Baron Trigault's Vengeance [36]
your child in your arms--pale and half dead with fatigue, faint for want of food, homeless and penniless? You saw no refuge but in death, as you have since told me. How could I imagine when I rescued you that I was saving my greatest enemy's sister from suicide--the sister of the man whom I was vainly pursuing? And yet this might not be the end, if I chose to have it otherwise. The count is dead, but I can still return him disgrace for disgrace. He dishonored me. What prevents me from casting ineffaceable opprobrium upon the great name of Chalusse, of which he was so proud? He seduced my wife. To-day I can tell all Paris what his sister has been and what she is to-day."
Ah! it was this--yes, it was this that Madame d'Argeles had dreaded. She fell upon her knees, and, with clasped hands she entreated: "Pity!--oh! have pity--forgive me! Have mercy! Have I not always been a faithful and devoted friend to you? Think of the past you have just invoked! Who helped you then to bear your intolerable sufferings? Don't you remember the day when you, yourself, had determined to die by your own hand? There was a woman who persuaded you to abandon the thought of suicide. It was I!"
He looked at her for a moment with a softer expression, tears came to his eyes, and rolled down his cheeks. Then suddenly he raised her, and placed her in an arm-chair, exclaiming: "Ah! you know very well that I shall not do what I said. Don't you know me better than that? Are you not sure of my affection, are you not aware that you are sacred in my eyes?" He was evidently striving hard to master his emotion. "Besides," he added, "I had already pardoned before coming here. It was foolish on my part, perhaps, and for nothing in the world would I confess it to my acquaintances, but it is none the less true. I shall have my revenge in a certain fashion, however. I need only hold my peace, and the daughter of M. de Chalusse and Madame Trigault would become a lost woman. Is this not so? Very well, I shall offer her my assistance. It may, or may not, be another absurd and ridiculous fancy added to the many I have been guilty of. But no matter. I have promised. And why, indeed, should this poor girl be held responsible for the sins of her parents? I--I declare myself on her side against the world!"
Madame d'Argeles rose, her face radiant with joy and hope. "Then perhaps we are saved!" she exclaimed. "Ah! I knew when I sent for you that I should not appeal to your heart in vain!"
She took hold of his hand as if to raise it to her lips; but he gently withdrew it, and inquired, with an air of astonishment: "What do you mean?"
"That I have been cruelly punished for not wishing you to assist that unfortunate man who was dishonored here the other evening."
"Pascal Ferailleur?"
"Yes, he is innocent. The Viscount de Coralth is a scoundrel. It was he who slipped the cards which made M. Ferailleur win, into the pack, and he did it at the Marquis de Valorsay's instigation."
The baron looked at Madame d'Argeles with pro-found amazement. "What!" said he; "you knew this and you allowed it? You were cruel enough to remain silent when that innocent man entreated you to testify on his behalf! You allowed this atrocious crime to be executed under your own roof, and under your very eyes?"
"I was then ignorant of Mademoiselle Marguerite's existence. I did not know that the young man was beloved by my brother's daughter--I did not know--"
The baron interrupted her, and exclaimed, indignantly: "Ah! what does that matter? It was none the less an abominable action."
She hung her head, and in a scarcely audible voice replied: "I was not free. I submitted to a will that was stronger than my own. If you had heard M. de Coralth's threats you would not censure me so severely. He has discovered my secret; he knows Wilkie--I am in his power. Don't frown--I make no attempt to excuse myself--I am only explaining the position in which I was placed. My peril is imminent; I have only confidence in you--you alone can aid me; listen!"
Thereupon
Ah! it was this--yes, it was this that Madame d'Argeles had dreaded. She fell upon her knees, and, with clasped hands she entreated: "Pity!--oh! have pity--forgive me! Have mercy! Have I not always been a faithful and devoted friend to you? Think of the past you have just invoked! Who helped you then to bear your intolerable sufferings? Don't you remember the day when you, yourself, had determined to die by your own hand? There was a woman who persuaded you to abandon the thought of suicide. It was I!"
He looked at her for a moment with a softer expression, tears came to his eyes, and rolled down his cheeks. Then suddenly he raised her, and placed her in an arm-chair, exclaiming: "Ah! you know very well that I shall not do what I said. Don't you know me better than that? Are you not sure of my affection, are you not aware that you are sacred in my eyes?" He was evidently striving hard to master his emotion. "Besides," he added, "I had already pardoned before coming here. It was foolish on my part, perhaps, and for nothing in the world would I confess it to my acquaintances, but it is none the less true. I shall have my revenge in a certain fashion, however. I need only hold my peace, and the daughter of M. de Chalusse and Madame Trigault would become a lost woman. Is this not so? Very well, I shall offer her my assistance. It may, or may not, be another absurd and ridiculous fancy added to the many I have been guilty of. But no matter. I have promised. And why, indeed, should this poor girl be held responsible for the sins of her parents? I--I declare myself on her side against the world!"
Madame d'Argeles rose, her face radiant with joy and hope. "Then perhaps we are saved!" she exclaimed. "Ah! I knew when I sent for you that I should not appeal to your heart in vain!"
She took hold of his hand as if to raise it to her lips; but he gently withdrew it, and inquired, with an air of astonishment: "What do you mean?"
"That I have been cruelly punished for not wishing you to assist that unfortunate man who was dishonored here the other evening."
"Pascal Ferailleur?"
"Yes, he is innocent. The Viscount de Coralth is a scoundrel. It was he who slipped the cards which made M. Ferailleur win, into the pack, and he did it at the Marquis de Valorsay's instigation."
The baron looked at Madame d'Argeles with pro-found amazement. "What!" said he; "you knew this and you allowed it? You were cruel enough to remain silent when that innocent man entreated you to testify on his behalf! You allowed this atrocious crime to be executed under your own roof, and under your very eyes?"
"I was then ignorant of Mademoiselle Marguerite's existence. I did not know that the young man was beloved by my brother's daughter--I did not know--"
The baron interrupted her, and exclaimed, indignantly: "Ah! what does that matter? It was none the less an abominable action."
She hung her head, and in a scarcely audible voice replied: "I was not free. I submitted to a will that was stronger than my own. If you had heard M. de Coralth's threats you would not censure me so severely. He has discovered my secret; he knows Wilkie--I am in his power. Don't frown--I make no attempt to excuse myself--I am only explaining the position in which I was placed. My peril is imminent; I have only confidence in you--you alone can aid me; listen!"
Thereupon