La Dame de Monsoreau (23 page)

" After saluting me, he jumped on horseback again, and turning to his men :

" ' We depart now,' said he, < and to-morrow let not one of you remember that you saw this door.'

" After these words, the little troop rode away and was soon lost in the Rue Saint-Antoine.

" Gertrude's first task was to shut the door, and it was through the wicket that we saw them leave.

" We went upstairs and found ourselves in a corridor upon which three doors opened.

" We entered the one in the centre; it led into the drawing-room in which we are now sitting and which was then lighted exactly as at present.

"I went into the room yonder, and found it was a large dressing-room, then that other one, which was to be my bedchamber, and to my great surprise, I stood in front of my own portrait.

" It was the one that hung in my father's room at Meridor; the count had no doubt asked it of the baron and obtained it.

" I shuddered at this fresh proof that my father already looked upon me as the wife of M. de Monsoreau.

" We examined all the apartments ; they were lonely, but lacked nothing; there were fires in all the chimneys, and in the dining-room a table was already laid out. After a hasty glance, I saw with satisfaction that there was but a single knife and fork on the table.

" t Well, mademoiselle,' said Gertrude, { you see the count keeps his promise to the end.'

" ( Alas ! yes,' I answered, with a sigh. ' I should have better liked if, by failing in some of his promises, he released me from mine.'

"' I sat down to supper ; afterward we went through the whole house a second time, but did not meet a living soul then, either ; it was entirely our own, we were by ourselves.

" Gertrude slept in my room.

" Next day she set out to examine the neighborhood. It was then only that I learned from her we were living at the end of the Rue Saint-Antoine, opposite the Hotel des Tour-nelles, and that-the fortress on our right was the Bastile.

" The information, for that matter, did not tell me much. I knew nothing of Paris, never having been there before.

" The day slipped by without anything new occurring ; in the evening, as I was sitting down to supper, there was a knock at the door.

" Gertrude and I looked at each other.

" There was a second knock.

" { Go and see who it is/ I said.

" ( If it -be the count ? ' she asked, seeing me turn pale.

" ( If it is the count/ I answered, making an effort to control myself, ' open, Gertrude ; he has kept his promises faithfully; he shall see that I keep mine."

" A moment after Gertrude reappeared.

" < It is M. le Comte, madame/ said she.

" i Show him in/ I answered.

" Gertrude withdrew and the count stood on the threshold.

" f Well, madame/ he asked, { have I faithfully fulfilled the treaty ? '

" ' Yes, monsieur/ I replied, ( and I thank you.'

" ' You are graciously pleased to receive me, then/ he added, with a smile, the irony of which he did not succeed in hiding.

" ' Enter, monsieur.'

" He came in and remained standing. I made him a sign to be seated.

" ' Have you any news, monsieur ? ' I asked.

" ' News of where and of whom, madame ? '

" ' Of Meridor, and of my father especially.'

" { I did not return to Meridor and have not seen the baron.'

" ' Then of Beauge and the Due d'Anjou ? '

" ' That is different. I have been to Beauge and I have spoken with the duke.'

"'In what state of mind is he ?'

" ' He is trying to doubt.'

« < What ? '

« < Your death.'

" * But you confirmed it."

" < I did all I could.'

" e And where is the duke ? '

" ' He returned to Paris yesterday evening/

" ' Why did he return so quickly ? '

" ' Because a man can hardly be expected to feel cheerful in a place where he believes he is responsible for a woman's death.'

" f Did you see him since his return ? '

" ' I have just left him.'

" < Did he speak of me ?'

",' I did not give him time.'

" < Of what, then, did you speak ? '

" l Of a promise he once made me which I urged him to execute.'

" < What was it ? '

" ' He pledged himself, because of certain services I rendered him, to secure me the post of grand huntsman.'

" ' Ah! yes,' I said, with a melancholy smile, as I recalled poor Daphne's death, ' you are a terrible hunter, I remember, and as such you have a right to the place. 7

" < It is not because I am a hunter that I shall obtain it, it is because I am the prince's servant ; it is not because of any right I have to it that I shall be successful, it is because the Due d'Anjou dare not prove ungrateful to me.'

" In all those answers, despite their respectful tones, there was something that frightened me ; it was that I saw in them the expression of a sombre and implacable will.

" For an instant I was dumb.

" ' May I write to my father ? ' I asked.

".'Of course ; but your letters may be intercepted.'

" ; Am I forbidden to go out ?'

" ' You are not forbidden to do anything, madame ; but allow me to observe that you might be followed.'

" l But, at least, I must hear Mass on Sundays ?'

" ' It would be better, I fancy, for your safety if you did not hear it ; but, should you be determined on the point, I should recommend you — mind, it is a simple advice I am tendering you — to hear it at the church of Saiiite-Catherine."

" f And where is this church ? '

" ( Opposite your house, on the other side of the street.'

" ( Thanks, monsieur.'

" There was silence again.

" ' When shall I see you, monsieur ? '

" i When you permit me to return.'

" ' Is my permission needed ? '

" ' Undoubtedly. Until now I have been a stranger to you.'

" ' Have you not a key for the house ? '

" ' Only your husband is entitled to have one.'

" ( Monsieur,' I answered, more dismayed by these strangely submissive replies than I should have been if they had been authoritative in tone, ' monsieur, be good enough to return whenever you wish, or when you have anything important to communicate.'

"' Thanks, madame, I will use your permission, but not abuse it — arid the first proof of this I offer is to tender you my respects and take my leave.'

" Thereupon the count rose.

" ' You are going, then ?' I asked, growing more and more astonished at a way of acting which I had been so far from expecting.

" ' Madame,' answered the count, ( I know you do not love me, and I will not take advantage of a situation which forces you to receive my attentions. Seeing me only at intervals, you will, I hope, get gradually accustomed to my presence. In this way the sacrifice will cost you less when the moment arrives for you to become my wife.'

" ' Monsieur,' said I, rising in turn, < I acknowledge the delicacy with which you have acted, and, in spite of a certain harshness in your language by which it is accompanied, I appreciate it. You are right, and I will speak with a frankness similar to your own ; I had certain prejudices in your regard which, I hope, time will cure.'

" ' Permit me, madame,' said the count, ' to share that hope and to live in expectation of that happy moment.'

" Then, saluting with all the reverence I could meet with from the humblest of my servants, he made a sign to Gertrude, who was present at the whole conversation, to light him out, and retired."

CHAPTEK XV.

THE MARRIAGE.

" UPON my soul, a strange man that ! " said Bussy.

" Oh, yes, very strange indeed, is he not, monsieur ? His manner of expressing his love had something of the bitterness with which he might have expressed his hatred. When Gertrude returned she found me sadder and more frightened than ever.

" She tried to cheer me, but it was evident the poor girl was as uneasy as I was myself. This icy respect, this ironical submission, this repressed passion, which vibrated harshly in every one of his words, was more alarming than would have been a plainly expressed resolution, which I might have found means to resist.

" The next day was Sunday ; during all my life I had never failed to be present at divine service. I heard the bell of Sainte-Catherine's Church, and it seemed to be calling me. I saw every one making their way to the house of God. Wrapping a thick veil about me and followed by Gertrude, I mingled with the crowd.

" I sought out the darkest corner in the church and knelt against the wall. Gertrude knelt at my side, as if to shield me from the world. This time her guardianship was needless j no one seemed to pay any attention to us.

" Two days afterward, the count returned with the information that he had been appointed grand huntsman; the Due d'Anjou's influence had procured him a post that had been almost pledged to one of the King's favorites named Saint-Luc. It was a triumph he hardly expected himself."

" And indeed," said Bussy, " we were all astonished."

"He came to announce the news to me in hopes that his new dignity would hasten my consent; but he was neither urgent nor importunate; he expected everything from my promise and from events.

" As for myself, I was beginning to hope that as the Due d'Anjou believed me dead, there was no longer any danger, and I might find some way of being released from my engagement.

" Seven more days went by, marked by nothing except two visits of the count. Like the preceding visits, they were

cold and respectful. But I have already explained to you the strange, almost menacing character of this coldness and respect.

" The following Sunday I went to church, as I had done before, and occupied the same corner I occupied a week previously. A sense of security often leads to imprudence ; in the middle of my prayers I unconsciously put my veil aside. In the house of God I thought only of God — I was praying ardently for my father, when suddenly Gertrude touched my arm. But I was in a state of religious ecstasy, and it was only when she touched me the second time that I raised my head and looked mechanically around me. And then my eyes met those of the Due d'Anjou, who was staring at me intently.

" A man who appeared to be his confidant rather than his servant stood near him."

" It was Aurilly," said Bussy, " his lute-player."

" Yes," answered Diane ; " I think that is the name Gertrude mentioned afterward."

" Continue, madame," said Bussy, " pray continue. I am beginning to understand everything."

" I drew my veil quickly over my face; it was too late — he had seen me, and even if he had not recognized me, my resemblance at least to the woman he had loved and, as he believed, lost, moved him deeply. Troubled by his gaze, which I felt instinctively was riveted on me, J rose and proceeded to the door, but he was there; he dipped his fingers in the font and offered me holy-water as I passed.

" I pretended not to see him and went out without accepting his offer.

" But although I walked straight before me, I knew we were followed. Had I known Paris, I should have tried to deceive the duke as to my real abode, but I had never been in any street except the one leading from the house to the church; I was not acquainted with any one from whom I might ask a quarter of an hour's hospitality; I had not one friend, and my only protector was a greater object of fear to me than would have been an enemy. Such was my position."

" Great heaven ! " murmured Bussy, " why did not Providence or chance throw me in your way sooner ?"

Diane thanked the young man with a look.

" But excuse me," he continued, " I am always interrupting

you, and yet I am dying of curiosity. Continue, I beseech you."

" M. de Monsoreau came the same evening. I did not know if I should tell him of my adventure. But he made any hesitation on my part unnecessary.

" ' You asked me/ said he, < if you were forbidden to go to Mass, and I answered that you had supreme control over your own actions, and would act wisely in not stirring from the house. You would not believe me ; you went this morning to divine service at the church of Sainte-Catherine; some chance, or rather some fatality, led the prince thither, and he has seen you. '

" ' It is true, monsieur, and I hesitated to mention the matter to you, for I did not know if the prince recognized me to be the person I am, or if my appearance had simply surprised him/

" ' Y^our face struck him ; your resemblance to the woman he regrets appears to him extraordinary ; he followed you and made inquiries, but no one has been able to tell him anything, because no one knows anything.'

" ( Oh, heavens ! monsieur/ I cried.

" < The duke has a dark and persevering soul/ said M. de Monsoreau.

" * Oh, I hope he will forget me ! '

" ( I do not believe it. I have done all I could to get him to forget you, and I have not succeeded.'

" I was silent.

" ' What do you intend doing ? ' asked the count.

" ( Could I not change from this house and street, live at the other end of Paris, or, better still, return to Anjou ? '

" < It would be useless/ said M. de Monsoreau, shaking his head ; ' the Due d'Anjou is a terrible bloodhound; he is on your track, and, go where you will, he is now sure to come up with you.'