The Mystery of the Lost Dauphin Part 26

Her persuasive voice brought calmness to Rene, but a monstrous doubt seemed to find lodgment in his mind.

"Very well; now let us come to the point. What has happened here? Under what pretext has my mother come with pretended messages from me? She surely has not foregone three days of frivolous court life for the pleasure of viewing country scenery. When I (for I have transformed myself into a professional spy) learned in Paris that she had taken the road to Brittany, I hastened after her, feeling sure that she was coming to Picmort. I met her just now on the road, unperceived by her party. I have entered the castle with my secret key and chosen this method of surprising you,--the same employed by the jealous Marquis who imprisoned his wife in this salon. Now, tell me what has happened. Come! the truth!"

Amelie remained silent, for not until that moment had she realized the extremity of the case, the nature of the confession she must make to her lover. Her customary valor forsook her.

"Rene," she faltered, "do not reproach me; forgive me, rather. Why have you delayed so long in coming? Why have you left me here defenceless?

Why have you abandoned me?"

"Defenceless? Abandoned? And that fellow? Has he not protected you? He has orders to die for you. Tell me quickly what has been done. Answer, each of you. What does this mean?"

Amelie covered her face with her hands and turning to the wall, burst into bitter weeping. Rene seized Vilon by the collar, shaking him violently and saying:

"Traitor, what have you done? Answer or I will choke you."

The Breton freed himself with so lithe a movement that the superiority of his physical strength was evident. Folding his arms on his breast, he said quietly:

"The d.u.c.h.ess arrived in a post chaise accompanied by the chaplain and two attendants. I opened wide the gate through which the lords of Picmort have always entered. I kissed her hand in respect. She spent three days here, giving orders and being obeyed. On the third, she decreed that I should marry this young lady--"

Rene leaped in rage.

"And--you married--her?" he shrieked.

"Yes."

"When--when?"

"Today, at four o'clock in the Picmort chapel."

"Devil!" roared Rene. "And you, Amelie, have you consented?"

"Yes," she wailed.

"This is superb!" and he laughed in fury. "Explain yourself, that I may then kill you. Did you fall in love with this fellow?"

"Rene!" she implored, sinking to his feet, "Have pity on me. I consented because your mother was starving to death before my eyes that little child we saved from the s.h.i.+p. O Rene, never call her mother again."

"Is that what she did?" stammered the Marquis, clasping his hands.

"Yes," she replied. "Rene, my father was right; the crimes of the mighty are expiated by the innocent. How can one hear a little child cry for bread and not save him? Yes, I have taken vows at the altar. I am the wife of your steward."

"Why did you marry her?" demanded Rene, turning furiously on Vilon.

"Because your mother said you wished it."

"Did you know of the child's starvation?"

"By the cross, I did not."

"And you dared to love her?"

"From the moment I saw her," he cried with impetuous sincerity.

"Aha! I find the motive. Obedience to the devil! So you loved her?"

"Your lords.h.i.+p, that was not the motive. I could never have dreamed of marriage had it not been for the d.u.c.h.ess--"

"Dog, only _I_ am your master. Only _I_--"

"True, but here we are not accustomed to distinguish between the orders of your lords.h.i.+p and his mother. Parents represent G.o.d on earth."

"Jean is innocent. Another in his place would have acted likewise. Be just, Rene," said Amelie.

The steward looked on her in deep grat.i.tude.

"Rene, your mother is the only culprit,--she and that fatality which dogs all who aid our cause. We carry misfortune with us. We should have told Jean our secret to begin with; we should have treated him as a friend, not as a menial. Then our enemies could not have deceived him.

But how could we suspect that your mother had a suspicion of my presence here? Rene, a vicious womb has borne you--the womb of a hyena."

"Amelie," he groaned, "I do not attempt to defend my mother's conduct.

She has acted like a fiend. But she is mentally incapable of planning the villainy. She was the instrument of the police. O Amelie, 'tis our parents who accomplish our ruin. Your father sets Volpetti free and my mother delivers you to another man. O I rave! You are mine, mine! No other man exists."

He clasped her hands and she gazed pa.s.sionately up into his face, forgetful of Vilon, who frowningly beheld his honor as bridegroom affronted. At length Rene remembered the importunate presence, and sternly said:

"Begone!"

"You bid me go!" said the Breton, roused at length. "If I go my wife comes with me."

"Your wife!" laughed Rene scornfully. "This woman is not your wife, fool."

"The priest has joined us," insisted the peasant.

"Through a fraud,--a crime."

"That matters not. She has said 'Yes' at the altar. We are husband and wife before G.o.d."

Rene turned threateningly upon him and Vilon lowered his head. The idea of resistance never entered his brain, but neither could he entertain the idea of resigning Amelie. In body and soul he belonged to his master, the Marquis de Breze; in body and soul she belonged to him, Jean Vilon.

Amelie placed herself beside her husband.

"Jean is right," she said. "He is indeed, my master. Happiness has died and love also. Like you, I sought at first to break this bond--but I cannot,--we cannot. I expiate."

Tears flowed fast over her cheeks. Wild pa.s.sion shot from Vilon's eyes.

He longed to kneel before her and clasp her in his arms. He dug his nails into the palms to restrain himself. He hoa.r.s.ely asked:

"Is this the woman your lords.h.i.+p has loved?"

"She was my promised wife. You have undone me by one act, Jean Vilon,"

answered Rene in a voice of deep sadness.

Jean's mouth contracted. He suffered terribly, but he did not yield. He kept a.s.suring himself that Amelie was his, his treasure. Only death could separate them.