"Yes, yes," rejoined the marchioness, in a hollow tone, but fixing on her daughter looks which were not altogether void of affection: "yes, the young tree bends before the wind, and is stripped of its leaves.

The old oak alone withstands every tempest. I, also, have suffered, Marguerite, and suffered much. I have pa.s.sed a dreadful night, and yet you see me calm and firm."

"G.o.d has endowed you with a soul, my mother, firm and austere; but you should not expect the same strength and firmness in the souls of others.

You would destroy them."

"And therefore is it," replied the marchioness, letting her hand fall upon the table, "that all I ask of you is obedience. The marquis is dead, Marguerite, and Emanuel is now the head of the family. You must immediately set out for Bennes with Emanuel."

"I!" exclaimed Marguerite, "I set out for Bennes! and for what purpose?"

"Because the chapel of the castle is too narrow to contain at the same moment the wedding party of the daughter, and the funeral procession of the father."

"My mother!" replied Marguerite with an indescribable accent of anguish, "it would seem to me to be more pious to place a longer interval between two ceremonies of so opposite a nature."

"True piety," rejoined the marchioness, "should lead us to fulfil the last wishes of the dead. Cast your eyes upon this contract, and see the first letters of your father's name."

"Oh! madam!" cried Marguerite, "allow me to ask you whether my father, when he traced these letters, which death prevented him from finishing, was in possession of his faculties, and did he write them of his own free will?"

"Of that, I am ignorant, mademoiselle," replied the marchioness, with that imperative and icy tone, which until this time had subjected all that approached her.

"I am ignorant of that, but this I know, that the influence which made him thus act, he fully understood; and I know, also, that parents, as long as they exist, should, in the eyes of their children, have the authority of G.o.d. Now, G.o.d has ordained me to effect things terrible in themselves, and I have obeyed. Do as I have done, mademoiselle, obey!"

"Madam," said Marguerite, who had remained standing, but who now seemed motionless, with somewhat of that determined tone, which in her mother was so terrible, and in which she had inherited from her; "madam! it is only three days ago, that with tearful eyes, I threw myself first at the feet of Emanuel, then at the feet of the man whom you would compel me to receive as my husband, and then at my father's. Neither of them would or could listen to me, for grasping ambition, or reckless madness hardened their hearts, and drowned my voice. At length, I am now at your feet, my mother, you are the last whom I can supplicate, but also, you are best capable of understanding me, Listen, then, attentively, to what I am about to say. Had I only to sacrifice my own happiness to your will, I would make that sacrifice: my love! I would sacrifice that also; but I must also sacrifice my son.--You are a mother, and I also, madam."

"A mother!--a mother!" cried the marchioness.

"Yes! a mother, but by a dreadful fault----"

"Be that as it may, madam, still I am a mother, and the feelings of a mother need not be sanctified, in order to be holy. Well, then, madam, tell me--for you should better comprehend these things than I--tell me if those who have given us birth, have received from heaven a voice which speaks to our hearts--have not those to whom we have given birth a voice as powerful, and when these two voices are opposed to each other, to which ought we to obey?"

"You will never hear the voice of your child." said the marchioness; "for you will never again see him."

"I shall never again see my son!" exclaimed Marguerite, "and who, madam, can a.s.sert that positively?"

"He will himself be ignorant as to whose son he is."

"And should he some day discover it?" replied Marguerite; whose respect as a daughter was giving way before her mother's harshness; "if he should then come to me and demand an account of his birth--and this may happen, madam,"--she took up the pen--"and, with such an alternative awaiting me, tell me, ought I to sign this contract?"

"Sign it," said the marchioness.

"But," observed Marguerite, placing her trembling and convulsed fingers upon the contract, "should my husband some day discover the existence of this child; should he demand an explanation from my lover, of the wrong committed against his name and honor? If in a desperate duel, alone and without seconds--a duel in which it is agreed that one must fall, he should kill that lover, and then, tormented by his conscience, pursued by a voice from the tomb, my husband should at length become deprived of reason--"

"Be silent!" cried the marchioness, her features quivering with terror, but still doubting whether it was chance, or some unheard of discovery which dictated the words her daughter had employed: "be silent!"

"You would have me, then," continued Marguerite, who had now said too much to pause, "you would have me, then, in order to preserve my name, and that of my other children, pure and unsullied, that I should immure myself with a man deprived of reason! you would have me banish from my sight, and from his, every living being, and that I should render my heart iron, that I may no longer feel--that my eyes should never shed a tear! You would have me, then, clothe myself in mourning as a widow, before my husband's death? You would have my hair turn white, twenty years before the accustomed time?"

"Be silent! say not another word!" cried the marchioness, in a tone which proved that menaces were giving way to fear: "be silent!"

"You would have me, then," continued Marguerite, carried away by the bitterness of her grief; "you would have me, then, in order that the dreadful secret might die with those who have the keeping of it, that I should banish from their death-beds, both priest and physician--you would, in fine, that I should wander from one death-bed to another, that I might close, not the eyes, but the mouths of the dying."

"Be silent! in the name of heaven! be silent!" again cried the marchioness, wringing her hands.

"Well, then," continued Marguerite, "tell me again, my mother, to sign this paper, and all this will happen, and the malediction of the Lord will be accomplished, and the faults of the fathers shall be visited upon the children, even to the third and fourth generations."

"Ah! my G.o.d! my G.o.d!" exclaimed the marchioness, bursting into tears, "am I not sufficiently humbled--am I not sufficiently punished?"

"Pardon! pardon! madam," cried Marguerite, recalled to filial feeling by the first tears she had ever seen her mother shed; "I implore you to forgive me."

"Yes, pardon! ask for forgiveness, unnatural daughter," said the marchioness, advancing toward Marguerite, "you who have wrenched the scourge from the hands of eternal vengeance, and have yourself applied the lash even on your mother's forehead."

"Mercy! mercy!" reiterated Marguerite; "pardon me, my mother. I knew not what I said. You had deprived me of reason---I was mad!"

"Oh! my G.o.d! my G.o.d," said the marchioness, raising both her hands above her daughter's head, "Thou hast heard the words which have issued from my daughter's lips. It would be too much to hope that thy mercy will forget them; but at the moment thou shalt punish her, remember that I have not cursed her!"

She then moved toward the door; her daughter endeavored to retain her, but the marchioness turned toward her with an expression of countenance so fearful, that without needing to lay a command upon her, Marguerite dropped the skirt of her mother's dress, and remained with arms outstretched towards her, mute and palpitating, until the marchioness had disappeared. And when she no longer saw her, she threw herself upon the ground with so piercing a shriek, that it might have been deemed that the heart which had so much suffered, had at length broken.

CHAPTER XVII.--THE BROTHERS

Be angry as You will, it shall have scope; Ah, Ca.s.sius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger, as the flint bears fire-- Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, And straight is cold again.

And from henceforth When you are over earnest with your brother, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

--Shakespeare

Our readers will perhaps have been surprised, that after the violent manner in which Paul had insulted Lectoure the day before, a meeting had not been appointed for the following morning; but Lieutenant Walter, who had been commissioned to regulate the conditions of the duel, together with Count d'Auray, had received from his commander directions to make every concession, saving on one point, and this was, that Paul would not meet Lectoure until the afternoon.

The reason for this was, that the young captain felt, that until the time arrived when he should have wound up this strange drama, in which, having in the first instance mingled only as a stranger, he at last found himself in the position of the head of the family, his life belonged not to himself, and that he had not the right to risk it.

Moreover, as we have seen, the delay he had fixed was not a long one; and Lectoure, who was ignorant of the reason which could have induced his adversary to require it, had acceded to it without much difficulty.

Paul had therefore determined not to lose a moment, and therefore, as soon as the hour arrived at which he could, with propriety, present himself to the marchioness, he bent his steps towards the castle.

The events of the previous evening, and of that day also, had occasioned so much confusion in the stately residence, that he entered it without meeting a single servant to announce him. He nevertheless traversed the apartments, following the direction he had before twice taken, and on going into the drawing-room, found Marguerite lying fainting on the floor.

On seeing the contract lying on the table, and his sister deprived of consciousness, Paul readily imagined that a dreadful scene must have taken place between the marchioness and her daughter. He ran to Marguerite, raised her in his arms, and opened one of the windows to give her air. The state in which Marguerite then was, proceeded more from a complete prostration of strength, than an actual fainting fit; and therefore, as soon as she felt that a.s.sistance was being rendered her, and with a kindness, which left no doubt as to the feelings of the person who had thus endeavored to relieve her, she opened her eyes, and recognized her brother, that living Providence, whom G.o.d had sent to sustain her every time she felt she was about to succ.u.mb.

Marguerite related to Paul, that her mother had endeavored to compel her to sign the contract, in order to get her to leave the castle with her brother, and that having been overcome by her grief, and carried away by the dreadful situation in which she was placed, she had allowed her mother to perceive that she knew all.

Paul comprehended at once the feelings which must have rent the heart of the marchioness, who, after twenty years of silence, isolation and anguish, saw, without being able to divine the manner in which it had been brought about, that in one moment her secret had been revealed to one of the two persons, from whom she was most anxious to conceal it.

Therefore, compa.s.sionating the sufferings of his mother, he resolved to terminate them as speedily as he could, by hastening on the interview he had come to seek, and which would at once enlighten her as to the intentions of that son, whose existence she was so unwilling to acknowledge, Marguerite, on her side, wished to obtain her mother's forgiveness; she, therefore, undertook to inform the marchioness that the young captain waited her orders.

Paul, therefore, remained alone, leaning against the high chimney-piece, above which was carved the escutcheon of his family, and began to lose himself in the thoughts, which the successive and hurried events of the last few hours gave rise to, and which had rendered him the sovereign arbiter of all that house, when one of the side doors suddenly opened, and Emanuel appeared with a case of pistols in his hand. On hearing the door open, Paul turned his eyes toward them, and immediately perceiving the young man, bowed to him with that sweet and fraternal expression, which reflected in his features the serenity of his soul.

Emanuel, on the contrary, although he returned the salutation, as politeness required, allowed those hostile feelings which the presence of the man whom he regarded as his personal and determined enemy had awakened to flush his features, and they instantly a.s.sumed a look of fierce defiance.

"I was on the point of setting out to seek for you, sir," said Emanuel, placing the pistols upon the table, and remaining at some distance from Paul; "and that, however, without precisely knowing where to find you; for, like the evil genii of our popular traditions, you appear to have the gift of being every where, and nowhere. But a servant informed me that he had seen you enter the castle, and I thank you for having saved me the trouble I was about to take, in thus antic.i.p.ating my desire."

"I am happy," replied Paul, "that my desire in this instance, although probably emanating from a totally different cause, has so harmoniously chimed in with yours. Well, then, I am here--what do you ask of me?"

"Cannot you divine even that, sir?" replied Emanuel, with increasing agitation. "In that case--and you will allow me to express my astonishment that it should be so--you are but ill-informed as to the duties of a gentleman and an officer, and this is a fresh insult that you put upon me."