The Maid of Honour Volume Ii Part 4

"You wicked, wicked woman!" Gabrielle gasped, choking. "I have never wittingly done you aught but kindness. You are a fiend."

"A fiend!" echoed Aglae, amused, stretching herself luxuriously with loose limbs as the tigress does, while she proceeded.

"Every female envelope contains an angel and a devil combating; which gains the mastery depends upon the men, who, I regret to say, are usually guided by the lowest motives. That is an elementary lesson which I think I shall teach Camille. I shall teach the darling many curious things before I've done with her."

A hit--a palpable hit, which went straight to the quivering goal. It was a fact that the future of the dear ones was in this monster's keeping. She was as evil as the abbe. If it suited her she would not scruple to sow in their white souls the seeds of vice. How appalling!

Forgetful always of herself, the mother had striven to be comforted with the a.s.surance that though she was thrust forth from Eden, those she adored were well guarded. The woman's conduct, as far as concerned the children, had been irreproachable: she had treated them with affection; but knowing her now as she really was, Gabrielle could see with a thrill of dismay that she was unenc.u.mbered by such scruples as keep ordinary mortals in check; was governed by expediency alone.

The marquise sat for awhile without movement, but her rival was not slow to mark with satisfaction the exceeding pallor of her lips and the horror in her distended eyes. That the sword-thrust had pierced too deep escaped her ken: she failed to see that the whole being of the victim had undergone so violent a convulsion as to produce quite a different result from that which she expected. The courage she lacked for her own succour could be aroused in behalf of others, whom she loved better than herself. It was as by a miracle a naked and defenceless combatant were of a sudden sheathed in armour.

Aglae sat waiting, fully aware that having made an effective point, you should allow it to take effect. She waited, and beguiled the time by considering what she would do when married. It would be pleasant to play chatelaine for a month or so each year, even at gloomy Lorge, so soon as the country should be quieted. The puling thing on the sofa yonder was stricken under the fifth rib, would totter into a thicket presently and perish, as was intended. What a cleverly imagined stroke it had been to hint at the depraving of the prodigies--a stroke as of a sledgehammer, to batter in the apology for brains vouchsafed to such despicable objects.

Gabrielle remained so long in apparent torpor, while the Medusan horror on her face permanently hardened there, that the enemy waxed impatient. It is indecent for the stricken stag to lie down where shot. Decorum bids him conceal himself in the bracken--make a move of some sort to veil his agonies. Gabrielle being too crushed to make a motion must be stirred up with an eleemosynary stab.

"We will come to an arrangement," mademoiselle suggested cheerfully, "without troubling our dear marquis on the subject. Go away somewhere--to some nice place which we will engage never to visit, and I will promise never to teach anything naughty either to Victor or Camille. Refuse, and--well--h-m!"

"Oh! the wicked, wicked woman!" the marquise e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, inwardly.

"There must be a h.e.l.l somewhere for the punis.h.i.+ng of such villanous dastards." But in her new-born strength, the possession of which was unaccountable and amazing, she found herself enabled to smile sadly, and remark, without a tremor in her voice, "You will leave me now, if you please, and give me time to think."

That was reasonable, and desirable to boot. The more she thought, the better would she comprehend that she was hemmed in, undone; that a certain wherry was swinging on the tide, under which was a soft bed preparing.

"By all means," returned the enemy, with bonhomie. "Take time, my dear; but you must not be too long deciding. A little friendly counsel before I go: when _our_ Clovis comes back to-morrow--for, oddly enough, he is for the present _ours_--better say nothing, you have disgusted him enough already."

With that she waved a light adieu, and ere long her ba.s.s voice was to be heard in the corridor, accompanying the joyous treble of her shouting charges engaged in a game of romps.

What a day's experience--a day to sear the brain and blanch the hair with silver. Gabrielle, her hands tight clasped behind her back, strode up and down the long saloon deeply immersed in thought, quite calm and self-possessed. The time for impulsive moaning and mad frenzy was gone by. Drowsy reason stood upright and alert upon her throne. At any cost of pain to herself or others duty must be done--the little ones rescued from the ogress. Even the dear father must for their sakes bear his share of the burthen. It was decreed. He must learn the truth, which she had hoped would lie buried in her grave. Victor, Camille; their blythe merriment in the corridor was an eloquent sermon. Up to now--all thanks to Heaven for it--they were unsmirched by aught of evil, their sky sunny and unclouded. Instinct told their mother that the ogress, by some paradox, was capable of some measure of wholesome affection, and would do them no injury unless it were necessary to strike through them at her. The new fledged diplomate must temporize--gain time. A power of dissimulation, to which hitherto she had been a stranger, was developing itself in Gabrielle. The dear father--he would be terribly concerned--would arrive posthaste, wreak vengeance on those who had so nearly slain his child, bear away her and his grandchildren to safety.

Gabrielle locked herself in her bedroom, and wrote with feverish energy. The pen flew over the sheets and covered them with close writing that told a piteous tale. Toinon, who knew that in the absence of my lord, both abbe and governess had been persecuting her mistress, tried the door once or twice, and, receiving no response to her knocks, grew so seriously alarmed, that she dashed off in search of Jean Boulot, dreading some new catastrophe. Just as the latter appeared with a hatchet in his grasp, and anxious lines upon his brow, the door opened, and the chatelaine herself stood on the threshold holding a letter.

She was flushed with fever, but quite self-possessed. With a strange smile she beckoned them both in, and again turned the key in the lock.

"Something has happened, dear good friends, whom I can trust," she explained, rapidly. "Something so terrible, that I cannot tell it you.

I am still scared and horrified, but Heaven permits me to retain my senses. Jean, for love of me and mine, you will saddle your horse and ride leisurely to Onzain, as though bent on ordinary business; and there engage with the Maitre de Poste to send this letter by special courier. He must take no rest till he reaches Paris. Two precious souls--three--depend on punctual obedience. I may trust you, Jean? Let none suspect your mission."

Honest Jean sank on one knee and pressed the hot hand of the chatelaine to his lips with reverence. "My life is madame's," he said simply, and went.

"Embrace me, my Toinon," Gabrielle cried, falling on the neck of her foster-sister in a paroxysm of hysterical weeping. "I have been for years in a foolish day-dream. I am awake now to sleep no more."

Toinon was mystified, but could gather that the terrible emotion of the marquise relieved her pent feelings, and was as salutary as timely bleeding to the apoplectic. After a brief s.p.a.ce she grew better, and could smile like a ghost of her old self. The die was cast. She would be relieved of nightmare. Her affection for her husband was burned quite away, and, as its ashes paled, her love for the little ones shot up the purer.

CHAPTER XIV.

CHECK.

Gabrielle learned to practise her new art so well that day followed day in usual routine without suspicion being aroused of the bold thing she had done. It occurred to none of the party that under the same exterior she was another woman. She went her ways as before, displaying, perhaps, an increased activity, visiting the distressed, administering to the sick. Mademoiselle Brunelle was puzzled, and watched her in idle surprise, marvelling that the squeeze, so carefully calculated, should so signally have failed in its effect.

What a low mania the mawkish creature was displaying for dirty wretches clad in rags! That thing a marquise! To crush one who was so unworthy of her place would be quite a virtuous action, as virtue was understood by Aglae. The squeeze having proved insufficient for the purpose, another must be applied. It was difficult to determine what form the pressure was to take, since the lady was so craven and mean spirited. Aglae had declared to her face that the marquis was her lover--which was not true; had spoken of corrupting little Camille, whose mother, shocked for the moment, had, as it appeared, got used to the abominable idea with singular rapidity. The ever-increasing scorn of the governess was mingled now with disdain of a more positive kind for the pusillanimity of the destined victim.

The family councils had resulted in abdication of authority on the part of Clovis, who loved his ease, and was only too glad to escape from politics. How should he cope with two such clever heads as those of Aglae and Pharamond? The clever pair was in perfect accord as to what should be done under given circ.u.mstances. The governess gently lured him back to his accustomed pursuits and studies, and his conscience ceased by degrees to pinch him.

Unknown to each other, the private scheme of each of the conspirators had miscarried, and both felt that the next move must be made with exceeding caution. Hence they were to outward seeming extremely friendly, whilst hating each other with a healthy loathing; making believe to have all ideas in common, carefully concealing any desire suddenly to depart from Lorge.

By suggestion of the affinity, they had taken to breakfasting in the study, where the morning sun shone in, a cosy party of four, in which Gabrielle was not included. During the meal the abbe would discuss the latest rumour with the lady at the head of the table in amicable fas.h.i.+on, or join with her in arguing some point arising out of Mesmer's letters. The sage was as dissatisfied as his pupil at the nonappreciation of his discovery. For the miraculous cure of the baron's sciatic nerve had found no favour with the peasantry of Touraine, who vowed it was a perilous thing to allow the devil to tamper with scourges sent from Heaven. That party requires little encouragement, as all the world knows, and that it was he who had worked the cure was evident, since the musicians, ere they ran away, had counted the hairs in his tail. Could there be any doubt that without witchcraft or direct aid from the evil one, no tubful of bottles could affect a gentleman's rheumatism? If there had been a sprinkling of holy water by the good priest, as Madame la Baronne had piously wished, it would have been quite another affair. But iron filings and a violoncello! had not the cure preached on the very next Sunday on the subject of Satanic miracles?

Clovis was heartily disgusted with the cra.s.sness of the bucolic ignorance and the pig-headedness of its obstinacy, and gave a willing ear to Aglae's secret hints that it might be well, some of these days, to transplant the magic tub to some more enlightened centre.

She was always right--clear-headed, far-seeing Aglae! He understood now that the suggestion which had affrighted him on the night of the attempted suicide had merely been an ebullition of overboiling zeal.

She, had felt a genuine interest in him; had perceived that the marquise was no fitting helpmeet for a _savant_, and had been unable to conceal regret that he should not have been freed from a weight which clogged his scientific usefulness. Over-zeal, as Richelieu remarked, is productive of more harm than good, but it should be treated with indulgence in that it springs from laudable intentions.

It was wrong to have said that the chatelaine should have been left to drown. But in his heart of hearts, Clovis began to confess to himself that the caresses of the patient during convalescence had been well-nigh unbearable, and that if Heaven thought well to take her in a natural way, it would be a relief rather than otherwise.

The even tenour of _dejeuner_ was disturbed one morning by the announcement that a travelling berline was coming up the road, and that an old gentleman was looking from its window. A travelling berline, covered thick with dust, too! Not a neighbour, then. Who could it be that presumed to invade their monastic privacy? A messenger from Paris, perhaps. Had something awful happened? The abbe and the governess glanced at each other suspiciously, the same unspoken thought occurring to both. Was the crisis come before they were prepared? If so, the idea of ousting the other one must be abandoned, and a yet closer alliance formed.

"Monsieur Galland," announced a servant. None of those present had ever heard the name. Who was he? Whence and from whom had he come?

The gentleman entered, and bowed gravely to the company. A spare, tall old man, who, despite the march of fas.h.i.+on, wore his hair curled and powdered. He was clad in plain black cloth, with woollen stockings and black buckles. A most respectable person, evidently. Would he be good enough to state his business? He took a chair, accepted a cup of coffee, and, fixing his eyes on the portly Aglae, in what she considered an offensive and marked manner, explained that he was a solicitor. A solicitor? There was no law suit pending that anyone was aware. What? The confidential man of business of Monsieur le Marechal de Breze, who was, unfortunately, ill in bed. The grave Gentleman trusted that the marechal's daughter was not also indisposed. To his regret he perceived that she was absent from the morning meal of the family.

Again Pharamond and Aglae glanced at each other. What could the old man have to say which could not be communicated by letter?

Clovis blushed, and looked for a.s.sistance to the abbe. It came upon him suddenly that what had grown to be quite natural to him, would be rather difficult to explain to a stranger.

"Madame la Marquise is an angel of charity," demurely remarked the abbe, "who repudiates the innocent comforts of this life to give the more time to others. She grudges the hour we waste in dallying, and prefers to breakfast alone."

"We all know that madame is an angel," agreed the grave stranger; "much too good for this world."

The company looked one at another in growing uneasiness. There was something unpleasant coming. It was odd that the announcement of Gabrielle's being an angel should make them all feel guilty. The chevalier sighed and wheezed. Clovis's colour deepened. The abbe drummed his fingers on the cloth, annoyed. The governess scrutinised the stranger with lowering brow, for instinct whispered that something had been kept back from her, and that it was on her account he had come.

"Will monsieur kindly explain his business?" enquired the abbe, with his sweetest smile. "Of course, any emissary from one who has all our respect and affection is most welcome at his chateau of Lorge. Yet we cannot expect that our poor attractions should lure anyone to so quiet a retreat."

"His chateau of Lorge?" thought the governess, surprised. "Surely it belongs to the marquis?"

"I hope M. de Breze is not seriously ill?" asked Clovis, with an effort. It was inc.u.mbent on him to say something.

"Too indisposed, unfortunately, to travel, even on important business.

You are aware that Madame la Marquise has made a communication to her father?"

If a cannon ball had dropped through the ceiling, the company could not have looked more startled. The solicitor smiled, and then grew graver than before. There was consternation on every face. The position of the marquise was evidently more serious even than she had said. The letter had been sent clandestinely, or it would have been suppressed.

"The communication was a sad blow to the marechal," the solicitor continued quietly, "and increased the fever under which he suffered.

Nevertheless, he would be here himself had not the doctors and Madame la Marechale almost employed force. It is as well that the marquise should happen to be absent, for it makes my task the easier. Plainly, marquis, M. de Breze demands the instant dismissal of a person in your employ who has seriously offended his daughter."

Aglae's ma.s.sive jaw dropped in dumb amazement, while the abbe shot at her a covert glance of white hot malevolence. She had been up to some nefarious prank on her own account, unknown to him: had spoiled his game as well as her own. His frail fingers writhed like adders under the table. How he would have liked to strangle her.

"I--offend madame?" faltered the governess, dumbfoundered.

The ground was slipping from beneath her. By what right could the old gentleman in Paris send so peremptory a demand to his son-in-law? The sly minx was not so mean-spirited after all. Who could have supposed her capable of turning the tables, by secretly sending for her father?