Le dossier no. 113. English

  XIII

  Valentine knew, that fatal evening, that Gaston would have to walk toTarascon, to cross the bridge over the Rhone which connected Tarasconwith Beaucaire, and did not expect to see him until eleven o'clock, thehour which they had fixed upon the previous evening.

  But, happening to look up at the windows of Clameran, she saw lightshurrying to and fro in an unusual manner, even in rooms that she knew tobe unoccupied.

  A presentiment of impending misfortune chilled her blood, and stoppedthe beatings of her heart.

  A secret and imperious voice within told her that somethingextraordinary was going on at the chateau of Clameran.

  What was it? She could not imagine; but she knew, she felt, that somedreadful misfortune had happened.

  With her eyes fastened upon the dark mass of stone looming in thedistance, she watched the going and coming of the lights, as if theirmovements would give her a clew to what was taking place within thosewalls.

  She raised her window, and tried to listen, fancying she could hear anunusual sound, even at such a distance. Alas! she heard nothing but therushing roar of the angry river.

  Her anxiety grew more insufferable every moment; and she felt as if shewould faint were this torturing suspense to last much longer, when thewell-known, beloved signal appeared suddenly in Gaston's window, andtold her that her lover was about to swim across the Rhone.

  She could scarcely believe her eyes; she must be under the influence ofa dream; her amazement prevented her answering the signal, until it hadbeen repeated three times.

  Then, more dead than alive, with trembling limbs she hastened along thepark to the river-bank.

  Never had she seen the Rhone so furious. Since Gaston was risking hislife in order to see her, she could no longer doubt that somethingfearful had occurred at Clameran.

  She fell on her knees, and with clasped hands, and her wild eyes fixedupon the dark waters, besought the pitiless waves to yield up her dearGaston.

  Every dark object which she could distinguish floating in the middle ofthe torrent assumed the shape of a human form.

  At one time, she thought she heard, above the roaring of the water, theterrible, agonized cry of a drowning man.

  She watched and prayed, but her lover came not.

  Still she waited.

  While the gendarmes and hussars slowly and silently returned to thechateau of Clameran, Gaston experienced one of those miracles whichwould seem incredible were they not confirmed by the most convincingproof.

  When he first plunged into the river, he rolled over five or six times,and was then drawn toward the bottom. In a swollen river the current isunequal, being much stronger in some places than in others; hence thegreat danger.

  Gaston knew it, and guarded against it. Instead of wasting his strengthin vain struggles, he held his breath, and kept still. About twenty-fiveyards from the spot where he had plunged in, he made a violent springwhich brought him to the surface.

  Rapidly drifting by him was the old tree.

  For an instant, he was entangled in the mass of weeds and debris whichclung to its roots, and followed in its wake; an eddy set him free. Thetree and its clinging weeds swept on. It was the last familiar friend,gone.

  Gaston dared not attempt to reach the opposite shore. He would have toland where the waves dashed him.

  With great presence of mind he put forth all his strength and dexterityto slowly take an oblique course, knowing well that there was no hopefor him if the current took him crosswise.

  This fearful current is as capricious as a woman, which accounts forthe strange effects of inundations; sometimes it rushes to the right,sometimes to the left, sparing one shore and ravaging the other.

  Gaston was familiar with every turn of the river; he knew that justbelow Clameran was an abrupt turning, and relied upon the eddy formedthereby, to sweep him in the direction of La Verberie.

  His hopes were not deceived. An oblique current suddenly swept himtoward the right shore, and, if he had not been on his guard, would havesunk him.

  But the eddy did not reach as far as Gaston supposed, and he was stillsome distance from the shore, when, with the rapidity of lightning, hewas swept by the park of La Verberie.

  As he floated by, he caught a glimpse of a white shadow among the trees;Valentine still waited for him.

  He was gradually approaching the bank, as he reached the end of LaVerberie, and attempted to land.

  Feeling a foothold, he stood up twice, and each time was thrown down bythe violence of the waves. He escaped being swept away by seizing somewillow branches, and, clinging to them, raised himself, and climbed upthe steep bank.

  He was safe at last.

  Without taking time to breathe, he darted in the direction of the park.

  He came just in time. Overcome by the intensity of her emotions,Valentine had fainted, and lay apparently lifeless on the dampriver-bank.

  Gaston's entreaties and kisses aroused her from her stupor.

  "Gaston!" she cried, in a tone that revealed all the love she felt forhim. "Is it indeed you? Then God heard my prayers, and had pity on us."

  "No, Valentine," he murmured. "God has had no pity."

  The sad tones of Gaston's voice convinced her that her presentiment ofevil was true.

  "What new misfortune strikes us now?" she cried. "Why have you thusrisked your life--a life far dearer to me than my own? What hashappened?"

  "This is what has happened, Valentine: our love-affair is the jest ofthe country around; our secret is a secret no longer."

  She shrank back, and, burying her face in her hands, moaned piteously.

  "This," said Gaston, forgetting everything but his present misery, "thisis the result of the blind enmity of our families. Our noble and purelove, which ought to be a glory in the eyes of God and man, has to beconcealed, and, when discovered, becomes a reproach as though it weresome evil deed."

  "Then all is known--all is discovered!" murmured Valentine. "Oh, Gaston,Gaston!"

  While struggling for his life against furious men and angry elements,Gaston had preserved his self-possession; but the heart-broken tone ofhis beloved Valentine overcame him. He swung his arms above his head,and exclaimed:

  "Yes, they know it; and oh, why could I not crush the villains fordaring to utter your adored name? Ah, why did I only kill two of thescoundrels!"

  "Have you killed someone, Gaston?"

  Valentine's tone of horror gave Gaston a ray of reason.

  "Yes," he replied with bitterness, "I have killed two men. It was forthat that I have crossed the Rhone. I could not have my father's namedisgraced by being tried and convicted for murder. I have been trackedlike a wild beast by mounted police. I have escaped them, and now I amflying my country."

  Valentine struggled to preserve her composure under this last unexpectedblow.

  "Where do you hope to find an asylum?" she asked.

  "I know not. Where I am to go, what will become of me, God only knows!I only know that I am going to some strange land, to assume a false nameand a disguise. I shall seek some lawless country which offers a refugeto murderers."

  Gaston waited for an answer to this speech. None came, and he resumedwith vehemence:

  "And before disappearing, Valentine, I wished to see you, because now,when I am abandoned by everyone else, I have relied upon you, and hadfaith in your love. A tie unites us, my darling, stronger and moreindissoluble than all earthly ties--the tie of love. I love you morethan life itself, my Valentine; before God you are my wife; I amyours and you are mine, for ever and ever! Would you let me fly alone,Valentine? To the pain and toil of exile, to the sharp regrets of aruined life, would you, could you, add the torture of separation?"

  "Gaston, I implore you--"

  "Ah, I knew it," he interrupted, mistaking the sense of her exclamation;"I knew you would not let me go off alone. I knew your sympathetic heartwould long to share the burden of my miseries. This moment effaces thewretched suffering I have endured. Let us go! Hav
ing our happiness todefend, having you to protect, I fear nothing; I can brave all, conquerall. Come, my Valentine, we will escape, or die together! This is thelong-dreamed-of happiness! The glorious future of love and liberty openbefore us!"

  He had worked himself into a state of delirious excitement. He seizedValentine around the waist, and tried to draw her toward the gate.

  As Gaston's exaltation increased, Valentine became composed and almoststolid in her forced calmness.

  Gently, but with a quiet firmness, she withdrew herself from hisembrace, and said sadly, but resolutely:

  "What you wish is impossible, Gaston!"

  This cold, inexplicable resistance confounded her lover.

  "Impossible? Why, Valentine----"

  "You know me well enough, Gaston, to be convinced that sharing thegreatest hardships with you would to me be the height of happiness. Butabove the tones of your voice to which I fain would yield, above thevoice of my own heart which urges me to follow the one being upon whomall its affections are centred, there is another voice--a powerful,imperious voice--which bids me to stay: the voice of duty."

  "What! Would you think of remaining here after the horrible affair ofto-night, after the scandal that will be spread to-morrow?"

  "What do you mean? That I am lost, dishonored? Am I any more so to-daythan I was yesterday? Do you think that the jeers and scoffs ofthe world could make me suffer more than do the pangs of my guiltyconscience? I have long since passed judgment upon myself, Gaston; and,although the sound of your voice and the touch of your hand would makeme forget all save the bliss of your love, no sooner were you away thanI would weep tears of shame and remorse."

  Gaston listened immovable, stupefied. He seemed to see a new Valentinestanding before him, an entirely different woman from the one whosetender soul he thought he knew so well.

  "Your mother, what will she say?" he asked.

  "It is my duty to her that keeps me here. Do you wish me to prove anunnatural daughter, and desert a poor, lonely, friendless old woman, whohas nothing but me to cling to? Could I abandon her to follow a lover?"

  "But our enemies will inform her of everything, Valentine, and think howshe will make you suffer!"

  "No matter. The dictates of conscience must be obeyed. Ah, why can Inot, at the price of my life, spare her the agony of hearing that heronly daughter, her Valentine, has disgraced her name? She may be hard,cruel, pitiless toward me; but have I not deserved it? Oh, my onlyfriend, we have been revelling in a dream too beautiful to last! I havelong dreaded this awakening. Like two weak, credulous fools we imaginedthat happiness could exist beyond the pale of duty. Sooner or laterstolen joys must be dearly paid for. After the sweet comes the bitter;we must bow our heads, and drink the cup to the dregs."

  This cold reasoning, this sad resignation, was more than the fierynature of Gaston could bear.

  "You shall not talk thus!" he cried. "Can you not feel that the bareidea of your suffering humiliation drives me mad?"

  "Alas! I see nothing but disgrace, the most fearful disgrace, staring mein the face."

  "What do you mean, Valentine?"

  "I have not told you, Gaston, I am----"

  Here she stopped, hesitated, and then added:

  "Nothing! I am a fool."

  Had Gaston been less excited, he would have suspected some newmisfortune beneath this reticence of Valentine; but his mind was toofull of one idea--that of possessing her.

  "All hope is not lost," he continued. "My father is kind-hearted, andwas touched by my love and despair. I am sure that my letters, added tothe intercession of my brother Louis, will induce him to ask Mme. de laVerberie for your hand."

  This proposition seemed to frighten Valentine.

  "Heaven forbid that the marquis should take this rash step!"

  "Why, Valentine?"

  "Because my mother would reject his offer; because, I must confess itnow, she has sworn I shall marry none but a rich man; and your father isnot rich, Gaston, so you will have very little."

  "Good heavens!" cried Gaston, with disgust, "is it to such an unnaturalmother that you sacrifice me?"

  "She is my mother; that is sufficient. I have not the right to judgeher. My duty is to remain with her, and remain I shall."

  Valentine's manner showed such determined resolution, that Gaston sawthat further prayers would be in vain.

  "Alas!" he cried, as he wrung his hands with despair, "you do not loveme; you have never loved me!"

  "Gaston, Gaston! you do not think what you say! Have you no mercy?"

  "If you loved me," he cried, "you could never, at this moment ofseparation, have the cruel courage to coldly reason and calculate. Ah,far different is my love for you. Without you the world is void; to loseyou is to die. What have I to live for? Let the Rhone take back thisworthless life, so miraculously saved; it is now a burden to me!"

  And he rushed toward the river, determined to bury his sorrow beneathits waves; Valentine seized his arm, and held him back.

  "Is this the way to show your love for me?" she asked.

  Gaston was absolutely discouraged.

  "What is the use of living?" he said, dejectedly. "What is left to menow?"

  "God is left to us, Gaston; and in his hands lies our future."

  As a shipwrecked man seizes a rotten plank in his desperation, soGaston eagerly caught at the word "_future_," as a beacon in the gloomydarkness surrounding him.

  "Your commands shall be obeyed," he cried with enthusiasm. "Away withweakness! Yes, I will live, and struggle, and triumph. Mme. de laVerberie wants gold; well, she shall have it; in three years I will berich, or I shall be dead."

  With clasped hands Valentine thanked Heaven for this suddendetermination, which was more than she had dared hope for.

  "But," said Gaston, "before going away I wish to confide to you a sacreddeposit."

  He drew from his pocket the purse of jewels, and, handing them toValentine, added:

  "These jewels belonged to my poor mother; you, my angel, are aloneworthy of wearing them. I thought of you when I accepted them from myfather. I felt that you, as my affianced wife, were the proper person tohave them."

  Valentine refused to accept them.

  "Take them, my darling, as a pledge of my return. If I do not come backwithin three years, you may know that I am dead, and then you must keepthem as a souvenir of him who so much loved you."

  She burst into tears, and took the purse.

  "And now," said Gaston, "I have a last request to make. Everybodybelieves me dead, but I cannot let my poor old father labor under thisimpression. Swear to me that you will go yourself to-morrow morning, andtell him that I am still alive."

  "I will tell him, myself," she said.

  Gaston felt that he must now tear himself away before his courage failedhim; each moment he was more loath to leave the only being who boundhim to this world; he enveloped Valentine in a last fond embrace, andstarted up.

  "What is your plan of escape?" she asked.

  "I shall go to Marseilles, and hide in a friend's house until I canprocure a passage to America."

  "You must have assistance; I will secure you a guide in whom I haveunbounded confidence; old Menoul, the ferryman, who lives near us. Heowns the boat which he plies on the Rhone."

  The lovers passed through the little park gate, of which Gaston had thekey, and soon reached the boatman's cabin.

  He was asleep in an easy-chair by the fire. When Valentine stood beforehim with Gaston, the old man jumped up, and kept rubbing his eyes,thinking it must be a dream.

  "Pere Menoul," said Valentine, "M. Gaston is compelled to fly thecountry; he wants to be rowed out to sea, so that he can secretlyembark. Can you take him in your boat as far as the mouth of the Rhone?"

  "It is impossible," said the old man, shaking his head; "I would notdare venture on the river in its present state."

  "But, Pere Menoul, it would be of immense service to me; would you notventure for my sake?"

  "For you
r sake? certainly I would, Mlle. Valentine: I will do anythingto gratify you. I am ready to start."

  He looked at Gaston, and, seeing his clothes wet and covered with mud,said to him:

  "Allow me to offer you my dead son's clothes, monsieur; they will serveas a disguise: come this way."

  In a few minutes Pere Menoul returned with Gaston, whom no one wouldhave recognized in his sailor dress.

  Valentine went with them to the place where the boat was moored. Whilethe old man was unfastening it, the disconsolate lovers tearfullyembraced each other for the last time.

  "In three years, my own Valentine; promise to wait three years for me!If alive, I will then see you."

  "Adieu, mademoiselle," interrupted the boatman; "and you, monsieur, holdfast, and keep steady."

  Then with a vigorous stroke of the boat-hook he sent the bark into themiddle of the stream.

  Three days later, thanks to the assistance of Pere Menoul, Gaston wasconcealed on the three-masted American vessel, Tom Jones, which was tostart the next day for Valparaiso.