The Knight of Malta Part 69

"Oh, I would die with one hope more, if my father could forgive me also," said Erebus, bitterly. Then he cried, in a frenzy, "Oh, a curse on Pog-Reis! Oh, why did he make me believe, as he showed me these portraits, that my father had been the murderer of my mother and of my family? Oh, how he excited all my bad pa.s.sions! Alas! I believed him, because he who had always been so cruel wept, yes, he wept, as he pressed me to his heart and asked my forgiveness for all the evil he had done me. Then, seeing this implacable man weep as he embraced me, I believed him. I hoped the combat would be fatal to me. I knew Reine des Anbiez would be returned in safety to her father, hence I was able to die. And you--you--her father, will you forgive me, too?" added Erebus, addressing Raimond V.

"Poor child, did you not save my life in the rocks of Ollioules?

Although my daughter was in your power, did you not respect her and defend her? And are you not the son of my brother, after all? the son of a guilty love, of course, but, Manjour! you are of the family."

"Raimond--Raimond!" said Father Elzear to his brother, softly, in a tone of reproach.

"But, my father, my father does not hear me," said Erebus. "I will die without his saying to me, 'My son!'" cried the unhappy youth, in a failing voice, and then with a sadden movement he sat up, threw his arms around the neck of Pierre des Anbiez, and letting his heavy head fall on the paternal bosom, he cried, "My father, my father! Oh, hear me!"

This despairing, expiring cry, in which Erebes seemed to have concentrated all that remained of his strength, at last reached the depth of the heart of Pierre, des Anbiez.

The commander slowly raised his head, looked around him, then fixed his eyes on Erebus, who still hung around his neck. Then, pressing his son's head in his two hands, he kissed his forehead reverently and tenderly.

Placing his son's head softly on the pillow, he said, in a low voice, with a strange smile, and an accent full of kindness: "My child, you have called me, I heard your voice in the midst of darkness. I have come; now I return to it Farewell, sleep--sleep for ever, my child."

And he spread a cloth on the face of Erebus as is done for the dead.

"My brother!" cried Father Elzear, quickly removing the cloth and looking at the commander in astonishment.

The latter did not seem to hear him; he fell back into a sort of lethargy from which he seemed unable to recover.

Erebus grew weaker and weaker, and said to Raimond V.:

"One last favour before I die."

"Speak, speak, my child, I grant it already."

"I would like to see your daughter once more, she who gave me a Christian name. She too, alas! must forgive me."

"Reine, your cousin, your G.o.dmother? I consent to it with all my heart Elzear, my brother, will you go and tell her?"

"Your moments are numbered, you must think on G.o.d, my son," said Father Elzear to Erebus.

"For pity's sake, let me see her, or I shall die in despair," said Erebus in such a heart-broken voice that Father Elzear went in search of Reine.

Raimond V. took both hands of his nephew in his own. Already they were cold.

"She does not come," said Erebus, "and yet I must--"

His voice grew weaker, he could not continue.

Reine entered, accompanied by Father Elzear.

Erebus raised himself on his elbow; with his right hand he had the strength to break a little chain of gold he wore around his neck.

He handed it to Reine, showing her, with a faint smile, the little enamelled dove that he had fastened to it, formerly taken from Reine in the rocks of Ollioules, and said to her:

"I return it to you. Will you forgive me?"

"I will always wear this chain in memory of the day you saved the life of my father," replied Reine, full of emotion.

"You will wear it always?" said Erebus.

"Always!" replied Reine, bursting into tears.

"Ah, now I can die!" said Erebus.

A last ray seemed to illumine his face, as death slowly approached.

"Brother," said Father Elzear, in an austere voice, as he rose, "this child is about to die."

Raimond V. understood that the last moments of Erebus belonged to G.o.d.

He embraced his nephew, called Luquin and Laramee to cany him, and went out with Reine.

The commander remained silent and motionless, seated on the bed of his dying son.

Raimond V. sent Peyrou to him, hoping the watchman's presence might perhaps recall him to himself.

The watchman, approaching Pierre des Anbiez, said to him, "M.

Commander, come."

Whether the voice of Peyrou, which he had not heard for so long a time, impressed him all the more, or whether he obeyed an inexplicable instinct, the commander rose and followed the watchman, alas! without casting a look upon his son.

Father Elzear alone remained with the young man.

A quarter of an hour after, Erebus was no more.

Erebus was buried in the cemetery of La Ciotat. The black and gray monks of La Ciotat followed his funeral procession. When the service was over, they dispersed.

One penitent only remained long at the grave.

It was very strange. He had taken no part in the chants or the ceremonies of the church, he had not sprinkled holy water on the coffin.

This penitent remained until night.

Then with slow steps he travelled to a stream where he found a boat in which he embarked. That false penitent was Hadji. He had left his chebec and had landed, braving every peril in order to come and render homage to the memory of the unfortunate youth, whom he had, nevertheless, done so much to destroy. From that time no more was heard of the Bohemian.

Pierre des Anbiez, until the end of his days, remained in a state which was one neither of reason, nor insanity. He was never heard to utter a word, although he continued to live at Maison-Forte. He never replied to a question, but every morning went to sit by the grave of his son, and there he remained until the evening, absorbed in profound meditation.

Peyrou never left him, but the commander never seemed to recognise his presence.

Father Elzear, after some months' sojourn at Maison-Forte, began again his adventurous life as the ransomer of captives, and led that life until old age permitted him to travel no longer.

Reine did not marry Honorat de Berrol. She remained faithful to the sad memory of Erebus. Some years after, the chevalier married, and Reine was the best of friends to him and to his wife.

Raimond V., healed of his wounds, rode Mistraon a long time.

Cardinal Richelieu, informed of the courageous conduct of the baron at the time of the descent of the pirates, shut his eyes to the misdemeanours of the old malcontent in his dealings with the recorder Isnard.

A short time after, the Marshal of Vitry was sent to the Bastille, in consequence of his quarrel with the Archbishop of Bordeaux.

Raimond V. felt that he was avenged, and, as much out of grat.i.tude to the cardinal as for his sense of right, he ever after took a very venial part in rebellions.

The worthy Luquin Trinquetaille married Stephanette, and although he had a blind confidence in his wife, which she deserved in every respect, he always regretted not having been able to drown the Bohemian.