A MARRIAGE FOR THE OTHER WORLD. CHAP. IX. dropping in, each one silently traversed the garden; and on reaching the door, one of the indiThe Chevalier M. Gloriette inhabited splendid viduals already within approached, examined apartments in the Hotel de Noaille, rue Saint the new comer attentively, and leant his ear for Honoré, and kept a dashing footman, and at a word which, having been pronounced in a low the moment we wait upon him, was very busily voice, he proceeded to where the president occupied in doing several things at once: first he stood, and breathed another word in equally was scolding his valet for packing so slowly; at cautious tones with the first; after which, they intervals he wrote a few lines in a letter which shook each other heartily by the hand, and the lay before him; and on all sides were preparations ceremony of admission was concluded. This making which betokened departure; and to many times repeated had at length filled the judge by the contented, not to say joyous ex-pavilion; and the president, counting heads, pression of his countenance, he was not going reckoned up to twenty-three. "There is one to leave anything he regretted behind him; he wanting," he exclaimed. had no thought, in short, for anything, except "The poor Chevalier!" observed a gentlethe motives of his journey. The Lady Mont-man; "he is so imprudent, I fear he has been clar-the superb Arabella, that pearl among retaken. I know not what he has at heart-a women-was to meet him at the house on Saint woman, I should think-for he haunts Paris Michael's Bridge; from thence they were to these last few days! The police, too, are so cn start for Holland, where the marriage ceremony the alert after us in town and country, that a could be legally performed. And the Chevalier slight imprudence might betray us all!" felt so proud and happy, that he scarcely felt the weight of existence. Arabella had confided her story to him, how she had been tyrannized over by a cruel aunt, and only escaped her trammels to fall under the sway of a despotic brother; but that the atmosphere of the Hotel d'Anglade was poison to her pure mind, and decided her to rely on the Chevalier's love and honour, young as he was, rather than remain. We are not told how Mauricette was received by her father; his elevation to the Parliament showed that the government were satisfied with his preceding conduct, and that he was not compromised by his daughter's having favoured the escape of a rebel. While he yet spoke, another figure, enveloped in an ample cloak, appeared at the outer door, stopped a moment, as if to ascertain that all was right, and advancing to the guest who stepped out to meet him, whispered, Interfector, hent drawing near the President, added, Nannetes; these two words, "murderer-Nantes," said in Latin, were the passport, and all surrounded to shake him by the hand-all were delighted to see him, after what they had feared. Although the name of this mysterious personage has not been for a long while under our pen, he is well known to us as Agatha's brother, Mauricette's protege; in a word, the Chevalier Yves de Rosemadoc, and his companions Some days after the installation of Master the rebels, who had been condemned in effigy Honoré Fauvel to his new and honourable post, by the Chambre Royal of Nantes as traitors! and settlement in his hotel, rue Bretonvilliers, in At the upper end of the table, at the seats of St. Louis, a scene which has to do with our honour, remained six empty chairs. When all story took place in a house of entertainment at the guests were seated, and the waiter inquired the Porcherons. A number of joyous parties "if the gentlemen would wait any longer?" were collected in the gardens and pavilions," No," replied the President," we are all here;" eating, drinking, laughing, and in short amusing themselves, each party according to its fancy; one pavilion alone seemed, as well by its situation being in a remote corner, and by the closed door and windows, if not dull, at least very silent. The waiters who were occupied laying the table did not loiter; and two or three shadows were seen in the interior, as still as if they were painted; it appeared by the preparations that the party was to be a large one, and by degrees the guests began to arrive, As they came an answer which surprised none but the lacquey, the guests themselves being well aware that all who could come were there: the six empty seats were in commemoration of their six comrades who had fallen by the executioner's axe. The repast was silent and solemn; few spoke, and all from time to time threw a sad glance towards the six empty chairs: when Rosemadoc, who sat nearest to them, rose, and filling his glass with a hand that somewhat trembled, and a grave tone of voice, said, "Brothers, I drink to the dead!" All immediately stood up, and repeated the Chevalier's words; while the Pre-headed. This night I kill Honoré Fauvel! I sident, the Marquis of Aubarede, thus addressed will nail this parchment to his heart with my the assembled gentlemen :-" My friends and dagger, and then I will deliver myself up to jusbrothers, you all know for what purpose we are tice; for he who does such an act should be here met. You have not forgotten our oath to ready to answer for it. As I am already conthose six noble victims of the Chambre Ardente. demned, my death is certain. I fear not death; For three months past their blood cries vengeance, I regret nothing, and am happier to die-this while their implacable enemy, the Judge of between God and myself. I only ask that one, Nantes, yet lives-their enemy! more than that, any one of you, will be present when I am their murderer! and is rewarded by the Regent executed; to that one I would bequeath a prewith a seat in Parliament, of which he is come cious legacy. Before our last adieu, my friends to Paris to take possession: shall this indignity and brothers," added Rosemadoc, while his be offered to their ashes?" countenance expressed the utmost confidence in his listeners, "I wish to give you a charge, which you will not neglect. You all know to what miracle I am indebted that I am still alive. A woman-a young girl-more courageous than those who sought to deliver me from the soldiers, penetrated during the night into the Judge's house, where I was confined; and without telling me her name, or permitting me to see her face, accomplished my deliverance. I conjure you, then, my brothers, if at any time my liberator betrays herself, or if any of you should discover who she is, that you will become her protectors, her friends, that you may in some measure acquit my debt of gratitude." "No, no!" responded all voices. "We will proceed to judge as he has judged, to condemn as he has condemned; if any among you has aught to say in defence of Honoré Fauvel, let him say it; for despite our sacred promise to those who are no more, no one must commit crime to his conscience in slaying the murderer, if he deem it unright so to do." "There is no crime so great as for a man of honour to forget his promise, or hesitate in his duty," spoke a voice from the company; and all applauded his speech. "Such is my opinion, also," returned the Marquis of Aubarede; "but still I should hesitate, if any one among you were to say that took vengeance, and not justice." But all were unanimous that the Judge of Nantes must be justly condemned by all noble minds. The Marquis then drew from beneath his mantle a poignard, the blade of which transfixed a parchment, containing these words: "Before God and man, the victims of Nantes to the assassin, Honoré Fauvel! This night,” pursued the Marquis, "must this parchment be dyed in the heart's blood of our enemy! Let us draw lots to see who has the glory of the enterprise. Whoever of us wins, takes this poignard, given into my hands before mounting the scaffold by the youngest of our martyrs, the Chevalier de Pontcallee." At the name, all uncovered their heads, and the Marquis laid the weapon upon the table. Each one claimed the poignard, and, on consultation, rejected writing the names and drawing for them, as a ticket dropped might bring fatal results: the President therefore rung, and desired the waiter to bring a pack of cards; which being done, and the man having retired, he arose, and, crossing himself, again counted their numbers. "We are twenty-four. Then I will put out four cards," said he; "and whoever chooses the king of hearts, takes up the dagger! Not for you, not for you," he continued, as each one drew out a card; and it would be difficult to imagine the silence and anxiety which prevailed, when the Chevalier de Rosemadoc, seizing the card handed to him, exclaimed, "It is mine, gentlemen, it is mine--I hold the king of hearts!" and he took up the poignard. "I know, brothers," he continued, that you all envy me; but I was the friend of Montlouis, the companion of his captivity, and, concealed among the crowd, I saw him be "But," observed the gentleman who had before expressed his ideas on Rosemadoc's persisting to remain in Paris, "is there not anothernearer-to whom you would wish something said for you-some word of consolation? If so, Rosemadoc, name her, and I promise faithfully to fulfil the mission." The Chevalier changed countenance a little ; he knit his brow, and sighed, but answered, other I should think of, or to whom anything of My sister is not in Paris, and there is none 66 me could be said." "And now," added the Marquis of Aubarede, "the last toast-To thee, Rosemadoc, the avenger, of strong hand and firm heart, receive our adieux, and be the bearer of our sentiments to the victims gone before!" That same night, about midnight, might be seen two men gliding along in the shade of the wall inclosing the garden of Master Honoré Fauvel's new residence; one of the men appeared well acquainted with the locality, and to give directions, which the other received with religious respect; the one who led was the Marquis of Aubarede, he who followed the Chevalier de Rosemadoc. Arrived at the foot of the wall, they exchanged a few words, and a cordial grasp of the hand; when the latter lightly mounted, aided by his companion below: when he had gained the top, he paused, and the other, handing up something which glittered in the moonbeam, said, "Here, Chevalier!" and the other, seizing it, prepared to descend. "You remember,” added the Marquis, standing on tiptoe in order to be heard by his accomplice," at the end of the long walk, or balcony, and then the room is on the right." "Yes," responded the Chevalier (who was at this moment taken with a convulsive shiver at the thought of the deed he was about to do) -"Yes-God be with me!" D'Aubarede listened, and heard him jump down into the garden; then the sound of his steps on the gravel-till all died away in silence; then he quitted the spot, but slowly and often looking behind. When the Chevalier found himself alone in the garden, he hesitated. What had he to accomplish? was he not going to shed the blood of an enemy, like a vile assassin! He trembled, and all the nobler parts of his nature revolted against the act he came to perform. It required him to think of all the victims who had fallento picture to himself the execution of his friend Montlouis, and all the friends he had left-expecting vengeance at his hands-in order to brace his nerves to the point, to perpetrate which his honour remained pledged. He pictured to his imagination the scaffold he had seen, the executioner's axe raised, and the blood that sprinkled round, as if calling for vengeance; and hardened by the recollection, he hurried forward, climbed the balcony at a bound, and stood before a window opening out upon it: here he paused again, and held his breath to listen; all was still, frightfully still-nothing stirred near him; but the window was an obstacle to his gaining Honoré Fauvel's chamber: he raised the handle of the poignard, and with a short blow shivered a pane of glass, and passed his hand within to raise the latch; this was easily accomplished, and he entered. Before proceeding further, he again listened attentively, thinking he might have wakened some one who would give the alarm. He was only half wrong, the noise had waked no one; for she who alone heard it had not yet slept. Rosemadoc thought it must be illusion which made him fancy he heard suppressed breathing near, and ashamed of his weakness, advanced into the room; but he had scarcely advanced a step or two, when the door of the next chamber was suddenly thrown open, and a young girl preparing to call for help rushed with a light in her hand. But on seeing the intruder, Mauricette suppressed the cry about to escape her lips, and said, in a suffocating tone, "You! you here, Dominick Sauvegrain ?" CHAP. X. It was no mistake: the man she saw before her was indeed he whom she knew for a robber, covered with crimes, so as to be the hero of his sort! he whose horrible deeds had formed the conversation among the miseries of la Salpêtrière and the shed at Havre! he to whom, by astonishing contradiction, she owed her life, when she threw herself overboard from the Emerald. As for Dominick Sauvegrain, or Yves de Rosemadoc (for to us the rebel gentleman and the transported robber are one and the same person)—as for him, he had recognised the wretched outcast of whom chance had made him the husband, the moment she appeared before him. Both remained silent, not daring to moveneither able to say a word; and each seeking in their mind why the other was there, in the house occupied by Honoré Fauvel. Mauricette, notwithstanding, did not hesitate long in assigning a reason for the sudden and unexpected presence of her husband in a residence known to be opulent. The former part of his life threw light enough upon what were his motives in coming thus in the night, climbing a balcony, and forcing an entrance, where he expected to put his hand upon treasure or jewellery. She knew him a daring robber, a pitiless assassin; and in her heart, despite the invincible attraction she felt towards him, could not but say, he continues his abominable work— he comes to steal! Mauricette's husband could not so easily account to himself for meeting her at such an hour, and in such a place: he was not surprised when he had seen her coming out of the Hotel d'Anglade; he considered her there in her sphere, and that was the reason he quitted her with rage in his heart, and tears in his eyes; but here, in the house of the severe magistrate, a man who, if without mercy, was of morals so pure as to be beyond the touch of calumny! He sence of his wife in the judge's residence, when sought in vain to account to himself for the prehe bethought himself, that as the captive at Havre, and the husband of Mauricette, he had shortly inquired, a right to ask her. Fortified with this idea, he "What do you do here, madam?" "I" replied she, "I am where God placed me, and from whence I should never have been absent." "I do not understand you." "I am in my father's house.” "Ah! you have a father, madam, have youI pity him!" Then, thinking the Marquis of Aubarede must have been mistaken in the direc tions he had given him, he added, “Is not this Master Honoré Fauvel's house?" "The same, sir." "And you say you are "His daughter," repeated Mauricette. It needed not less than the profound obscu rity of midnight to conceal from her the effect of her words upon her husband's feelings: she could not see the disordered expression of his features at the revelation she made; but she caught the exclamation of surprise which escaped him in spite of his efforts to retain it; she divined the tremble of the strong form before her; she understood, too, that he sought momentary support, for she heard the table shake beneath the hand that was laid upon it! "What is the matter with you?" she asked,, from being charitable she concluded to be in a tone of interest she could not conceal. estimable. When one knows nothing, sir, of the horrors of the world, when desolate and despairing, how can one suspect the only hand extended for help?-how do otherwise than attribute all the virtues to the heart which shows pity for our sorrows? I thought you had felt some for me-you-but you deemed me unworthy of even your pity!" Nothing! nothing!" replied he, in a voice that gave the lie to his words. What was the matter he could not define himself; it seemed to be a sort of joy that the daughter was fallen so low, the daughter of a father who was placed so high in the world's esteem. He could doubly revenge his friends, by killing their murderer, and dishonouring his name, in exposing the infamy of his child. But this savage feeling lasted but a moment; he recollected that child was his wife, and in spite of the outcast he believed her to be, he loved her too well to be the means of plunging her again into the infamy from which she perhaps desired to escape. "But if you are telling me truth, now," returned he, " how does it accord with the place where I first met with you? How came Judge Fauvel's daughter a convict at Havre, and an unworthy creature of the Hotel d'Anglade ?" "You believe in God, sir, I know; and therefore I can reply to your satisfaction." "Speak, then-speak quickly! this mystery is unbearable, for I must know what you are; you, who bear a high name, and have respected it so little !" Ever since the chain of incidents which had united Mauricette to this man, she had ardently desired that the time might arrive when she could say to him-Of us two, there is but one criminal, but one who merits the misfortunes we have met with; but if I feel proud of my innocence, it is that it may render me powerful to help you out of guilt, and lead you back to good. What I am!" said she-"Oh! you do well to ask me-it is happiness to me to tell. What I am!" she repeated; "a poor, imprudent girl, who a few short months since had not even a suspicion of all the vice and infamy that have been near, without defiling her-that have terrified her spirit, and wounded her feelings, but without spotting the purity of her heart.” Extremely surprised by these words, the Chevalier, forgetting where he was, and the crime he came to commit, took hold of Mauricette's two hands, and obliging her to approach the window, he placed her in face of him, where the moon shone on her features, that he might be able to discover the truth or falsehood of her words, and murmured in a hushing voice, "Madam, it would be too horrible to think that an innocent young girl could be suddenly transported from her father's house to where I met you; but no! it cannot be-it is impossible." 66 "You worship God," said she to him, yet do not believe in the trials sometimes allotted to his creatures!" "But none came to Havre as you came, except from the house of correction or the prisons; none came out of the Hotel d'Anglade, but those who have long since merited to be despised by all human kind, for she must have lost all sense of shame before she could go in!" "Or she must have been abandoned by her husband on the road-side," rejoined Mauricette, "and inspired the compassion of persons who With the last word exhaled all Mauricette's little pique for the robber's conduct in having so scorned her, even low as he thought her fallen. "Well," he answered, "supposing that you were unacquainted with the character of those who succoured you, allowing that it was to escape from them that you quitted their house three days since; but the Havre! the Havre ! how could you get there? You forget surely what your companions on board the Emerald were? "I forget nothing, sir, and should feel myself wicked to complain of what I have suffered, if by those sufferings the unhappy rebel who was the cause of them all has escaped the scaffold !" This answer, made in the most natural manner, caused a powerful emotion in her husband's mind; he was going to question her, but she proceeded, happy to make herself known to him for what she was; and hoping that, finding her virtuous, he might himself return to the right path! 66 "What I did," continued she, you have a right to know, and it is my duty to tell you. Yes, sir; about a few months since, in my father's house at Nantes, I took compassion on some one who was a stranger to me; but this some one was condemned to die. He had been recommended to my good offices by my convent friend, his sister, Agatha de Rosemadoc; I mention the name, that you may not doubt my words; but when the gentleman who owed me his deliverance was gone, I began to be frightened, in thinking what would be my father's anger, and that I might have compromised him in favouring the evasion of a prisoner whom he had taken in charge upon his own responsibility. Perhaps," observed Mauricette," you do not understand me; it requires to know what was passing then in Nantes, and how the rebel gentlemen were hunted by the soldiers, and how pitiless the Chambre Royal' showed itself towards them. All this is probably unknown to you, and to explain it clearly would take too much time." It would be impossible to describe the overwhelming emotion with which the Chevalier's whole soul hung upon Mauricette's words: he thought it all a dream, it was so delightful to his "Oh, Mauricette! do you love me? do you love me?" cried he, kneeling before her; "tell me, I beseech you." "To that I cannot reply; but it seems to me that our marriage would not have been so wonderfully brought about if some good end were not to be answered by it; and I hope it may be that you will change your life." Mauricette, concluding from his silence either to renounce all such culpable intentions as those that she failed to bring conviction, or that he which brought you this night. Promise me ej did not comprehend her story, detailed the cir- this, and-hope-yes, I may come to love you, cumstances, and accumulated the proofs of the for I am certain you will reform-I am sure Chevalier's escape. He suffered her to go on; he your heart is not wicked!" was so happy to hear it all made thus clear to his reason, and so proud he felt now of the poor girl whom he had so lately driven from him with scorn! He could not speak for very joy. She recounted to him her journey to Paris, and the sad disappointment which awaited her, terminating with her terrible arrest by the night-watch; and recapitulated each circumstance to her husband, who listened to her recital with even more anxiety than any other could do, as he considered himself the cause of all the miseries she had undergone. One moment, under the impulse of his feelings, he was about to exclaim, "I am he, Mauricette; no one can credit your narrative so well as I, since I am Rosemadoc, whom you delivered from the scaffold!" and to fall at her feet and implore a pardon for the cruel manner in which he had deserted and scorned her. He was on the point of thus avowing himself, when Mauricette added "You now know all, sir: if my words do not convince you, it must be that heaven does not think me yet sufficiently punished, and reserves me this last humiliation; but whatever may be your thoughts, I have informed you how I come to be here. And now may I address the same question to you?" Recalled to himself by this speech, Rosemadoc remained mute: he could not say, "I came here to revenge the victims of Nantes, by assassinating your father! In return for having saved my life, I come here to make you an orphan!" And Mauricette, attributing his silence to a latent sense of shame, thought it a propitious moment to speak of repentance to a conscience which she fancied must be seeking to purify itself, since it had not ceased to pray. All that a kind nature and tender heart could prompt of gentle remonstrance and soft persuasions, to bring into the right path one who had strayed so far out of it, were put in requisition by her towards the Chevalier, who began to have a suspicion that something stronger than reason spoke in her words. He had none of the horrid crimes of which she thought him guilty to answer for; nevertheless, the touching appeals of this young girl were not lost he felt his nature grow better as he listened; and while she continued with ardent eloquence to work at his conversion (whom she yet considered a lawless bandit), it was felt by him that she wished to raise him up from the guilt she fancied him plunged into, in order to bring him more on an equality with herself. It was a joyful thought, and he exclaimed in ecstacy "Can it be is it possible, Mauricette, that you love me?" "I should wish to know you worthy the love of an honest woman," she replied. "But you will become so, will you not? Promise me, and that our unexpected meeting here will bring you "It is yours, Mauricette: my life in this world, and my hope in the next, all is owing to you." And again he was on the point of declaring to her who he was, and pronouncing a name which would have changed all her fears into joy, and crowned her highest wishes. But pressing his hand upon his breast, it encountered the hilt of the poignard, and rustled the parchment in which was inscribed the judgment of the rebels of Nantes! And he asked himself, whether the gratitude he owed Mauricette for having saved his life, whether the love he felt for her, and whether she, being his wife, would not emancipate him from the horrible oath of vengeance taken by his friends? Doubtless he could not assassinate his wife's father; but he must inform his brethren at the Porcherons why he had not accomplished their bidding; why his heart failed and his hand refused to do the deed-the contemplation of which had brought him where he was! Between his gratitude, his love, and the terrible duty he had come to perform, Rosemadoc could only reply to Mauricette, who was still conjuring him to listen to the voice of conscience 66 You may rest satisfied you have conquered; but it was not to rob I came." He had no sooner uttered these words, than he sprang through the open window, descended the balcony, and stopped not till he had regained the other side of the wall, and left the magistrate's residence far behind him. Mauricette remained where he had quitted her, absorbed in her own thoughts, till morning broke. When the morning repast brought her in contact with her father, he appeared more careworn than ever; but this did not surprise her, for ever since the departure of his beloved son, a deeper trace had appeared to affect his reflections on that subject, in spite of Mauricette's affectionate efforts to extenuate her brother's faults; some information had been given him, by which he perceived how much his extreme confidence in the young man had been misplaced. If he had not been deprived of Edouard's society on his arrival in Paris, it is more than probable Mauricette would have been sent back to the Convent, under Charlotte's convoy; but feeling strange, and knowing nobody in the great metropolis, the Nantes magis trate did not like to part with any who remained a link in his broken household, and so received his daughter without much severity. |