Maurice Leblanc

“ Honorine was smiling.
"Oh, please, please," Véronique entreated, "tell me the truth! It is terrible to hope more than one has a right to. Do tell me."
Honorine put her arm round Véronique's neck:
"Why, my poor, dear lady, would I have told you all this if my handsome François had been dead?"
"He is alive, he is alive?" cried Véronique, wildly.
"Why, of course he is and in the best of health! Oh, he's a fine, sturdy little chap, never fear, and so steady on his legs! And I have every right to be proud of him, because it's I who brought him up, your little François." ”

“ For ages and ages men have sought to fathom the secret of the island and not one has succeeded. Vorski came and the God-Stone is his. So let it show itself to me and give me the promised power. There is nothing between it and Vorski, nothing but my will. And I declare my will! The prophet has risen out of the night. He is here. If there be, in this kingdom of the dead, a shade whose duty it is to lead me to the divine stone and place the golden crown upon my head, let that shade arise! Here stands Vorski. ”

“ When it was all over, Honorine put her hand to her head and, in a hollow voice which Véronique was never to forget, said:
"My head's bursting. Oh, the poor people of Sarek! They were my friends, the friends of my childhood; and I shall never see them again . . . . The sea never gives up its dead at Sarek: it keeps them. It has its coffins all ready: thousands and thousands of hidden coffins . . . . Oh, my head is bursting! . . . I shall go mad . . . mad like François, my poor François!" ”

“ Were you so fond of your Elfride as all that? She had become a habit, what? A mascot? Well, what can I say? People as a rule aren't such fools as you! They know what they're doing. They look before they leap! Hang it all, they stop to think! Whereas you go floundering about in crime like a new-born babe struggling in the water! No wonder you sink and go to the bottom . . . . The ancient Druid, for instance: is he dead or alive? Did Conrad stick a dagger into his back, or was I playing the part of that diabolical personage? ”

“ It is the weak who weep, those who fear lest they be punished, lest their crimes be turned against themselves. But I, I! Our ancestors feared but one thing, that the sky should fall upon their heads. What have I to fear? I am God's accomplice! He has chosen me among all men. It is God that has inspired me, the God of the fatherland, the old German God, for whom good and evil do not count where the greatness of his sons is at stake. The spirit of evil is within me. I love evil, I thirst after evil. So you shall die, Véronique, and I shall laugh when I see you suffering on the cross! ”

“ I have a God-Stone to hand you and I mean to hand it you, come what may. That's the sort of hairpin I am. You've got to pocket it, your miracle-stone."
"But I don't care a hang for the God-Stone!" roared Vorski, stamping his foot. "And I don't care a hang for you! I want nobody. The God-Stone! Why, I've got it, it's mine. I've got it on me."
"Let's have a look."
"What do you call that?" said Vorski, taking from his pocket the little stone disk which he had found in the pommel of the sceptre. ”

“ Vorski's son! How indeed could she have suffered?
But ah, what a wound inflicted in the depths of her being! What an upheaval, like those cataclysms which shake the whole of a peaceful country-side! What a hellish spectacle! What a vision of madness and horror! What an ironical jest, a jest of the most hideous destiny! Her son killing her father at the moment when, after all these years of separation and sorrow, she was on the point of embracing them both and living with them in sweet and homely intimacy! Her son a murderer! Her son dispensing death and terror broadcast! ”

“ Listen, I know that your brat is expecting a rescuer, a professor of clap-trap, a Don Quixote of adventure. Let him come! Vorski will give him the reception he deserves! The more the merrier! We shall see some fun! . . . And, if the very gods join in the game and take up your defence, I shan't care! It's no longer their business, it's my business. It's no longer a question of Sarek and the treasure and the great secret and all the humbug of the God-Stone! It's a question of yourself! You have spat in Vorski's face and Vorski is taking his revenge. He is taking his revenge! ”

“ Did you notice the eagerness with which Stéphane flew to François' assistance? Obviously he loves his young pupil, but he loves the mother still more. And, since everything that pleases Véronique d'Hergemont is bound to please you, I wish to admit that he is not indifferent to her, that his wonderful love has touched her heart, that it was with real joy that she saw him restored to her this morning and that this will all end in a wedding . . . as soon as she's a widow, of course. You follow me, don't you? The only obstacle to their happiness is yourself. ”

“ The artillery of the heavens is drawing near. My enemies are vanquished; you can no longer hope for rescue! Here is the last beat of your heart . . . . Here is your last cry: 'Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?'"
He screamed with laughter, like a man laughing at the most riotous adventure. Then came silence. The roars of thunder ceased. Vorski bent forward and suddenly, from the top of the ladder, shouted:
"Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani! The gods have forsaken her. Death has done its work. The last [Pg 253] of the four women is dead. Véronique is dead!" ”

“ Who are you?"
"Who am I?" replied the old man, in a husky and bleating voice. "Who am I? By Teutatès, god of the Gauls, is it you who ask me that question? Then you don't know me? Come, try and remember . . . . Good old Ségenax—eh, do you get me now—Velléda's father, good old Ségenax, the law-giver venerated by the Rhedons of whom Chateaubriand speaks in the first volume of his Martyrs? . . . Ah, I see your memory's reviving!"
"What are you gassing about!" cried Vorski. ”

“ THE GOD-STONE
The Crystal Stopper was running on the surface of the water. Don Luis sat talking, with Stéphane, Patrice and All's Well, who were gathered round him:
"What a swine that Vorski is!" he said. "I've seen that breed of monster before, but never one of his calibre."
"Then, in that case . . ." Patrice Belval objected.
"In that case?" echoed Don Luis.
"I repeat what I've said already. You hold a monster in your hands and you let him go free! To say nothing of its being highly immoral, think of all the harm that he can do, that he inevitably will do! ”

“ He began to laugh:
"You mustn't hope for anything sensational," he said. "A mystery is worth just as much as the darkness in which it is shrouded; and, as we have begun by dispelling the darkness, nothing remains but the fact itself in its naked reality. Nevertheless the facts in this case are strange and the reality is not denuded of a certain grandeur."
"It must needs be so," said Patrice Belval, "seeing that the reality left so miraculous a legend in the isle of Sarek and even all over Brittany." ”

“ Twenty seconds, thirty seconds passed. With his outstretched left hand, François checked his adversary's attempt. But the victorious arm sank lower and lower, the dagger descended, the point was only an inch or two from the neck.
Vorski stooped. Just then, he was behind Raynold, so that neither Raynold nor François could see him; and he was watching most attentively, as though intending to intervene at some given moment. But in whose favor would he intervene? Was it his plan to save François?
Véronique no longer breathed; her eyes were enormously dilated; she hung between life and death. ”

“ Vorski, son of a king, Vorski, the elect of destiny, prepare yourself! Your time has come! Either you are the lowest of adventurers and the guiltiest of all the great criminals dyed in the blood of their fellow-men, or else you are really the inspired prophet whom the gods crown with glory. A superman or a highwayman: that is fate's decree. The last heart-beats of the sacred victim sacrificed to the gods are marking the supreme seconds. ”

“ They take from the submarine some dynamite-cartridges and signal-rockets and place them in position. And, when you, Vorski, from your perch, start proclaiming like a herald, 'She's dead! The fourth woman has died upon the cross!' bang, bang, bang! Thunder, flame, uproar, the whole bag of tricks. That does it: you are more and more the darling of the gods, the pet of destiny; and you burn with the noble longing to fling yourself down the chimney and gobble up the God-Stone. Next day, therefore, after sleeping off your brandy and your rum, you start to work again, smiling. ”

“ On your knees, Véronique, and beseech my love! It alone can save you. Vorski knows neither pity nor fear. But he loves you; and his love will stop at nothing. Take advantage of it, Véronique. Appeal to the past. Become the child that you once were; and perhaps one day I shall drag myself at your feet. Véronique, do not repel me; a man like me is not to be repelled. One who loves as I love you, Véronique, as I love you, is not to be defied. ”

“ Véronique kept her eyes upon the Priory, whose low-storied front was lengthening gradually, when Honorine, after a few minutes, stopped short, with her face towards the thickets on the right, and called out:
"Monsieur Stéphane!"
"Whom are you calling?" asked Véronique. "M. Maroux?"
"Yes, François' tutor. He was running towards the bridge: I caught sight of him through a clearing . . . Monsieur Stéphane! . . . But why doesn't he answer? Did you see a man running?"
"No."
"I declare it was he, with his white cap. At any rate, we can see the bridge behind us. Let us wait for him to cross." ”

“ All's Well hates to see any one crying or scolding or quarrelling. The moment you cry, or pretend to cry, he comes and squats on his haunches in front of you, sits up, shuts one eye, half-opens the other and looks so exactly as if he was laughing that you begin to laugh yourself. 'That's right, old chap,' says François, 'you're quite right: all's well. There's nothing to take on about, is there?' And, when you're consoled, All's Well just trots away. His task is done."
Véronique laughed and cried in one breath. ”

“ She is given to him as a miraculous victim which he can destroy . . . or conquer. What a prospect! And how the heavens brighten with unexpected light! Vorski loses his head. He becomes more and more convinced that he is the Messiah, the chosen one, the apostle, missionary, the man who is 'obeying destiny.' He is linked up with the line of the high-priests, the guardians of the God-Stone. He is a Druid, an arch-druid; and, as such, on the night when Véronique d'Hergemont burns the bridge, on the sixth night after the moon, he goes and cuts the sacred mistletoe with a golden sickle! ”

“ She recognized Vorski's voice among them.
"So it's understood," he said. "We shall each go our own way; you two on the left, I on the right. You'll take this kid with you, I'll take the other and we'll meet in the lists. You'll be the seconds, so to speak, of yours and I'll be the second of mine, so that all the rules will be observed."
Véronique shut her eyes, for she did not wish to see her son, who would no doubt be maltreated, led out to fight like a slave. She could hear the creaking of two sets of footsteps following the two circular paths. Vorski was laughing and speechifying. ”

“ There is your son. When you are gone, he will remain. In dying, you leave an orphan behind you. Worse than that; in dying, you bequeath him to me. I am his father. I possess full rights. Which do you choose?"
"Death," she said, once more.
He became incensed:
"Death for you, very well. But suppose it means death for him? Suppose I bring him here, before you, your François, and put the knife to his throat and ask you for the last time, what will your answer be?"
Véronique closed her eyes. Never before had she suffered so intensely, and Vorski had certainly found the vulnerable spot. ”

“ Whether you like it or not, madame, you are Vorski's wife. [Pg 207] And it is because of this undeniable fact that I am asking you, if you please, to consider yourself so to-day. Let us understand each other; if I do not aim at obtaining your love or even your friendship, I will not accept either that we should return to our former hostile relations. I do not want the scornful and distant wife that you have been. I want . . . I want a woman . . . a woman who will submit herself . . . who will be the devoted, attentive, faithful companion . . ."
"The slave," murmured Véronique. ”

“ Otto and Conrad, be prepared as I am: the earth will shake; and, at the very spot where Vorski is to win the God-Stone, a column of fire will rise up to the sky."
"He doesn't know what he's saying," mumbled Conrad.
"And there he is on the ladder again," whispered Otto. "It'll serve him right if he gets an arrow through him."
But Vorski's exaltation knew no bounds. The end was at hand. Extenuated by pain, the victim was in her death-agony.
Beginning very low, so as to be heard by none save her, but raising his voice gradually, Vorski said:
"Véronique . . . . Véronique . . . . ”