Part 43 (1/2)
A great wave of relief swept over Stepan. So he was not to be the instrument of justice after all!
How profoundly he thanked G.o.d!
But the irony of the thing shook him.
Harietta would pay with her life for having maltreated a dog!
Truly the workings of fate were marvellous.
CHAPTER XXIII
The days in prison for Harietta, before and after her trial, were days of frenzied terror, alternating with incredulity. She would not believe that she was to die.
Stanisla.s.s and Ferdinand, and even Verisschenzko, would save her!
She loathed the hard bed at St. Lazare, and the discomfort, and the ugliness, and the Sister of Charity!
She spent hours tramping her cell like a wild beast in a cage. She would roar with inarticulate fury, and cry aloud to her husband, and her lovers, one after another, and then she would cower in a corner, shaking with fear.
The greatest pain of all was the thought that Stepan and Amaryllis would marry and be happy. Once or twice foam gathered at the corners of her lips when she thought of this.
If she could have reached Marie, that would have given her some satisfaction--to tear out her eyes! For Ferdinand Ardayre had told her how Marie had given her up, working quietly until she had all necessary proofs, and then denouncing her.
When Stanisla.s.s had returned from the Club, whither she had despatched him for the evening, so that she might be free to dine with Verisschenzko, he found that she had already been taken away.
The shock, when he discovered that nothing could be done, had nearly killed him--he now lay dangerously ill in a Maison de Sante, happily unconscious of events.
For Ferdinand Ardayre the blow had fallen with crus.h.i.+ng force. The one strong thing in his weak nature was his pa.s.sion for Harietta--and to be robbed of her in such a way!
He battled impotently against fate, unable even to try to use any means in his possession to get the death sentence commuted, because he was too deeply implicated himself to make any stir.
He saw her in the prison after the trial, with the bars between and the warders near. And the awful change in Tier paralysed him with grief. On the morrow she was to die--the usual death of a spy.
Her hair was wild and her face without rouge was haggard and wan.
She implored him to save her.
The frightful pain of knowing that he could do nothing made Ferdinand desperate, and then suddenly he became inspired with an idea.
He could at all events remove some of the agony of terror from her, and enable her to go to her death without a hideous scene. He remembered ”La Tosca”--the same method might serve again!
He managed to whisper to her in broken sentences that she would certainly be saved. The plan was all prepared, he a.s.sured her. The rifles would contain blank cartridges, and she must pretend to fall--and afterwards he would come, having bribed every one and made the path smooth.
He lied so fervently that Harietta was convinced, her material brain catching at any straw. She must dress herself and look her best, he told her, so as to make an impression upon all the men concerned; and then, when he had to leave her, he arranged with the prison doctor that she might receive a strong _piqure_ of morphine, so that she would be serene. She spent the night dreaming quite happily and at four o'clock was awakened and began to dress.
The drug had calmed all her terrors and her dramatic instinct held full sway.
She arranged her toilet with the utmost care, using all her arts to beautify herself. In her ears were Stanisla.s.s' ruby earrings and she wore Stepan's ring and brooch.