[Ill.u.s.tration: Headpiece to Chapter VII]
CHAPTER VII.
Alighting hastily from the carriage, Clotilde ran up the great flight of steps which led to the door. As she entered, it was closed behind her, but to her surprise, and much to her relief, she found that the janitress was a nun.
"Tell me, good sister, tell me for the love of Heaven, what place is this? Where have these men brought me to?" she exclaimed, trembling with excitement.
Apparently somewhat astonished at the vehemence of the new-comer, the female answered only by making a sign to Clotilde to follow her; she then led the way across the hall to a s.p.a.cious apartment, and there left her. Clotilde would have repeated her questions, but she was too late, and on trying the door she found it locked.
The fact that the house must in some way be connected with a religious establishment of some kind allayed her fears, however, and she cast an anxious glance around the apartment, which was lighted by a handsome chandelier suspended from the ceiling. Her quick eye soon noticed more than one little accessory, which showed that the room was habitually occupied by a lady, and one moreover with wealth at her command, and apparently of refined taste. Any further speculations, however, were interrupted by the entrance of a personage whose dress and bearing seemed to indicate that she must be the Lady Superior of the place.
The poor girl"s first impulse was to spring towards her new protectress and pour out her troubles to her, but in spite of herself she felt the impulse checked, and her overflowing heart chilled by the cold and supercilious look that made still more repellant a face repulsively plain.
Clotilde could only clasp her hands together and gaze at her new hostess, as if she felt that any appeal for help or pity from such a quarter would be hopeless.
"I presume, mademoiselle," said the Lady Superior at last, "that we may begin by taking it for granted that you quite understand the reasons which have induced your friends, for your own good as well as in your own interests, to take the course they have done."
These words were spoken in a voice so sweet, and with an air of such high and courtly breeding, that for a moment Clotilde forgot everything else in her surprise that they could belong to one so hideously ugly.
But the feeling was only momentary; the terrors of the night, which might well have beaten down the boldest spirit, had pa.s.sed away; and once more, face to face with one of her own s.e.x, Clotilde was herself again.
"I can indeed guess, madame," she answered, with almost her usual vivacity, "what reasons have induced those who should be dear to me to do this most wicked thing; but right glad am I to think that they have been foiled. By a strange mistake the bird they meant to catch has escaped, and I have for the moment fallen into the trap intended for another. I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance--a nearer acquaintance, indeed, I do not desire, if I am to understand that you are a willing party to this abominable plot--but I beg to introduce myself to you as the Baroness Clotilde de Valricour. May I beg the honour of your name and t.i.tle?"
The lady"s supercilious look gave place just for a few seconds to one of involuntary surprise, but it soon came back again as she replied, "Mademoiselle Lacroix will pardon me if I do not allow myself to be deceived by this little scheme. I have been made so far acquainted with the circ.u.mstances of the case as to know that much deceit has been already practised, in which I believe the young baroness you speak of has not been without her share, and this may be, for aught I know, some fresh and cleverly devised phase of it. I must be excused for believing that those who had the matter in hand would not make so very silly a mistake, and I have only to communicate to mademoiselle the object with which she has been brought hither."
It may well be imagined that Clotilde was not a little disconcerted both by the tone and tenor of this reply. Had she been able to frame any very definite wish during her journey, it would perhaps have been that she might meet with some such person as the Lady Superior of a religious house and claim her protection. Here she was in just such a position, yet with the clouds apparently gathering still more blackly over her. She would have been less surprised, however, had she known a little more about the antecedents of Madame de Varny, the Superior of the Ursuline Convent, the place to which she had been brought. n.o.ble by birth, and pre-eminently lovely and accomplished, Madame de Varny had once been the proudest beauty of the court of King Louis, but having been attacked by that terrible scourge the small-pox, she had recovered only to find herself as hideous as she had once been beautiful. To be an object of loathing where she had formerly been courted and admired was more than her frivolous and worldly mind could bear, and she had retired to the seclusion of a nominally religious life, in which her rank and influence secured her the position she now enjoyed; but, like many of her cla.s.s, she still clung to the world, and her intriguing disposition led her often enough to lend her aid, whenever those with whom she had been used to a.s.sociate required it, to carry out some plot or scheme arising out of the debased and unscrupulous court life of that period. She was an old acquaintance of Madame de Valricour, and in her the baroness had found an able and willing confederate in the business now on hand.
"Madame," said Clotilde, after a short silence, "you will believe me or not, as you think best, and will make to me what communication you choose; it rests with me to decide how I shall act upon it."
"Not altogether," replied the lady, with a smile that had nothing very pleasant in it. "Mademoiselle will not have much choice in the matter.
I shall not waste time," she continued, "by any allusion to the family circ.u.mstances to which you owe your visit here; they are as well known to you as to me--perhaps better. I can pity your infatuation of course; it must have been very great indeed to allow you to suppose that a personage so exalted as the Marquis de Beaujardin could for one moment dream of permitting an alliance between his son and one like yourself. Such a thing would be absurd, and of course the marquis and his relatives must prevent it by all and any means. It has been therefore arranged that a gentleman of excellent family, who it seems has had some opportunity of meeting you, and has, I hear, been much taken with your modest manners, as some foolish young men occasionally are, shall make you his wife. The marriage will take place here this afternoon; and I am permitted to tell you that the Marquis de Beaujardin has most generously taken it upon him to provide a dowry for you, notwithstanding your ingrat.i.tude to that n.o.ble family. You are indeed fortunate, my young lady, in so happy an ending to so lamentable an affair." Here the lady paused as if to receive the acknowledgments befitting such kindness and consideration.
"Indeed!" answered Clotilde at last. "Indeed! And pray, madame, what if, in the new character thus forced upon me, I should decline to accept the gentleman, and should fling my uncle"s dowry in his face, and tell him that he ought to be ashamed of degrading himself by taking part against a poor orphan girl, whom he and his are bound by all that is sacred to love and protect? What then?"
The lady seemed just for a minute or so rather bewildered by Clotilde"s vehement sally, but as soon as she recovered herself she replied with ominous coldness and decision, "I can scarcely suppose that mademoiselle could do anything so very silly; but if such should be the case, why there will be another ride in the coach, perhaps a longer one than the last. It will certainly not be to Beaujardin nor to Valricour. Where it may stop I will not pretend to say. But did Mademoiselle Marguerite never hear of such a thing as a _lettre de cachet_? Well, you will have some hours to think over it, and in the meanwhile you will be quite safe here; but pray do not cherish any foolish hope that you have any choice except between a ring and a ride to some place where you will not be less safe than here, but where you will most a.s.suredly stay a good deal longer. Let us hope that you will be better advised, and accept the hand of Monsieur de Crillon."
The hand of Monsieur de Crillon! Yes, those were the words with which the imperious dame had swept out of the room, locking the door after her. Clotilde could scarcely believe her ears. Then he, too, who had allowed her, nay, led her to suppose that to win her hand was the object nearest to his heart, had consented for the sake of the promised dowry to wed one for whom he cared not a jot, well knowing that the union could only bring misery, not happiness, to the victim of his selfish covetousness! Never till this moment had Clotilde suspected how much she really cared for him; but that was now a thing of the past. Happily she had learned in time how mean and despicable he was, and in her indignation she rejoiced at the humiliation he would experience on finding that the wicked scheme was marred, and that he himself would have the task of proving who she was, and bringing about her release. But it was a bitter thing to find herself in such a position, and to know that her mother, and even the marquis, were concerned in such a plot. It is scarcely to be wondered at that she at length gave way to her grief; her only comfort was that, as it had turned out, Marguerite had escaped the present danger, and as she thought of this she could not help feeling thankful that there would yet be a delay of many hours before the shameless de Crillon would discover how they had been foiled.
Somewhat rea.s.sured by these reflections, she proceeded to examine a little more calmly the place where she was detained. She now observed for the first time a side-table, on which a repast that might serve either as a supper or a breakfast was laid out, and on looking timidly through an open door she found a sleeping apartment, evidently intended for the expected prisoner. She was too excited as yet to take either food or rest, and sat down to meditate on the prospect before her. It would, however, be as painful as it would be profitless to follow her through the long hours that ensued; let us see, then, what in the meanwhile was happening elsewhere.
Madame de Valricour had remained at Beaujardin for the night, perhaps not caring to have to answer the questions with which Clotilde might be expected to meet her on her return home. What was her surprise when, early in the forenoon, a messenger arrived from Valricour with a note from Madame de Bleury, informing her that immediately on the departure of the coach on the previous evening Isidore had left the chateau in company with Mademoiselle de Valricour, and that they had not since returned. Utterly at a loss to account for so strange a proceeding, the baroness prepared to hasten home at once, but finally resolved first to make sure that the plot against Marguerite, which she deemed of the greatest moment, had been successful; and she accordingly set out for the convent. It was a ride of some hours" length, and she did not arrive until the afternoon was well advanced. Imagine her amazement and anger when, after hearing from the Superior an account of her interview with the young lady, she satisfied herself beyond a doubt that Clotilde was really there, and that it must have been Marguerite with whom Isidore had escaped from Valricour.
"Bid Monsieur de Crillon wait for me when he arrives," said she. "I shall want his help more than ever. In the meanwhile I will go and inform the cure that his services will not be required at present. I will then see my daughter, and take her home."
The little dwelling of Pere Hypolite was at no great distance from the convent, and the baroness soon reached the small but exquisite garden, in which she found the priest busily engaged in planting out his choice flowers for the summer. A little later in the year and those flowers would outshine even the gay and splendid costume in which the baroness had hastily quitted the Chateau de Beaujardin. The unwonted appearance of a lady in such brilliant attire at once attracted the attention of Pere Hypolite, who bowed respectfully as she approached him.
"You are Father Hypolite, the cure of St. Sulpice--is it not so?" said she. The old man bowed a.s.sent. "I have come to tell you that the marriage you were to have solemnised cannot take place to-day."
Pere Hypolite looked somewhat surprised.
"The marriage!" said he. "I do not quite understand your ladyship."
"I mean the marriage of Mademoiselle Lacroix and a gentleman of rank who was to come here for the purpose," rejoined the lady. "The Lady Superior told me that you had been directed to hold yourself in readiness to perform the rite."
"The marriage of Mademoiselle Lacroix!" replied the priest, apparently amazed. "There must be some mistake. I did receive the directions of the Lady Superior, and the marriage took place this morning."
"This morning! Are you mad?" retorted the baroness. "What marriage?"
"The marriage of Mademoiselle Lacroix with the young Marquis de Beaujardin, who came here to St. Sulpice for the purpose."
"Fool! idiot! do you know what you are saying? There has been no marriage at the convent to-day. Are you mad?"
"Pardon me, madame," replied the priest, with dignity. "Even your ladyship"s rank, whoever you may be, cannot excuse such expressions towards one of my holy calling. What I have told you is the simple truth. Little as I like these hasty and irregular proceedings, you must be well aware that one in my humble position must needs do the bidding of those who have a right to dictate to him in such matters.
The persons I have named to you were married by me this morning soon after daybreak at the chapel of St. Sulpice."
For a little while Madame de Valricour seemed utterly confounded. As soon as she regained her self-control she demanded of the priest a full account of what had occurred.
"It was simply thus," said he. "Quite early this morning Colonel de Beaujardin, whom I know of course by sight, came to me, and, not without some agitation, told me that he wished to speak to me as to the possibility of his being united to Mademoiselle Lacroix, who had come to the village under circ.u.mstances of peculiar difficulty arising out of some family differences. I told him that I had already received directions respecting the marriage of Mademoiselle Lacroix on her arrival here, though of course I knew nothing of the private matters to which he alluded, and that it was not for me to enter into them. He seemed somewhat astonished."
"No doubt. I should think so indeed," muttered the baroness between her teeth. "What next?"
"I a.s.sumed, as a matter of course, that the family desired the marriage to be kept secret on account of the disparity in the rank of the young people; but this was no business of mine, and I simply asked him whether I should repair to the convent, and at what hour. He then told me that it was his wish that the marriage should be solemnised, not at the convent, but at our little chapel here, adding that he would arrange, if possible, to meet me there in an hour"s time. He did so, and the marriage took place in the presence of Michel Greboeuf and his wife. I have nothing more to add."
"You have said enough, in all conscience," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the baroness, pa.s.sionately. "But you shall pay dearly for this, miserable creature!"
and with these words the enraged lady hurried away, leaving the good old priest as thunderstruck as she herself had been but a few short minutes since.
Inquiring of the first person whom she met the way to Michel Greboeuf"s house, Madame de Valricour at once bent her steps thither, and soon reached the spot. Anything more miserable and dilapidated than Greboeuf"s cottage could hardly be conceived, though it was perhaps no worse than the dwellings of most people of his cla.s.s in France at that time. Michel was standing at the door, and a very small exercise of Madame de Valricour"s powers was required in order to obtain from him the fullest corroboration of all she had heard from Father Hypolite.
"Though, to be sure," continued the simple-hearted peasant, who was quite won over by the gracious condescension of so grand a personage, "I think the young gentleman did not come here intending at first to marry the lady, but only to leave her for a time under our poor roof; but when they saw what a place it was they were in a great taking, as you may suppose, and he went down to Father Hypolite to talk about it, as I told him that the good man was always ready to help anybody in distress; and sure enough he came back presently and said they were to be married at once. The poor young lady was in a terrible way about it, I can tell you, madame. However, we all went down together to the chapel, and that is how it came about."
"What! are they still here then?" asked Madame de Valricour, eagerly.
"O dear, no!" replied Greboeuf. "Our poor place is not fit for the like of them, for I a.s.sure you, madame, I think they be quite gentle folks."
"Poor place indeed! I should think so. What on earth could ever have brought them here?"
"Why, you see, madame, a cousin of mine, a M. Perigord, who is employed at the Chateau de Beaujardin, sent them here to me, and asked me to do anything I could to help them; and I would give the last drop of my blood to serve my cousin Perigord, for we should all have perished long ago but for his kindness. He kept us alive all last winter, when things were so bad. Ah, madame, you great folks don"t know what the poor people suffer. We had no fuel and had to lie a-bed to warm ourselves, till we were obliged to get rid even of our beds and last bits of furniture for a mouthful of bread. But my cousin heard of it and helped us. As for those who haven"t got such a friend, what with crown taxes, duties, fines, tolls, and forced labour on the roads, manorial dues, seigneurial rights, and I don"t know how many more heart-vexing imposts and exactions besides, there"s nothing left to subsist upon; and that"s hard when one hears how grandly all the great folks live, and never lift a finger to keep the poor from starving."
"But where have they gone?" inquired the lady, eagerly.
"Well, madame, I took them on to the next village, where the gentleman got a good horse, and presently rode away with his young wife on a pillion behind him. They have gone to Nantes, where a brother of my cousin Perigord keeps an inn on the Quai La Fosse."
It was not long before Madame de Valricour was closeted with de Crillon, who had by this time arrived at the convent.
"We have come too late," said she, bitterly, after describing her interviews with the cure and Greboeuf.
De Crillon shrugged his shoulders. "I presume, then," said he, "that there is nothing more to be done."