Secret des Champdoce. English

  CHAPTER XI.

  MARRIAGE BELLS; FUNERAL KNELLS.

  Three days of hard work had completed all the arrangements necessaryfor the marriage of Norbert and Mademoiselle de Puymandour. He had beenpresented to the lady, and neither had received a favorable impressionof the other. At the very first glance each one felt that inevitablerepugnance which the lapse of years can never efface. While dreading theanger of her obdurate father, Marie had at one time thought of confidingthe secret of her attachment to George de Croisenois to Norbert, for shehad the idea that if she told him that her heart was another's, hemight withdraw his pretensions to her hand; but several times, whenthe opportunity occurred, fear restrained her tongue, and she let thepropitious moment pass away. Had she done so, Norbert would at once haveeagerly grasped at a pretext for absolving himself from a promise whichhe had made mentally of obeying in all things a father who now, alas!had no means of enforcing his commands.

  Each day he paid his visit to Puymandour as an accepted suitor, bearinga large bouquet with him, which he regularly presented to his betrothedupon his entrance into the drawing-room, which she accepted with apainful flush rising to her cheek. The pair conversed upon indifferenttopics, while an aged female connection sat in the room to playpropriety. For many hours they would remain thus, the girl bending overher fancy work, and he vainly striving to find topics of conversation,and, consequently, saying hardly anything, in spite of Marie's feebleefforts to assist in the conversation. It was a slight relief when M.de Puymandour proposed a walk; but this was a rare occurrence, for thatgentleman usually declared that he never had a moment's leisure. Neverhad he seemed so gay and busy since the approaching marriage ofhis daughter had been the theme of every tongue. He took all thepreparations for the ceremony into his own hands, for he had determinedthat everything should be conducted on a scale of unparalleledmagnificence. The Chateau was refurnished, and all the carriagesrepainted and varnished, while the Champdoce and the Puymandour armswere quartered together on their panels. This coat of arms was to beseen everywhere--over the doors, on the walls, and engraved on thesilver, and it was believed that M. de Puymandour would have made noobjection to their being branded on his breast.

  In the midst of all this turmoil and bustle Norbert and Marie grewsadder and sadder as each day passed on. One day M. de Puymandourheard so astounding a piece of intelligence that he hurried into thedrawing-room, where he knew that he should find the lovers (as he styledthem) together.

  "Well, my children," exclaimed he, "you have set such an excellentexample, that everybody seems disposed to copy you, and the mayor andthe priest will be kept to their work rather tightly this year."

  His daughter tried to put on an appearance of interest at this speech.

  "Yes," continued M. de Puymandour, "I have just heard of a marriage thatwill come off almost directly after yours has been celebrated, and willmake a stir, I can assure you."

  "And whose is that, pray?"

  "You are acquainted, I presume," returned the father, addressing himselfto Norbert, "with the son of the Count de Mussidan?"

  "What, the Viscount Octave?"

  "The same."

  "He lives in Paris, does he not?"

  "Yes, generally; but he has been staying at Mussidan, and in the shortspace of a week has managed to lose his heart here; and to whom do youthink? Come, give a guess."

  "We cannot think who it can be, my dear father," said Marie, "and we aredevoured with curiosity."

  "It is reported that the Viscount de Mussidan has proposed for the handof Mademoiselle de Laurebourg."

  "Why," remarked Marie, "it is only three weeks since her brother died!"

  Norbert flushed scarlet, and then turned a livid white; so great was hisagitation at hearing this news, that he nearly dropped the album whichhe held in his hand.

  "I like the Viscount," continued M. de Puymandour, "while MademoiselleDiana is a charming girl. She is very handsome, and, I believe, has manytalents; and she is a good model for you to copy, Marie, as you are sosoon to become a duchess."

  When he got upon his favorite hobby, it was very difficult to check M.de Puymandour. His daughter, therefore, waited until he had concluded,and then left the room, under the pretext of giving an order to theservants. The Count hardly noticed her absence, as he had still Norbertat his mercy.

  "Reverting again to Mademoiselle Diana," said he: "she looks charmingin black, for women should look upon a death in the family as a mostfortunate occurrence; but I ought not to be praising her to you, who areso well acquainted with her."

  "I?" exclaimed Norbert.

  "Yes, you. I do not suppose that you intend to deny that you have had alittle flirtation with her?"

  "I do not understand you."

  "Well, _I_ do then, my boy; I heard all about your making love to her.Why, you are really blushing! What is up now?"

  "I can assure you----"

  De Puymandour burst into a loud laugh.

  "I have heard a good deal of your little country walks, and all thepretty things that you used to say to each other."

  In vain did Norbert deny the whole thing, for his intended father-in-lawwould not believe him; and at last he got so annoyed that he refused toremain and dine with the Count, alleging anxiety for his father as anexcuse. He returned home as soon as he possibly could, much agitated bywhat he had heard; and as he was walking rapidly on, he heard his namecalled by some one who was running after him: Norbert turned round, andfound himself face to face with Montlouis.

  "I have been here a week," said the young man. "I am here with mypatron, for I have one now. I am now with the Viscount de Mussidan, ashis private secretary. M. Octave is not the most agreeable man in theworld to get on with, as he gets into the most violent passions on verytrivial occasions; but he has a good heart, after all, and I am verypleased with the position I have gained."

  "I am very glad to hear it, Montlouis, very much pleased indeed."

  "And you, Marquis, I hear, are to marry Mademoiselle de Puymandour; Icould scarcely credit the news."

  "And why, pray?"

  "Because I remembered when we used to wait outside a certain gardenwall, until we saw a certain door open discreetly."

  "But you must efface all this from your memory, Montlouis."

  "Do not be alarmed; save to you, my lips would never utter a word ofthis. No one else would ever make me speak."

  "Stop!" said Norbert, with an angry gesture. "Do you venture to say--"

  "To say what?"

  "I wish you to understand that Mademoiselle Diana is as free from blameto-day as she was when first I met her. She has been indiscreet, butnothing more, I swear it before heaven!"

  "I believe you perfectly."

  In reality Montlouis did not believe one word of Norbert's assertion,and the young Marquis could read this in his companion's face.

  "The more so," continued the secretary, "as the young lady is about tobe married to my friend and patron."

  "But where," asked Norbert, "did the Viscount meet with Mademoiselle deLaurebourg?"

  "In Paris; the Viscount and her brother were very intimate, and nursedhim during his last illness, and as soon as the scheming parents heardof the Viscount being in the neighborhood they asked him to call onthem. Of course he did so, and saw Mademoiselle Diana, and returned homein a perfect frenzy of love."

  Norbert seemed so incensed at this that Montlouis broke off his recital,feeling confident that the Marquis still loved Diana, and was consumedwith the flame of jealousy.

  "But, of course," he added carelessly, "nothing is yet settled."

  Norbert, however, was too agitated to listen to the idle gossip ofMontlouis any longer, so he pressed his hand and left him ratherabruptly, walking away at the top of his speed, leaving his friendsilent with astonishment. It seemed to Norbert as if he was imprisonedin one of those iron dungeons he had read of, which slowly contractedday by day, and at last crushed their victims to atoms. He saw Dianamarried to the Viscount de Mussidan, a
nd compelled to meet daily the manwho knew all about her illicit meetings with her former lover, and whohad more than once, when Norbert was unable to leave Champdoce, beenintrusted with a letter or a message for her. And how would Montlouisbehave under the circumstances? Would he possess the necessary tact andcoolness to carry him through so difficult a position? What would be theend of this cruel concatenation of circumstances? Would Diana be able toendure the compromising witness of her youthful error? She would eagerlyseek out some pretext for his dismissal; he could easily detect this,and in his anger at the loss of a position which he had long desired,would turn on her and repeat the whole story. Should Montlouis let loosehis tongue, the Viscount, indignant at the imposition that had beenpractised upon him, would separate from his wife. What would be Diana'sconduct when she found herself left thus alone, and despised by thesociety of which she had hoped to be a queen? Would she not, in herturn, seek to revenge herself on Norbert? He had just asked himselfwhether at this juncture death would not be a blessing to him, when hecaught sight of Francoise, the daughter of the Widow Rouleau, close byhim. For two hours she had been awaiting his coming, concealed behind ahedge.

  "I have something to give you, my lord Marquis," said she.

  He took the letter that she held out to him, and, opening it, he read,--

  "You said that I did not love you--perhaps this was but a test to provemy love. I am ready to fly with you to-night. I shall lose all, butit will be for your sake. Reflect, Norbert; there is yet time, butto-morrow it will be too late."

  These were the words that Mademoiselle de Laurebourg had had the courageto pen, which to the former lover were full of the most thrillingeloquence. The usually bold, firm writing of Diana was, in the letterbefore him, confused and almost illegible, showing the writer's frame ofmind. There were blurs and blisters upon the paper as though tears hadfallen upon it, perhaps because the writing had been made purposelyirregular and drops of water are an excellent substitute for tears.

  "Does she really love me?" murmured he.

  He hesitated; yes, he absolutely hesitated, impressed by the idea thatfor him she was ready to sacrifice position and honor, that he had butto raise his finger and she was his, and that in the space of a coupleof hours she might be the companion of his flight to some far-distantland. His pulse throbbed madly, and he could scarcely draw his breath,when some fifty paces down the road he caught sight of the figure of aman; it was his father. This was the second time that the Duke by hismere presence had spread the web of Diana's temptations and allurements.

  "Never!" exclaimed Norbert, with such fire and energy that the girl fellback a pace. "Never! no, never!" and crushing up the letter, he dashedit upon the ground, from whence Francoise picked it up as he ran forwardto meet his father. The Duke had recovered from his attack as far as themere fact of his life not having been sacrificed; he could walk, sleep,eat and drink as he had formerly done. He could look at the laborers inthe fields or the horses in the stables, but five minutes afterwardshe had no recollection of what he heard or saw. The sudden loss of hisfather's aid would have caused Norbert much embarrassment had it notbeen for the shrewdness and sagacity of M. de Puymandour, who hadassisted him greatly. But all these arrangements which had to bemade had necessarily delayed the wedding. But it came at last; M. dePuymandour took absolute possession of him, and after the unhappy youngman had passed a sleepless night, he was allowed no time for reflection.At eleven o'clock he entered the carriage, and was driven fast to theMayor's office, and from thence to the chapel, and by twelve o'clockall was finished and he fettered for life. A little before dinner theViscount de Mussidan came to offer his congratulations, and gainedthem at the same time for himself by announcing his speedy union withMademoiselle Diana de Laurebourg.

  Five days later the newly married pair took possession of their mansionat Champdoce. Hampered with a wife whom he had never affected to love,and whose tearful face was a constant reproach to him, and with afather who was an utter imbecile, the thoughts of suicide more than oncecrossed Norbert's brain. One day a servant informed Norbert that hisfather refused to get up. A doctor was sent for, and he declared thatthe Duke was in a highly critical condition. A violent reactionhad taken place, and all day the invalid was in a state of intenseexcitement. The power of speech, which he had almost entirely lost,seemed to have returned to him in a miraculous manner; at length,however, he became delirious, and Norbert dismissed the servants who hadbeen watching by his father's bed, lest in the incoherent ravings of theinvalid, the words "Parricide" or "Poison" should break forth. At eleveno'clock he grew calmer, and slept a little, when all at once he startedup in bed, exclaiming: "Come here, Norbert," and Jean, who had remainedby his old master's side, ran up to the bed and was much startled at thesight. The Duke had entirely recovered his former appearance. His eyesflashed, and his lips trembled, as they always did when he was greatlyexcited.

  "Pardon, father; pardon," cried Norbert, falling upon his knees.

  The Duke softly stretched out his hand. "I was mad with family pride,"said he; "and God punished me. My son, I forgive you."

  Norbert's sobs broke the stillness of the chamber.

  "My son, I renounce my ideas," continued the Duke. "I do not desire youto wed Mademoiselle de Puymandour if you feel that you cannot love her."

  "Father," answered Norbert, "I have obeyed your wishes, and she is nowmy wife."

  A gleam of terrible anguish passed over the Duke's countenance; heraised his hands as though to shield his eyes from some grizzly spectre,and in tones of heartrending agony exclaimed: "Too late! Too late!"

  He fell back in terrible convulsions, and in a moment was dead. If, ashas been often asserted, the veil of the hereafter is torn asunder, thenthe Duke de Champdoce had a glimpse into a terrible future.