Part 42 (1/2)
he laid stress on the word, ”I swear to you that it was nothing to do with you!”
His glazing eyes cleared for an instant, illuminated by the beauty of his falsehood.
”Marry the Duke, he is charming ... he ... he is loyal ... but do not abandon my mother; she will have only you!”
Two red streams trickled from the corners of his mouth. Esperance on her knees with her hands crossed on the bed, watched the blood run down on the face that had grown paler than the pillow. Her tears blinded her, and she shook as with an ague. Albert ceased breathing for an instant. The Doctor, who was watching closely from the end of the room, came near and gave him a dose of chlorate of calcium to stop the hemorrhage; then at a sign from Albert, withdrew again.
”Promise me,” said the young man, ”that you will always keep this necklace!”
”Albert, don't die! I will love you! I do love you! Have pity! I will always wear the necklace. You shall unfasten it every evening and clasp it every morning! Do not die! Do not die! I am your fiancee, to-morrow I will be your wife! You must life for your mother, for me!”
The door opened and the Countess, suddenly awakened, entered with the Baron van Berger and the Duke de Castel-Montjoie.
”Mother, dear mother, forgive me.... I leave you Esperance, who will take my place with you. Forgive the Duke de Morlay the pain he has caused you. Our quarrel was so deep, we could only settle it by arms.
It was I, I, who precipitated matters. The Duke acted like an honourable gentleman. Oh! do not weep, mother, do not weep!”
He raised his hand painfully to wipe with trembling fingers the tears burning the beautiful eyes that had already wept so much.
The Chaplain from the Chateau entered the room, bearing the Holy Sacrament. He was accompanied by the Dowager d.u.c.h.ess, the Prince and Princess of Bernecourt. A solemn hush quieted the sobs of the two women. The priest bent over the couch of the dying man. The Count summoned all his strength to receive the extreme unction, then, transfigured by his faith, he sat up, extending his arms. The two women threw themselves trembling into the open arms, which closed upon them in the last struggle of life. They remained there, imprisoned, not knowing that the soul had fled.
A terrible cry shook these souls sunk down in grief. Esperance shrieked, ”These arms, these arms, loosen these arms which are strangling me ... Deliver me, deliver me from these arms ... I am choking....”
They had some difficulty in freeing her. Her pupils dilated by terror, she was hardly able to breathe. The Doctor did not disguise his anxiety.
”Save her, Doctor,” said the Countess Styvens, ”save my daughter. My son is now with G.o.d; he sees me, he waits for me, but I must obey his last wish.”
They carried Esperance away unconscious, without tears, without movement, almost without life. Francois, who had just arrived with his wife, learned of the frightful tragedy and received in his arms the poor unconscious cause of the drama. Mme. Darbois did not wish to leave her daughter, but the philosopher insisted, until she could not refuse, that she should go back to the Countess Styvens.
When the professor arrived at the Chateau he found the Duke de Morlay at the gate waiting for tidings. At sight of Esperance unconscious, her head fallen back on her father's breast, he jumped on the step of the victoria.
”What more has happened?” he asked panting.
”The Doctor will be here in a few minutes. He will tell you....”
The carriage drove on to the Tower of Saint Genevieve. The Duke took the poor figure in his arms and carried her up to her room, followed by Francois Darbois, broken by sorrow. Genevieve was waiting feverishly for the return of Maurice and Esperance. She showed the Duke where to lay Esperance. He stretched the slender creature on her bed. Her eyes were open, but she recognized no one. The rigidity of her expression frightened the Duke, and he bent in terror to listen to her breathing. A faint burning breath touched his face.
The Doctor declared that he could give no decision at that moment, and ordered them to leave her to sleep.
”She must not be left for a second,” he said. ”Two people must watch so that she need never be left alone.”
The Duke kissed the limp little hand, and recoiled--his lips touched her engagement ring. As he went out he met the Countess Styvens and hardly recognized her, so terribly was she changed. She stopped him.
”Do not leave. I know from my son that it was he who provoked you. The cause of your duel is a secret that I shall never seek to know. May G.o.d pardon my son and free you from all remorse. I go to my daughter, all I have left to love and protect.”
It was evident that the n.o.ble woman was making a great effort; the last words of her son were still ringing in her brain.
De Morlay knelt and watched the Countess disappear into the room.
CHAPTER XXIX