The Mystery of the Lost Dauphin Part 24

The d.u.c.h.ess seemed taken aback at the emphasis with which the refusal was spoken. She revealed her true character, that of a pompous impertinent woman, performing awkwardly an a.s.signed role. With an angry gesture, she pa.s.sed into the adjoining apartment, and held for ten minutes or more a whispered conference with others. She' returned accompanied by her two attendants, one of whom looked at Amelie in a peculiar manner. Both approached the bed whereon Baby was lying and lifted him up. The frightened child commenced to cry and Amelie ran to him, but they s.n.a.t.c.hed him from her arms and disappeared.

"If you love the child so greatly," observed the d.u.c.h.ess, "you may have the happiness of his company by consenting to marry Jean Vilon. He is pretty badly spoilt, owing to the manner in which you have brought him up. Jean is willing to adopt him. Is he really your own? Well, we shall soon be able to judge of that."

The d.u.c.h.ess retired and the doors were barred and bolted after her.

Amelie realized that she was indeed a prisoner.

Chapter V

THE CHILD

Imprisonment could not subdue her. She would have died rather than yield. Her father's fate, her lover's fate and the fate of dear little d.i.c.k, weighed each moment more heavily on her heart. The d.u.c.h.ess's visit to Picmort signified much; it indicated that the police had discovered their plans.

"If my father," she thought during the long sleepless hours, "had been received by his sister, if his rights had been recognized, the d.u.c.h.ess would not have dared to outrage me with this proposition. Can Rene be imprisoned? He must be living, or his mother would not seek to marry me to Jean Vilon. In this plot, I see the hand of Volpetti. I wonder if the spy was not one of the servants. I think I recognized him. O they would be rid of me, and, not daring to kill me, they think to marry me basely.

For so could the d.u.c.h.ess free her son and they have one more pretext for disclaiming my father's pretensions--But Baby d.i.c.k? What is to become of him?"

Terror stricken she walked the floor. She began to comprehend how great was the love which bound her to the frail being to whom she had been playing the role of mother. She reproached herself cruelly for having contributed to orphan the little fellow. His beauty, his grief at being separated from her, his caresses, his cunning little ways, all these surged to her mind and seemed to obliterate her other griefs.

"What does this mean? I know not my father's whereabouts; Rene is likely in grave danger; but my thoughts are absorbed with this child who is joined to me by no tie, whom chance placed in my arms and violence removed."

Morning dawned and she had not closed her eyes. The birth of day brought calmness as it does to all human souls. She had no longer need of concealment, so, running to the windows, she flung them wide open, heedless of the warning that death would ensue, which Vilon had given her when she arrived in the Castle. The light streamed into the Marquise's boudoir. The capricious antiquated draperies became illuminated like a stage setting, contrasting with the desolate magnificence of the exterior and the sombre ma.s.siveness of the towers which the sun began to brighten. Amelie looked out through those windows for the first time.

"What will they do to Baby?" she asked herself. "What can they do?

Nothing more than separate him from me I suppose. But he has become so dear to me--Still that shall not break my will. _I_ the wife of Jean Vilon?--What is the meaning of this? How has he dared lend himself to the scheme? Why has he let the d.u.c.h.ess in? O his pa.s.sion explains it all. How repellent!--Better death a thousand times."

She gazed vacantly upon the faded silken hangings, the sumptuous furniture and elegant old laces; she caught her image in the mirrors of magnificent frames wherein the Marquise had so often beheld her pallid wasted features. Suddenly, she started, listening affrightedly to Baby d.i.c.k's cry in the next room.

"Mamma 'Melie! Mamma 'Melie!" he called. "Come! Give me breakfast. It is very late."

With pa.s.sion of which she had not deemed herself capable, she ran to the door and shook it violently, crying:

"My little heart, I can't come to you. Wait. Be very patient."

"My pretty mamma, I am alone. That bad lady shut me in. O break the door, mamma."

"I can't Baby," she answered, pus.h.i.+ng with all her strength against the panels. And giving way to her grief, she dropped into a chair and sobbed. For the first time, despair seized her. Woman's tenderest attribute--the maternal instinct--vanquished her strong heart, even tho her attachment was for another woman's child. Perhaps, on that very account, 'twas more highly idealized.

Baby d.i.c.k continued to call to her in his sweet, pleading tones and she hid her face in the satin cus.h.i.+ons, in a longing to drown his voice. But though she heard his wails more faintly, they seemed on that account more plaintive. She jumped into bed, drew the clothes over her head and sobbed in time to his moaning.

"O if I might break down that door and clasp his little body in my arms, I should fling away every ambitious project, even happiness with Rene.

My love and pity outweigh every other consideration."

At eight o'clock breakfast was brought her by the two men who had come with the d.u.c.h.ess during the night. She asked several questions, to which no answer whatever was given. The morning seemed interminable. At noon the same attendants brought a lunch which, like the others, pa.s.sed in silence. Amelie could not eat more than a morsel of bread, for the child's cries were incessant. She refrained from talking to him, for doing so seemed to increase his suffering; but at length she could contain herself no longer, and tapping on the panels, she called affectionately:

"Baby! Baby! This is your Mamma 'Melie."

"I am hungry, mamma!" he cried.

"Hungry, darling?" she exclaimed, a frightful suspicion crossing her mind. "Have they given you nothing to eat? Have you had no broth? Even tho you are not in my arms, eat everything they give you, Baby; I am close by. It is just as though I were with you."

"But Mamma 'Melie, they give me nothing, no broth, no milk. O give me something, mamma!"

A chill of horror ran through her veins. O were they capable of such cruelty? It must be that they had forgotten to take food to little d.i.c.k.

Who would deliberately starve a child? But to think that he had been a whole day unfed! She wrung her hands and threw herself against the walls. With difficulty she repressed herself from screaming aloud. She shook the door with all her strength, though she well knew that that strength was impotent. Her temples seemed bursting. She felt on the verge of dementia. She recalled her father's imprisonment and the numerous historical crimes related. But O to starve a child! This too was possible. Depravity is boundless when it possesses a human heart.

When evening at last came and the same speechless attendant brought her supper, she darted a withering look at him, saying:

"Order food taken to the child at once! If you are not tigers, have pity on him. Starve me if you will. What has he to do with this miserable plot?"

The man made no answer, whatever. He fixed his eyes upon her and she knew that he was Volpetti indeed.

The night was terrible. During the first part Baby sobbed incessantly, tho his voice grew fainter and fainter. At last it died out altogether.

She grew frantic and running to the windows, called aloud:

"Jean Vilon! Jean Vilon! Wretch! Is it thus you obey your master?"

Then, as silence followed:

"Rene! Rene!"

Then:

"Silvano! Silvano!"

But no answer came. Picmort, the grim giant, was silent. Again she ran to the door separating her from d.i.c.k. He was speaking to her but in a voice so faint that it was scarcely more than a murmur.

"He will die! he will die!" she wailed. "No child can resist such treatment. G.o.d have mercy on us both. What have I done to bring such suffering on this baby?--But I might save him; yes, if I renounce Rene forever. No, no! Rather perish the entire world. These fiends would defeat me through my sense of pity. Well, they shall not. I shall be stone. What is this child to me? Have I not once saved his life?--Perhaps my father was right. We have spilt blood--O no, no! My father you were weak and that weakness is my undoing--And now my pity for this child is making me also a weakling."

She broke into bitter weeping. d.i.c.k was calling:

"Mamma! Mamma!"

She crept to the door and whispered:

"My heaven, be patient. Very soon you shall have food and be with me."

With an air of a somnambulist did Amelie comb out her long blond hair and arrange it in its accustomed style. Then she performed her entire toilet, laughing stridently from time to time. Sometimes tears would trickle fast down her beautiful face, so pale and worn with its great anxiety. When at noon the silent attendant brought the meal, she said to him:

"Tell the d.u.c.h.ess de Rousillon that I shall comply with her wishes, provided she has the door opened immediately which separates me from the child."

Chapter VI