CHAPTER LI. EVIL NEWS RIDES POST.
The sunbeams never shone more golden through the casement of a lady'sbower than on that same morning of St. Martin's through the window ofthe chamber of Amelie de Repentigny, as she sat in the midst of a groupof young ladies holding earnest council over the dresses and adornmentsof herself and companions, who were to be her bridesmaids on hermarriage with Pierre Philibert.
Amelie had risen from pleasant dreams. The tender flush of yesterday'swalk on the banks of the Lairet lingered on her cheek all night long,like the rosy tint of a midsummer's sunset. The loving words of Pierrefloated through her memory like a strain of divine music, with the sweetaccompaniment of her own modest confessions of love, which she had sofrankly expressed.
Amelie's chamber was vocal with gaiety and laughter; for with her to-daywere the chosen friends and lifelong companions who had ever shared herlove and confidence.
These were, Hortense Beauharnais, happy also in her recent betrothal toJumonville de Villiers; Heloise de Lotbiniere, so tenderly attached toAmelie, and whom of all her friends Amelie wanted most to call by thename of sister; Agathe, the fair daughter of La Corne St. Luc, so likeher father in looks and spirit; and Amelie's cousin, Marguerite deRepentigny, the reflection of herself in feature and manners.
There was rich material in that chamber for the conversation of such agroup of happy girls. The bridal trousseau was spread out beforethem, and upon chairs and couches lay dresses of marvellous fabricand beauty,--muslins and shawls of India and Cashmere, and the finestproducts of the looms of France and Holland. It was a trousseau fit fora queen, and an evidence at once of the wealth of the Lady de Tilly andof her unbounded love for her niece, Amelie. The gifts of Pierrewere not mingled with the rest, nor as yet had they been shown to herbridesmaids,--Amelie kept them for a pretty surprise upon another day.
Upon the table stood a golden casket of Venetian workmanship, thecarvings of which represented the marriage at Cana in Galilee. It wasstored with priceless jewels which dazzled the sight and presented aconstellation of starry gems, the like of which had never been seen inthe New World. It was the gift of the Bourgeois Philibert, who gave thissplendid token of his affection and utter contentment with Amelie as thebride of his son and heir.
The girls were startled in the midst of their preparations by the suddendashing past of a horseman, who rode in a cloud of dust, followed by awild, strange cry, as of many people shouting together in lamentationand anger.
Amelie and Heloise looked at each other with a strange feeling, but satstill while the rest rushed to the balcony, where they leaned eagerlyover to catch sight of the passing horseman and discover the meaning ofthe loud and still repeated cry.
The rider had disappeared round the angle of the Cape, but the cry fromthe city waxed still louder, as if more and more voices joined in it.
Presently men on horseback and on foot were seen hurrying towards theCastle of St. Louis, and one or two shot up the long slope of the Placed'Armes, galloping towards the mansion of the Lady de Tilly, talking andgesticulating in the wildest manner.
"In God's name, what is the matter, Monsieur La Force?" exclaimedHortense as that gentleman rode furiously up and checked his horseviolently at the sight of the ladies upon the balcony.
Hortense repeated her question. La Force took off his hat and lookedup, puzzled and distressed. "Is the Lady de Tilly at home?" inquired heeagerly.
"Not just now, she has gone out; but what is the matter, in heaven'sname?" repeated she, as another wild cry came up from the city.
"Is Mademoiselle Amelie home?" again asked La Force with agitated voice.
"She is home. Heavens! have you some bad news to tell her or the Lady deTilly?" breathlessly inquired Hortense.
"Bad news for both of them; for all of us, Hortense. But I will not bethe bearer of such terrible tidings,--others are following me; ask them.Oh, Hortense, prepare poor Amelie for the worst news that ever came toher."
The Sieur La Force would not wait to be further questioned,--he rode offfuriously.
The bridesmaids all turned pale with affright at these ominous words,and stood looking at each other and asking what they could mean.
Amelie and Heloise caught some of the conversation between Hortenseand La Force. They sprang up and ran to the balcony just as two of theservants of the house came rushing up with open mouths, staring eyes,and trembling with excitement. They did not wait to be asked what wasthe matter, but as soon as they saw the ladies they shouted out theterrible news, as the manner of their kind is, without a thought of theconsequences: that Le Gardeur had just killed the Bourgeois Philibert inthe market-place, and was himself either killed or a prisoner, and thepeople were going to burn the Friponne and hang the Intendant under thetablet of the Golden Dog, and all the city was going to be destroyed.
The servants, having communicated this piece of wild intelligence,instantly rushed into the house and repeated it to the household,filling the mansion in a few moments with shrieks and confusion.
It was in vain Hortense and Agathe La Corne St. Luc strove to withholdthe terrible truth from Amelie. Her friends endeavored with kindly forceand eager exhortations to prevent her coming to the balcony, but shewould not be stayed; in her excitement she had the strength of one ofGod's angels. She had caught enough of the speech of the servants togather up its sense into a connected whole, and in a moment of terribleenlightenment, that came like a thunderbolt driven through her soul, sheunderstood the whole significance of their tidings.
Her hapless brother, maddened with disappointment, drink, anddesperation, had killed the father of Pierre, the father of herbetrothed husband, his own friend and hers; why or how, was a mystery ofamazement.
She saw at a glance all the ruin of it. Her brother a murderer,the Bourgeois a bleeding corpse. Pierre, her lover and her pride,lost,--lost to her forever! The blood of his father rising up betweenthem calling for vengeance upon Le Gardeur and invoking a curse upon thewhole house of Repentigny.
The heart of Amelie, but a few moments ago expanding with joy andoverflowing with the tenderest emotions of a loving bride, suddenlycollapsed and shrivelled like a leaf in the fire of this unlooked-forcatastrophe.
She stared wildly and imploringly in the countenances of her tremblingcompanions as if for help, but no human help could avail her. She spakenot, but uttering one long, agonizing scream, fell senseless upon thebosom of Heloise de Lotbiniere, who, herself nigh fainting, bore Ameliewith the assistance of her friends to a couch, where she lay unconsciousof the tears and wailing that surrounded her.
Marguerite de Repentigny with her weeping companions remained inthe chamber of Amelie, watching eagerly for some sign of returningconsciousness, and assiduously administering such restoratives as wereat hand.
Their patience and tenderness were at last rewarded,--Amelie gave aflutter of reviving life. Her dark eyes opened and stared wildly for amoment at her companions with a blank look, until they rested upon theveil and orange blossoms on the head of Agathe, who had put them on insuch a merry mood and forgotten in the sudden catastrophe to take themoff again.
The sight of the bridal veil and wreath seemed to rouse Amelie toconsciousness. The terrible news of the murder of the Bourgeois by LeGardeur flashed upon her mind, and she pressed her burning eyelids hardshut with her hands, as if not to see the hideous thought.
Her companions wept, but Amelie found no relief in tears as she murmuredthe name of the Bourgeois, Le Gardeur, and Pierre.
They spoke softly to her in tones of tenderest sympathy, but shescarcely heeded them, absorbed as she was in deepest despair, and stillpressing her eyes shut as if she had done with day and cared no moreto see the bright sunshine that streamed through the lattice. The past,present, and future of her whole life started up before her in terribledistinctness, and seemed concentrated in one present spot of mentalanguish.
Amelie came of a heroic race, stern to endure pain as to inflict it,capable of unshrinking fortitude and of despera
te resolves. A fewmoments of terrible contemplation decided her forever, changed the wholecurrent of her life, and overthrew as with an earthquake the gorgeouspalace of her maiden hopes and long-cherished anticipations of love andhappiness as the wife of Pierre Philibert.
She saw it all; there was no room for hope, no chance of averting thefatal doom that had fallen upon her. Her life, as she had long picturedit to her imagination, was done and ended. Her projected marriage withPierre Philibert? It was like sudden death! In one moment the hand ofGod had transported her from the living to the dead world of woman'slove. A terrible crime had been perpetrated, and she, innocent as shewas, must bear the burden of punishment. She had but one object nowto live for: to put on sackcloth and ashes, and wear her knees out inprayer before God, imploring forgiveness and mercy upon her unhappybrother, and expiate the righteous blood of the just man who had beenslain by him.
She rose hastily and stood up. Her face was beautiful as the face of amarble Niobe, but as pale and as full of anguish.
"My loving bridesmaids," said she, "it is now all over with poor Ameliede Repentigny; tell Pierre," and here she sobbed, almost choking inher grief, "tell Pierre not to hate me for this blood that lies onthe threshold of our house! Tell him how truly and faithfully I waspreparing to devote myself to his happiness as his bride and wife; tellhim how I loved him, and I only forsake him because it is the inexorabledecree of my sad fate; not my will, but my cruel misfortune. But Iknow his noble nature; he will pity, not hate me. Tell him it will evenrejoice me where I am going to know that Pierre Philibert still lovesme. I cannot, dare not ask him to pardon Le Gardeur! I dare not pardonhim myself! But I know Pierre will be just and merciful to my poorbrother, even in this hour of doom."
"And now," continued she, speaking with a terrible energy, "put awaythese bridal deceits; they will never be worn by me! I have a garb morebecoming the bridal of death; more fitting to wear by the sister of--OGod! I was going to say, of a murderer!"
Amelie, with a wild desperation, gathered up the gay robes and garlandsand threw them in a heap in the corner of the chamber. "My glory isdeparted!" said she. "Oh, Hortense, I am punished for the pride I tookin them! Yet it was not for myself, but for the sake of him, I tookpride in them! Bestow them, I pray you, upon some more happy girl, whois poor in fortune, but rich in love, who will wear them at her bridal,instead of the unhappy Amelie."
The group of girls beheld her, while their eyes were swimming withtears. "I have long, long kept a bridal veil in my closet," she wenton, "and knew not it was to be mine!" Opening a wardrobe, she took out along black veil. It had belonged to her grandaunt, the nun, Madelaine deRepentigny, and was kept as an heirloom in her family.
"This," said she, "shall be mine till death! Embrace me, O my sisters,my bridesmaids and companions. I go now to the Ursulines to kneel at thedoor and crave admittance to pass a life of penitence for Le Gardeur,and of prayer for my beloved Pierre."
"O Amelie, think what you do!" exclaimed Hortense Beauharnais; "be nothasty, take not a step that cannot be recalled. It will kill Pierre!"
"Alas! I have killed him already!" said she; "but my mind is made up!Dear Hortense, I love Pierre, but oh, I could never look at his faceagain without shame that would burn like guilt. I give myself henceforthto Christ, not for my own sake, but for his, and for my unhappybrother's! Do not hinder me, dear friends, and do not follow me! May youall be happy in your happiness, and pray for poor Amelie, whom fatehas stricken so hard and so cruelly in the very moment of her brightesthopes! And now let me go--alone--and God bless you all! Bid my aunt tocome and see me," added she; "I cannot even wait her return."
The girls stood weeping around her, and kissed and embraced her over andover. They would not disobey her request to be allowed to go alone tothe Convent, but as she turned to depart, she was clasped around theneck by Heloise de Lotbiniere, exclaiming that she should not go alone,that the light of the world had gone out for her as well as for Amelie,and she would go with her.
"But why, Heloise, would you go with me to the Convent?" asked Amelie,sadly. She knew but too well why.
"Oh, my cousin! I too would pray for Le Gardeur! I too--but no matter! Iwill go with you, Amelie! If the door of the Ursulines open for you, itshall open for Heloise de Lotbiniere also."
"I have no right to say nay, Heloise, nor will I," replied Amelie,embracing her; "you are of my blood and lineage, and the lampof Repentigny is always burning in the holy chapel to receivebroken-hearted penitents like you and me!"
"Oh, Heloise, do not you also leave us! Stay till to-morrow!" exclaimedthe agitated girls, amazed at this new announcement.
"My mind is made up; it has long been made up!" replied Heloise. "I onlywaited the marriage of Amelie before consummating my resolution to enterthe convent. I go now to comfort Amelie, as no other friend in the worldcan comfort her. We shall be more content in the midst of our sorrows tobe together."
It was in vain to plead with or to dissuade them. Amelie and Heloisewere inexorable and eager to be gone. They again kissed theircompanions, with many tears bidding them a last farewell, and the twoweeping girls, hiding their heads under their veils, left the brightmansion that was their home, and proceeded with hasty steps towards theConvent of the Ursulines.