The Mystery of the Lost Dauphin Part 9

"Did he have the box during the scuffle in the square?"

"I swear he did not, for his movements were most free. No; he received that box in Naundorff's house."

On hearing these words, Volpetti could not restrain an exclamation of joy, and pa.s.sing his patrician hand over his Chateaubriand tuft, he said, motioning toward the baggage and the bath:

"Make arrangements for the changing of my clothes. I wish an embroidered s.h.i.+rt, silk stockings, violet coat and grey breeches. And, using the greatest caution, find out the number of the Marquis's chamber and sketch me a plan of the hotel. Remember well the entrances and exits.

Secure for yourself, if possible, a room next that of the Marquis, and 'twould be most fortunate that it have a fireplace. Well, later, I shall give you further instructions. Be diligent and discreet."

The valet, with malignant flas.h.i.+ng eyes, hastened away to carry out these instructions.

Chapter II

THE DAUPHIN'S SISTER

Rene, on feeling stronger, resolved to read the ma.n.u.script which awakened his interest more and more deeply. The enigma of Naundorff's obscure life, the cause of the attack in the square, Amelie's startling resemblance to the medallion--all would be explained by that roll of paper in the cylindrical case.

He rose and breakfasted on tea and toast, after which, fortified and resolute, he examined his pistols and placed them within reach. Then he stretched himself upon a lounge near the table and broke the seal, which represented a tuberose and sarcophagus,--a symbolic emblem causing him to start. His eyes next fell upon the dedicatory words at the head of the ma.n.u.script: TO HER.

"Is this a love history?" he asked himself, recalling Naundorff's beautiful countenance and indefinable charm. With feverish anxiety, he turned the leaf and read:

"This is the recital of my misfortunes which you alone can a.s.suage.

Remember that you must at last stand before G.o.d."

Then the text continued:

Since my tireless enemies and malevolent fate are combined for the purpose of forcing me to die beneath a spurious name and dest.i.tute of the rights to which my birth ent.i.tles me; since you, yourself (in whom I had faith because it seemed monstrous to doubt you), have discredited my claim: I hold up to you a mirror reflecting the insistent memories of which you are so great a part, that your remorse may hereafter be the greater, if this appeal I make softens not your heart and if the impositions of royalty outweigh the supplications of blood.

A day shall come, Therese, when posterity, marveling at my abandoned condition, will indignantly ask why the powers of Europe made no protest at the iniquity practised upon me. But that posterity should consider the fate of our parents,--yours and mine, Therese,--the fate of the ignominious journey to the guillotine as well as the indifference before that spectacle of those who should have burned their last cartridge in defence of the victims! Ah, Therese! In vain do you seek to restore THE PRINCIPLE,--to use the expression you of the Court employ--in vain do you seek to restore THE PRINCIPLE which is the basis of our national glory. Our country's weakness at the present time consists in the repudiation of that PRINCIPLE.

Perhaps I seem a dreamer or a lunatic, but, nevertheless, 'tis by the light of my unparalleled misfortunes that I perceive the impending cataclysm. The PRINCIPLE has suicided and the INSt.i.tUTION has received its death blow. What life remains to it will be puerile and despicable.

Trampled by its enemies, humiliated, scourged, manacled, crowned in mockery, buffeted, its purple mantle in shreds, it shall at last be crucified, not to await a glorious resurrection but to crumble to dust in a fleur de lis cemetery.

Fools are those who build above a raging torrent. Lay not the flattering unction to your soul, Therese, that you have saved the dynasty by sacrificing your brother. G.o.d is no Moloch to be propitiated by such holocausts. Sterile has been your womb as a warning to you, and other lessons, tremendous and desolating, have you yet to learn. As for me, my descendants will toil and sweat over labors as arduous as my own, and so shall the ages expiate.

How dreadful is my fate, Therese! I live, I breathe, but _I_, as _I_, do not exist; that _I_ has been buried in an empty coffin, in the angle of two walls of a cemetery. At times I doubt my very senses and all that I am about to relate to you seems the very fabric of a dream,--but then no dream has ever been so long and fearful. 'Tis only my anguish that convinces me of reality. I co-ordinate my memories and perceive that I am _not_ a deluded fool. Once I described my misgivings to a physician in Germany, saying that in believing myself to be another I feared at times that I was demented. He said he had known similar cases and advised me to summon all my mental strength and hold a powerful light to the mirror of my consciousness.

"Impostors have there been who were not liars," said the doctor fixing upon me a penetrating look. "Those impostors have believed their a.s.severations." Therese, I appeal to you to rescue me from this appalling phenomenon.

And as I am opening my heart to you,--the heart which throbs, not the inert heart which was offered you with the a.s.surance that it had been taken from my dead body and which you refused to accept,--since I conceal nothing from you, Therese, O listen! I implore you to convince me that I am a wretched dupe of the Revolution, for perhaps 'twould be best that I should be persuaded that my reason is diseased. Be pitiful, Therese, even tho you refuse me love.

And now, whether I rave or speak truth, I summon my life's memories even from infancy. I stand in that incomparable summer palace in which we lived before the bursting forth of the Revolution. I walk through the magnificent salons adorned by rare artists, and amid those marvelous gardens wherein the skill of Le Notre surpa.s.sed itself. But more vivid still than the memories of these splendors is the image of the charming villa of diminutive blue lakes and rustic kiosks and the verdant farm where our mother in simple muslin (how beautiful she was, Therese!) delighted to drink fresh milk, gather wild flowers and scatter grain to the birds. How gay we were, you and I, partic.i.p.ating in these innocent amus.e.m.e.nts, in our straw hats and cool white dresses. One day an artist painted us so, and, as I grew restive and troublesome during the sitting, my mother said gently, "Charles Louis, I shall soon know whether or not you love me." This sweet remonstrance quieted me. I so loved my mother that the sound of her voice in singing always brought tears to my eyes.

But the roaring tempest broke,--the Revolution. Our father did not realize the peril; he _could_ not believe that he was hated; he expected daily a reconciliation with his people. But our mother's virile spirit perceived from the first that not only the throne but the royal heads as well were in danger. I was too young to understand causes but I realized that the atmosphere was transformed into something strained and dolorous. Accustomed as I was to all manner of attentions, to hear laughing applause after my youthful sallies, to behold only approving and smiling countenances, I suddenly realized that no one had the time or the inclination to caress me and that grave anxiety seemed the reason for my neglect. Rumors of contentions, abrupt alarms, hurried changing of apartments, enforced awakenings in the early morning, terrorized prayers dictated by our good aunt, our father's sister, who, joining our hands, would bid us kneel and beg G.o.d for mercy--all this filled even my child-mind with the consciousness of impending danger. One night a furious mult.i.tude surrounded the palace. Some one s.n.a.t.c.hed me from bed and carried me away to concealment, and my mother, _our_ mother, stripped herself of a lace gown and flung it around me, that I should be somewhat protected. You were near, Therese, sobbing affrightedly and waiting to be carried away to a place of security.

Do you remember the morning on which the inebriated mult.i.tude forced us to return to Paris? Our carriage was advancing slowly; the heat and dust almost asphyxiated us; our throats were parched with thirst, but none of us dared ask for a drop of water. Brawny fellows rode ahead of us, howling and brandis.h.i.+ng pikes surmounted by bleeding human heads. One of these men, whose wide-open mouth in the midst of a long matted beard resembled a cavern, came to the window. Terror-stricken, I buried my face in our mother's bosom and so remained during the entire journey.

After this journey,--how long after, I know not--we made that other journey, ill-timed and inauspicious, which sealed our fate. And now appeared my uncle's form, our father's brother, whom, of late, we had scarcely seen, for since our misfortunes he had frequented the camps of the disaffected and abetted our parents' calumniators. But on this occasion he seemed solicitous for our deliverance and co-operated in our arrangements for escape. Against our mother's judgment, had our father confided the project to his brother, who advised that the iniquitous Valory, a creature possessed body and soul by the Count of Provence, should be entrusted with the details of the flight.

A program was mapped out whose happy exit seemed a.s.sured. To what purpose all the minute precautions? Why was I disguised as a girl and told I should say my name was 'Amelie,' were I asked: Amelie, a name to me eternal and which I have given to the daughter of my soul. Reflect, Therese, upon that sinister journey, and decide who profited thereby.

There is a sentence in Hamlet running thus: The serpent that did sting my father's life now wears his crown.

I shall always believe that our mother suspected the hand that detained us. Valory, who preceded us, was but the agent of those who with the kiss of betrayal delivered us shackled. The ambush was prepared with infernal adroitness. The detention occurred when we had almost reached the frontier that greater obloquy might be heaped upon the royal family than if it had been surprised near Paris.

Valory rode mounted ahead of our carriage and took so little pains to dissemble as to disappear near the last change of horses, causing our mother mortal terror. She made her suspicions known to our father, who, displeased and pained, rejected them. Our father's faith in his brother was implicit. Our mother never succeeded in combating it, not even after the farce accomplished by the notorious Drouet, who today enjoys the favor and protection of the usurper.

You, Therese, have accepted his protection, also. 'Tis we who make history and not revolutions caused by currents of ideas. Believe, rather, in human pa.s.sions, in the ambitions of the mighty which carry in their train the faith of a confiding and bewildered mult.i.tude. And believe, also, in a Nemesis of expiation, though 'tis at times the innocent who wash away the stains of the guilty.

You remember the termination of that flight. On our return I was exceedingly fatigued and ill at ease. My girl's dress added to my discomfort and I was at last relieved of it by our faithful valet, who put me to bed, on this first night in Paris after our capture.

Several officers of the National Guard remained near my bed and affectionately bade me sleep tranquilly. While I dozed, they smoked and chatted and their voices soothed me; even the clanking of their spurs was pleasant rea.s.surance. I sank into a lethargy, of what length I know not. Suddenly my eyes seemed opening on a startling spectacle. The Guard surrounded me. They laughed and spoke words which I could not understand. By degrees their human outlines became blurred and they were covered with hair. Their hands grew into long grey paws terminating in sharp nails, their faces projected into snouts, their eyes glowed as live coals and their voices howled fearfully. Wolves! wolves! famis.h.i.+ng, frantic wolves. Their hot breathing was stifling as they leaned to devour me--

I must have screamed, for I waked in my mother's arms, as she s.n.a.t.c.hed me from bed, covering my face with kisses. Those kisses are still on my face, Therese, and I feel now the pa.s.sionate embrace with which she clasped me to her, and I see the terrible dread on her beautiful pale face.

Chapter III

THE EMPTY COFFIN

Therese, do you remember how we were taken to the a.s.sembly, there to pa.s.s the day within a grated tribunal and led thence to prison? How from that prison we were afterwards transferred to another more gloomy still?

O the tower, the tower! The impressions of sorrow are deeper than those of happiness. Tell me, Therese, my companion in that captivity, has greater suffering ever been endured than in that tower? If those walls, so soon after demolished, (for all traces of my history have been obliterated), if those stones that once were walls had a voice, that voice would be a sob. If they might writhe, they would wring out tears.

Even their name is a wail. There is no elegy so sad as the towers.

The agonies of our family,--you know them as well as I, for they are your own. But what you do _not_ know are mine,--a child torn from his mother's arms as she was led to the guillotine. And though you seek to drive them from your knowledge, you _shall_ hear them.

Let me describe this prison to you, that you may realize 'tis your brother who speaks. What detail could I forget of that damp tower flanked by four smaller ones of arched roofs? The roof of the first was sustained in the centre by a heavy pillar and its doors were of strong boards fastened together by nails and guarded by heavy bolts; the interior door was of cast iron; the walls were grey and black, in imitation of a tomb; the white border was garnished with the tricolor on which were traced the words: RIGHTS OF MAN. This was the only decoration of the filthy apartment wherein vulgar and malevolent people constantly watched us.

On first entering the tower, I believed myself to be dreaming and that soon I should be rescued from the nightmare, as my mother had s.n.a.t.c.hed me from the wolves. This conviction was doubtless due to the contrast between my past and present condition. My childhood had glided by so sweetly and placidly; my senses had been stimulated by such great beauty and elegance; the epoch upon which my mother stamped her refinement was so poetic and artistic; the gardens in which I had played were so beautiful; my material wants antic.i.p.ated with so much adulation, that I had grown to comprehend only smiles and beauty. It was considered an honor to touch me, to be near me. No wonder, then, that the transition from palace to prison affected my nervous system to the extent of causing the obsession to possess me that I was two persons in one.

I might describe our incarceration to the minutest particular; I might tell you the exact position of your bed and mine and the armchair of white-painted wood in which our father dozed before dinner. Only listen to me, Therese, and you will open your arms.

You will remember that I was taken away from our father and mother after their condemnation to death, and delivered to two creatures who scarcely seemed to pertain to the human species,--a pair of brutes who had doubtless received instructions to render me idiotic through vile treatment. But I must tell the truth. My guardians were indeed cruel, but not to the extent which is usually believed. The inhumanity of that cobbler and his wife has been greatly exaggerated, possibly with the object of establis.h.i.+ng my supposed death. Were the account true which has obtained currency, I should not have survived. No child could have withstood an unremitting martyrdom of hunger, blows, nakedness, and deprivation of sleep. These hards.h.i.+ps, indeed, I endured, but with intervals of respite. Husband and wife were not equally brutal; he was crafty and cruel, she gross and stupid, but possessing a heart of some tenderness. Unhappy woman! I caused her ruin among that of many others.

For maintaining that I was not dead, she was declared insane and placed in confinement. In her clumsy manner, she had protected me and often smuggled into my couch candy and cheap toys.

On being taken from the custody of this couple, I was placed in the cell in which our father's valet had been imprisoned. Here my condition was worse than ever before. The windows, always closed, shut out light and air. The doors opened only to those who, in silence, brought me food.

The furniture consisted of a table, a jug of water and the bed,--shelf, rather,--on which I slept. Noxious odors slowly poisoned my blood.

While I here languished, the Revolution continued to rage fiercely, though the period of delirium had pa.s.sed and a species of authority obtained. You and I, the hapless remnants of an ill-starred dynasty, seemed relegated to oblivion, but there were some who thought of us with pity. The friends who had futilely sought to save our parents' lives formed plans for rescuing me. She who was my most zealous champion and spent much money in my behalf was the charming creole, native of the island of Martinique, and wife of a Revolutionary general. Of this lady a negress in her native land had predicted that she should be Empress and experience glory and sorrow without limit. She was at heart a legitimist. Anarchy prevailed in all departments of governments, skeptics had succeeded fanatics and the public voice denounced the Directory. The first indication which reached me of the termination of this era of tigers and hyenas was the receiving of clean clothes, the entry of fresh air through the windows which were opened at last, and the replacing of my daily mess of lentils by decent food.

My friends did not find it a simple task to accomplish my rescue. A new wave of public ferocity seemed imminent. To bribe my custodians, themselves under unceasing surveillance, was most difficult. The Munic.i.p.al Council had agents stationed at the entrance and exit of the tower. Had it been a question of heroic sacrifice only, there would have lacked not n.o.ble partisans of our House to dash themselves against even invincible obstacles.

Would that I had died within those walls, permeated with the atmosphere of our immolated mother. I should have perished, as you have expressed my supposed fate, 'like a blighted flower.' For my greater sorrow, generous abnegation and political malevolence combined to remove me from this living tomb. The account of my flight is an incoherent one. I myself can scarcely co-ordinate its episodes, for I was too feeble to comprehend them clearly. My true history will never be historically known, for an oligarchy, such as once existed in Venice, suppressed what suited its purpose. No corroborating doc.u.ments exist to verify even my fragmentary recital.