At this moment the clock of Saint Pierre struck half-past eleven.
Master Zacharius turned quickly towards this ancient clock which still spoke. It seemed to him as if its face was gazing steadily at him; the figures of the hours shone as if they had been engraved in lines of fire, and the hands shot forth electric sparks from their sharp points.
[Ill.u.s.tration: This proud old man remained motionless]
The ma.s.s ended. It was customary for the "Angelus" to be said at noon, and the priests, before leaving the altar, waited for the clock to strike the hour of twelve. In a few moments this prayer would ascend to the feet of the Virgin.
But suddenly a harsh noise was heard. Master Zacharius uttered a piercing cry.
The large hand of the clock, having reached twelve, had abruptly stopped, and the clock did not strike the hour.
Gerande hastened to her father"s aid. He had fallen down motionless, and they carried him outside the church.
"It is the death-blow!" murmured Gerande, sobbing.
When he had been borne home, Master Zacharius lay upon his bed utterly crushed. Life seemed only to still exist on the surface of his body, like the last whiffs of smoke about a lamp just extinguished. When he came to his senses, Aubert and Gerande were leaning over him. In these last moments the future took in his eyes the shape of the present. He saw his daughter alone, without a protector.
"My son," said he to Aubert, "I give my daughter to thee."
So saying, he stretched out his hands towards his two children, who were thus united at his death-bed.
But soon Master Zacharius lifted himself up in a paroxysm of rage. The words of the little old man recurred to his mind.
"I do not wish to die!" he cried; "I cannot die! I, Master Zacharius, ought not to die! My books--my accounts!--"
With these words he sprang from his bed towards a book in which the names of his customers and the articles which had been sold to them were inscribed. He seized it and rapidly turned over its leaves, and his emaciated finger fixed itself on one of the pages.
"There!" he cried, "there! this old iron clock, sold to Pittonaccio! It is the only one that has not been returned to me!
It still exists--it goes--it lives! Ah, I wish for it--I must find it! I will take such care of it that death will no longer seek me!"
And he fainted away.
Aubert and Gerande knelt by the old man"s bed-side and prayed together.
CHAPTER V.
THE HOUR OF DEATH.
Several days pa.s.sed, and Master Zacharius, though almost dead, rose from his bed and returned to active life under a supernatural excitement. He lived by pride. But Gerande did not deceive herself; her father"s body and soul were for ever lost.
The old man got together his last remaining resources, without thought of those who were dependent upon him. He betrayed an incredible energy, walking, ferreting about, and mumbling strange, incomprehensible words.
One morning Gerande went down to his shop. Master Zacharius was not there. She waited for him all day. Master Zacharius did not return.
Gerande wept bitterly, but her father did not reappear.
Aubert searched everywhere through the town, and soon came to the sad conviction that the old man had left it.
"Let us find my father!" cried Gerande, when the young apprentice told her this sad news.
"Where can he be?" Aubert asked himself.
An inspiration suddenly came to his mind. He remembered the last words which Master Zacharius had spoken. The old man only lived now in the old iron clock that had not been returned! Master Zacharius must have gone in search of it.
Aubert spoke of this to Gerande.
"Let us look at my father"s book," she replied.
They descended to the shop. The book was open on the bench. All the watches or clocks made by the old man, and which had been returned to him because they were out of order, were stricken out excepting one:--
"Sold to M. Pittonaccio, an iron clock, with bell and moving figures; sent to his chateau at Andernatt."
It was this "moral" clock of which Scholastique had spoken with so much enthusiasm.
"My father is there!" cried Gerande.
"Let us hasten thither," replied Aubert. "We may still save him!"
"Not for this life," murmured Gerande, "but at least for the other."
"By the mercy of G.o.d, Gerande! The chateau of Andernatt stands in the gorge of the "Dents-du-Midi" twenty hours from Geneva. Let us go!"
That very evening Aubert and Gerande, followed by the old servant, set out on foot by the road which skirts Lake Leman.
They accomplished five leagues during the night, stopping neither at Bessinge nor at Ermance, where rises the famous chateau of the Mayors. They with difficulty forded the torrent of the Dranse, and everywhere they went they inquired for Master Zacharius, and were soon convinced that they were on his track.
The next morning, at daybreak, having pa.s.sed Thonon, they reached Evian, whence the Swiss territory may be seen extended over twelve leagues. But the two betrothed did not even perceive the enchanting prospect. They went straight forward, urged on by a supernatural force. Aubert, leaning on a knotty stick, offered his arm alternately to Gerande and to Scholastique, and he made the greatest efforts to sustain his companions. All three talked of their sorrow, of their hopes, and thus pa.s.sed along the beautiful road by the water-side, and across the narrow plateau which unites the borders of the lake with the heights of the Chalais. They soon reached Bouveret, where the Rhone enters the Lake of Geneva.
On leaving this town they diverged from the lake, and their weariness increased amid these mountain districts. Vionnaz, Chesset, Collombay, half lost villages, were soon left behind.
Meanwhile their knees shook, their feet were lacerated by the sharp points which covered the ground like a brushwood of granite;--but no trace of Master Zacharius!
He must be found, however, and the two young people did not seek repose either in the isolated hamlets or at the chateau of Monthay, which, with its dependencies, formed the appanage of Margaret of Savoy. At last, late in the day, and half dead with fatigue, they reached the hermitage of Notre-Dame-du-s.e.x, which is situated at the base of the Dents-du-Midi, six hundred feet above the Rhone.
The hermit received the three wanderers as night was falling.
They could not have gone another step, and here they must needs rest.
The hermit could give them no news of Master Zacharius. They could scarcely hope to find him still living amid these sad solitudes. The night was dark, the wind howled amid the mountains, and the avalanches roared down from the summits of the broken crags.
Aubert and Gerande, crouching before the hermit"s hearth, told him their melancholy tale. Their mantles, covered with snow, were drying in a corner; and without, the hermit"s dog barked lugubriously, and mingled his voice with that of the tempest.
"Pride," said the hermit to his guests, "has destroyed an angel created for good. It is the stumbling-block against which the destinies of man strike. You cannot reason with pride, the princ.i.p.al of all the vices, since, by its very nature, the proud man refuses to listen to it. It only remains, then, to pray for your father!"
All four knelt down, when the barking of the dog redoubled, and some one knocked at the door of the hermitage.
"Open, in the devil"s name!"
The door yielded under the blows, and a dishevelled, haggard, ill-clothed man appeared.