Part 19 (1/2)
”Ah, well, sir,” addressing Croustillac, ”Fancy this third husband a man, handsome, of dark complexion, thirty-six years of age, a Spaniard by birth. We came across him at Havana.”
”Heavens! tell it quickly,” said the widow, ”the chevalier is impatient to hear.”
”It was not a gray powder that he tasted, this one,” replied the buccaneer, ”but a drop, one drop only, of a pretty green liquid contained in the smallest flask I ever saw in my life, for it was made of a single hollow ruby.”
”That is simple enough,” said Angela, ”the strength of this liquid was such that it would dissolve or break any flask which was not made of a ruby or a diamond.”
”You can judge, after that, chevalier,” said the hunter, ”of the pleasure which this liquid must have given our third husband. Certainly I am neither over-tender nor timid, but, after all, it is difficult to become accustomed to seeing a man who looks at you with green eyes, luminous, and set so deep in their orbit that they have the effect of a glowworm in the depths of a subterranean cave.”
”The fact is,” said Croustillac, who could not prevent a slight shudder, ”the fact is that at first this would appear strange.”
”That is not all; listen to the rest,” said the widow with an air of perfect self-satisfaction.
The buccaneer continued: ”That was only his usual condition, poor man, having eyes like a glowworm, but what was most frightful was when madame gave a supper to Hurricane, myself and Youmaale. She dipped a camel's hair brush into the little ruby flask and compelled the unhappy Spaniard to approach, and pa.s.sed this brush over his eyelashes. Then one would have said that from the eyelashes of this unhappy man there issued a thousand rays; his green eyes, sunken in his head, protruded and rolled in their orbit like two globes of fire, and threw such varied and continual light that they sufficed to light up our feast, while the wretched man stood immovable as a marble statue, saying in a piteous voice, 'My head furnishes fuel for the lamps of my eyes!' It was well that the poor man could not see the fire,” said the buccaneer, bursting into laughter at this cruel jest. ”And when the supply of oil in the lamp failed, the madame's husband went to join his predecessors, in order to leave his place open to you.”
”What Rendsoul tells you is correct,” said Blue Beard. ”He is very indiscreet, as you see, but he is truthful. And so am I. I have singular ideas and caprices, I know; my G.o.d! I do not wish to represent myself as better than I am. Above all, I would be frank with you and conceal nothing. You would ask why my husbands are the only victims of my playfulness? I have no power over others. And I always warn them what will be their fate. It is that which makes it so difficult for me to find a husband. It is on these conditions alone that Satan signs my contract, and then this contract, signed by him, acquires a virtue as wonderful as mysterious. Alas! my friend, may he soon sign ours. I have thought of two preparations which are entirely different from the others, and the effects of which are truly magical.”
All this time Croustillac experienced a strange sensation, which he attributed to the fatigue of the day and the evening; it was as if a lethargy possessed his brain and almost took from him the power of resisting by use of his reason the impression made by these strange tales of the widow and the buccaneer. Without believing these fabulous inventions, he was nevertheless frightened by them as one is by a bad dream. The chevalier hardly knew whether he was awake or asleep; he looked at the buccaneer and the widow by turn, with a stupefied air, almost terrified. Finally, being ashamed to show his credulity, he rose abruptly and paced up and down a few minutes in the hope that movement would dispel the torpor which he felt overwhelming him.
Croustillac did not wish to be a b.u.t.t for these two persons, and he almost regretted having embarked so imprudently in this mad adventure.
He said to Blue Beard resolutely, ”Come, come, you are jesting, madame; do not trouble yourself; I comprehend the joke. I do not believe you as ferocious or as much of a magician as you wish to appear; to-morrow, I am sure I shall learn the secret of this comedy, which to-night, I avow, gives me a kind of nightmare.”
These words of the chevalier, spoken from no motive but to show the dwellers of Devil's Cliff that he did not intend to be their dupe, produced on Blue Beard a singular effect. She cast a terrified glance at the buccaneer, and said haughtily to Croustillac, ”I do not jest, sir; you came here with the intention of marrying me; I offer you my hand, and I will tell you upon what conditions; if these are agreeable to you, we will be married in eight days; there is a chapel here; the reverend Father Griffen, of the parish of Macouba, will come hither in order to unite us; if my conditions do not meet with your approval, you can quit this house, where you never ought to have come.”
As Blue Beard proceeded her face lost its look of wicked cajolery; she became sad, almost menacing. ”A comedy!” she said; ”if I thought you took all that has been said as such, you should not remain a moment longer in this house, sir,” she continued, in a changed voice, betraying her deep feeling.
”No, the chevalier must not take it all as a jest,” said the buccaneer, looking steadily at the Gascon.
Croustillac, naturally impatient and vivacious, experienced vexation at not being able to discover what was true and what feigned in this singular adventure. He cried then, ”Well, zounds! madame, what do you wish me to think? I encounter a buccaneer in the forest; I impart to him my desire to meet you; he informs me abruptly that you will yourself tell me that he has the good fortune to be in your good graces.”
”And then, sir?”
”Then, madame, though I have warned him, the buccaneer has brought me to you, by whom I have been received with the greatest hospitality, I must acknowledge; I am introduced to you; informed of my desires, you yourself offer me your hand, you inform your friend the bull-hunter of my wishes.”
”Well, sir?”
”Madame, up to that time all went well; but now the buccaneer wishes to inform me, with your consent, that I am reserved for a fourth deceased husband, and to succeed a man who laughed himself to death, and one whose eyes served as lights for one of your orgies!”
”It is the truth,” said the buccaneer.
”How, the truth?” continued Croustillac, recovering his lost vivacity.
”Are we in the land of dreams? Do you take the Chevalier de Croustillac for a simpleton? Do you think I am one of those weak-minded creatures who believe in the devil? I am not a goose, and I also ask twenty-four hours in which to demolish all these ridiculous stories.”
Angela became very pale, and threw a look of agony and indescribable fear on the buccaneer, and replied to the chevalier with ill-concealed anger, ”Ah, who told you, sir, that all that has taken place is natural?
Do you know why I, young and rich, offer you my hand the first moment I see you? Do you know what this union will cost you? You believe yourself to have a strong mind; who told you that certain phenomena would not go beyond your comprehension? Do you know _who_ I am? Do you know _where_ you are? Do you know in consequence of what strange mystery I offer you my hand? A comedy?” repeated Blue Beard bitterly, regarding the buccaneer with an appearance almost of fear; ”can you not be made to understand that all this is not a play, sir? It is hardly to be believed that your good angel brought you here, at least.”
”And then, after all, who told you that you would ever go out of this place?” said the buccaneer coldly.
The chevalier recoiled a step, trembling, and said: