him is still as strong as ever, I amlost."
Then she said aloud,--
"You must leave this house, and that instantly. I was mad when I saidwhat I did yesterday. You are too noble and too generous not to listento me when I tell you that the moment of infatuation is over, and thatall my reason has returned to me, and my openness will convince you ofthe truth of what I say--George de Croisenois, I love you."
The young man uttered an exclamation of delight upon hearing this news.
"Yes," continued Marie, "I would give half the years of my remaininglife to be your wife. Yes, George, I love you; but the voice of dutyspeaks louder than the whispers of the heart. I may die of grief, butthere will be no stain upon my marriage robe, no remorse eating out myheart. Farewell!"
But the Marquis would not consent to this immediate dismissal, andappeared to be about to speak.
"Go!" said the Duchess, with an air of command. "Leave me at once!"Then, as he made no effort to obey her, she went on, "If you really loveme, let my honor be as dear to you as your own, and never try to seeme again. The peril we are now in shows how necessary this lastdetermination of mine is. I am the Duchess de Champdoce, and I will keepthe name that has been intrusted to me pure and unsullied, nor will Istoop to treachery or deception."
"Why do you use the word deception?" asked he. "I do, it is true,despise the woman who smiles upon the husband she is betraying, but Irespect and honor the woman who risks all to follow the fortunes of theman she loves. Lay aside, Marie, name, title, fortune, and fly with me."
"I love you too much, George," answered she gently, "to ruin yourfuture, for the day would surely come when you would regret all yourself-denial, for a woman weighed down with a sense of her dishonor is aheavy burden for a man to bear."
George de Croisenois did not understand her thoroughly.
"You do not trust me," said he. "You would be dishonored. Shall I notshare a portion of the world's censure? And, if you wish me, I will bea dishonored man also. To-night I will cheat at play at the club,be detected, and leave the room an outcast from the society of allhonorable men for the future. Fly with me to some distant land, and wewill live happily under whatever name you may choose."
"I must not listen to you," cried she wildly. "It is impossible now."
"Impossible!--and why? Tell me, I entreat you."
"Ah, George," sobbed she, "if you only knew----"
He placed his arm around her waist, and was about to press his lips onthat fair brow, when all at once he felt Marie shiver in his clasp,and, raising one of her arms, point towards the door, which had openedsilently during their conversation, and upon the threshold of whichstood Norbert de Champdoce, gloomy and threatening.
The Marquis saw in an instant the terrible position in which hisinsensate folly had placed the woman he loved.
"Do not come any nearer," said he, addressing Norbert; "remain where youare."
A bitter laugh from the Duke made him realize the folly of his command.He supported the Duchess to a couch, and seated her upon it. Sherecovered consciousness almost immediately, and, as she opened her eyes,George read in them the most perfect forgiveness for the man who hadruined her life and hopes.
This look, and the fond assurance conveyed in it, restored all George'scoolness and self-possession, and he turned towards Norbert.
"However compromising appearances may seem, I am the only one deservingpunishment; the Duchess has nothing to reproach herself with in any way;it was without her knowledge, and without any encouragement from her,that I dared to enter this house, knowing as I did that the servantswere all absent."
Norbert, however, still maintained the same gloomy silence. He too hadneed to collect his thoughts. As he ascended the stairs he knew thathe should find the Duchess with a lover, but he had not calculatedupon that lover being George de Croisenois, a man whom he loathedand detested more than any one that he was in the habit of meeting insociety. When he recognized George, it was with the utmost difficultythat he restrained himself from springing upon him and endeavoringto strangle him. He had suspected this man of having gained Diana'saffections, and now he found him in the character of the lover of hiswife, and he was silent simply because he had not yet made up his mindwhat he would say. If his face was outwardly calm and rigid as marble,while the flames of hell were raging in his heart, it was because hislimbs for the moment refused to obey his will; but, in spite of this,Norbert was, for the time, literally insane.
Croisenois folded his arms, and continued,--
"I had only just come here at the moment of your arrival. Why were younot here to listen to all that passed between us? W
ould to heaventhat you had been! Then you would have understood all the grandeur andnobility of your wife's soul. I admit the magnitude of my fault, but Iam at your service, and am prepared to give you the satisfaction thatyou will doubtless demand."
"From your words," answered Norbert slowly, "I presume that you alludeto a duel; that is to say, that having effected my dishonor to-night,you purpose to kill me to-morrow morning. In the game that you have beenplaying a man stakes his life, and you, I think, have lost."
Croisenois bowed. "I am a dead man," thought he as he glanced towardsthe Duchess, "and not for your sake, but on account of quite anotherwoman."
The sound of his own voice excited Norbert, and he went on more rapidly:"What need have I to risk my life in a duel? I come to my own home,I find you with my wife, I blow out your brains, and the law willexonerate me." As he said these last words, he drew a revolver from hispocket and levelled it at George. The moment was an intensely excitingone, but Croisenois did not show any sign of emotion, Norbert did notpress the trigger, and the suspense became more than could be borne.
"Fire!" cried George, "fire!"
"No," returned Norbert coldly; "on reflection I have come tothe conclusion that your dead body would be a source of extremeinconvenience to me."
"You try my forbearance too far. What are your intentions?"
"I mean to kill you," answered Norbert in such a voice of concentratedferocity that George shuddered in spite of all his courage, "but itshall not be with a pistol shot. It is said that blood will wash outany stain, but it is false; for even if all yours is shed, it will notremove the stain from my escutcheon. One of us must vanish from the faceof the earth in such a manner that no trace of him may remain."
"I agree. Show me how this is to be done."
"I know a method," answered Norbert. "If I was certain that no humanbeing was aware of your presence here to-night----"
"No one can possibly know it."
"Then," answered the Duke, "instead of taking advantage of the rightsthat the law gives me and shooting you down on the spot, I will consentto risk my life against yours."
George de Croisenois breathed a sigh of relief. "I am ready," repliedhe, "as I before told you."
"I heard you; but remember that this will be no ordinary duel, in thelight of day, with seconds to regulate the manner of our conduct."
"We will fight exactly as you wish."
"In that case, I name swords as the weapons, the garden as the spot, andthis instant as the hour."
The Marquis cast a glance at the window.
"You think," observed Norbert, comprehending his look, "that the nightis so dark that we cannot see the blades of our swords?"
"Quite so."
"You need not fear; there will be light enough for this death struggleof the one who remains in the garden, for you understand that one _will_remain."
"I understand you; shall we go down at once?"
Norbert shook his head in the negative.
"You are in too great a hurry," said he, "and have not given me time tofix my conditions."
"I am listening."
"At the end of the garden there is a small plot of ground, so damp thatnothing will grow there, and consequently is almost unfrequented; butfor all that it is thither that you must follow me. We will each takespade and pick-axe, and in a very brief period we can hollow outa receptacle for the body of the one who falls. When this work iscompleted, we will take to our swords and fight to the death, and theone who can keep his feet shall finish his fallen adversary, drag hisbody to the hole, and shovel the earth over his remains."
"Never!" exclaimed Croisenois. "Never will I agree to such barbarousterms."
"Have a care then," returned Norbert; "for I shall use my rights. Thatclock points to five minutes to eleven. If, when it strikes, you havenot decided to accept my terms, I shall fire."
The barrel of the revolver was but a few inches from George deCroisenois' heart, and the finger of his most inveterate enemy wascurved round the trigger; but his feelings had been so highly wrought upthat he thought not of this danger. He only remembered that he had fourminutes in which to make up his mind. The events of the last thirtyminutes had pressed upon each other's heels with such surprisingalacrity that he could hardly believe that they had really occurred, andit seemed to him as if it might not, after all, be only a hideous visionof the night.
"You have only two minutes more," remarked the Duke.
Croisenois started; his soul was far away from the terrible present. Heglanced at the clock, then at his enemy, and lastly at Marie, who layupon the couch, and from her ashen complexion might have been regardedas dead, save for the hysterical sobs which convulsed her frame. He feltthat it was impossible to leave her in such a condition without aid ofany kind, but he saw well that any show of pity on his part would onlyaggravate his offence. "Heaven have mercy on us!" muttered he. "We areat the mercy of a maniac," and with a feeling of deadly fear heasked himself what would be the fate of this woman, whom he loved sodevotedly, were he to die. "For her sake," he thought, "I must slay thisman, or her life will be one endless existence of torture--and slay himI will."
"I accept your terms," said he aloud.
He spoke just in time, for as the words were uttered came the whirr ofthe machinery and then the first clear stroke of the bell.
"I thank you," answered Norbert coldly as he lowered the muzzle of hisrevolver.
The icy frigidity of manner in a period of extreme danger, which is themarked characteristic of a certain type of education, had now vanishedfrom the Marquis's tone and behavior.
"But that is not all," he continued; "I, too, have certain conditions topropose."
"But we agreed--"
"Let me explain; we are going to fight in the dark in your gardenwithout seconds. We are to dig a grave and the survivor is to bury hisdead antagonist. Tell me, am I right?"
Norbert bowed.
"But," went on the Marquis, "how can you be certain that all will endhere, and that the earth will be content to retain our secret? You donot know, and you do not seem to care, that if one day the secret willbe disclosed and the survivor accused of being the murderer of theother, arrested, dragged before a tribunal, condemned, and sent to alife-long prison----"
"There is a chance of that, of course."
"And do you think that I will consent to run such a risk as that?"
"There is such a risk, of course," answered Norbert phlegmatically;"but that will be an incentive for you to conceal my death as I shouldconceal yours."
"That will not be sufficient for me," returned De Croisenois.
"Ah! take care," sneered Norbert, "or I shall begin to think that youare afraid."
"I _am_ afraid; that is, afraid of being called a murderer."
"That is a danger to which I am equally liable with yourself."
Croisenois, however, was fully determined to carry his point. "You say,"continued he, "that our chances are equal; but if I fall, who woulddream of searching here for my remains? You are in your own house andcan take every precaution; but suppose, on the other hand, I killyou. Shall I look to the Duchess to assist me? Will not the finger ofsuspicion be pointed at her? Shall she say to her gardener when allParis is hunting for you, 'Mind that you do not meddle with the piece ofland at the end of the garden.'"
The thought of the anonymous letter crossed Norbert's mind, and heremembered that the writer of it must be acquainted with the coming ofGeorge de Croisenois. "What do you propose then?" asked he.
"Merely that each of us, without stating the grounds of our quarrel,write down the conditions and sign our names as having accepted them."
"I agree; but use dispatch."
The two men, after the conditions had been described, wrote two letters,dated from a foreign country, and the survivor of the combat was to posthis dead adversary's letter, which would not fail to stop any searchafter the vanished man. When this talk was concluded, Norbert rose tohis feet.
"One word in
conclusion," said he: "a soldier is leading the horse onwhich I rode here up and down in the Place des Invalides. If you killme, go and take the horse from the man, giving him the twenty francs Ipromised him."
"I will."
"Now let us go down."
They left the room together. Norbert was stepping aside to permitCroisenois to descend the stairs first, when he felt his coat gentlypulled, and, turning round, saw that the Duchess, too weak to rise toher feet, had crawled to him on her knees. The unhappy woman had heardeverything, and in an almost inaudible voice she uttered an agonizedprayer:
"Mercy, Norbert! Have mercy! I swear to you that I am guiltless. Younever loved me, why should you fight for me. Have pity! To-morrow, byall that I hold sacred, I swear to you that I will enter a convent, andyou shall never see my face again. Have pity!"
"Pray heaven, madame, that it may be your lover's sword that pierces myheart. It is your only hope, for then you will be free."
He tore his coat from her fingers with brutal violence, and the unhappywoman fell to the floor with a shriek as he closed the door upon her,and followed his antagonist downstairs.