Having hastily broken the seal, Leodgard read these words, written by Valentine:

"You have showered the most terrible epithets upon me, doubtless; I deserve them; I made a mock of you, it is true; but do you, in your turn, recall your conduct: I was to have been your wife, you preferred a bath keeper's daughter to me! I determined to be revenged, because I loved you in secret, because that love made even deeper the wound you had inflicted on me. I married the Marquis de Santoval, whom I did not love; but I knew his temperament, and I desired an avenger. Since that duel, in which he narrowly missed killing you, I have been unable to endure the marquis's presence; I can live with that man no longer--he is hateful to me.--Leodgard, you know every part of my conduct; if you had died of your wound, I should have killed myself in order not to survive you; for I love you still. Tell me that you forgive me, tell me that you will take me away from the Marquis de Santoval. I wish to see you, to speak with you. In pity's name, write me a few words in reply, and appoint a rendezvous for to-morrow, though it be but for a few minutes; do not refuse me!

"VALENTINE."

The perusal of this letter threw Leodgard's mind into confusion; dark clouds gathered on his brow, where something like tranquillity had reigned of late. He rose and paced the floor, in the most intense agitation; it was evident that a battle was raging in the depths of his heart. He read Valentine's letter once more, then seemed to be lost in thought.

"I was led to hope," murmured Bahuchet at last, in a wheedling tone, "that monsieur le comte would give me a word in reply. The lady even went so far as to make me promise not to return without one.--Poor lady!

she was so pale, so agitated, so interesting!"

"So you saw her, did you?"

"Yes, monsieur le comte. Her maid, Miretta, had been searching Paris for me for a long time; after asking for me in vain at that miserly solicitor's, who turned me out of doors, with Plumard, for a mere nothing! a trifle!"

"Where did you see the marchioness?"

"On Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, in a little nook I selected. Oh! the lady didn't keep me waiting.--Will monsieur le comte refuse to give me a few words, in his hand? Poor lady! she will do some insane thing, if I do not take her an answer."

"Yes, I am going to write to her.--Ah! so this lady loves me!--Pardieu!

I must make sure of that. But woe to her if she deceives me again!"

"I venture to a.s.sure monsieur le comte----"

"Hold your peace and let me write."

Leodgard seated himself at his desk and hastily wrote these lines:

"You wish to see me, madame la marquise; you love me, so you say!

Although I have difficulty in placing faith in a love which nearly cost me my life, I am too gallant and too brave to decline this new rendezvous, even if I were destined again to find a sword awaiting me instead of a smile.--Until to-morrow, then, at eight in the evening, in the Grand Pre-aux-Clercs."

Leodgard signed this letter and handed it to Bahuchet, who, overjoyed to have obtained a written reply, took a hasty leave, fearing that the count might be tempted to recall the letter he had given him.

When Leodgard was alone, he fell once more into a moody reverie; absorbed by his memories and his new projects, he seemed to have forgotten the present, to have forgotten where he was. In fact, he did not hear Blanche, who returned to the room and stood in front of him for several minutes, amazed that he said nothing to her.

"Papa--I am here--don't you see me?" she murmured at last.

At the sound of Blanche's voice, Leodgard started, almost as if in terror; he gazed at his daughter, but did not smile at her as usual; it seemed that the sight of the child embarra.s.sed him. And little Blanche, accustomed as she was to be kissed and caressed by her father, looked at him with a surprised expression, and said, after a pause:

"Why don't you kiss me to-night, papa? Have I been naughty?"

"No, no; you are not naughty, Blanche; but I was thinking; my mind was on other things."

"Papa, mamma told me to ask you if you would like to have her come here after me to-night; she would like to ever so much; do you want her to?"

"No, no; that cannot be, to-night; another time you may come with your mother; but to-night I must be alone."

And the count rang for a servant and said to him:

"Take my daughter to her mother."

"You send me away so soon, papa!" said Blanche, with a little pout that made her even more bewitching; "why, I haven't had time enough to kiss you; I don't want to go yet!"

"You must obey me, Blanche; I wish it!"

Leodgard said these words in a stern tone, which brought tears to the little angel's eyes, for she was not accustomed to be spoken to so. She took the servant's hand and was about to leave the room, glancing mournfully at her father. But that glance went to Leodgard's heart; he ran to his daughter, took her in his arms, and kissed her again and again, murmuring:

"I will come back, dear child; yes, you shall see me again."

When the servant had taken Blanche away, the count dressed to go out, buckled on his sword, took his cloak and broad-brimmed hat, and left his apartment, saying to himself:

"Now, I must leave this place and return to my little house in Rue de Bretonvilliers. I should not be free here; and the sight of that child would weaken my resolution.--Dear little darling! with her I had found peace once more; my remorse was almost banished.--Ah! I do wrong to leave her, perhaps; but that letter from Valentine has overwhelmed all my senses; the memory of her beauty--this love that she swears that she has for me--well! the die is cast; I must see that woman again!"

And the count, avoiding the apartments occupied by Bathilde, left the Hotel de Marvejols with a heavy heart, like a person who submits to fatality.

LIII

DIVINE JUSTICE

The next evening, about eight o'clock, the Comte de Marvejols entered the public promenade called the Pre-aux-Clercs; it was an extensive meadow, divided into two parts by a ca.n.a.l called the Pet.i.te-Seine, which started from the river to carry water to fill the moats of the abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Pres. At that time some buildings had already been erected on the small Pre-aux-Clercs, and preparations were being made for building on the larger tract, where Rues des Pet.i.ts-Augustins, de Verneuil, de l'Universite, des Saints-Peres, etc., were subsequently laid out.

But the works in progress on the Pre-aux-Clercs still left ample s.p.a.ce for walking and for rendezvous; so that spot was a favorite one for duellists and for lovers.

It was quite dark, and Leodgard had not taken a hundred steps on the Grand Pre-aux-Clercs, when a woman stopped before him. Valentine was dressed entirely in black, and her excitement, the pallor of her face, the thrill that ran through her body at sight of the count, seemed to enhance her majestic beauty.

Without a word, she offered her hand to Leodgard, who felt it tremble as he took it in his.

"Come," said Valentine, in a broken voice, "let us sit on this bench.

Miretta is watching close by, and we may talk without fear.--Oh! I was still afraid that you would not come, that you had changed your mind; but you believed what I wrote in my letter, did you not? Yes, you must have believed it, as you are here. And now, tell me if you have forgiven me."

As she spoke, Valentine fixed upon Leodgard her lovely black eyes, overflowing with love and fear. Thereupon the pa.s.sion that that woman had previously kindled in the count's heart broke forth into flame, more ardent, more impetuous, more powerful than ever; and he could only fall at her feet, crying:

"Forgive you! And you tell me that you love me--you confess that only the pa.s.sion that you felt for me inspired the wish to be revenged!--Ah!

am I not too happy to be so loved by you? If I had met the death that I deserved, my fate would have been an enviable one. It is for me, who refused the happiness that was offered me, to implore your forgiveness!"

"Let us not revert to the past.--Leodgard, as I have told you, I love you; and now I can no longer endure the presence of the Marquis de Santoval! If you share my love, I will be yours, but yours alone.

Valentine de Mongarcin will never stoop to deceive a man! She will leave that man forever; for, once yours, she will die rather than return to him!--You have heard me, Leodgard. Take me to some other country, beneath a different sky; whither, it matters not to me, provided that I am with you, that I may fly from a man whom I detest, that I may live for you alone, with you alone!--But until then I will not be your mistress; for, I say again, when I have been once in your arms, I will never return to the Marquis de Santoval."

The thought of abducting Valentine, of taking her away from her husband, made Leodgard's heart beat fast; he could no longer doubt the love of that woman, who offered to sacrifice her reputation, her honor, her exalted position in society, to be his; and she was so lovely, so young, so fascinating, she promised such a wealth of tenderness and rapture, that the count looked forward with ecstatic delight to the moment when that prospect of love and bliss would become a reality.

But a certain reflection occurred to Leodgard's mind and allayed his exaltation in some degree. In these blissful schemes which the imagination conceives, one almost always forgets the most important point, the foundation upon which all the joys of this world rest.

Valentine, who had seen the cloud pa.s.s across the count's brow, instantly exclaimed:

"Ah! you hesitate, I see; what I propose appalls you. You would accept me for your mistress, but you are not willing that your life should be mine, that I should be always with you, that we should part no more; you fear to burden yourself with a new chain! You have for me simply one of those fleeting pa.s.sions which possession soon allays.--Ah! that is not the way that I love! But if it is so, we should never understand each other. Let us part, monsieur le comte; for I must have as much love as I give; if not, I want nothing!"