Part 111 (1/2)
A man was kneeling beside Marie-Anne, weeping bitterly. The expression of his face, his att.i.tude, his sobs betrayed the wildest despair. He was so lost in grief that he did not observe the abbe's entrance.
Who was this mourner who had found his way to the house of death?
After a moment, the priest divined who the intruder was, though he did not recognize him.
”Jean!” he cried, ”Jean Lacheneur!”
With a bound the young man was on his feet, pale and menacing; a flame of anger drying the tears in his eyes.
”Who are you?” he demanded, in a terrible voice. ”What are you doing here? What do you wish with me?”
By his peasant dress and by his long beard, the former cure of Sairmeuse was so effectually disguised that he was obliged to tell who he really was.
As soon as he uttered his name, Jean uttered a cry of joy.
”G.o.d has sent you here!” he exclaimed. ”Marie-Anne cannot be dead! You, who have saved so many others, will save her.”
As the priest sadly pointed to heaven, Jean paused, his face more ghastly than before. He understood now that there was no hope.
”Ah!” he murmured, with an accent of frightful despondency, ”fate shows us no mercy. I have been watching over Marie-Anne, though from a distance; and this very evening I was coming to say to her: 'Beware, sister--be cautious!'”
”What! you knew----”
”I knew she was in great danger; yes, Monsieur. An hour ago, while I was eating my supper in a restaurant at Sairmeuse, Grollet's son entered.
'Is this you, Jean?' said he. 'I just saw Chupin hiding near your sister's house; when he observed me he slunk away.' I ran here like one crazed. But when fate is against a man, what can he do? I came too late!”
The abbe reflected for a moment.
”Then you suppose that it was Chupin?”
”I do not suppose, sir; I _swear_ that it was he--the miserable traitor!--who committed this foul deed.”
”Still, what motive could he have had?”
Jean burst into one of those discordant laughs that are, perhaps, the most frightful signs of despair.
”You may rest a.s.sured that the blood of the daughter will yield him a richer reward than did the father's. Chupin has been the vile instrument; but it was not he who conceived the crime. You will have to seek higher for the culprit, much higher, in the finest chateau of the country, in the midst of an army of valets at Sairmeuse, in short!”
”Wretched man, what do you mean?”
”What I say.”
And coldly, he added:
”Martial de Sairmeuse is the a.s.sa.s.sin.” The priest recoiled, really appalled by the looks and manner of the grief-stricken man.
”You are mad!” he said, severely.
But Jean gravely shook his head.