Part 24 (1/2)
He himself was a prisoner. But a prisoner of whom? Evidently of those who had killed his mistress. Again, in all probability, they did not contemplate killing him since they had had the opportunity to do so and he was still alive and unharmed. This being so, they would not let him die of hunger and thirst.
His watch had stopped and he had no way of measuring the lapse of time; but his attention was called to the fact that the rumbling noises were happening at greater intervals.
”The pulse-beats of a man are separated by intervals of a second,” he thought, ”and by counting my pulse I can determine the interval between the rumbling, and thus gain some idea of the pa.s.sing hours.”
He was about to put this plan into practice when a sudden cry escaped him:
”Good G.o.d!”
In the blackness of his cell a thin shaft of light appeared.
The King sprang toward it, but found the light too feeble for him to distinguish surrounding objects by. It entered the cell through a small fissure in one of the walls, and after a few minutes was suddenly withdrawn. Frederick-Christian stumbled forward in the darkness and, after taking a few steps, his feet struck some object lying on the ground. Stooping down, he groped with his hands until they touched something that drew from him an exclamation of joy ... he had found a pile of bottles. He seized one and opened it with a corkscrew which lay near by.
One draught and he realized that the bottle contained wine. Thereupon he opened several more but with the same result. To drink them would only increase his thirst. He had the strength to resist the temptation. Again he moved forward and this time ran into a large box. His hand touched something cold. It was meat of some kind. After smelling and tasting it he flung it from him. It was a salt ham.
Hours pa.s.sed while Frederick-Christian suffered the tortures of hunger and thirst. Cold and tired out, he finally lay down on the ground, writhing with violent pains in his stomach. At length he could stand it no longer, and dragging himself to the box, he seized the ham and began to devour it ravenously. This brought on a maddening thirst, which he tried to quench by long draughts of the wine. Then he became very drunk and so, laughing and crying, he drank until he lost consciousness once more.
”Sire! Can you hear me?”
A sharp voice broke the silence. It seemed to come from a distance.
”Sire, can you hear me?... Answer!”
Frederick-Christian sprang up.
”Who is speaking? Who are you? Help! Help!”
The voice, mocking and authoritative, answered:
”Now, then, keep quiet. I am not within reach, so it is useless to cry for help.”
”Scoundrel!” cried the King.
”There's no use in behaving like a child ... you won't gain anything by it.”
”Pity, pity!... I will make you rich ... I will give you anything you ask, only set me at liberty ... take me out of this prison or I shall become mad.”
”Have you done with your lamentations?”
”I'll be revenged!”
”I am beyond your vengeance, Sire, and you would do well to talk quietly with me.”
”You killed my mistress, Susy d'Orsel!”
”Yes, I killed her.”
”You are Fandor--Jerome Fandor!”