The Elusive Pimpernel [45]
words found an echo in the depths of her own heart. How well she knew that tyranny of which Candeille spoke with such bitterness! Had she not suffered from it, endured terrible sorrow and humiliation, when under the ban of that same appalling tyranny she had betrayed the identity-- then unknown to her--of the Scarlet Pimpernel?
Therefore when Candeille paused after those last excited words, she said with more gentleness than she had shown hitherto, though still quite coldly:
"But you have not yet told me why you came back here to-night? If Citizen Chauvelin was your taskmaster, then you must know all that has occurred."
"I had a vague hope that I might see you."
"For what purpose?"
"To warn you if I could."
"I need no warning."
"Or are too proud to take one. ... Do you know, Lady Blakeney, that Citizen Chauvelin has a personal hatred against your husband?"
"How do you know that?" asked Marguerite, with her suspicions once more on the qui-vive. She could not understand Candeille's attitude. This midnight visit, the vehemence of her language, the strange mixture of knowledge and ignorance which she displayed. What did this woman know of Chauvelin's secret plans? Was she his open ally, or his helpless tool? And was she even now playing a part taught her or commanded her by that prince of intriguers?
Candeille, however, seemed quite unaware of the spirit of antagonism and mistrust which Marguerite took but little pains now to disguise. She clasped her hands together, and her voice shook with the earnestness of her entreaty.
"Oh!" she said eagerly, "have I not seen that look of hatred in Chauvelin's cruel eyes? ... He hates your husband, I tell you. ... Why I know not ... but he hates him .. and means that great harm shall come to Sir Percy through this absurd duel. ... Oh! Lady Blakeney, do not let him go ... I entreat you, do not let him go!"
But Marguerite proudly drew back a step or two, away from the reach of those hands, stretched out towards her in such vehement appeal.
"You are overwrought, Mademoiselle," she said coldly. "Believe me, I have no need either of your entreaties or of your warning. ... I should like you to think that I have no wish to be ungrateful ... that I appreciate any kind thought you may have harboured for me in your mind. ... But beyond that ... please forgive me if I say it somewhat crudely--I do not feel that the matter concerns you in the least. ... The hour is late," she added more gently, as if desiring to attenuate the harshness of her last words. "Shall I send my maid to escort you home? She is devoted and discreet ..."
"Nay!" retorted the other in tones of quiet sadness, "there is no need of discretion ... I am not ashamed of my visit to you to-night. ... You are very proud, and for your sake I will pray to God that sorrow and humiliation may not come to you, as I feared. ... We are never likely to meet again, Lady Blakeney ... you will not wish it, and I shall have passed out of your life as swiftly as I had entered into it. ... But there was another thought lurking in my mind when I came to-night. ... In case Sir Percy goes to France ... the duel is to take place in or near Boulogne ... this much I do know ... would you not wish to go with him?"
"Truly, Mademoiselle, I must repeat to you ..."
"That 'tis no concern of mine ... I know ... I own that. ... But, you see when I came back here to-night in the silence and the darkness--I had not guessed that you would be so proud ... I thought that I, a woman, would know how to touch your womanly heart. ... I was clumsy, I suppose. ... I made so sure that you would wish to go with your husband, in case ... in case he insisted on running his head into the noose, which I feel sure Chauvelin has prepared for him. ... I myself start for France shortly. Citizen Chauvelin has provided me with the necessary passport for myself and my maid, who was to have accompanied me. ... Then, just now, when I was all alone ... and thought over all the mischief which that fiend had forced me to do for him, it seemed to me
Therefore when Candeille paused after those last excited words, she said with more gentleness than she had shown hitherto, though still quite coldly:
"But you have not yet told me why you came back here to-night? If Citizen Chauvelin was your taskmaster, then you must know all that has occurred."
"I had a vague hope that I might see you."
"For what purpose?"
"To warn you if I could."
"I need no warning."
"Or are too proud to take one. ... Do you know, Lady Blakeney, that Citizen Chauvelin has a personal hatred against your husband?"
"How do you know that?" asked Marguerite, with her suspicions once more on the qui-vive. She could not understand Candeille's attitude. This midnight visit, the vehemence of her language, the strange mixture of knowledge and ignorance which she displayed. What did this woman know of Chauvelin's secret plans? Was she his open ally, or his helpless tool? And was she even now playing a part taught her or commanded her by that prince of intriguers?
Candeille, however, seemed quite unaware of the spirit of antagonism and mistrust which Marguerite took but little pains now to disguise. She clasped her hands together, and her voice shook with the earnestness of her entreaty.
"Oh!" she said eagerly, "have I not seen that look of hatred in Chauvelin's cruel eyes? ... He hates your husband, I tell you. ... Why I know not ... but he hates him .. and means that great harm shall come to Sir Percy through this absurd duel. ... Oh! Lady Blakeney, do not let him go ... I entreat you, do not let him go!"
But Marguerite proudly drew back a step or two, away from the reach of those hands, stretched out towards her in such vehement appeal.
"You are overwrought, Mademoiselle," she said coldly. "Believe me, I have no need either of your entreaties or of your warning. ... I should like you to think that I have no wish to be ungrateful ... that I appreciate any kind thought you may have harboured for me in your mind. ... But beyond that ... please forgive me if I say it somewhat crudely--I do not feel that the matter concerns you in the least. ... The hour is late," she added more gently, as if desiring to attenuate the harshness of her last words. "Shall I send my maid to escort you home? She is devoted and discreet ..."
"Nay!" retorted the other in tones of quiet sadness, "there is no need of discretion ... I am not ashamed of my visit to you to-night. ... You are very proud, and for your sake I will pray to God that sorrow and humiliation may not come to you, as I feared. ... We are never likely to meet again, Lady Blakeney ... you will not wish it, and I shall have passed out of your life as swiftly as I had entered into it. ... But there was another thought lurking in my mind when I came to-night. ... In case Sir Percy goes to France ... the duel is to take place in or near Boulogne ... this much I do know ... would you not wish to go with him?"
"Truly, Mademoiselle, I must repeat to you ..."
"That 'tis no concern of mine ... I know ... I own that. ... But, you see when I came back here to-night in the silence and the darkness--I had not guessed that you would be so proud ... I thought that I, a woman, would know how to touch your womanly heart. ... I was clumsy, I suppose. ... I made so sure that you would wish to go with your husband, in case ... in case he insisted on running his head into the noose, which I feel sure Chauvelin has prepared for him. ... I myself start for France shortly. Citizen Chauvelin has provided me with the necessary passport for myself and my maid, who was to have accompanied me. ... Then, just now, when I was all alone ... and thought over all the mischief which that fiend had forced me to do for him, it seemed to me