LITMIR.BIZ

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continued the sick woman, unconscious of all that was passing about her, “who told you I was deceiving you? Oh, the wretches! They set spies upon me; they discovered that an officer came frequently to see me. But that officer was my brother, my dear Louis! When he was eighteen years old, and being unable to obtain work, he enlisted, saying to my mother, that there would then be one mouth the less in the family. He was a good soldier, and his officers always liked him. He worked whilst with his regiment; he taught himself, and he quickly rose in rank. He was promoted a lieutenant, then captain, and finally became major. Louis always loved me; had he remained in Paris I should not have fallen. But our mother died, and I was left all alone in this great city. He was a non-commissioned officer when he first knew that I had a lover; and he was so enraged that I feared he would never forgive me. But he did forgive me, saying that my constancy in my error was its only excuse. Ah, my friend, he was more jealous of your honour than you yourself! He came to see me in secret, because I placed him in the unhappy position of blushing for his sister. I had condemned myself never to speak of him, never to mention his name. Could a brave soldier confess that his sister was the mistress of a count? That it might not be known, I took the utmost precautions, but alas! only to make you doubt me. When Louis knew what was said, he wished in his blind rage to challenge you; and then I was obliged to make him think that he had no right to defend me. What misery! Ah, I have paid dearly for my years of stolen happiness! But you are here, and all is forgotten. For you do believe me, do you not, Guy? I will write to Louis; he will come, he will tell you that I do not lie, and you cannot doubt his, a soldier’s word.”

      “Yes, on my honour,” said the old soldier, “what my sister says is the truth.”

      The dying woman did not hear him; she continued in a voice panting from weariness: “How your presence revives me. I feel that I am growing stronger. I have nearly been very ill. I am afraid I am not very pretty today; but never mind, kiss me!”

      She opened her arms, and thrust out her lips as if to kiss him.

      “But it is on one condition, Guy, that you will leave me my child? Oh! I beg of you, I entreat you not to take him from me; leave him to me. What is a mother without her child? You are anxious to give him an illustrious name, an immense fortune. No! You tell me that this sacrifice will be for his good. No! My child is mine; I will keep him. The world has no honours, no riches, which can replace a mother’s love. You wish to give me in exchange, that other woman’s child. Never! What! you would have that woman embrace my boy! It is impossible. Take away this strange child from me; he fills me with horror; I want my own! Ah, do not insist, do not threaten me with anger, do not leave me. I should give in, and then, I should die. Guy, forget this fatal project, the thought of it alone is a crime. Cannot my prayers, my tears, can nothing move you? Ah, well, God will punish us. All will be discovered. The day will come when these children will demand a fearful reckoning. Guy, I foresee the future; I see my son coming towards me, justly angered. What does he say, great heaven! Oh, those letters, those letters, sweet memories of our love! My son, he threatens me! He strikes me! Ah, help! A son strike his mother. Tell no one of it, though. O my God, what torture! Yet he knows well that I am his mother. He pretends not to believe me. Lord, this is too much! Guy! pardon! oh, my only friend! I have neither the power to resist, nor the courage to obey you.”

      At this moment the door opening on to the landing opened, and Noel appeared, pale as usual, but calm and composed. The dying woman saw him, and the sight affected her like an electric shock. A terrible shudder shook her frame; her eyes grew inordinately large, her hair seemed to stand on end. She raised herself on her pillows, stretched out her arm in the direction where Noel stood, and in a loud voice exclaimed, “Assassin!”

      She fell back convulsively on the bed. Some one hastened forward: she was dead.

      A deep silence prevailed.

      Such is the majesty of death, and the terror which accompanies it, that, in its presence, even the strongest and most sceptical bow their heads.

      For a time, passions and interests are forgotten. Involuntarily we are drawn together, when some mutual friend breathes his last in our presence.

      All the bystanders were deeply moved by this painful scene, this last confession, wrested so to say from the delirium.

      And the last word uttered by Madame Gerdy, “assassin,” surprised no one.

      All, excepting the nun, knew of the awful accusation which had been made against Albert.

      To him they applied the unfortunate mother’s malediction.

      Noel seemed quite broken hearted. Kneeling by the bedside of her who had been as a mother to him, he took one of her hands, and pressed it close to his lips.

      “Dead!” he groaned, “she is dead!”

      The nun and the priest knelt beside him, and repeated in a low voice the prayers for the dead.

      They implored God to shed his peace and mercy on the departed soul.

      They begged for a little happiness in heaven for her who had suffered so much on earth.

      Fallen into a chair, his head thrown back, the Count de Commarin was more overwhelmed and more livid than this dead woman, his old love, once so beautiful.

      Claire and the doctor hastened to assist him.

      They undid his cravat, and took off his shirt collar, for he was suffocating. With the help of the old soldier, whose red, tearful eyes, told of suppressed grief, they moved the count’s chair to the half-opened window to give him a little air. Three days before, this scene would have killed him. But the heart hardens by misfortune, like hands by labour.

      “His tears have saved him,” whispered the doctor to Claire.

      M. de Commarin gradually recovered, and, as his thoughts became clearer, his sufferings returned.

      Prostration follows great mental shocks. Nature seems to collect her strength to sustain the misfortune. We do not feel all its intensity at once; it is only afterwards that we realize the extent and profundity of the evil.

      The count’s gaze was fixed upon the bed where lay Valerie’s body. There, then, was all that remained of her. The soul, that soul so devoted and so tender, had flown.

      What would he not have given if God would have restored that unfortunate woman to life for a day, or even for an hour? With what transports of repentance he would have cast himself at her feet, to implore her pardon, to tell her how much he detested his past conduct! How had he acknowledged the inexhaustible love of that angel? Upon a mere suspicion, without deigning to inquire, without giving her a hearing, he had treated her with the coldest contempt. Why had he not seen her again? He would have spared himself twenty years of doubt as to Albert’s birth. Instead of an isolated existence, he would have led a happy, joyous life.

      Then he remembered the countess’s death. She also had loved him, and had died of her love.

      He had not understood them; he had killed them both.

      The hour of expiation had come; and he could not say: “Lord, the punishment is too great.”

      And yet, what punishment, what misfortunes, during the last five days!

      “Yes,” he stammered, “she predicted it. Why did I not listen to her?”

      Madame Gerdy’s brother pitied the old man, so severely tried. He held out his hand.

      “M. de Commarin,” he said, in a grave, sad voice, “my sister forgave you long ago, even if she ever had any ill feeling against you. It is my turn today; I forgive you sincerely.”

      “Thank you, sir,” murmured the count, “thank you!” and then he added: “What a death!”

      “Yes,” murmured Claire, “she breathed her last in the idea that her son was guilty of a crime. And we were not able to undeceive her.”

      “At least,” cried the count, “her son should be free to render her his last duties; yes, he must be. Noel!”

      The

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