Paul and His Dog Volume Ii Part 14

"We have been told a very sad story about that cross--that a young man was found dead on that spot, nine or ten years ago, I believe. Is it true, monsieur?"

Honorine would have beaten Agathe with the greatest satisfaction; she began to cough as if she would tear her throat to tatters.

"I too have heard of that occurrence, mademoiselle," replied their companion in a gloomy tone.

"And the unfortunate man's a.s.sa.s.sins have never been discovered?"

"a.s.sa.s.sins!" exclaimed Paul in a loud voice, raising his head proudly.

"Who told you, mademoiselle, that the person found dead on that spot had been a.s.sa.s.sinated?"

"Oh! mon Dieu! no one, monsieur, no one. I said that, because the people who tell the story----"

"The world almost always judges falsely; it never knows the true inwardness of things; and as it is more disposed to believe evil than good, as soon as a stranger is found dead by the roadside, it says: 'He was murdered!'--You are still very young, mademoiselle! Distrust the judgments of the world; you will often have occasion to realize their injustice."

"Here is Gournay bridge," said Honorine; "will monsieur leave us now?"

"No, madame; unless you bid me to do so, I shall not leave you, trembling as you are, out in the country, at night. I shall escort you to your home."

Honorine bowed and they walked on. But they were silent, for Agathe dared not speak since their guide had almost lost his temper in answering her last question.

They reached Honorine's house, and Paul bowed to the ladies, saying:

"You are at home now, I believe?"

"Yes, monsieur. I do not know how to thank you----"

"For what, madame, pray? I have simply done my duty."

"Adieu, Ami; adieu, my good dog!"

The dog and his master took their leave.

"Oh! I could have beaten you!" said Honorine, "when you questioned that man about the story of the cross!"

"Why so? You heard him answer that the young man who was found there was not murdered."

"But since he was the one who killed him, could you expect him to admit it?"

"That man an a.s.sa.s.sin! Nonsense! it's impossible. Do you believe it, my dear love?"

"I believe--Mon Dieu! I don't know what to believe; but this much is certain, that I will not walk in that direction again. Let's go to bed; what with the fright, excitement, fatigue and the storm, I am completely exhausted; and you?"

"I? Oh! I regret that we didn't go as far as the cross in the ravine. I would have liked to pray for him who lies there!"

VI

CALUMNY

Several days had pa.s.sed since the memorable evening of the storm.

Honorine and Agathe had promised each other never to breathe a word of what they had seen and heard that evening by the cross in the ravine.

There are some subjects with respect to which the slightest indiscretion is a crime, in that it may have the most serious consequences; and the words which the owner of the Tower had uttered when he was on his knees beside the cross, were of those which one regrets having heard, and which one tries to forget.

However, there was no reason why the two friends should not discuss the subject between themselves, and in fact they often did.

Agathe, who always defended Paul, would exclaim:

"No, that man is not an a.s.sa.s.sin! I am absolutely convinced of it.

Indeed, the very emotion that he showed when I said that a stranger had been murdered in the ravine, and the warmth with which he repelled that suggestion prove that it is false."

"It is a fact that he did seem keenly wounded by your words. But why, then, did he ask the forgiveness of the man who is buried there?--When one has fought a duel, loyally and honorably, it is no crime; the victor may regret his victory, but he does not accuse himself of it as of a criminal act."

"But how can we tell how it happened--what brought it about?"

"Well, let us say no more about it; that will be the better way."

"You are right; let us never mention it again."

But it rarely happened that the following day pa.s.sed without Honorine herself leading the conversation to the subject of the owner of the Tower. And after talking about him, the young woman would be thoughtful and melancholy for a long while.

Agathe noticed this fact, but she was very careful not to mention it to her friend; women very quickly understand the secrets of the heart, and know when it is advisable not to seem to have divined them.

Edmond had returned to Ch.e.l.les; he had pa.s.sed several days in Paris, because he had been led to hope for a very well-paid position in a banking house; but it had been given to another and the young man was not cast down. He still had about twenty thousand francs; with that amount, with love in one's heart, and with a great hope of its being reciprocated, one has before one a whole future of happiness.

One morning the two ladies were working in the garden and Pere Ledrux was raking a path a short distance away, when Honorine suddenly said:

"It's a long while since we have had a call from Doctor Antoine Beaub.i.+.c.hon; I wonder if he can be sick?--Pere Ledrux, do you know whether Doctor Antoine is well?"

"Oh, yes!" replied the gardener; "I saw him this very morning going to Madame Droguet's.--Tutu-turlututu."

"It's strange that he hasn't been to see us for a fortnight."

"Well! perhaps it's because he agrees with the rest--that you have enough company without him!"

"What's that? enough company? I don't understand. What do you mean by that, Pere Ledrux?"

"I--nothing at all; in the first place, you understand it don't make any difference to me, it ain't any of my business; you can have whole regiments come to see you for all me; you're your own mistresses, and I ain't the one to find fault!--But you know, there's some folks who do nothing but meddle with what don't concern 'em, and talk--why, just for the sake of talking!"

"Do you understand one word of all that he says, Agathe?"

"Not very well; but it seems that people think that we receive a great deal of company. Isn't that what they say, Pere Ledrux?"

"Yes, they say that you receive a good many men; that you've had some come from Paris, without counting those from this part of the country, who go to walk with you in the evening.--Tutu--turlututu."

"You hear, Agathe; what do you think of that?"