Part 57 (1/2)
But she exposed herself to terrible reprisals.
Mdlle. Debriege was not a woman to be cowed by the vindictive insults heaped upon her. She had nourished a natural and bitter hatred against this woman who had robbed her of her husband, and now the opportunity for revenge had come she did not fail to take advantage of it.
In plain, pointed words she addressed her, without sparing one cause of complaint or a single reproach, and in their full hideousness casting in her teeth the enormity of her sins. She repaid with interest in that moment all the countless sufferings the guilty woman had caused, completely overwhelming her with vituperation. Valerie heard her out with but little interruption, and when at length Gabrielle concluded, there was a moment's silence.
”Now, madame,” exclaimed Hugh sternly, addressing his wife, ”we will end this our last interview, for you and I will never meet again. From the bottom of my heart I hate you, hoping that a just retribution will be yours. When it comes, you will probably recollect the words of a man who loved you dearer than his life. Coombe never before gave shelter to a murderess, and it shall do so no longer. The hour is late, therefore I will grant you until to-morrow, but if you have not left here by midday I shall call in the police and give you up to justice. You understand--I shall not depart from my word. The tie which bound us has been broken, and I curse the day when I was so blindly infatuated as to link my life with yours.”
”Hugh! Hugh! I--I am penitent. Have pity.”
”You had none for me. I have none.”
”Hugh! Forgive!”
”Never!”
As he turned from her, Egerton unlocked the door, and in silence they went out, while the unhappy woman tottered forward, and in despair cast herself upon the couch, burying her face in the silken cus.h.i.+ons.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
DEVIL'S DICE.
Alone in her dainty little boudoir, Valerie was standing deep in thought.
In the ballroom, the excited revellers continued their antics, and the fair gleeful angels, now thoroughly resigned to their sable attendant spirits, allowed themselves to be whirled wildly up and down the room amid the applause of the gay a.s.sembly, who were too amused and absorbed with the novelty of the scene to notice the absence of their hostess.
Had they seen her at that moment they would scarce have recognised her as the woman who, only an hour before, was so radiant and reckless, and who had headed the Demon's Dance with so light a heart.
Nanette, having entered unexpectedly without knocking, had been surprised to find her mistress crouching by the fire in the cosy, luxuriant room, and noticing her pallor and agitation, asked with alarm what ailed her.
”It's a mere trifle,” was the abrupt reply. ”I--I'm not very well.
Should any of the people ask for me, tell them--tell them I have a bad headache--say anything, only don't let them disturb me. I must be alone--you understand?”
”Yes, madame,” said the girl. ”This came for you by to-night's post.
You have been so worried about the dance, I thought I would not give it to you before you came upstairs,” she added, handing her mistress a letter.
Valerie glanced hastily at the envelope.
”You may go, Nanette,” she said calmly. ”I shall require nothing more to-night. Perhaps to-morrow I shall leave for London.”
”Very well, madame,” and rather pleased at this early release from her duties, the maid discreetly withdrew, closing the door noiselessly.
Going over to the corner where stood a tall lamp, the light of which was tempered by a shade of amber silk, she tore open the letter eagerly, and read its contents.
”Ah!” she cried, staggering as if she had been dealt a crus.h.i.+ng blow, and staring wildly at the open note in her hand. ”He, too--he has deserted me! I am forsaken!”
The letter, indeed, completed the retribution which had fallen so suddenly and mercilessly upon her. It was a short, curt note from Pierre Rouillier, whom she had left in London, stating that, having discovered that Gabrielle had inst.i.tuted inquiries, and fearing the exposure that must inevitably follow, he had taken the money she had entrusted to him to deposit in the bank, and was leaving England that night. The communication concluded with a cold, heartless declaration that he had grown tired of her caprices, and therefore he had resolved that they should never meet again.
Wounded to the quick, she tore the letter in half, and cast it upon the fire.
”Miserable coward!” she hissed. ”Afraid of your own safety, you run away and leave me to meet them alone.”
Sublime in her indignation, she paced the room impatiently. In her despair she pushed the thick hair from her hot, fevered brow. It came unloosened, and fell in profuse luxuriance over her bare heaving breast, while at the same time the diamond star dropped upon the floor, and lay glistening in the fitful firelight.