Part 79 (1/2)

The duke and the marquis were with Mme. Blanche in the little salon at the end of the main hall.

Martial hastened there, followed by a crowd of wondering guests, who, foreseeing a stormy scene, were determined not to lose a syllable.

He walked directly to M. de Courtornieu, who was standing by the fireplace, and handing him the letter:

”Read!” said he, in a terrible voice.

M. de Courtornieu obeyed. He became livid; the paper trembled in his hands; his eyes fell, and he was obliged to lean against the marble mantel for support.

”I do not understand,” he stammered: ”no, I do not understand.”

The duke and Mme. Blanche both sprang forward.

”What is it?” they asked in a breath; ”what has happened?”

With a rapid movement, Martial tore the paper from the hands of the Marquis de Courtornieu, and addressing his father:

”Listen to this letter,” he said, imperiously.

Three hundred people were a.s.sembled there, but the silence was so profound that the voice of the young marquis penetrated to the farthest extremity of the hall as he read:

”Monsieur le marquis--In exchange for a dozen lines that threatened you with ruin, you promised us, upon the honor of your name, the life of Baron d'Escorval.

”You did, indeed, bring the ropes by which he was to make his escape, but they had been previously cut, and my father was precipitated to the rocks below.

”You have forfeited your honor, Monsieur. You have soiled your name with ineffaceable opprobrium. While so much as a drop of blood remains in my veins, I will leave no means untried to punish you for your cowardice and vile treason.

”By killing me you would, it is true, escape the chastis.e.m.e.nt I am reserving for you. Consent to fight with me. Shall I await you to-morrow on the Reche? At what hour? With what weapons?

”If you are the vilest of men, you can appoint a rendezvous, and then send your gendarmes to arrest me. That would be an act worthy of you.

”Maurice d'Escorval.”

The duke was in despair. He saw the secret of the baron's flight made public--his political prospects ruined.

”Hus.h.!.+” he said, hurriedly, and in a low voice; ”hush, wretched man, you will ruin us!”

But Martial seemed not even to hear him. When he had finished his reading:

”Now, what do you think?” he demanded, looking the Marquis de Courtornieu full in the face.

”I am still unable to comprehend,” said the old n.o.bleman, coldly.

Martial lifted his hand; everyone believed that he was about to strike the man who had been his father-in-law only a few hours.

”Very well! I comprehend!” he exclaimed. ”I know now who that officer was who entered the room in which I had deposited the ropes--and I know what took him there.”

He crumbled the letter between his hands and threw it in M. de Courtornieu's face, saying: