"Pardon, father; pardon," cried Norbert, falling upon his knees.
The Duke softly stretched out his hand. "I was mad with family pride,"
said he; "and G.o.d punished me. My son, I forgive you."
Norbert"s sobs broke the stillness of the chamber.
"My son, I renounce my ideas," continued the Duke. "I do not desire you to wed Mademoiselle de Puymandour if you feel that you cannot love her."
"Father," answered Norbert, "I have obeyed your wishes, and she is now my wife."
A gleam of terrible anguish pa.s.sed over the Duke"s countenance; he raised his hands as though to shield his eyes from some grizzly spectre, and in tones of heartrending agony exclaimed: "Too late! Too late!"
He fell back in terrible convulsions, and in a moment was dead. If, as has been often a.s.serted, the veil of the hereafter is torn asunder, then the Duke de Champdoce had a glimpse into a terrible future.
CHAPTER XII.
"RASH WORD, RASH DEED."
After her repulse by Norbert, Diana, with the cold chill of death in her heart, made her way back to the Chateau of the De Laurebourgs, over the same road which but a short time before she had traveled full of expectation and hope. The sudden appearance of the Duke de Champdoce had filled her with alarm, but her imagination was not of that kind upon which unpleasant impressions remain for any long period; for after she had regained her room, and thrown aside her out-door attire, and removed all signs of mud-stains, she once more became herself, and even laughed a little rippling laugh at all her own past alarms. Overwhelmed with the shame of her repulse, she had threatened Norbert; but as she reasoned calmly, she felt that it was not he for whom she felt the most violent animosity. All her hatred was reserved for that woman who had come between her and her lover--for Marie de Puymandour. Some hidden feeling warned her that she must look into Marie"s past life for some reason for the rupture of her engagement with Norbert, though the banns had already been published. This was the frame of mind in which Diana was when the Viscount de Mussidan was introduced to her, the friend of the brother whose untimely death had left her such a wealthy heiress. He was tall and well made, with handsomely chiseled features; and, endowed with physical strength and health, Octave de Mussidan had the additional advantages of n.o.ble descent and princely fortune. Two women, both renowned for their wit and beauty, his aunt and his mother, had been intrusted with the education which would but enable him to shine in society.
Dispatched to Paris, with an ample allowance, at the age of twenty, he found himself, thanks to his birth and connections, in the very center of the world of fashion. At the sight of Mademoiselle de Laurebourg his heart was touched for the first time. Diana had never been more charmingly fascinating than she was at this period. Octave de Mussidan did not suit her fancy; there was too great a difference between him and Norbert, and nothing would ever efface from her memory the recollection of the young Marquis as he had appeared before her on the first day of their meeting in the Forest of Bevron, clad in his rustic garb, with the game he had shot dangling from his hand. She delighted to feast her recollection, and thought fondly of his shyness and diffidence when he hardly ventured to raise his eyes to hers. Octave, however, fell a victim at the first glance he caught of Diana, and permitted himself to be swept away by the tide of his private emotions, which upon every visit that he paid to Laurebourg became more powerful and resistless.
Like a true knight, who wishes that he himself should gain the love of his lady fair, Octave addressed himself directly to Diana, and after many attempts succeeded in finding himself alone with her, and then he asked her if she could permit him to crave of her father, the Marquis de Laurebourg, the honor of her hand. This appeal surprised her, for she had been so much absorbed in her own troubles that she had not even suspected his love for her. She was not even frightened at his declaration, as is the patient when the surgeon informs him that he must use the knife. She glanced at De Mussidan strangely as he put this question to her, and after a moment"s hesitation, replied that she would give him a reply the next day. After thinking the matter over, she wrote and dispatched the letter which Francoise had carried to Norbert. The prisoner in the dock as he anxiously awaits the sentence of his judge, can alone appreciate Diana"s state of agonized suspense as she stood at the end of the park at Laurebourg awaiting the return of the girl. Her anxiety of mind lasted nearly three hours, when Francoise hurried up breathless.
"What did the Marquis say?" asked Diana.
"He said nothing; that is, he cried out very angrily, "Never! no, never!""
In order to prevent any suspicions arising in the girl"s mind, Mademoiselle de Laurebourg contrived to force a laugh, exclaiming: "Ah!
indeed, that is just what I expected."
Francoise seemed as if she had something to say on the tip of her tongue, but Diana hurriedly dismissed her, pressing a coin into her hand. All anxiety was now at an end; for her there was no longer any suspense or anguish; all her struggles were now futile, and she felt grateful to Octave for having given her his love. "Once married,"
thought she, "I shall be free, and shall be able to follow the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess to Paris."
Upon her return to the Chateau, she found Octave awaiting her. His eyes put the question that his lips did not dare to utter; and, placing her hand in his with a gentle inclination of her head, she a.s.sented to his prayer.
This act on her part would, she believed, free her from the past; but she was in error. Upon hearing that his dastardly attempt at murder had failed, the Counsellor was for the time utterly overwhelmed with terror, but the news that he had gained from M. de Puymandour calmed his mind in a great measure. He was not, however, completely rea.s.sured until he heard for certain that the Duke had become a helpless maniac, and that the doctor, having given up all hopes of his patient"s recovery, had discontinued his visits to the Chateau. As soon as he had heard that Norbert"s marriage had been so soon followed by his father"s death, he imagined that every cloud had disappeared from the sky. All danger now seemed at an end, and he recalled with glee that he had in his strong box the promissory notes, signed by Norbert, to the amount of twenty thousand francs, which he could demand at any moment, now that Norbert was the reigning lord of Champdoce. The first step he took was to hang about the neighborhood of Laurebourg, for he thought that some lucky chance would surely favor him with an opportunity for a little conversation with Mademoiselle Diana. For several days in succession he was unsuccessful, but at last he was delighted at seeing her alone, walking in the direction of Bevron. Without her suspecting it, he followed her until the road pa.s.sed through a small plantation, when he came up and addressed her.
"What do you want with me?" asked she angrily.
He made no direct reply; but after apologizing for his boldness, he began to offer his congratulations upon her approaching marriage, which was now the talk of the whole neighborhood, and which pleased him much, as M. de Mussidan was in every way superior to--
"Is that all you have to say to me?" asked Diana, interrupting his string of words.
As she turned from him, he had the audacity to lay his hand upon the edge of her jacket.
"I have more to say," said he, "if you will honor me with your attention. Something about--you can guess what."
"About whom or what?" asked she, making no effort to hide her supreme contempt.
He smiled, glanced around to see that no one was within hearing, and then said in a low voice,--
"It is about the bottle of poison."
She recoiled, as though some venomous reptile had started up in front of her.
"What do you mean?" cried she. "How dare you speak to me thus?"
All his servile manner had now returned to him, and he uttered a string of complaints in a whining tone of voice. She had played him a most unfair trick, and had stolen a certain little gla.s.s bottle from his office; and if anything had leaked out, his head would have paid the penalty of a crime in which he had no hand. He was quite ill, owing to the suspense and anxiety he had endured; sleep would not come to his bed, and the pangs of remorse tortured him continually.
"Enough," cried Diana, stamping her foot angrily on the ground. "Enough, I say."
"Well, mademoiselle, I can no longer remain here. I am far too nervous, and I wish to go to some foreign country."
"Come, let me hear the real meaning of this long preface."
Thus adjured, Daumon spoke. He only wished for some little memento to cheer his days and nights of exile, some little recognition of his services; in fact, such a sum as would bring him in an income of three thousand francs.
"I understand you," replied Diana. "You wish to be paid for what you call your kindness."
"Ah, mademoiselle!"
"And you put a value of sixty thousand francs upon it; that is rather a high price, is it not?"
"Alas! it is not half what this unhappy business has cost me."
"Nonsense; your demand is preposterous."
"Demand!" returned he; "I make no demand. I come to you respectfully and with a little charity. If I were to demand, I should come to you in quite a different manner. I should say, "Pay me such and such a sum, or I tell everything." What have I to lose if the whole story comes to light? A mere nothing. I am a poor man, and am growing old. You and M.
Norbert are the ones that have something to fear. You are n.o.ble, rich, and young, and a happy future lies before you."
Diana paused and thought for an instant.
"You are speaking," answered she at last, "in a most foolish manner.
When charges are made against people, proofs must be forthcoming."
"Quite right, mademoiselle; but can you say that these proofs are not in my hands? Should you, however, desire to buy them, you are at liberty to do so. I give you the first option, and yet you grumble."
As he spoke, he drew a battered leather pocket-book from his breast, and took from it a paper, which, after having been crumpled, had been carefully smoothed out again. Diana glanced at it, and then uttered a stifled cry of rage and fear, for she at once recognized her last letter to Norbert.
"That wretch, Francoise, has betrayed me," exclaimed she, "and I saved her mother from a death by hunger and cold."
The Counsellor held out the letter to her. She thought that he had no suspicion of her, and made an attempt to s.n.a.t.c.h it from him; but he was on his guard, and drew back with a sarcastic smile on his face.
"No, mademoiselle," said he; "this is not the little bottle of poison; however, I will give it to you, together with another one, when I have obtained what I ask. Nothing for nothing, however; and if I must go to the scaffold, I will do so in good company."
Mademoiselle de Laurebourg was in utter despair.