CHAPTER XXVI.
MASCARIN MOVES.
The Viscountess de Bois Arden had not been wrong when she told Andrein Van Klopen's establishment that community of sorrow had brought theCount and Countess of Mussidan nearer together, and that Sabine hadmade up her mind to sacrifice herself for the honor of the family.Unfortunately, however, this change in the relations of husband and wifehad not taken place immediately; for after her interview with DoctorHortebise, Diana's first impulse had not been to go to her husband, butto write to Norbert, who was as much compromised by the correspondenceas she herself. Her first letter did not elicit a reply. She wrote asecond, and then a third, in which, though she did not go into details,she let the Duke know that she was the victim of a dark intrigue, andthat a deadly peril was hanging over her daughter's head. This lastletter was brought back to her by the messenger, without any envelope,and across it Norbert had written,--
"The weapon which you have used against me has now been turned againstyourself. Heaven is just."
These words started up in letters of fire before her eyes as the presageof coming misfortune, and telling her that the hour of retribution hadnow come, and that she must be prepared to suffer, as an atonement forher crimes. Then it was that she felt all was lost, and she must goto her husband for aid, unless she desired that copies of the stolenletters should be sent to him; and in a little boudoir, adjoiningSabine's own room, she opened her heart and told her husband all. Sheperformed it with all the skill of a woman who, without descending tofalsehood, contrives to conceal the truth. But she could not hidethe share that she had taken, both in the death of the late Duke ofChampdoce and the disappearance of George de Croisenois.
The Count's brain reeled. He called up to his memory what Diana had beenwhen he first saw and loved her at Laurebourg: how pure and modest shelooked! what virginal candor sat upon her brow! and yet she was eventhen doing her best to urge on a son to murder his father.
De Mussidan had had hideous doubts concerning the relations of Norbertand Diana, both before and after marriage; but his wife firmly deniedthis at the moment when she was revealing the other guilty secrets ofher past life. He had believed that Sabine was not his child, and now hehad to reproach himself with the indifference he had displayed towardsher.
He made no answer to the terrible revelation that was poured into hisears; but when the Countess had concluded, he rose and left the room,stretching out his hands and grasping the walls for support, like adrunken man.
The Count and Countess believed that Sabine had slept through thisinterview, but they were mistaken, for Sabine had heard all those fatalwords--"ruin, dishonor, and despair!" At first she scarcely understood.Were not these words merely the offspring of her delirium? She stroveto shake it off, but too soon she knew that the whispered words weresad realities, and she lay on her bed quivering with terror. Much of theconversation escaped her, but she heard enough. Her mother's past sinswere to be exposed if the daughter did not marry a man entirely unknownto her--the Marquis de Croisenois. She knew that her torments would notbe of very long duration, for to part with her love for Andre would beto part with life itself. She made up her mind to live until she hadsaved her parents' honor by the sacrifice of herself, and then she wouldbe free to accept the calm repose of the grave.
But the terrible revelation bore its fruits, for her fever came back,and a relapse was the result. But youth and a sound constitution gainedthe day, and when she was convalescent her will was as strong as ever.
Her first act was to write the letter to her lover which had driven himto the verge of distraction; and then, fearing lest her father might, inhis agony and remorse, be driven to some rash act, she went to him andtold him that she knew all.
"I never loved M. de Breulh," said she with a pitiful smile, "andtherefore the sacrifice is not so great after all."
The Count was not for a moment the dupe of the generous-souled girl,but he did not dare to brave the scandal of the death of Montlouis,and still less the exposure of his wife's conduct. Time was passing,however, and the miscreants in whose power they were made no signs oflife. Hortebise did not appear any more, and there were moments whenthe miserable Diana actually ventured to hope. "Have they forgotten us?"thought she.
Alas! no; they were people who never forgot.
The Champdoce affair had been satisfactorily arranged, and everyprecaution had been taken to prevent the detection of Paul as animpostor, and engaged as he had been, Mascarin had no time to turnhis attention to the marriage of Sabine and De Croisenois. The famousLimited Company, with the Marquis as chairman, had, too, to be started,the shares of which were to be taken up by the unhappy victims ofthe blackmailers; but first some decided steps must be taken with theMussidans, and Tantaine was dispatched on this errand.
This amiable individual, though he was going into such very excellentsociety, did not consider it necessary to make any improvement in hisattire. This was the reason why the footman, upon seeing such a shabbyvisitor and hearing him ask for the Count or Countess, did not hesitateto reply, with a sneer, that his master and mistress had been out forsome months, and were not likely to return for a week or two. This factdid not disconcert the wily man, for drawing one of Mascarin's cardsfrom his pocket, he begged the kind gentleman to take it upstairs, whenhe was sure that he would at once be sent for.
De Mussidan, when he read the name on the card, turned ghastly pale.
"Show him into the library," said he curtly.
Florestan left the room, and the Count mutely handed the card to hiswife, but she had no need to read it.
"I can tell what it is," gasped she.
"The day for settling accounts has come," said the Count, "and this nameis the fatal sign."
The Countess flung herself upon her knees, and taking the hand that hungplacidly by his side, pressed her lips tenderly to it.
"Forgive me, Octave!" she muttered. "Will you not forgive me? I am amiserable wretch, and why did not Heaven punish me for the sins that Ihave committed, and not make others expiate my offences?"
The Count put her gently aside. He suffered intensely, and yet no wordof reproach escaped his lips against the woman who had ruined his wholelife.
"And Sabine," she went on, "must she, a De Mussidan, marry one of thesewretched scoundrels?"
Sabine was the only one in the room who preserved her calmness; she hadso schooled herself that her distress of mind was not apparent to theoutward eye.
"Do not make yourselves miserable," said she, with a faint smile; "howdo we know that M. de Croisenois may not make me an excellent husbandafter all?"
The Count gazed upon his daughter with a look of the fondest affectionand gratitude.
"Dearest Sabine!" murmured he. Her fortitude had restored hisself-command. "Let us be outwardly resigned," said he, "whatever ourfeelings may be. Time may do much for us, and at the very church door wemay find means of escape."