Emile Gaboriau

“ They would have remained at Sairmeuse. They would have had lovely children playing around them! He would not be condemned to this continual warfare—to this hollow, unsatisfying, restless life.
The truly happy are not those who parade their satisfaction and good fortune before the eyes of the multitude. The truly happy hide themselves from the curious gaze, and they are right; happiness is almost a crime.
So thought Martial; and he, the great statesman, often said to himself, in a sort of rage:
“To love, and to be loved—that is everything! All else is vanity.” ”

“ Jean Lacheneur made a gesture terrible in its irony and menace.
“A bond of alliance!” he exclaimed. “You are too fast, Monsieur le Marquis! Have you forgotten all the blood that flows between us? You did not cut the ropes; but who condemned the innocent Baron d’Escorval to death? Was it not the Duc de Sairmeuse? An alliance! You have forgotten that you and yours sent my father to the scaffold! How have you rewarded the man whose heroic honesty gave you back a fortune? By murdering him, and by ruining the reputation of his daughter.” ”

“ And the poor peasant condemned to death, and the son of the all-powerful Duc de Sairmeuse, had avowed their passion in almost the very same words.
Martial paused, awaiting some response—a word, a gesture. But Marie-Anne remained mute, motionless, frozen.
“You are silent,” he cried, with increased vehemence. “Do you question my sincerity? No, it is impossible! Then why this silence? Do you fear my father’s opposition? You need not. I know how to gain his consent. Besides, what does his approbation matter to us? Have we any need of him? Am I not my own master? Am I not rich—immensely rich? ”

“ She called Mme. d’Escorval, the abbe, Maurice, her brother, Chanlouineau, Martial!
Martial, this name was more than sufficient to extinguish all pity in the heart of Mme. Blanche.
“Go on! call your lover, call!” she said to herself, bitterly. “He will come too late.”
And as Marie-Anne repeated the name in a tone of agonized entreaty:
“Suffer!” continued Mme. Blanche, “suffer, you who have inspired Martial with the odious courage to forsake me, his wife, as a drunken lackey would abandon the lowest of degraded creatures! Die, and my husband will return to me repentant.” ”

“ It may be that your father, in his despair, has adopted extreme resolutions. Speak, let us combat them together. Lacheneur knows how devotedly I am attached to him. I will speak to him; he will listen to me.”
“I can tell you nothing, Monsieur.”
“What! you are so cruel as to remain inflexible when a father entreats you on his knees—a father who says to you: ‘Marie-Anne, you hold in your hands the happiness, the life, the reason of my son——‘”
Tears glittered in Marie-Anne’s eyes, but she drew away her hand.
“Ah! it is you who are cruel, Monsieur; it is you who are without pity. ”

“ Marie-Anne shuddered. She fancied that a threat lurked beneath these ironical words, beneath this mockery of himself.
“What a life yours must be, my poor brother! Why did you not come sooner? Now, I have you here, I shall not let you go. You will not desert me. I need protection and love so much. You will remain with me?”
“It is impossible, Marie-Anne.”
“And why?”
A fleeting crimson suffused Jean Lacheneur’s cheek; he hesitated for a moment, then:
“Because I have a right to dispose of my own life, but not of yours,” he replied. “We can no longer be anything to each other. ”

“ Involuntarily Marie-Anne drew away her hand and stepped back.
This outburst of passion, at such a moment, seemed at once unspeakably sad and frightful.
“Have I, then, offended you?” said Chanlouineau, sadly. “Forgive one who is about to die! You cannot refuse to listen to the voice of one, who after tomorrow, will have vanished from earth forever.
“I have loved you for a long time, Marie-Anne, for more than six years. Before I saw you, I loved only my possessions. To raise fine crops, and to amass a fortune, seemed to me, then, the greatest possible happiness here below. ”

“ Thunderstruck at first, Maurice afterward renewed the attack with an energy which no one had ever suspected in his character before.
“Do you, then, wish to ruin my life, Monsieur?” he exclaimed; “to ruin our life; for if I love Marie-Anne, she also loves me.”
It was easy to see that he spoke the truth. The unhappy girl, crimson with happy blushes the moment before, had suddenly become whiter than marble, as she looked imploringly at her father.
“It cannot be,” repeated M. Lacheneur; “and the day will come when you will bless the decision I make known at this moment.” ”

“ Lacheneur could restrain his furious passion no longer.
“Well, yes!” he exclaimed, with a frightful oath, “yes, you have spoken the truth. Marie-Anne must be, and will be, the instrument of my plans. A man situated as I am is free from the considerations that restrain other men. Fortune, friends, life, honor—I have been forced to sacrifice all. Perish my daughter’s virtue—perish my daughter herself—what do they matter, if I can but succeed?” ”

“ Marie-Anne shuddered as if a knife had entered her very heart; and yet there was more sorrow than anger in the glance she cast upon Maurice.
“Must I stoop so low as to defend myself from such an imputation?” she asked, sadly. “Must I declare that if even I suspect such an arrangement between Chanlouineau and my father, I have not been consulted? Must I tell you that there are some sacrifices which are beyond the strength of poor human nature? Understand this: I have found strength to renounce the man I love—I shall never be able to accept another in his place!” ”

“ 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 advancement of the man whom they love, be he father, brother, or lover. She will be slandered, insulted, calumniated. What does it matter? She may 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 which concluded the sentence said more strongly than any protestations, that he was ready, resigned to anything. ”

“ From Martial’s sneering tone, Maurice was certain that he had overheard, at least a part of, his conversation with Marie-Anne.
“My right,” he replied, “is that of friendship. If I tell you that your advances are unwelcome, it is because I know that Monsieur Lacheneur will accept nothing from you. No, nothing, under whatever guise you may offer these alms which you tender merely to appease your own conscience. He will never forgive the affront which is his honor and your shame. Ah! you thought to degrade him, Messieurs de Sairmeuse! and you have lifted him far above your mock grandeur. ”

“ Mechanically the murderess advanced; but Marie-Anne’s dead body lay between her and the door, barring the passage. To leave the room it was necessary to step over the lifeless form of her victim. She had not courage to do this, and recoiled with a shudder.
But Chupin was troubled by no such scruples. He sprang across the body, lifted Blanche as if she had been a child and carried her out of the house.
He was drunk with joy. Fears for the future no longer disquieted him, now that Mme. Blanche was bound to him by the strongest of chains—complicity in crime. ”

“ Then, as if communing with his own thoughts, rather than addressing his wife, he said, despondently:
“The Duc de Sairmeuse and the Marquis de Courtornieu have reaped what they have sown. The blood of murdered innocence always calls for vengeance. Sooner or later, the guilty must expiate their crimes.”
Blanche shuddered. Each word found an echo in her own soul. Had he intended his words for her, he would not have expressed himself differently.
“Martial,” said she, trying to arouse him from his gloomy revery, “Martial.” ”

“ To live, is to suffer.”
He listened, but did not seem to comprehend.
“Live!” he murmured, “why should I desire to live since she is dead?”
The dread light of insanity glittered in his dry eyes. The abbe was alarmed.
“If he does not weep, he will lose his reason!” he thought.
And in an imperious voice, he said:
“You have no right to despair thus; you owe a sacred duty to your child.”
He recoiled with a heart-broken cry.
The recollection which had given Marie-Anne strength to hold death at bay for a moment, saved Maurice from the dangerous torpor into which he was sinking. ”

“ Lacheneur understood this only too well, and seemed to despair.
“Ah! you are like Abbe Midon,” he said, sadly; “you will not believe. Who knows how much your coming here this morning will cost you? It is said that no one can escape his destiny. But if some day the hand of the executioner is laid upon your shoulder, remember that I warned you, and do not curse me.”
He paused, and seeing that even this sinister prophecy produced no impression upon the baron, he pressed his hand as if to bid him an eternal farewell, and opened the door to admit the Marquis de Sairmeuse. ”

“ I will uncomplainingly endure the punishment for my horrible fault—I will submit to the insults and disgrace that await me!”
“Insults, to you! Ah! woe to who dares! But will you not now be my wife in the sight of men, as you are in the sight of God? 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! Say it!”
Marie-Anne lifted her streaming eyes to his. ”

“ Lacheneur took his friend’s hand and pressed it tenderly.
“Ah! you are noble people,” he exclaimed, “and God will reward you for your kindness to a poor fugitive. But you have done too much already. I should be the basest of men if I consented to uselessly expose you to danger. I can bear this life no longer; I have no wish to escape.”
He drew the sobbing woman to him and kissed her upon the forehead.
“I have a daughter, young and beautiful like yourself, as generous and proud. Poor Marie-Anne! And I have pitilessly sacrificed her to my hatred! ”

“ Chupin placed her on the ground about twenty paces from the house.
“And Aunt Medea!” she exclaimed.
Her relative was beside her; like one of those dogs who are left at the door when their master enters a house, she had, instinctively followed her niece on seeing her borne from the cottage by the old poacher.
“We must not stop to talk,” said Chupin. “Come, I will lead the way.”
And taking Blanche by the arm, he hastened toward the grove.
“Ah! so Marie-Anne had a child,” he said, as they hurried on. “She was pretending to be such a saint! But where the devil has she put it?” ”