CHAPTER XVII. THE AMETHYST RING
The topmost branches of the tree, protruding through the window,rendered the centre of the room untenable, so Malartic and his threeaids ranged themselves two and two against the wall on either side ofit, armed with pistols and swords--ready to give the assailants a warmwelcome.
"You had better retire, my lord duke, or else put on a mask," whisperedMalartic to the young nobleman, "so that you may not be seen andrecognised in this affair."
"What do I care?" cried Vallombreuse, flourishing his sword. "I am notafraid of anybody in the world--and besides, those who see me will nevergo away from this to tell of it."
"But at least your lordship will place this second Helen in some saferetreat. A stray bullet might so easily deprive your highness of theprize that cost so dear--and it would be such a pity."
The duke, finding this advice judicious, went at once over to whereIsabelle was standing beside Chiquita, and throwing his arms roundher attempted to carry her into the next room. The poor girl made adesperate resistance, and slipping from the duke's grasp rushed to thewindow, regardless of danger, crying, "Save me, de Sigognac! save me!"A voice from without answered, "I am coming," but, before he could reachthe window, Vallombreuse had again seized his prey, and succeeded incarrying her into the adjoining room, closing and bolting the stoutoaken door behind him just as de Sigognac bounded into the chamber hehad quitted. His entrance was so sudden, and so swiftly and boldly made,that he entirely escaped the pistol shots aimed at him, and the fourbullets all fell harmless. When the smoke had cleared away and the"garrison" saw that he was unhurt, a murmur of astonishment arose, andone of the men exclaimed aloud that Captain Fracasse--the only nameby which THEY knew him--must bear a charmed life; whereupon, Malarticcried, "Leave him to me, I'll soon finish him, and do you three keepa strict guard over the window there; for there will be more to followthis one if I am not mistaken."
But he did not find his self-imposed task as easy as he supposed--forde Sigognac was ready for him, and gave him plenty to do, thoughhis surprise and disappointment were overwhelming when he found thatIsabelle was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is she?" he cried impetuously. "Where is Isabelle? I heard hervoice in here only a moment ago."
"Don't ask me!" Malartic retorted. "YOU didn't give her into my charge."And all this time their swords were flashing and clashing, as the combatbetween them grew more animated.
A moment later, before the men had finished reloading their pistols,Scapin dashed in through the window, throwing a remarkable somersaultlike an acrobat as he came, and seeing that the three ruffians had laiddown their swords beside them on the floor while attending to theirother weapons, he seized upon them all, ere their owners had recoveredfrom their astonishment at his extraordinary advent, and hurled themthrough the broken casement down into the moat. Then, laying hold of oneof the three from behind, and pinning down his arms securely, he placedhim in front of himself for a shield--turning him dexterously thisway and that, in order to keep his body always between his own and theenemy; so that they dared not fire upon him lest they should kill theircomrade, who was vehemently beseeching them to spare his life, andvainly struggling to escape from Scapin's iron grip.
The combat between de Sigognac and Malartic was still going on, but atlast, the baron--who had already wounded his adversary slightly, andwhose agony and desperation at being kept from prosecuting his searchfor Isabelle were intense--wrested Malartic's sword from his grasp, by adexterous manoeuvre with his own, and putting his foot upon it as it layon the floor raised the point of his blade to the professional ruffian'sthroat, crying "Surrender, or you are a dead man!"
At this critical moment another one of the besieging party burst inthrough the window, who, seeing at a glance how matters stood, said toMalartic in an authoritative tone, "You can surrender without dishonourto this valiant hero--you are entirely at his mercy. You have done yourduty loyally--now consider yourself a prisoner of war."
Then turning to de Sigognac, he said, "You may trust his word, for he isan honourable fellow in his way, and will not molest you again--I willanswer for him."
Malartic made a gesture of acquiescence, and the baron let himgo--whereupon the discomfited bully picked up his sword, and with acrestfallen air walked off very disconsolately to a corner, where he satdown and occupied himself in staunching the blood that was flowingfrom his wound. The other three men were quickly conquered, and, at thesuggestion of the latest comer, were securely bound hand and footas they lay upon the floor, and then left to reflect upon theirmisfortunes.
"They can't do any more mischief now," said Jacquemin Lampourde,mockingly; for it was that famous fighting man in person, who, in hisenthusiastic admiration, or rather adoration, for de Sigognac, hadoffered his services on this momentous occasion--services by no meansto be despised. As to the brave Herode, he was doing good service infighting the rest of the garrison below. They had hastened out andcrossed the moat in the little row-boat as quickly as possible after thealarm was given, but arrived too late, as we have seen, to preventthe assailants from ascending their strange scaling ladder. So theydetermined to follow, hoping to overtake and dislodge some of them. ButHerode, who had found the upper branches bending and cracking in a veryominous manner under his great weight, was forced to turn about andmake his way back to the main trunk, where, under cover of darkness,he quietly awaited the climbing foe. Merindol, who commanded thisdetachment of the garrison, was first, and being completely taken bysurprise was easily dislodged and thrown down into the water below. Thenext one, aroused to a sense of his danger by this, pulled out a pistoland fired, but in the agitation of the moment, and the darkness, missedhis aim, so that he was entirely at the tyrant's mercy, and in aninstant was held suspended over the deep waters of the moat. He clungdesperately to a little branch he had managed to lay hold of, andmade such a brave fight for his life, that Herode, who was merciful bynature, though so fierce of aspect, decided to make terms with him, ifhe could do so without injuring the interests of his own party; and uponreceiving a solemn promise from him to remain strictly neutral duringthe remainder of the fray, the powerful actor lifted him up, with thegreatest ease, and seated him in safety upon the tree-trunk again. Thepoor fellow was so grateful that he was even better than his word, for,making use of the password and giving a pretended order from Merindolto the other two, who were some distance behind him and ignorant of whathad happened, he sent them off post-haste to attend to an imaginary foeat some distance from the chateau; availing himself of their absence tomake good his escape, after heartily thanking Herode for his clemency.The moon was just rising, and by its light the tyrant spied the littlerow-boat, lying not very far off at the foot of a flight of steps in thesteep bank, and he was not slow to make use of it to cross the moat,and penetrate into the interior court of the chateau--the postern havingbeen fortunately left open. Looking about him, to see how he could bestrejoin his comrades within the building, his eyes fell upon the porchguarded by the two huge, calm sphinxes, and he wisely concluded thatthrough it must lie his way to the scene of action.
Meantime de Sigognac, Scapin and Lampourde, having a chance to lookabout them, were horrified to find that they were prisoners in the roomwhere the battle had been fought. In vain they tried to burst open thestout oaken door which was their only means of egress--for the tree had,but a moment before, given way and fallen with a loud crash into themoat; in vain they strove to cut through one of the panels, or force thelock from its fastenings. To de Sigognac this delay was maddening, forhe knew that the Duke of Vallombreuse had carried Isabelle away, andthat he must still be with her. He worked like a giant himself, andincited the others to redouble their efforts; making battering ramsof various pieces of furniture--resorting to every means that theiringenuity could devise--but without making the least impression on themassive barrier. They had paused in dismay, when suddenly a slight,grinding noise was heard, like a key turning in a lock, and the door, sounsuccessfully attacked, ope
ned as if by magic before them.
"What good angel has come to our aid?" cried de Sigognac; "and by whatmiracle does this door open of itself, after having so stoutly resistedall our efforts?"
"There is neither angel nor miracle; only Chiquita," answered a quietlittle voice, as the child appeared from behind the door, and fixed hergreat, dark, liquid eyes calmly on de Sigognac. She had managed to slipout with Vallombreuse and Isabelle, entirely unnoticed by the former,and in the hope of being of use to the latter.
"Where is Isabelle?" cried the baron, as he crossed the threshold andlooked anxiously round the anteroom, which was dimly lighted by onelittle flickering lamp. For a moment he did not perceive her; the Dukeof Vallombreuse, surprised at the sudden opening of the door, which hehad believed to be securely fastened and impenetrable, had retreatedinto a corner, and placed Isabelle, who was almost fainting from terrorand exhaustion, behind him. She had sunk upon her knees, with her headleaning against the wall, her long hair, which had come down, fallingabout her, and her dress in the utmost disorder; for she had struggleddesperately in the arms of her captor; who, feeling that his fair victimwas about to escape from his clutches, had vainly striven to snatch afew kisses from the sweet lips so temptingly near his own.
"Here she is," said Chiquita, "in this corner, behind the Duke ofVallombreuse; but to get to her you must first kill him."
"Of course I shall kill him," cried de Sigognac, advancing sword in handtowards the young duke, who was ready to receive him.
"We shall see about that, Sir Captain Fracasse--doughty knight ofBohemiennes!" said Vallombreuse disdainfully, and the conflict began.The duke was not de Sigognac's equal at this kind of work, but still hewas skilful and brave, and had had too much good instruction to handlehis sword like a broom-stick, as Lampourde expressed it. He stoodentirely upon the defensive, and was exceedingly wary and prudent,hoping, as his adversary must be already considerably fatigued by hisencounter with Malartic, that he might be able to get the better of himthis time, and retrieve his previous defeat. At the very beginning hehad succeeded in raising a small silver whistle to his lips with hisleft hand--and its shrill summons brought five or six armed attendantsinto the room.
"Carry away this woman," he cried, "and put out those two rascals. Iwill take care of the captain myself."
The sudden interruption of these fresh forces astonished de Sigognac,and as he saw two of the men lift up and carry off Isabelle--who hadfainted quite away--he was thrown for an instant off his guard, and verynearly run through the body by his opponent.
Roused to a sense of his danger, he attacked the duke with renewed fury,and with a terrible thrust, that made him reel, wounded him seriously inthe upper part of the chest.
Meanwhile Lampourde and Scapin had shown the duke's lackeys that itwould not be a very easy matter to put them out, and were handling themrather roughly, when the cowardly fellows, seeing that their master waswounded, and leaning against the wall, deathly pale, thought that he wasdone for, and although they were fully armed, took to their heels andfled, deaf to his feeble cry for assistance. While all this was goingon, the tyrant was making his way up the grand staircase, as fast ashis corpulence would permit, and reached the top just in time to seeIsabelle, pale, dishevelled, motionless, and apparently dead, beingborne along the corridor by two lackeys. Without stopping to make anyinquiries, and full of wrath at the thought that the sweet girl hadfallen a victim to the wickedness of the cruel Duke of Vallombreuse,he drew his sword, and fell upon the two men with such fury that theydropped their light burden and fled down the stairs as fast as theirlegs could carry them. Then he knelt down beside the unconscious girl,raised her gently in his arms, and found that her heart was beating,though but feebly, and that she apparently had no wound, while shesighed faintly, like a person beginning to revive after a swoon. In thisposition he was found by de Sigognac, who had effectually gotten ridof Vallombreuse, by the famous and well-directed thrust that had thrownJacquemin Lampourde into a rapture of admiration and delight. He kneltdown beside his darling, took both her hands in his, and said, in themost tender tones, that Isabelle heard vaguely as if in a dream:
"Rouse yourself, dear heart, and fear nothing. You are safe now, withyour own friends, and your own true lover--nobody can harm or frightenyou again."
Although she did not yet open her eyes, a faint smile dawned upon thecolourless lips, and her cold, trembling, little fingers feebly returnedthe tender pressure of de Sigognac's warm hands. Lampourde stood by,and looked down with tearful eyes upon this touching group--for he wasexceedingly romantic and sentimental, and always intensely interested ina love affair. Suddenly, in the midst of the profound silence that hadsucceeded to the uproar of the melee, the winding of a horn was heardwithout, and in a moment energetically repeated. It was evidently asummons that had to be instantly obeyed; the drawbridge was lowered inhaste, with a great rattling of chains, and a carriage driven rapidlyinto the court, while the red flaring light of torches flashed throughthe windows of the corridor. In another minute the door of the vestibulewas thrown open, and hasty steps ascended the grand staircase. Firstcame four tall lackeys, in rich liveries, carrying lights, and directlybehind them a tall, noble-looking man, who was dressed from head to footin black velvet, with an order shining on his breast--of those thatare usually reserved for kings and princes of the blood, and only veryexceptionally bestowed, upon the most illustrious personages.
When the four lackeys reached the landing at the head of the stairs,they silently ranged themselves against the wall, and stood like statuesbearing torches; without the raising of an eyelid, or the slightestchange in the stolid expression of their countenances to indicate thatthey perceived anything out of the usual way--exhibiting in perfectionthat miraculous imperturbability and self-command which is peculiar towell-bred, thoroughly trained menservants. The gentleman whom theyhad preceded paused ere he stepped upon the landing. Although age hadbrought wrinkles to his handsome face, and turned his abundant dark hairgray, it was still easy to recognise in him the original of theportrait that had so fascinated Isabelle, and whose protection she hadpassionately implored in her distress.
It was the princely father of Vallombreuse--the son bearing a differentname, that of a duchy he possessed, until he in his turn should becomethe head of the family, and succeed to the title of prince.
At sight of Isabelle, supported by de Sigognac and the tyrant, whoseghastly pallor made her look like one dead, the aged gentleman raisedhis arms towards heaven and groaned.
"Alas! I am too late," said he, "for all the haste I made," andadvancing a few steps he bent over the prostrate girl, and took herlifeless hand in his. Upon this hand, white, cold and diaphanous, as ifit had been sculptured in alabaster, shone a ring, set with an amethystof unusual size. The old nobleman seemed strangely agitated as itcaught his eye. He drew it gently from Isabelle's slender finger, witha trembling hand signed to one of the torch-bearers to bring his lightnearer, and by it eagerly examined the device cut upon the stone; firstholding it close to the light and then at arm's length; as those whoseeyesight is impaired by age are wont to do. The Baron de Sigognac,Herode and Lampourde anxiously watched the agitated movements of theprince, and his change of expression, as he contemplated this jewel,which he seemed to recognise; and which he turned and twisted betweenhis fingers, with a pained look in his face, as if some great troublehad befallen him.
"Where is the Duke of Vallombreuse?" he cried at last, in a voice ofthunder. "Where is that monster in human shape, who is unworthy of myrace?"
He had recognised, without a possibility of doubt, in this ring, the onebearing a fanciful device, with which he had been accustomed, long ago,to seal the notes he wrote to Cornelia--Isabelle's mother, and his ownyouthful love. How happened it that this ring was on the finger ofthe young actress, who had been forcibly and shamefully abducted byVallombreuse? From whom could she have received it? These questions weretorturing to him.
"Can it be possible that she is Cornel
ia's daughter and mine?" said theprince to himself. "Her profession, her age, her sweet face, in which Ican trace a softened, beautified likeness of her mother's, but which hasa peculiarly high bred, refined expression, worthy of a royal princess,all combine to make me believe it must be so. Then, alas! alas! it ishis own sister that this cursed libertine has so wronged, and he hasbeen guilty of a horrible, horrible crime. Oh! I am cruelly punished formy youthful folly and sin."
Isabelle at length opened her eyes, and her first look fell upon theprince, holding the ring that he had drawn from her finger. It seemed toher as if she had seen his face before--but in youth, without the grayhair and beard. It seemed also to be an aged copy of the portrait overthe chimney-piece in her room, and a feeling of profound venerationfilled her heart as she gazed at him. She saw, too, her beloved deSigognac kneeling beside her, watching her with tenderest devotion; andthe worthy tyrant as well--both safe and sound. To the horrors of theterrible struggle had succeeded the peace and security of deliverance.She had nothing more to fear, for her friends or for herself--how couldshe ever be thankful enough?
The prince, who had been gazing at her with passionate earnestness, asif her fair face possessed an irresistible charm for him, now addressedher in low, moved tones:
"Mademoiselle, will you kindly tell me how you came by this ring, whichrecalls very dear and sacred memories to me? Has it been long in yourpossession?"
"I have had it ever since my infancy; it is the only thing that my poormother left me," Isabelle replied, with gentle dignity.
"And who was your mother? Will you, tell me something about her?"continued the prince, with increasing emotion.
"Her name was Cornelia, and she was an actress, belonging to the sametroupe that I am a member of now."
"Cornelia! then there is no possible doubt about it," murmured theprince to himself, in great agitation. "Yes, it is certainly she whom Ihave been seeking all these years--and now to find her thus!"
Then, controlling his emotion, he resumed his usual calm, majesticdemeanour, and turning back to Isabelle, said to her, "Permit me to keepthis ring for the present; I will soon give it back to you."
"I am content to leave it in your lordship's hands," the young actressreplied, in whose mind the memory of a face, that she had seen longyears ago bending over her cradle, was growing clearer and more distinctevery moment.
"Gentlemen," said the prince, turning to de Sigognac and his companions,"under any other circumstances I might find your presence here, in mychateau, with arms in your hands, unwarranted, but I am aware of thenecessity that drove you to forcibly invade this mansion, hithertosacred from such scenes as this--I know that violence must be met withviolence, and justifies it; therefore I shall take no further notice ofwhat has happened here to-night, and you need have no fears of any evilconsequences to yourselves because of your share in it. But where is theDuke of Vallombreuse? that degenerate son who disgraces my old age."
As if in obedience to his father's call, the young duke at that momentappeared upon the threshold of the door leading into what had beenIsabelle's apartment, supported by Malartic. He was frightfully pale,and his clinched hand pressed a handkerchief tightly upon his woundedchest. He came forward with difficulty, looking like a ghost. Only astrong effort of will kept him from falling--an effort that gave tohis face the immobility of a marble mask. He had heard the voice of hisfather, whom, depraved and shameless as he was, he yet respected anddreaded, and he hoped to be able to conceal his wound from him. He bithis lips so as not to cry out or groan in his agony, and resolutelyswallowed down the bloody foam that kept rising and filling his mouth.He even took off his hat, in spite of the frightful pain the raisingof his arm caused him, and stood uncovered and silent before his angryparent.
"Sir," said the prince, severely, "your misdeeds transcend all limits,and your behaviour is such that I shall be forced to implore the kingto send you to prison, or into exile. You are not fit to be at large.Abduction--imprisonment--criminal assault. These are not simplegallantries; and though I might be willing to pardon and overlook manyexcesses, committed in the wildness of licentious youth, I never couldbring myself to forgive a deliberate and premeditated crime. Doyou know, you monster," he continued approaching Vallombreuse, andwhispering in his ear, so that no one else could hear, "do you knowwho this young girl is? this good and chaste Isabelle, whom you haveforcibly abducted, in spite of her determined and virtuous resistance!She is your own sister!
"May she replace the son you are about to lose," the young duke replied,attacked by a sudden faintness, and an agony of pain which he feltthat he could not long endure and live; "but I am not as guilty as yousuppose. Isabelle is pure--stainless. I swear it, by the God before whomI must shortly appear. Death does not lie, and you may believe what Isay, upon the word of a dying gentleman."
These words were uttered loudly and distinctly, so as to be heardby all. Isabelle turned her beautiful eyes, wet with tears, upon deSigognac, and read in those of her true and faithful lover that he hadnot waited for the solemn attestation, "in extremis," of the Duke ofVallombreuse to believe in the perfect purity of her whom he adored.
"But what is the matter?" asked the prince, holding out his hand to hisson, who staggered and swayed to and fro in spite of Malartic's effortsto support him, and whose face was fairly livid.
"Nothing, father," answered Vallombreuse, in a scarcely articulatevoice, "nothing--only I am dying"--and he fell at full length on thefloor before the prince could clasp him in his arms, as he endeavouredto do.
"He did not fall on his face," said Jacquemin Lampourde, sententiously;"it's nothing but a fainting fit. He may escape yet. We duellists arefamiliar with this sort of thing, my lord; a great deal more so thanmost medical men, and you may depend upon what I say."
"A doctor! a doctor!" cried the prince, forgetting his anger as he sawhis son lying apparently lifeless at his feet. "Perhaps this man isright, and there may be some hope for him yet. A fortune to whomsoeverwill save my son!--my only son!--the last scion of a noble race. Go! runquickly! What are you about there?--don't you understand me? Go, I say,and run as fast as you can; take the fleetest horse in the stable."
Whereupon two of the imperturbable lackeys, who had held their torchesthroughout this exciting scene without moving a muscle, hastened offto execute their master's orders. Some of his own servants now cameforward, raised up the unconscious Duke of Vallombreuse with everypossible care and precaution, and by his father's command carried him tohis own room and laid him on his own bed, the aged prince following, witha face from which grief and anxiety had already driven away all tracesof anger. He saw his race extinct in the death of this son, whom heso dearly loved--despite his fault--and whose vices he forgot for themoment, remembering only his brilliant and lovable qualities. A profoundmelancholy took complete possession of him, as he stood for a fewmoments plunged in a sorrowful reverie that everybody respected.
Isabelle, entirely revived, and no longer feeling at all faint, badrisen to her feet, and now stood between de Sigognac and the tyrant,adjusting, with a trembling hand, her disordered dress and dishevelledhair. Lampourde and Scapin had retired to a little distance from them,and held themselves modestly aloof, whilst the men within, still boundhand and foot, kept as quiet as possible; fearful of their fate ifbrought to the prince's notice. At length that aged nobleman returned,and breaking the terrible silence that had weighed upon all, said,in severe tones, "Let all those who placed their services at thedisposition of the Duke of Vallombreuse, to aid him in indulginghis evil passions and committing a terrible crime, quit this chateauinstantly. I will refrain from placing you in the hands of the publicexecutioner, though you richly deserve it. Go now! vanish! get ye backto your lairs! and rest assured that justice will not fail to overtakeyou at last."
These words were not complimentary, but the trembling offenders werethankful to get off so easily, and the ruffians, whom Lampourde andScapin had unbound, followed Malartic down the stairs in silence,without da
ring to claim their promised reward. When they haddisappeared, the prince advanced and took Isabelle by the hand, andgently detaching her from the group of which she had formed a part, ledher over to where he had been standing, and kept her beside him.
"Stay here, mademoiselle," he said; "your place is henceforth bymy side. It is the least that you can do to fulfil your duty as mydaughter, since you are the innocent means of depriving me of my son."And he wiped away a tear, that, despite all his efforts to control hisgrief, rolled down his withered cheek. Then turning to de Sigognac, hesaid, with an incomparably noble gesture, "Sir, you are at liberty towithdraw, with your brave companions. Isabelle will have nothing to fearunder her father's protection, and this chateau will be her home forthe present. Now that her birth is made known it is not fitting that mydaughter should return to Paris with you. I thank you, though itcosts me the hope of perpetuating my race, for having spared my son adisgraceful action--what do I say? An abominable crime. I would ratherhave a bloodstain on my escutcheon than a dishonourable blot. SinceVallombreuse was infamous in his conduct, you have done well to killhim. You have acted like a true gentleman, which I am assured that youare, in chivalrously protecting weakness, innocence and virtue. Youare nobly in the right. That my daughter's honour has been preservedunstained, I owe to you--and it compensates me for the loss of myson--at least my reason tells me that it should do so; but the father'sheart rebels, and unjust ideas of revenge might arise, which I shouldfind it difficult to conquer and set at rest. Therefore you had bettergo your way now, and whatever the result may be I will not pursue ormolest you. I will try to forget that a terrible necessity turned yoursword against my son's life."
"My lord," said de Sigognac, with profound respect, "I feel so keenlyfor your grief as a father, that I would have accepted any reproaches,no matter how bitter and unjust, from you, without one word of protestor feeling of resentment; even though I cannot reproach myself for myshare in this disastrous conflict. I do not wish to say anything tojustify myself in your eyes, at the expense of the unhappy Duke ofVallombreuse, but I beg you to believe that this quarrel was not ofmy seeking. He persistently threw himself in my way, and I have doneeverything I could to spare him, in more than one encounter. Evenhere it was his own blind fury that led to his being wounded. I leaveIsabelle, who is dearer to me than my own soul, in your hands, and shallgrieve my whole life long for this sad victory; which is a veritable andterrible defeat for me, since it destroys my happiness. Ah! if only Icould have been slain myself, instead of your unhappy son; it would havebeen better and happier for me."
He bowed with grave dignity to the prince, who courteously returnedhis salute, exchanged a long look, eloquent of passionate love andheart-breaking regret, with Isabelle, and went sadly down the grandstaircase, followed by his companions--not however without glancing backmore than once at the sweet girl he was leaving--who to save herselffrom falling, leaned heavily against the railing of the landing,sobbing as if her heart would break, and pressing a handkerchief to herstreaming eyes. And, so strange a thing is the human heart, the Baronde Sigognac departed much comforted by the bitter grief and tears of herwhom he so devotedly loved and worshipped. He and his friends went onfoot to the little wood where they had left their horses tied to thetrees, found them undisturbed, mounted and returned to Paris.
"What do you think, my lord, of all these wonderful events?" said thetyrant, after a long silence, to de Sigognac, beside whom he wasriding. "It all ends up like a regular tragi-comedy. Who would everhave dreamed, in the midst of the melee, of the sudden entrance upon thescene of the grand old princely father, preceded by torches, and comingto put a little wholesome restraint on the too atrociously outrageouspranks of his dissolute young son? And then the recognition of Isabelleas his daughter, by means of the ring with a peculiar device of his ownengraved upon it; haven't you seen exactly the same sort of thing on thestage? But, after all, it is not so surprising perhaps as it seemsat the first glance--since the theatre is only a copy of real life.Therefore, real life should resemble it, just as the original does theportrait, eh? I have always heard that our sweet little actress was ofnoble birth. Blazius and old Mme. Leonarde remember seeing the princewhen he was devoted to Cornelia. The duenna has often tried to persuadeIsabelle to seek out her father, but she is of too modest and gentle anature to take a step of that kind; not wishing to intrude upon a familythat might reject her, and willing to content herself in her own lowly,position."
"Yes, I knew all about that," rejoined de Sigognac, "for Isabelletold me some time ago her mother's history, and spoke of the ring; butwithout attaching any importance to the fact of her illustrious origin.It is very evident, however, from the nobility and delicacy of hernature, without any other proof, that princely blood flows in her veins;and also the refined, pure, elevated type of her beauty testifies toher descent. But what a terrible fatality that this cursed Vallombreuseshould turn out to be her brother! There is a dead body between usnow--a stream of blood separates us--and yet, I could not save herhonour in any other way. Unhappy mortal that I am! I have myself createdthe obstacle upon which my love is wrecked, and killed my hopes offuture bliss with the very sword that defended the purity of the woman Iadore. In guarding her I love, I have put her away from me forever. Howcould I go now and present myself to Isabelle with blood-stained hands?Alas! that the blood which I was forced to shed in her defence shouldhave been her brother's. Even if she, in her heavenly goodness, couldforgive me, and look upon me without a feeling of horror, the prince,her father, would repulse and curse me as the murderer of his only son.I was born, alas! under an unlucky star."
"Yes, it is all very sad and lamentable, certainly," said the tyrant;"but worse entanglements than this have come out all right in the end.You must remember that the Duke of Vallombreuse is only half-brotherto Isabelle, and that they were aware of the relationship but for afew minutes before he fell dead at our feet; which must make a greatdifference in her feelings. And besides, she hated that overbearingnobleman, who pursued her so cruelly with his violent and scandalousgallantries. The prince himself was far from being satisfied with hiswretched son--who was ferocious as Nero, dissolute as Heliogabalus, andperverse as Satan himself, and who would have been hanged ten times overif he had not been a duke. Do not be so disheartened! things may turnout a great deal better than you think now."
"God grant it, my good Herode," said de Sigognac fervently. "Butnaturally I cannot feel happy about it. It would have been far betterfor all if I had been killed instead of the duke, since Isabelle wouldhave been safe from his criminal pursuit under her father's care. Andthen, I may as well tell you all, a secret horror froze the very marrowin my bones when I saw that handsome young man, but a moment before sofull of life, fire, and passion, fall lifeless, pale and stiff at myfeet. Herode, the death of a man is a grave thing, and though I cannotsuffer from remorse for this one, since I have committed no crime,still, all the time I see Vallombreuse before me, lying, motionless andghastly, with the blood oozing slowly from his wound. It haunts me. Icannot drive the horrid sight away."
"That is all wrong," said the tyrant, soothingly--for the other was muchexcited--"for you could not have done otherwise. Your conscience shouldnot reproach you. You have acted throughout, from the very beginning tothe end, like the noble gentleman that you are. These scruples are owingto exhaustion, to the feverishness due to the excitement you have gonethrough, and the chill from the night air. We will gallop on swiftly ina moment, to set our blood flowing more freely, and drive away these sadthoughts of yours. But one thing must be promptly done; you must quitParis, forthwith, and retire for a time to some quiet retreat, until allthis trouble is forgotten. The violent death of the Duke of Vallombreusewill make a stir at the court, and in the city, no matter how much painsmay be taken to keep the facts from the public, and, although he was notat all popular, indeed very much the reverse, there will be much regretexpressed, and you will probably be severely blamed. But now let us putspurs to these lazy steeds of o
urs, and try to get on a little faster."
While they are galloping towards Paris, we will return to thechateau--as quiet now as it had been noisy a little while before. Inthe young duke's room, a candelabrum, with several branches, stood on around table, so that the light from the candles fell upon the bed, wherehe lay with closed eyes, as motionless as a corpse, and as pale. Thewalls of the large chamber, above a high wainscot of ebony picked outwith gold, were hung with superb tapestry, representing the history ofMedea and Jason, with all its murderous and revolting details. Here,Medea was seen cutting the body of Pelias into pieces, under pretext ofrestoring his youth--there, the madly jealous woman and unnaturalmother was murdering her own children; in another panel she wasfleeing, surfeited with vengeance, in her chariot, drawn by huge dragonsbreathing out flames of fire. The tapestry was certainly magnificent inquality and workmanship, rich in colouring, artistic in design, and verycostly--but inexpressibly repulsive. These mythological horrors gavethe luxurious room an intensely disagreeable, lugubrious aspect, andtestified to the natural ferocity and cruelty of the person who hadselected them. Behind the bed the crimson silk curtains had been drawnapart, exposing to view the representation of Jason's terrible conflictwith the fierce, brazen bulls that guarded the golden fleece, andVallombreuse, lying senseless below them, looked as if he might havebeen one of their victims. Various suits of clothes, of the greatestrichness and elegance, which had been successively tried on andrejected, were scattered about, and in a splendid great Japanese vase,standing on an ebony table near the head of the bed, was a bouquet ofbeautiful flowers, destined to replace the one Isabelle had alreadyrefused to receive--its glowing tints making a strange contrast with thedeath-like face, which was whiter than the snowy pillow it restedon. The prince, sitting in an arm-chair beside the bed, gazed at hisunconscious son with mournful intentness, and bent down from time totime to listen at the slightly parted lips; but no fluttering breathcame through them; all was still. Never had the young duke lookedhandsomer. The haughty, fierce expression, habitual with him, had givenplace to a serenity that was wonderfully beautiful, though so likedeath. As the father contemplated the perfect face and form, so soon tocrumble into dust, he forgot, in his overwhelming grief, that the soulof a demon had animated it, and he thought sorrowfully of the great namethat had been revered and honoured for centuries past, but which couldnot go down to centuries to come. More even than the death of his sondid he mourn for the extinction of his home.
Isabelle stood at the foot of the bed, with clasped hands, praying withher whole soul for this new-found brother, who had expiated his crimewith his life--the crime of loving too much, which woman pardons soeasily.
The prince, who had been for some time holding his son's icy cold handbetween both his own, suddenly thought that he could feel a slightwarmth in it, and not realizing that he himself had imparted it, allowedhimself to hope again.
"Will the doctor never come?" he cried impatiently; "something may yetbe done; I am persuaded of it."
Even as he spoke the door opened, and the surgeon appeared, followed byan assistant carrying a case of instruments. He bowed to the prince, andwithout saying one word went straight to the bedside, felt the patient'spulse, put his hand over his heart, and shook his head despondingly.However, to make sure, he drew a little mirror of polished steel fromhis pocket, removed it from its case, and held it for a moment over theparted lips; then, upon examining its surface closely, he found thata slight dimness was visible upon it. Surprised at this unexpectedindication of life, he repeated the experiment, and again the littlemirror was dimmed--Isabelle and the prince meantime breathlesslywatching every movement, and even the expression of the doctor's face.
"Life is not entirely extinct," he said at last, turning to the anxiousfather, as he wiped the polished surface of his tiny mirror. "Thepatient still breathes, and as long as there is life there is hope, Butdo not give yourself up to a premature joy that might render your griefmore bitter afterwards. I only say that the Duke of Vallombreuse has notyet breathed his last; that is all. Now, I am going to probe the wound,which perhaps is not fatal, as it did not kill him at once."
"You must not stay here, Isabelle," said the prince, tenderly; "suchsights are too trying for a young girl like you. Go to your own roomnow, my dear, and I will let you know the doctor's verdict as soon as hehas pronounced it."
Isabelle accordingly withdrew, and was conducted to an apartment thathad been made ready for her; the one she had occupied being all indisorder after the terrible scenes that had been enacted there.
The surgeon proceeded with his examination, and when it was finishedsaid to the prince, "My lord, will you please to order a cot put up inthat corner yonder, and have a light supper sent in for my assistant andmyself? We shall remain for the night with the Duke of Vallombreuse, andtake turns in watching him. I must be with him constantly, so as to noteevery symptom; to combat promptly those that are unfavorable, and aidthose that are the reverse. Your highness may trust everything to me,and feel assured that all that human skill and science can do towardssaving your son's life shall be faithfully done. Let me advise you togo to your own room now and try to get some rest; I think I may safelyanswer for my patient's life until the morning."
A little calmed and much encouraged by this assurance, the princeretired to his own apartment, where every hour a servant brought him abulletin from the sick-room.
As to Isabelle, lying in her luxurious bed and vainly trying to sleep,she lived over again in imagination all the wonderful as well asterrible experiences of the last two days, and tried to realize her newposition; that she was now the acknowledged daughter of a mightyprince, than whom only royalty was higher; that the dreaded Duke ofVallombreuse, so handsome and winning despite his perversity, was nolonger a bold lover to be feared and detested, but a brother, whosepassion, if he lived, would doubtless be changed into a pure and calmfraternal affection. This chateau, no longer her prison, had become herhome, and she was treated by all with the respect and consideration dueto the daughter of its master. From what had seemed to be her ruin hadarisen her good fortune, and a destiny radiant, unhoped-for, and beyondher wildest flights of fancy. Yet, surrounded as she was by everythingto make her happy and content, Isabelle was far from feeling so--she wasastonished at herself for being sad and listless, instead of joyous andexultant--but the thought of de Sigognac, so infinitely dear to her,so far more precious than any other earthly blessing, weighed upon herheart, and the separation from him was a sorrow for which nothing couldconsole her. Yet, now that their relative positions were so changed,might not a great happiness be in store for her? Did not this verychange bring her nearer in reality to that true, brave, faithful,and devoted lover, though for the moment they were parted? As a poornameless actress she had refused to accept his offered hand, lest suchan alliance should be disadvantageous to him and stand in the way of hisadvancement, but now--how joyfully would she give herself to him. Thedaughter of a great and powerful prince would be a fitting wife for theBaron de Sigognac. But if he were the murderer of her father's only son;ah! then indeed they could never join hands over a grave. And even ifthe young duke should recover, he might cherish a lasting resentment forthe man who had not only dared to oppose his wishes and designs, buthad also defeated and wounded him. As to the prince, good and generousthough he was, still he might not be able to bring himself to look withfavour upon the man who had almost deprived him of his son. Then, too,he might desire some other alliance for his new-found daughter--itwas not impossible--but in her inmost heart she promised herself to befaithful to her first and only love; to take refuge in a convent ratherthan accept the hand of any other; even though that other were ashandsome as Apollo, and gifted as the prince of a fairy tale. Comfortedby this secret vow, by which she dedicated her life and love to deSigognac, whether their destiny should give them to each other or keepthem asunder, Isabelle was just falling into a sweet sleep when a slightsound made her open her eyes, and they fell upon Chiquita, standing
atthe foot of the bed and gazing at her with a thoughtful, melancholy air.
"What is it, my dear child?" said Isabelle, in her sweetest tones. "Youdid not go away with the others, then? I am glad; and if you wouldlike to stay here with me, Chiquita, I will keep you and care for youtenderly; as is justly due to you, my dear, for you have done a greatdeal for me."
"I love you dearly," answered Chiquita, "but I cannot stay with youwhile Agostino lives; he is my master, I must follow him. But I have onefavour to beg before I leave you; if you think that I have earned thepearl necklace now, will you kiss me? No one ever did but you, and itwas so sweet."
"Indeed I will, and with all my heart," said Isabelle, taking thechild's thin face between her hands and kissing her warmly on her browncheeks, which flushed crimson under the soft caress.
"And now, good-bye!" said Chiquita, when after a few moments of silenceshe had resumed her usual sang-froid. She turned quickly away, but,catching sight of the knife she had given Isabelle, which lay upon thedressing-table, she seized it eagerly, saying, "Give me back my knifenow; you will not need it any more," and vanished.