CHAPTER TEN
GASTON SAUVERAND EXPLAINS
Gaston Sauverand!
Instinctively, Don Luis took a step back, drew his revolver, and aimed itat the criminal:
"Hands up!" he commanded. "Hands up, or I fire!"
Sauverand did not appear to be put out. He nodded toward two revolverswhich he had laid on a table beyond his reach and said:
"There are my arms. I have come here not to fight, but to talk."
"How did you get in?" roared Don Luis, exasperated by this display ofcalmness. "A false key, I suppose? But how did you get hold of the key?How did you manage it?"
The other did not reply. Don Luis stamped his foot:
"Speak, will you? Speak! If not--"
But Florence ran into the room. She passed him by without his trying tostop her, flung herself upon Gaston Sauverand, and, taking no heed ofPerenna's presence, said:
"Why did you come? You promised me that you wouldn't. You swore itto me. Go!"
Sauverand released himself and forced her into a chair.
"Let me be, Florence. I promised only so as to reassure you. Let me be."
"No, I will not!" exclaimed the girl eagerly. "It's madness! I won't haveyou say a single word. Oh, please, please stop!"
He bent over her and smoothed her forehead, separating her mass ofgolden hair.
"Let me do things my own way, Florence," he said softly.
She was silent, as though disarmed by the gentleness of his voice; and hewhispered more words which Don Luis could not hear and which seemed toconvince her.
Perenna had not moved. He stood opposite them with his arm outstretchedand his finger on the trigger, aiming at the enemy. When Sauverandaddressed Florence by her Christian name, he started from head to footand his finger trembled. What miracle kept him from shooting? By whatsupreme effort of will did he stifle the jealous hatred that burnt himlike fire? And here was Sauverand daring to stroke Florence's hair!
He lowered his arm. He would kill them later, do with them what hepleased, since they were in his power, and since nothing henceforth couldsnatch them from his vengeance.
He took Sauverand's two revolvers and laid them in a drawer. Then he wentback to the door, intending to lock it. But hearing a sound on thefirst-floor landing, he leant over the balusters. The butler was comingupstairs with a tray in his hand.
"What is it now?"
"An urgent letter, sir, for Sergeant Mazeroux."
"Sergeant Mazeroux is with me. Give me the letter and don't let me bedisturbed again."
He tore open the envelope. The letter, hurriedly written in pencil andsigned by one of the inspectors on duty outside the house, containedthese words:
"Look out, Sergeant. Gaston Sauverand is in the house. Two people livingopposite say that the girl who is known hereabouts as the ladyhousekeeper came in at half-past one, before we took up our posts. Shewas next seen at the window of her lodge.
"A few moments after, a small, low door, used for the cellars andsituated under the lodge, was opened, evidently by her. Almost at thesame time a man entered the square, came along the wall, and slipped inthrough the cellar door. According to the description it was GastonSauverand. So look out, Sergeant. At the least alarm, at the first signalfrom you, we shall come in."
Don Luis reflected. He now understood how the scoundrel had access to hishouse, and how, hidden in the safest of retreats, he was able to escapeevery attempt to find him. He was living under the roof of the very manwho had declared himself his most formidable adversary.
"Come on," he said to himself. "The fellow's score is settled--and so ishis young lady's. They can choose between the bullets in my revolver andthe handcuffs of the police."
He had ceased to think of his motor standing ready below. He no longerdreamt of flight with Florence. If he did not kill the two of them, thelaw would lay its hand upon them, the hand that does not let go. Andperhaps it was better so, that society itself should punish the twocriminals whom he was about to hand over to it.
He shut the door, pushed the bolt, faced his two prisoners again and,taking a chair, said to Sauverand:
"Let us talk."
Owing to the narrow dimensions of the room they were all so closetogether that Don Luis felt as if he were almost touching the man whom heloathed from the very bottom of his heart. Their two chairs were hardly ayard asunder. A long table, covered with books, stood between them andthe windows, which, hollowed out of the very thick wall, formed a recess,as is usual in old houses.
Florence had turned her chair away from the light, and Don Luis could notsee her face clearly. But he looked straight into Gaston Sauverand's faceand watched it with eager curiosity; and his anger was heightened by thesight of the still youthful features, the expressive mouth, and theintelligent eyes, which were fine in spite of their hardness.
"Well? Speak!" said Don Luis, in a commanding tone. "I have agreed to atruce, but a momentary truce, just long enough to say what is necessary.Are you afraid now that the time has arrived? Do you regret the stepwhich you have taken?"
The man smiled calmly and said:
"I am afraid of nothing, and I do not regret coming, for I have a verystrong intuition that we can, that we are bound to, come to anunderstanding."
"An understanding!" protested Don Luis with a start.
"Why not?"
"A compact! An alliance between you and me!"
"Why not? It is a thought which I had already entertained more than once,which took a more precise shape in the magistrates' corridor, and whichfinally decided me when I read the announcement which you caused to bemade in the special edition of this paper: 'Sensational declaration byDon Luis Perenna. Mme. Fauville is innocent!'"
Gaston Sauverand half rose from his chair and, carefully picking hiswords, emphasizing them with sharp gestures, he whispered:
"Everything lies, Monsieur, in those four words. Do those four wordswhich you have written, which you have uttered publicly andsolemnly--'Mme. Fauville is innocent'--do they express your real mind? Doyou now absolutely believe in Marie Fauville's innocence?"
Don Luis shrugged his shoulders.
"Mme. Fauville's innocence has nothing to do with the case. It is aquestion not of her, but of you, of you two and myself. So come straightto the point and as quickly as you can. It is to your interest even morethan to mine."
"To our interest?"
"You forget the third heading to the article," cried Don Luis. "I didmore than proclaim Marie Fauville's innocence. I also announced--read foryourself--The 'imminent arrest of the criminals,'"
Sauverand and Florence rose together, with the same unguarded movement.
"And, in your view, the criminals are--?" asked Sauverand.
"Why, you know as well as I do: they are the man with the ebonywalking-stick, who at any rate cannot deny having murdered ChiefInspector Ancenis, and the woman who is his accomplice in all his crimes.Both of them must remember their attempts to assassinate me: the revolvershot on the Boulevard Suchet; the motor smash causing the death of mychauffeur; and yesterday again, in the barn--you know where--the barnwith the two skeletons hanging from the rafters: yesterday--youremember--the scythe, the relentless scythe, which nearly beheaded me."
"And then?"
"Well, then, the game is lost. You must pay up; and all the more so asyou have foolishly put your heads into the lion's mouth."
"I don't understand. What does all this mean?"
"It simply means that they know Florence Levasseur, that they know youare both here, that the house is surrounded, and that Weber, the deputychief detective, is on his way."
Sauverand appeared disconcerted by this unexpected threat. Florence,standing beside him, had turned livid. A mad anguish distorted herfeatures. She stammered:
"Oh, it is awful! No, no, I can't endure it!"
And, rushing at Don Luis:
"Coward! Coward! It's you who are betraying us! Coward! Oh, I knew thatyou were capable of the meanest treachery! There you
stand like anexecutioner! Oh, you villain, you coward!"
She fell into her chair, exhausted and sobbing, with her hand to herface.
Don Luis turned away. Strange to say, he experienced no sense of pity;and Florence's tears affected him no more than her insults had done, nomore than if he had never loved the girl. He was glad of this release.The horror with which she filled him had killed his love.
But, when he once more stood in front of them after taking a few stepsacross the room, he saw that they were holding each other's hands, liketwo friends in distress, trying to give each other courage; and, againyielding to a sudden impulse of hatred, for a moment beside himself, hegripped the man's arm:
"I forbid you--By what right--? Is she your wife? Your mistress? Then--"
His voice became perplexed. He himself felt the strangeness of that fitof anger which suddenly revealed, in all its force and all its blindness,a passion which he thought dead. And he blushed, for Gaston Sauverand waslooking at him in amazement; and he did not doubt that the enemy hadpenetrated his secret.
A long pause followed, during which he met Florence's eyes, hostile eyes,full of rebellion and disdain. Had she, too, guessed?
He dared not speak another word. He waited for Sauverand's explanation.And, while waiting, he gave not a thought to the coming revelations, norto the tremendous problems of which he was at last about to know thesolution, nor to the tragic events at hand.
He thought of one thing only, thought of it with the fevered throbbing ofhis whole being, thought of what he was on the point of learning aboutFlorence, about the girl's affections, about her past, about her love forSauverand. That alone interested him.
"Very well," said Sauverand. "I am caught in a trap. Fate must take itscourse. Nevertheless, can I speak to you? It is the only wish thatremains to me."
"Speak," replied Don Luis. "The door is locked. I shall not open it untilI think fit. Speak."
"I shall be brief," said Gaston Sauverand. "For one thing, what I cantell you is not much. I do not ask you to believe it, but to listen to itas if I were possibly telling the truth, the whole truth."
And he expressed himself in the following words:
"I never met Hippolyte and Marie Fauville, though I used to correspondwith them--you will remember that we were all cousins--until fiveyears ago, when chance brought us together at Palmero. They werepassing the winter there while their new house on the Boulevard Suchetwas being built.
"We spent five months at Palmero, seeing one another daily. Hippolyte andMarie were not on the best of terms. One evening after they had beenquarrelling more violently than usual I found her crying. Her tears upsetme and I could not longer conceal my secret. I had loved Marie from thefirst moment when we met. I was to love her always and to love her moreand more."
"You lie!" cried Don Luis, losing his self-restraint. "I saw the two ofyou yesterday in the train that brought you back from Alencon--"
Gaston Sauverand looked at Florence. She sat silent, with her hands toher face and her elbows on her knees. Without replying to Don Luis'sexclamation, he went on:
"Marie also loved me. She admitted it, but made me swear that I wouldnever try to obtain from her more than the purest friendship would allow.I kept my oath. We enjoyed a few weeks of incomparable happiness.Hippolyte Fauville, who had become enamoured of a music-hall singer, wasoften away.
"I took a good deal of trouble with the physical training of the littleboy Edmond, whose health was not what it should be. And we also had withus, between us, the best of friends, the most devoted and affectionatecounsellor, who staunched our wounds, kept up our courage, restored ourgayety, and bestowed some of her own strength and dignity upon our love.Florence was there."
Don Luis felt his heart beating faster. Not that he attached the leastcredit to Gaston Sauverand's words; but he had every hope of arriving,through those words, at the real truth. Perhaps, also, he wasunconsciously undergoing the influence of Gaston Sauverand, whoseapparent frankness and sincerity of tone caused him a certain surprise.
Sauverand continued:
"Fifteen years before, my elder brother, Raoul Sauverand, had picked upat Buenos Aires, where he had gone to live, a little girl, the orphandaughter of some friends. At his death he entrusted the child, who wasthen fourteen, to an old nurse who had brought me up and who hadaccompanied my brother to South America. The old nurse brought the childto me and herself died of an accident a few days after her arrival inFrance.... I took the little girl to Italy to friends, where she workedand studied and became--what she is.
"Wishing to live by her own resources, she accepted a position as teacherin a family. Later I recommended her to my Fauville cousins with whom Ifound her at Palmero as governess to the boy Edmond and especially as thefriend, the dear and devoted friend, of Marie Fauville.... She was mine,also, at that happy time, which was so sunny and all too short. Ourhappiness, in fact--the happiness of all three of us--was to be wreckedin the most sudden and tantalizing fashion.
"Every evening I used to write in a diary the daily life of my love, anuneventful life, without hope or future before it, but eager and radiant.Marie Fauville was extolled in it as a goddess. Kneeling down to write, Isang litanies of her beauty, and I also used to invent, as a poorcompensation, wholly imaginary scenes, in which she said all the thingswhich she might have said but did not, and promised me all the happinesswhich we had voluntarily renounced.
"Hippolyte Fauville found the diary.... His anger was something terrible.His first impulse was to get rid of Marie. But in the face of his wife'sattitude, of the proofs of her innocence which she supplied, of herinflexible refusal to consent to a divorce, and of her promise never tosee me again, he recovered his calmness.... I left, with death in mysoul. Florence left, too, dismissed. And never, mark me, never, sincethat fatal hour, did I exchange a single word with Marie. But anindestructible love united us, a love which neither absence nor time wasto weaken."
He stopped for a moment, as though to read in Don Luis's face the effectproduced by his story. Don Luis did not conceal his anxious attention.What astonished him most was Gaston Sauverand's extraordinary calmness,the peaceful expression of his eyes, the quiet ease with which he setforth, without hurrying, almost slowly and so very simply, the story ofthat family tragedy.
"What an actor!" he thought.
And as he thought it, he remembered that Marie Fauville had given him thesame impression. Was he then to hark back to his first conviction andbelieve Marie guilty, a dissembler like her accomplice, a dissembler likeFlorence? Or was he to attribute a certain honesty to that man?
He asked:
"And afterward?"
"Afterward I travelled about. I resumed my life of work and pursued mystudies wherever I went, in my bedroom at the hotels, and in the publiclaboratories of the big towns."
"And Mme. Fauville?"
"She lived in Paris in her new house. Neither she nor her husband everreferred to the past."
"How do you know? Did she write to you?"
"No. Marie is a woman who does not do her duty by halves; and her senseof duty is strict to excess. She never wrote to me. But Florence, who hadaccepted a place as secretary and reader to Count Malonyi, yourpredecessor in this house, used often to receive Marie's visits in herlodge downstairs.
"They did not speak of me once, did they, Florence? Marie would not haveallowed it. But all her life and all her soul were nothing but love andpassionate memories. Isn't that so, Florence?
"At last," he went on slowly, "weary of being so far away from her, Ireturned to Paris. That was our undoing.... It was about a year ago. Itook a flat in the Avenue du Roule and went to it in the greatestsecrecy, so that Hippolyte Fauville might not know of my return. I wasafraid of disturbing Marie's peace of mind. Florence alone knew, and cameto see me from time to time. I went out little, only after dark, and inthe most secluded parts of the Bois. But it happened--for our most heroicresolutions sometimes fail us--one Wednesday night, at about eleveno'clock, my step
s led me to the Boulevard Suchet, without my noticing it,and I went past Marie's house.
"It was a warm and fine night and, as luck would have it, Marie was ather window. She saw me, I was sure of it, and knew me; and my happinesswas so great that my legs shook under me as I walked away.
"After that I passed in front of her house every Wednesday evening; andMarie was nearly always there, giving me this unhoped-for and ever-newdelight, in spite of the fact that her social duties, her quite naturallove of amusement, and her husband's position obliged her to go out agreat deal."
"Quick! Why can't you hurry?" said Don Luis, urged by his longing to knowmore. "Look sharp and come to the facts. Speak!"
He had become suddenly afraid lest he should not hear the remainder ofthe explanation; and he suddenly perceived that Gaston Sauverand's wordswere making their way into his mind as words that were perhaps notuntrue. Though he strove to fight against them, they were stronger thanhis prejudices and triumphed over his arguments.
The fact is, that deep down in his soul, tortured with love and jealousy,there was something that disposed him to believe this man in whomhitherto he had seen only a hated rival, and who was so loudlyproclaiming, in Florence's very presence, his love for Marie.
"Hurry!" he repeated. "Every minute is precious!"
Sauverand shook his head.
"I shall not hurry. All my words were carefully thought out before Idecided to speak. Every one of them is essential. Not one of them can beomitted, for you will find the solution of the problem not in factspresented anyhow, separated one from the other, but in the concatenationof the facts, and in a story told as faithfully as possible."
"Why? I don't understand."
"Because the truth lies hidden in that story."
"But that truth is your innocence, isn't it?"
"It is Marie's innocence."
"But I don't dispute it!"
"What is the use of that if you can't prove it?"
"Exactly! It's for you to give me proofs."
"I have none."
"What!"
"I tell you, I have no proof of what I am asking you to believe."
"Then I shall not believe it!" cried Don Luis angrily. "No, and again no!Unless you supply me with the most convincing proofs, I shall refuse tobelieve a single word of what you are going to tell me."
"You have believed everything that I have told you so far," Sauverandretorted very simply.
Don Luis offered no denial. He turned his eyes to Florence Levasseur; andit seemed to him that she was looking at him with less aversion, and asthough she were wishing with all her might that he would not resist theimpressions that were forcing themselves upon him. He muttered:
"Go on with your story."
And there was something really strange about the attitude of those twomen, one making his explanation in precise terms and in such a way as togive every word its full value, the other listening attentively andweighing every one of those words; both controlling their excitement;both as calm in appearance as though they were seeking the philosophicalsolution in a case of conscience. What was going on outside did notmatter. What was to happen presently did not count.
Before all, whatever the consequences of their inactivity at this momentwhen the circle of the police was closing in around them, before all itwas necessary that one should speak and the other listen.
"We are coming," said Sauverand, in his grave voice, "we are coming tothe most important events, to those of which the interpretation, which isnew to you, but strictly true, will make you believe in our good faith.Ill luck having brought me across Hippolyte Fauville's path in the courseof one of my walks in the Bois, I took the precaution of changing myabode and went to live in the little house on the BoulevardRichard-Wallace, where Florence came to see me several times.
"I was even careful to keep her visits a secret and, moreover, to refrainfrom corresponding with her except through the _poste restante_. I wastherefore quite easy in my mind.
"I worked in perfect solitude and in complete security. I expectednothing. No danger, no possibility of danger, threatened us. And, I maysay, to use a commonplace but very accurate expression, that whathappened came as an absolute bolt from the blue. I heard at the sametime, when the Prefect of Police and his men broke into my house andproceeded to arrest me, I heard at the same time and for the first timeof the murder of Hippolyte Fauville, the murder of Edmond, and the arrestof my adored Marie."
"Impossible!" cried Don Luis, in a renewed tone of aggressive wrath."Impossible! Those facts were a fortnight old. I cannot allow that youhad not heard of them."
"Through whom?"
"Through the papers," exclaimed Don Luis. "And, more certainly still,through Mlle. Levasseur."
"Through the papers?" said Sauverand. "I never used to read them. What!Is that incredible? Are we under an obligation, an inevitable necessity,to waste half an hour a day in skimming through the futilities ofpolitics and the piffle of the news columns? Is your imaginationincapable of conceiving a man who reads nothing but reviews andscientific publications?
"The fact is rare, I admit," he continued. "But the rarity of a fact isno proof against it. On the other hand, on the very morning of the crimeI had written to Florence saying that I was going away for three weeksand bidding her good-bye. I changed my mind at the last moment; but thisshe did not know; and, thinking that I had gone, not knowing where I was,she was unable to inform me of the crime, of Marie's arrest, or, later,when an accusation was brought against the man with the ebonywalking-stick, of the search that was being made for me."
"Exactly!" declared Don Luis. "You cannot pretend that the man with theebony walking-stick, the man who followed Inspector Verot to the Cafe duPont-Neuf and purloined his letter--"
"I am not the man," Sauverand interrupted.
And, when Don Luis shrugged his shoulders, he insisted, in a moreforcible tone of voice:
"I am not that man. There is some inexplicable mistake in all this, but Ihave never set foot in the Cafe du Pont-Neuf. I swear it. You must acceptthis statement as positively true. Besides, it agrees entirely with theretired life which I was leading from necessity and from choice. And, Irepeat, I knew nothing.
"The thunderbolt was unexpected. And it was precisely for this reason,you must understand, that the shock produced in me an equally unexpectedreaction, a state of mind diametrically opposed to my real nature, anoutburst of my most savage and primitive instincts. Remember, Monsieur,that they had laid hands upon what to me was the most sacred thing onearth. Marie was in prison. Marie was accused of committing twomurders!... I went mad.
"At first controlling myself, playing a part with the Prefect of Police,then overthrowing every obstacle, shooting Chief Inspector Ancenis,shaking off Sergeant Mazeroux, jumping from the window, I had only onethought in my head--that of escape. Once free, I should save Marie. Werethere people in my way? So much the worse for them.
"By what right did those people dare to attack the most blameless ofwomen? I killed only one man that day! I would have killed ten! I wouldhave killed twenty! What was Chief Inspector Ancenis's life to me? Whatcared I for the lives of any of those wretches? They stood between Marieand myself; and Marie was in prison!"
Gaston Sauverand made an effort which contracted every muscle of his faceto recover the coolness that was gradually leaving him. He succeeded indoing so, but his voice, nevertheless, remained tremulous, and the feverwith which he was consumed shook his frame in a manner which he wasunable to conceal.
He continued:
"At the corner of the street down which I turned after outdistancing thePrefect's men on the Boulevard Richard-Wallace, Florence saved me just asI believed that all was lost. Florence had known everything for afortnight past. She learnt the news of the double murder from the papers,those papers which she used to read out to you, and which you discussedwith her. And it was by being with you, by listening to you, that sheacquired the opinion which everything that happened tended to confirm:the opinio
n that Marie's enemy, her only enemy, was yourself."
"But why? Why?"
"Because she saw you at work," exclaimed Sauverand, "because it was moreto your interest than to that of any one else that first Marie and then Ishould not come between you and the Mornington inheritance, and lastly--"
"What?"
Gaston Sauverand hesitated and then said, plainly:
"Lastly, because she knew your real name beyond a doubt, and because shefelt that Arsene Lupin was capable of anything."
They were both silent; and their silence, at such a moment, wasimpressive to a degree. Florence remained impassive under Don LuisPerenna's gaze; and he was unable to discern on her sealed face any ofthe feelings with which she must needs be stirred.
Gaston Sauverand continued:
"It was against Arsene Lupin, therefore, that Florence, Marie's terrifiedfriend, engaged in the struggle. It was to unmask Lupin that she wrote orrather inspired the article of which you found the original in a ball ofstring. It was Lupin whom she spied upon, day by day, in this house. Itwas Lupin whom she heard one morning telephoning to Sergeant Mazeroux andrejoicing in my imminent arrest. It was to save me from Lupin that shelet down the iron curtain in front of him, at the risk of an accident,and took a taxi to the corner of the Boulevard Richard-Wallace, where shearrived too late to warn me, as the detectives had already entered myhouse, but in time to screen me from their pursuit.
"Her mistrust and terror-stricken hatred of you were told to me in aninstant," Sauverand declared. "During the twenty minutes which weemployed in throwing our assailants off the scent, she hurriedly sketchedthe main lines of the business and described to me in a few words theleading part which you were playing in it; and we then and there prepareda counter-attack upon you, so that you might be suspected of complicity.
"While I was sending a message to the Prefect of Police, Florence wenthome and hid under the cushions of your sofa the end of the stickwhich I had kept in my hand without thinking. It was an ineffectiveparry and missed its aim. But the fight had begun; and I threw myselfinto it headlong.
"Monsieur, to understand my actions thoroughly, you must remember that Iwas a student, a man leading a solitary life, but also an ardent lover. Iwould have spent all my life in work, asking no more from fate than tosee Marie at her window from time to time at night. But, once she wasbeing persecuted, another man arose within me, a man of action, bungling,certainly, and inexperienced, but a man who was ready to stick atnothing, and who, not knowing how to save Marie Fauville, had no otherobject before him than to do away with that enemy of Marie's to whom hewas entitled to ascribe all the misfortunes that had befallen the womanhe loved.... This started the series of my attempts upon your life.Brought into your house, concealed in Florence's own rooms, Itried--unknown to her: that I swear--to poison you."
He paused for an instant to mark the effect of his words, then went on:
"Her reproaches, her abhorrence of such an act, would perhaps have movedme, but, I repeat, I was mad, quite mad; and your death seemed to me toimply Marie's safety. And, one morning, on the Boulevard Suchet, where Ihad followed you, I fired a revolver at you.
"The same evening your motor car, tampered with by myself--remember,Florence's rooms are close to the garage--carried you, I hoped, to yourdeath, together with Sergeant Mazeroux, your confederate.... That timeagain you escaped my vengeance. But an innocent man, the chauffeur whodrove you, paid for you with his life; and Florence's despair was suchthat I had to yield to her entreaties and lay down my arms.
"I myself, terrified by what I had done, shattered by the remembrance ofmy two victims, changed my plans and thought only of saving Marie bycontriving her escape from prison....
"I am a rich man. I lavished money upon Marie's warders, without,however, revealing my intentions. I entered into relations with theprison tradesmen and the staff of the infirmary. And every day, havingprocured a card of admission as a law reporter, I went to the law courts,to the examining magistrates' corridor, where I hoped to meet Marie, toencourage her with a look, a gesture, perhaps to slip a few words ofcomfort into her hand...."
Sauverand moved closer to Don Luis.
"Her martyrdom continued. You struck her a most terrible blow with thatmysterious business of Hippolyte Fauville's letters. What did thoseletters mean? Where did they come from? Were we not entitled toattribute the whole plot to you, to you who introduced them into thehorrible struggle?
"Florence watched you, I may say, night and day. We sought for a clue, aglimmer of light in the darkness.... Well, yesterday morning, Florencesaw Sergeant Mazeroux arrive. She could not overhear what he said to you,but she caught the name of a certain Langernault and the name of Damigni,the village where Langernault lived. She remembered that old friend ofHippolyte Fauville's. Were the letters not addressed to him and was itnot in search of him that you were going off in the motor with SergeantMazeroux?...
"Half an hour later we were in the train for Alencon. A carriage took usfrom the station to just outside Damigni, where we made our inquirieswith every possible precaution. On learning what you must also know, thatLangernault was dead, we resolved to visit his place, and we hadsucceeded in effecting an entrance when Florence saw you in the grounds.Wishing at all costs to avoid a meeting between you and myself, shedragged me across the lawn and behind the bushes. You followed us,however, and when a barn appeared in sight she pushed one of the doorswhich half opened and let us through. We managed to slip quickly throughthe lumber in the dark and knocked up against a ladder. This we climbedand reached a loft in which we took shelter. You entered at thatmoment....
"You know the rest: how you discovered the two hanging skeletons; howyour attention was drawn to us by an imprudent movement of Florence; yourattack, to which I replied by brandishing the first weapon with whichchance provided me; lastly, our flight through the window in the roof,under the fire of your revolver. We were free. But in the evening, in thetrain, Florence fainted. While bringing her to I perceived that one ofyour bullets had wounded her in the shoulder. The wound was slight anddid not hurt her, but it was enough to increase the extreme tension ofher nerves. When you saw us--at Le Mans station wasn't it?--she wasasleep, with her head on my shoulder."
Don Luis had not once interrupted the latter part of this narrative,which was told in a more and more agitated voice and quickened by anaccent of profound truth. Thanks to a superhuman effort of attention, henoted Sauverand's least words and actions in his mind. And as these wordswere uttered and these actions performed, he received the impression ofanother woman who rose up beside the real Florence, a woman unspotted andinnocent of all the shame which he had attributed to her on the strengthof events.
Nevertheless, he did not yet give in. How could Florence possibly beinnocent? No, no, the evidence of his eyes, which had seen, and theevidence of his reason, which had judged, both rebelled against any suchcontention.
He would not admit that Florence could suddenly be different from whatshe really was to him: a crafty, cunning, cruel, blood-thirsty monster.No, no, the man was lying with infernal cleverness. He put things with askill amounting to genius, until it was no longer possible todifferentiate between the false and the true, or to distinguish the lightfrom the darkness.
He was lying! He was lying! And yet how sweet were the lies he told! Howbeautiful was that imaginary Florence, the Florence compelled by destinyto commit acts which she loathed, but free of all crime, free of remorse,humane and pitiful, with her clear eyes and her snow-white hands! And howgood it was to yield to this fantastic dream!
Gaston Sauverand was watching the face of his former enemy. Standingclose to Don Luis, his features lit up with the expression offeelings and passions which he no longer strove to check, he asked,in a low voice:
"You believe me, don't you?"
"No, I don't," said Perenna, hardening himself to resist the man'sinfluence.
"You must!" cried Sauverand, with a fierce outburst of violence. "Youmust believe in the strength
of my love. It is the cause of everything.My hatred for you comes only from my love. Marie is my life. If she weredead, there would be nothing for me to do but die. Oh, this morning, whenI read in the papers that the poor woman had opened her veins--andthrough your fault, after Hippolyte's letters accusing her--I did notwant to kill you so much as to inflict upon you the most barbaroustortures! My poor Marie, what a martyrdom she must be enduring!...
"As you were not back, Florence and I wandered about all morning to havenews of her: first around the prison, next to the police office and thelaw courts. And it was there, in the magistrates' corridor, that I sawyou. At that moment you were mentioning Marie Fauville's name to a numberof journalists; and you told them that Marie Fauville was innocent; andyou informed them of the evidence which you possessed in Marie's favour!
"My hatred ceased then and there, Monsieur. In one second the enemy hadbecome the ally, the master to whom one kneels. So you had had thewonderful courage to repudiate all your work and to devote yourself toMarie's rescue! I ran off, trembling with joy and hope, and, as I joinedFlorence, I shouted, 'Marie is saved! He proclaims her innocent! I mustsee him and speak to him!'...
"We came back here. Florence refused to lay down her arms and begged menot to carry out my plan before your new attitude in the case wasconfirmed by deeds. I promised everything that she asked. But my mind wasmade up. And my will was still further strengthened when I had read yourdeclaration in the newspaper. I would place Marie's fate in your handswhatever happened and without an hour's delay, I waited for your returnand came up here."
He was no longer the same man who had displayed such coolness at thecommencement of the interview. Exhausted by his efforts and by a strugglethat had lasted for weeks, costing him so much fruitless energy, he wasnow trembling; and clinging to Don Luis, with one of his knees on thechair beside which Don Luis was standing, he stammered:
"Save her, I implore you! You have it in your power. Yes, you can doanything. I learnt to know you in fighting you. There was more thanyour genius defending you against me; there is a luck that protectsyou. You are different from other men. Why, the mere fact of your notkilling me at once, though I had pursued you so savagely, the fact ofyour listening to the inconceivable truth of the innocence of all threeof us and accepting it as admissible, surely these constitute anunprecedented miracle.
"While I was waiting for you and preparing to speak to you, I receivedan intuition of it all!" he exclaimed. "I saw clearly that the man whowas proclaiming Marie's innocence with nothing to guide him but hisreason, I saw that this man alone could save her and that he would saveher. Ah, I beseech you, save her--and save her at once. Otherwise itwill be too late.
"In a few days Marie will have ended her life. She cannot go on living inprison. You see, she means to die. No obstacle can prevent her. Can anyone be prevented from committing suicide? And how horrible if she were todie!... Oh, if the law requires a criminal I will confess anything that Iam asked to. I will joyfully accept every charge and pay every penalty,provided that Marie is free! Save her!... I did not know, I do not yetknow the best thing to be done! Save her from prison and death, save her,for God's sake, save her!"
Tears flowed down his anguish-stricken face. Florence also was crying,bowed down with sorrow. And Perenna suddenly felt the most terrible dreadsteal over him.
Although, ever since the beginning of the interview, a fresh convictionhad gradually been mastering him, it was only as it were a glance that hebecame aware of it. Suddenly he perceived that his belief in Sauverand'swords was unrestricted, and that Florence was perhaps not the loathsomecreature that he had had the right to think, but a woman whose eyes didnot lie and whose face and soul were alike beautiful.
Suddenly he learnt that the two people before him, as well as MarieFauville, for love of whom they had fought so unskilful a fight, wereimprisoned in an iron circle which their efforts would not succeed inbreaking. And that circle traced by an unknown hand he, Perenna, haddrawn tighter around them with the most ruthless determination.
"If only it is not too late!" he muttered.
He staggered under the shock of the sensations and ideas that crowdedupon him. Everything clashed in his brain with tragic violence:certainty, joy, dismay, despair, fury. He was struggling in the clutchesof the most hideous nightmare; and he already seemed to see a detective'sheavy hand descending on Florence's shoulder.
"Come away! Come away!" he cried, starting up in alarm. "It is madnessto remain!"
"But the house is surrounded," Sauverand objected.
"And then? Do you think that I will allow for a second--? No, no, come!We must fight side by side. I shall still entertain some doubts, that iscertain. You must destroy them; and we will save Mme. Fauville."
"But the detectives round the house?"
"We'll manage them."
"Weber, the deputy chief?"
"He's not here. And as long as he's not here I'll take everything onmyself. Come, follow me, but at some little distance. When I give thesignal and not till then--"
He drew the bolt and turned the handle of the door. At that moment someone knocked. It was the butler.
"Well?" asked Don Luis. "Why am I disturbed?"
"The deputy chief detective, M. Weber, is here, sir."