Gaudin

“ Gaudin smarted under the taunt; but his face betokened no trace of the annoyance. He took the empty sheath of his sword, which still hung at his side, and, smiling carelessly, played with the lace that was fixed round his boot.
‘It is an odd rencontre,’ he said; ‘but you are no sorcerer, or you would not have been here. On that score you are safe. We stand a chance of being together for some time—perhaps we may become better friends.’
‘Friends!’ replied Exili, with a short, dreary laugh. ‘Never: we are not made of the stuff that can harbour such a dull sentiment. ”

“ Gaudin snatched the note, and discerned the handwriting of the Marchioness. Hastily tearing it open, he read—
‘Be true and patient; all may yet be well, and you will be revenged. Rely on me to aid you; we have gone too far to retract. In life, and after it, yours only,
‘Marie.’
‘I must put out your light,’ said Galouchet. ”

“ It is the reaction of your spirit, Gaudin. The cord has been stretched too tightly, and it has broken; you know that a fearful tie has now bound us to each other, and for the first time you feel that I am a clog upon your free actions.’
‘You are mistaken, Marie,’ replied Sainte-Croix with energy, although every word of the Marchioness thrilled through him. ”

“ And she uttered the last words in a tone of well-acted despondency, as she prepared to depart.
‘Stay, Marie!’ cried Gaudin. ‘You have said that your brothers are at Offemont; who else have you to dread? There is a réunion of all the best that Paris contains of life and revelry in the Rue des Mathurins this evening. You will go with me?’
‘It would be madness, Gaudin. The city would ring with the scandal to-morrow morning.’
‘You can mask,’ returned Sainte-Croix, ‘and so will I. I shall be known to all I care about, and those I can rely on. Marie! ”

“ To-morrow I start for England, and I will have the money with me.’
‘I tell you I cannot procure it by that time,’ said Gaudin. ‘A day can be of no consequence to you.’
‘No more than it may be a matter of life or death—a simple affair, I grant you, with either of us, but still worth caring for. Ha! what is this?’
He had purposely brushed his hand against Sainte-Croix’s cloak, and in the pocket of it he felt some weighty substance. The chink assured him it was gold.
‘You cannot have that,’ said Gaudin confusedly; ‘it is going with me to the gaming-table this evening. ”

“ M. Theria is not here, and I came to see his wife on my own affairs.’
‘Liar!’ cried Gaudin, as he quivered with jealous rage, seizing the arm of the Marchioness with a clutch of iron. ‘Theria is within, and you came to meet him only. You know that woman is not his wife; though many there be less constant. You would wean his love from her, and make him cast her upon the world, that you might be installed as his paramour. You see, I know all—in another moment she also shall be acquainted with everything.’
Sainte-Croix had spoken much of this upon mere chance, but it proved to be correct. ”

“ It is a matter of gallantry, or I am mistaken; we are freemasons, you know, of a certain sort, and may trust each other.’
Gaudin laughed and made an evasive reply, as he took Philippe’s arm; and the two, crossing the square before Notre Dame, entered the Hôtel Dieu. As they passed the lodge, the porter, recognising Philippe, gave him a note which had been left for the gentleman who was expected to accompany him. Gaudin knew the writing, and hastily opened it. Its contents were as follows:—
‘Do not notice me in the hospital, or suspicion will be aroused, and I shall not come again. ”

“ In his name, and collectively for those accounts, I now arrest you.’
‘Monsieur!’ cried Gaudin, ‘it is impossible for me to go with you to-night. The arrest I care nothing for, for it can soon be settled; but there is a lady here whom I cannot leave. You must postpone this affair until to-morrow, when you will find me at home.’
‘It is as much as my position is worth,’ replied Desgrais. ‘Everything will give place to a lady but a court of justice. ”

“ The life and death of those you love or hate shall be alike within your grasp. The destroying angel shall become your slave, and go abroad, obedient to your will alone. Your bosom should now harbour but one thought—and that must be revenge.’
Exili threw back the amulet to Sainte-Croix, and sank back on his pillow; whilst Gaudin, finding he returned no reply to his questions, once more sought to fly from himself, and the black thoughts that haunted him, in sleep. ”

“ You cannot trust any of your own domestics. I foresaw something like this, and have brought my instrument,’ said Gaudin. He rose, and drawing aside the curtain beckoned from the window. The signal was answered by a cough from below, and followed by the appearance of Lachaussée, who had evidently expected the summons. He clumsily greeted the Marchioness, and dropping his hat awaited Gaudin’s orders.
‘Let Françoise find a livery of your brothers’ people, and give it to this honest fellow, Marie,’ said Sainte-Croix. ”

“ As she spoke she advanced towards Gaudin, and took his hand. There was no attempt on the part of the Marchioness to stop her. Her curiosity was singularly roused as she watched the progress of this strange interview.
‘Do not speak to me, Louise,’ exclaimed Sainte-Croix, with averted face, and struggling with his feelings. ‘Leave me, I beseech you.’
‘I am going to leave you, Gaudin,’ she replied; ‘and I shall never trouble you more. I did not willingly intrude upon you now, for I knew that all had long since passed away between us—even the recollection of what once was. ”

“ With a hasty shriek Marie flung her lover from her, and retreated as far as the couch would allow her, repeating, as if in a dream, ‘Die! my husband and my father!’
‘Ay,’ said Gaudin, uttering each word slowly and calmly, as if he would have had it sink into the heart and memory of her he was addressing. ‘Ay—die! if we are to give the rein to our attachment. I cannot brook the slow and secret arts of an intrigue with thee, Marie; my love must have full scope and open daylight. I repeat, your husband and father must be removed. Do you understand me?’
The Marchioness returned no answer. ”

“ Exili was awake as well. He had raised himself in bed, and, by the light of the lamp which still burned in the chimney-corner, was staring fixedly at Sainte-Croix, with the same riveting gaze he had before directed towards him. It was not the look of human intent—a serpent would have fascinated a bird with the same expression, until the victim fell into its yawning mouth. Gaudin quailed before it—he knew not why; but there was something terrible in the unclosed and glaring eyes of the physician, which almost precluded him from inquiring what he desired. ”

“ There is still time to make amends for all that has occurred. I do not speak for myself, for all those feelings have passed; but for you alone. Repent, and be happy,—for happy now you are not.’
The Good and Evil Angels
Gaudin made no reply, but his bosom heaved rapidly, betraying his internal emotion. Once he turned towards Louise Gauthier as if to speak: the words died on his tongue.
‘This is idle talk,’ said the Marchioness, as she drew Sainte-Croix to her side. ‘If you would not be taken for our accomplice, girl, you will keep silent as to what you have heard. ”

“ As he spoke, he dashed a small rod he held against the wall, and a flame, so bright that Gaudin could hardly look upon it, burst from its extremity. In another moment he had relighted the lamp, and he then shook the blaze amongst the embers on the hearth, which were presently rekindled. Sainte-Croix looked upon his companion with the gaze of one bewildered. Exili read the expression of the other’s features and continued, perceiving his advantage—
‘Life and death are equally within my grasp. Whom shall I call up? ”

“ A spasmodic tremor passed through Sainte-Croix’s frame; his hands were clenched and his lip quivered. The convulsion was slight and rapid, but it was observed by Exili. He went on.
‘It is annoying, too, to dream that others may share her affections whilst you are imprisoned here. Her years are but few—her blood is young and vivid. The Marquis, too, neglects her—so goes report in Paris—and she must have some one to attach herself to.’
‘No more!—no more!’ cried Gaudin, with a sudden and violent outburst of passion. ‘Fiend! demon! ”

“ A more perfect adept in all the arts of gallantry than Sainte-Croix never encountered a more passionate and more calculating woman than Marie de Brinvilliers.
‘Gaudin!’ said the Marchioness, in a low, sweet voice, ‘you love me—still?’
‘Ever—ever!’ murmured Sainte-Croix. And so far as passion is love, he spoke truly at that moment.
‘I cannot live without thee, Gaudin,’ continued Marie. ‘Antoine knows of our love. I saw it in his face to-night as we returned from the Place Maubert. He will kill thee, Gaudin; and, my father—’ Marie shuddered with well-feigned terror. ”

“ My brothers think they are ruling me as they would a wayward girl: how terrible will be my retribution!’
‘I have much to tell you, Marie, of my own plans,’ said Gaudin; ‘but it cannot be here. If those whom you have alluded to fall, others must go with them. We cannot pause in our career.’
‘There is one that I have marked as the earliest,’ returned the Marchioness. ”

“ Gaudin had met the brother of the Marchioness—the result of the rencontre at Versailles—and had been wounded. He had taken Lachaussée with him as an attendant; for that person, since the affair in the catacombs of the Bièvre, had been leading but a sorry life during Gaudin’s imprisonment, and was now assisting Exili in professing the art and mystery of a sorcerer. The cause of the Italian’s release from the Bastille was never publicly stated, though many knew it. ”

“ Without waiting for a return of the salutation, Gaudin left the door and hurried along the archway towards the staircase, evidently impelled by no ordinary excitement. He had called that evening upon Madame de Brinvilliers, at her hotel in the Rue des Cordeliers, to seek an interview with her upon the subject of her acquaintance made with Theria at the Jacobins, which since last evening had been rankling in his heart. For some of the busy tongues of Paris had long whispered of a liaison that passed the bounds of friendship, between Gaudin and the Marchioness ”

“ Have you kept the small phial by you, which you bought of me at Milan?’
‘It has never been out of my keeping until now,’ said Gaudin.
‘With that you could command twenty lives,’ said Exili; ‘and yet my remedies could so blunt and weaken its malignity that I would take it all at one draught. You shall learn more. ”

“ Gaudin de Sainte-Croix—the unknown adventurer—the soldier of fortune, whom nobody had ever dared to question respecting his parentage, was his own son!—the fruit of his intimacy with the Sicilian woman, from whom at Palermo he had learned the secrets of his hellish trade, in the first instance to remove those who were inimical to the liaison. ”

“ You are indebted for your present position to Dreux d’Aubray; you burn for vengeance. If you fail the world will call you pitiful, mean, lâche: succeed, and you become a hero. Suppose I make that success certain!’
‘Pshaw! you are leading me on to some new toil,’ said Gaudin. ‘We are powerless here; were we otherwise, I should mistrust you. This is no place for bandying smooth phrases; nor are our relations towards each other such as require them. You know my sentiments towards you.’ Then, after a moment’s pause, he added, ‘What plan do you propose?’
‘As I expected,’ thought Exili ”

“ An expression passed across her face of mingled triumph and satisfaction, whilst the fingers of her hand were quickly working one over the other.
‘And who is that, Marie?’ asked Gaudin, his curiosity aroused by the manner of the Marchioness.
‘The pale-faced girl, whose acquaintance with yourself I became so unluckily acquainted with in the Grotto of Thetis—your Languedocian leman—Louise Gauthier.’
‘She must not be injured!’ exclaimed Sainte-Croix hurriedly.
‘She must die!’ replied the Marchioness, with cold but determined meaning. ‘She loves you, and you may still care for her. ”

“ Whatever Gaudin’s station is, or may have been, his love raised me to his own position—one which the Marchioness of Brinvilliers did not think beneath her. I thought she would have been above so petty a cause for quarrel.’
‘And from these set speeches,’ rejoined Marie, ‘which, doubtless, have been conned over until you got them by heart, to make an effect when they might be called for, you have lowered yourself. Sainte-Croix has long since forgotten you. Have you no spirit, thus to pursue a bygone lover who has discarded you?’
‘Alas, madame! ”

“ This was addressed to the Abbe Dubois, whose name as a gallant, either on his own part or that of the King, was pretty well established.
‘Where she should be—quietly at home,’ replied the abbe. ‘Brinvilliers is on his travels. He is another man since she left him, or he left her, or they left one another. How is it, M. de Sainte-Croix?—you ought to know.’
‘By the mass!’ cried Gaudin angrily, ‘my sword can answer the curiosity of any one better than my tongue.’
‘It is the more innocent weapon of the two in Paris just at present,’ said Marotte. ”

“ And now that she was entirely dependent upon her own energy for safety, her firmness rose with the danger. The first shock passed, all her wondrous determination came back to her assistance. In her utter, fearful heartlessness, she was almost beginning to look already upon the death of Gaudin as an accident by which some clog had been removed, and she had been left free and unfettered to follow her own will, as soon as her safety from her pursuers was secured. ”