Part 27 (1/2)
”I probably am one of the greatest fools that has ever existed since the days of Joseph and Hippolytus,” thought he.
He remained silent and apparently indifferent for several moments.
”Of what are you thinking?” asked Madame de Bergenheim, surprised by Octave's silence and rather listless air.
He gave a start of surprise at this question.
”May I die if I tell her!” he thought; ”she must think me ridiculous enough as it is.”
”Tell me, I wish you to speak out,” she continued, in that despotic tone which a woman a.s.sumes when sure of her empire.
Instead of replying, as she demanded, he gave her a long, questioning glance, and it would have been impossible at that moment for her to keep a single secret from her lover. Madame de Bergenheim felt the magnetic influence of his penetrating glance so deeply that it seemed to her these sharp eyes were fathoming her very heart. She felt intensely disturbed to be gazed at in that way, and, in order to free herself from this mute questioning, she leaned her head upon Octave's shoulder, as she said softly:
”Do not look at me like that or I shall not love your eyes any more.”
Her straw hat, whose ribbons were not tied, slipped and fell, dragging with it the comb which confined her beautiful hair, and it fell in disorder over her shoulders. Gerfaut pa.s.sed his hand behind the charming head which rested upon his breast, in order to carry this silky, perfumed fleece to his lips. At the same time, he gently pressed the supple form which, as it bent toward him, seemed to ask for this caress.
Clemence made a sudden effort and arose, fastening her hair at the back of her head with an almost shamed haste.
”Will you refuse me one lock of your hair as a souvenir of this hour?”
said Octave, stopping her gently as she was about to replace her comb.
”Do you need any souvenir?” she replied, giving him a glance which was neither a reproach nor a refusal.
”The souvenir is in my heart, the hair will never leave my bosom! We live in an unworthy age. I can not boast of wearing your colors in everybody's eyes, and yet I should like to wear a sign of my bondage.”
She let her hair fall down her back again, but seemed embarra.s.sed as to how to execute his wish.
”I can not cut my hair with my teeth,” she said, with a smile which betrayed a double row of pearls.
Octave took a stiletto from his pocket.
”Why do you always carry this stiletto?” asked the young woman, in a changed voice; ”it frightens me to see you armed thus.”
”Fear nothing,” said Gerfaut, who did not reply to her question, ”I will respect the hair which serves you as a crown. I know where I must cut it, and, if my ambition is great, my hand shall be discreet.”
Madame de Bergenheim had no confidence in his moderation, and, fearing to leave her beautiful hair to her lover's mercy, she took the stiletto and cut off a little lock which she drew through her fingers and then offered to him, with a loving gesture that doubled the value of the gift. At this moment, hunting-horns resounded in the distance.
”I must leave you now!” exclaimed Clemence, ”I must. My dear love, let me go now; say good-by to me.”
She leaned toward him and presented her forehead to receive this adieu.
It was her lips which met Octave's, but this kiss was rapid and fleeting as a flash of light. Withdrawing from the arms which would yet retain her, she darted out of the grotto, and in a moment had disappeared in one of the shady paths.
For some time, plunged in deep reflection, Gerfaut stood on the same spot; but at last arousing himself from this dreamy languor, he climbed the rock so as to reach the top of the cliff. After taking a few steps he stopped with a frightened look, as if he had espied some venomous reptile in his path. He could see, through the bushes which bordered the crest of the plateau at the top of the ladder cut in the rock, Bergenheim, motionless, and in the att.i.tude of a man who is trying to conceal himself in order that he may watch somebody. The Baron's eyes not being turned in Gerfaut's direction, he could not tell whether he was the object of this espionage, or whether the lay of the land allowed him to see Madame de Bergenheim, who must be under the sycamores by this time. Uncertain as to what he should do, he remained motionless, half crouched down upon the rock, behind the ledge of which, thanks to his position, he could hide from the Baron.
CHAPTER XIX. THE REVELATION
A few moments before the castle clock struck four, a man leaped across the ditch which served as enclosure to the park. Lambernier, for it was he who showed himself so prompt at keeping his promise, directed his steps through the thickets toward the corner of the Corne woods which he had designated to Marillac; but, after walking for some time, he was forced to slacken his steps. The hunting-party were coming in his direction, and Lambernier knew that to continue in the path he had first chosen would take him directly among the hunters; and, in spite of his insolence, he feared the Baron too much to wish to expose himself to the danger of another chastis.e.m.e.nt. He therefore retraced his steps and took a roundabout way through the thickets, whose paths were all familiar to him; he descended to the banks of the river ready to ascend to the place appointed for the rendezvous as soon as the hunting party had pa.s.sed.