Emile Gaboriau

“ Up, Maurice! up, Marie-Anne! No more lamentations. To work! You also, gentlemen, will assist me; and I can count on your help, Monsieur le Cure. I do not quite know how to begin, but something must be done. The murder of so good, so noble a man as he would be too great a crime. God will not permit it.” She paused, with clasped hands, as if seeking for inspiration. “And the king,” she resumed—”can the king consent to such a crime? No. A king can refuse mercy, but he cannot refuse justice. ”

“ To Aunt Medea alone did Blanche reveal her secret heart. “I am like a culprit who has been bound to the scaffold, and abandoned there by the executioner to live, as it were, till the axe falls of its own accord.” And the axe might fall at any moment. A word, a trifle, an unlucky chance—she dared not say “a decree of providence,” and Martial would know everything. Such, in all its unspeakable horror, was the position of the beautiful and envied Duchess de Sairmeuse. “She must be perfectly happy,” said the world; but she felt herself sliding down the precipice to the awful depths below. ”

“ I only ask one favour, that of fighting, conquering, or dying by your side.”
“Oh! father refuse him!” exclaimed Marie-Anne, “refuse him! It would be a crime to accept his offer.”
“A crime! And why, if you please?” asked Maurice.
“Because our cause is not your cause; because its success is doubtful; because dangers surround us on every side.”
Maurice interrupted her with a cry of scorn. “And you think to dissuade me,” said he, “by warning one of the dangers which you a girl can yet afford to brave. You cannot think me a coward! If peril threatens you, all the more reason to accept my aid. ”

“ A scoundrel like the Duke de Sairmeuse would hesitate before he attacked an honest man if he were only obliged to say to himself: ‘If I wrong this man, and even should I kill him, I cannot escape retributive justice, for his children will surely call me to account. Their vengeance will fall on me and mine; they will pursue us by day and night, at all hours and in all seasons. We must ever fear their hatred for they will be implacable and merciless. I shall never leave my house without fear of a bullet; never lift food to my lips without dread of poison. ”

“ His last words were about you. ‘A terrible thing has just happened at the Borderie, my boy,’ said he. ‘The young marchioness hated Marie-Anne, and she has poisoned her. If it hadn’t been for me she would have been lost. I am about to die, so let the whole blame rest on me; for it won’t hurt me when I’m under the sod, and it will save the young lady. And by-and-by she will reward you; so that as long as you keep the secret you will want for nothing.’ ” Great as was young Chupin’s impudence he paused abruptly, amazed by the air of perfect composure with which Blanche listened to him. ”

“ But we will leave France, and they shall come and live near you. Jean will no longer dislike me when you are my wife. We will all live in England or in Italy. Now I am grateful for the fortune that will enable me to make your life a continual enchantment. I love you—and in the happiness and tender love which shall be yours in the future, I will make you forget all the bitterness of the past!”
Marie-Anne knew the Marquis de Sairmeuse well enough to understand the intensity of the love revealed by these astounding proposals. ”

“ He understood the cause of Marie-Anne’s distorted features now. “She perished the victim of a crime!” he exclaimed. “Some monster killed her. If she died such a death, our child is lost for ever! And it was I who recommended, who commanded the greatest precautions! Ah! we are all of us cursed!” He sank back in his chair, overwhelmed with sorrow and remorse, and with big tears rolling slowly down his cheeks.
“He is saved!” thought the abbe, whose heart bled at the sight of such intense sorrow.
Jean Lacheneur stood by the priest’s side with gloom upon his face. ”

“ I have been a fool—a miserable fool—for I love you; I love, and can love you only. I am the Marquis de Sairmeuse. I am wealthy. I entreat you, I implore you to be my wife.”
Marie-Anne listened in utter bewilderment. But an hour before Chanlouineau in his cell cried aloud that he died for love of her, and now it was Martial, who avowed his willingness to sacrifice his ambition and his future for her sake. And the poor peasant condemned to death, and the son of the all-powerful Duke de Sairmeuse, had confessed their passion in almost the same words. ”

“ But suddenly such a terrible thought found its way into her failing mind that she gasped with agony, “My child!” And then, regaining, by a superhuman effort as much will, energy, and strength, as the poison would allow her, she straitened herself in the arm-chair, and though her features were contracted by mortal anguish, yet with an energy of which no one would have supposed her capable, she exclaimed, “Blanche, listen to me. It is the secret of my life which I am going to reveal to you; no one suspects it. I have a son by Maurice. Alas! many months have elapsed since my husband disappeared. ”

“ A quarrel and he would be left without any prospect of a son-in-law! When would heaven send him such another? And how furious Blanche would be! He concluded to swallow the bitter pill; and it was in a tone of paternal indulgence that he remarked: “I see that you are very young, my dear Martial.”
The baron was still kneeling beside the partition, holding his breath in an agony of suspense, and with his right ear against one of the crevices.
“You are only twenty, my dear Martial,” pursued the Marquis de Courtornieu; “you are imbued with all the enthusiasm and generosity of youth. ”

“ The baron felt that all denial would be useless. “Lacheneur is deaf to my remonstrances and entreaties,” he replied, sadly. “There is no hope, my poor boy; you must submit. I will not tell you that time will assuage the sorrow that now seems insupportable—for you wouldn’t believe me if I did. But I do say to you be a man, and prove your courage. I will say even more: fight against all thought of Marie-Anne, as a traveller on the brink of a precipice fights against the thought of vertigo.” ”

“ My frailty deserves punishment, and I must submit to the insults and disgrace awaiting me.”
“Insults! Let any one dare insult you! But will you not now be my wife in the sight of men, as you are in the sight of heaven? The failure of your father’s scheme sets you free!”
“No, no, Maurice, I am not free! Ah! it is you who are pitiless! I see only too well that you curse me, that you curse the day when we met for the first time! Confess it!” And so speaking Marie-Anne lifted her streaming eyes to his. ”

“ At five-and-twenty, Martial, the last descendant of the great house of Sairmeuse—a man on whom destiny had apparently lavished every blessing—who was young, who possessed unbounded wealth, and a brilliant intellect, found himself literally overburdened with ennui. Marie-Anne’s death had destroyed all his hopes of happiness; and realizing the emptiness of his life, he sought to fill the void with bustle and excitement. He threw himself headlong into politics, striving to find some relief from his despondency in the pleasures of power and satisfied ambition. ”

“ This noble peasant had saved their lives at the Croix d’Arcy, he had wrested the Baron d’Escorval from the hands of the executioner, and he had never allowed either a complaint or a reproach to escape his lips. His abnegation had been sublime; and yet, as if what he had done in life were not sufficient, he sought to protect the woman he loved, even after he was dead. When Maurice recalled all that he and Marie-Anne owed to Chanlouineau, he could not help reproaching himself with inferiority and unworthiness. ”

“ She stood on the threshold of the room which Chanlouineau in the boldness of his passion had designed to be the sanctuary of his love. Here every thing was beautiful and luxurious: “Ah, so after all it’s true,” exclaimed Blanche in a paroxysm of jealousy. “And I was fancying that everything was too meager and too poor. Down stairs everything is so arranged that visitors may not suspect the truth! Ah, now I recognise Martial’s astonishing talent for dissimulation, he is so infatuated with this creature that he is even anxious to shield her reputation. ”

“ However, in that low tone which accomplices habitually employ, she ventured to add: “If what you say proves true, it will only be another proof that your jealousy led you astray; and that—that what you did at the Borderie was a perfectly unnecessary act.”
Such had indeed been Blanche’s opinion; but now she shook her head, and gloomily replied: “You are wrong; what took place at the Borderie has brought my husband back to me again. I understand everything now. It is true that Marie-Anne was not his mistress; but he loved her. He loved her, and her repulses only increased his passion. ”

“ Marie-Anne stood on the hearth-rug, gazing wildly round her, as if seeking for the cause of her incomprehensible sufferings. She passed and repassed her hand across her forehead, which was bathed in cold sweat; she gasped for breath, and then suddenly overcome with nausea, she staggered, pressed her hands convulsively to her breast, and sank into the arm-chair, crying: “Oh, God! how I suffer!”
Kneeling by the door of the dressing-room which was only partly closed, Blanche eagerly watched the workings of the poison she had administered. ”

“ She had not yet decided what form the revenge she contemplated should take; but she already had her eye on a man whom she believed would be willing to do anything for money. And, strange as it may seem, this man was none other than our old acquaintance, Father Chupin. Burdened with remorse, despised and jeered at; stoned whenever he ventured in the streets, and horror-stricken whenever he thought of Balstain’s vow, Chupin had left Montaignac, and sought an asylum at the Chateau de Sairmeuse. ”

“ And in proof of his words, he proudly displayed the piece of silver which Lacheneur had given him.
“One more bold stroke and we have our man!” exclaimed Chupin. “Come, comrades!” And now the party were not more than two hundred feet from the house in which the outlaw had found an asylum.
Antoine and his wife looked at each other with anguish in their eyes. They saw that their visitor was lost.
“We must save him! we must save him!” cried the woman.
“Yes, we must save him!” repeated the husband gloomily. “They shall kill me before I betray a man in my own house.” ”

“ Jean averted his glance; his face coloured, and it was with evident hesitation that he replied—”Because I’ve a right to dispose of my own life, but not of yours. We can’t be anything to each other any longer. I deny you to-day, so that you may be able to deny me to-morrow. Yes, although you are now the only person on earth I love. I must and do renounce you. Your worst enemies haven’t slandered you more foully than I have done, for before numerous witnesses I have openly declared that I would never set my foot inside a house given you by Chanlouineau. ”

“ To live is to suffer.”
He listened, but did not seem to understand. “Live!” he murmured; “why should I live since she is dead?”
His eyes gleamed so strangely that the abbe was alarmed. “If he does not weep, he will most certainly lose his reason!” thought the priest. Then in a commanding voice he added aloud, “You have no right to despair; you owe a sacred duty to your child.”
The same remembrance which had given Marie-Anne strength to hold even death itself at bay for a moment, saved Maurice from the dangerous trance into which he was sinking. ”

“ Maurice did not wince. “So be it,” he said calmly. “Marie-Anne’s fate will be that of all women who have devoted themselves to the political cause of the man they love, be he father, brother, or lover. She will be slandered and insulted, and still what does it matter! Let her continue her task. I consent to it, for I shall never doubt her, and I shall know how to hold my peace. If we succeed, she shall be my wife, if we fail—” The gesture with which young d’Escorval concluded his sentence expressed more strongly than any verbal protestations that come what might he was ready and resigned. ”

“ When Maurice was eventually got away, the baron became more composed, and with head erect, and steadfast eye, he listened to his sentence. In the confusion that ensued in removing the prisoners from the hall M. d’Escorval found himself beside Chanlouineau, who had begun his noisy lamentations. “Courage, my boy,” he said, indignant at such apparent cowardice.
“Ah! it is easy to talk,” whined the young farmer, who seeing that he was momentarily unobserved, leant towards the baron, and whispered; “It is for you that I am working. Save all your strength for to-night.” ”

“ What weariness and vexation of spirit! To live for others—what a mockery!”
He looked at his wife, radiant in her beauty, worshipped like a queen, and sighed. He thought of her who was dead—Marie-Anne—the only woman he had ever loved. She was never absent from his mind, and after all these years he saw her yet, stretched cold, rigid, lifeless, on the canopied bedstead, in that luxurious room at the Borderie. ”

“ There was both admiration and jealousy in the look that Martial fixed upon Marie-Anne. He was amazed by her coolness and presence of mind. Ah! indeed powerful must be the passion that imparted such a ringing clearness to her voice, such brilliancy to her eyes, and such precision to her words!
“And if I should not accept the—the conditions, what then?” asked M. de Sairmeuse. ”