terrestrial space, "if we have not sinned against thy divine
commandments, if we have not offended the Church, not yet the king,
we, who are one and the same being, in whom love shines with the light
that thou hast given to the pearl of the sea, be
merciful unto us, and
let us not be parted either in this world or in that which is to
come."
"Mother!" added Etienne, "who art in heaven,
obtain from the Virgin
that if we cannot--Gabrielle and I--be happy here below we may at
least die together, and without
suffering. Call us, and we will go to
thee."
Then, having recited their evening prayers, Gabrielle
related her
interview with Baron d'Artagnon.
"Gabrielle," said the young man,
gathering strength from his despair,
"I shall know how to
resist my father."
He kissed her on the
forehead, but not again upon the lips. Then he
returned to the castle,
resolved to face the terrible man who had
weighed so fearfully on his life. He did not know that Gabrielle's
house would be surrounded and guarded by soldiers the moment that he
quitted it.
The next day he was struck down with grief when, on going to see her,
he found her a prisoner. But Gabrielle sent her nurse to tell him she
would die sooner than be false to him; and,
moreover, that she knew a
way to
deceive the guards, and would soon take
refuge in the
cardinal's library, where no one would
suspect her presence, though
she did not as yet know when she could accomplish it. Etienne on that
returned to his room, where all the forces of his heart were spent in
the
dreadfulsuspense of waiting.
At three o'clock on the afternoon of that day the equipages of the
duke and suite entered the
courtyard of the castle. Madame la Comtesse
de Grandlieu, leaning on the arm of her daughter, the duke and
Marquise de Noirmoutier mounted the grand
staircase in silence, for
the stern brow of the master had awed the servants. Though Baron
d'Artagnon now knew that Gabrielle had evaded his guards, he assured
the duke she was a prisoner, for he trembled lest his own private
scheme should fail if the duke were angered by this
flight. Those two
terrible faces--his and the duke's--wore a
fierce expression that was
ill-disguised by an air of
gallantry imposed by the occasion. The duke
had already sent to his son, ordering him to be present in the salon.
When the company entered it, d'Artagnon saw by the
downcast look on
Etienne's face that as yet he did not know of Gabrielle's escape.
"This is my son," said the old duke,
taking Etienne by the hand and
presenting him to the ladies.
Etienne bowed without uttering a word. The
countess and Mademoiselle
de Grandlieu exchanged a look which the old man intercepted.
"Your daughter will be ill-matched--is that your thought?" he said in
a low voice.
"I think quite the
contrary, my dear duke," replied the mother,
smiling.
The Marquise de Noirmoutier, who accompanied her sister, laughed
significantly. That laugh stabbed Etienne to the heart; already the
sight of the tall lady had terrified him.
"Well, Monsieur le duc," said the duke in a low voice and assuming a
lively air, "have I not found you a handsome wife? What do you say to
that slip of a girl, my cherub?"
The old duke never doubted his son's
obedience; Etienne, to him, was
the son of his mother, of the same dough, docile to his kneading.
"Let him have a child and die," thought the old man; "little I care."
"Father," said the young man, in a gentle voice, "I do not understand
you."
"Come into your own room, I have a few words to say to you," replied
the duke, leading the way into the state bedroom.
Etienne followed his father. The three ladies, stirred with a
curiosity that was shared by Baron d'Artagnon, walked about the great
salon in a manner to group themselves finally near the door of the
bedroom, which the duke had left
partially open.
"Dear Benjamin," said the duke, softening his voice, "I have selected
that tall and handsome young lady as your wife; she is heiress to the
estates of the younger branch of the house of Grandlieu, a fine old
family of Bretagne. Therefore make yourself
agreeable; remember all
the love-making you have read of in your books, and learn to make
pretty speeches."
"Father, is it not the first duty of a
nobleman to keep his word?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, on the day when I forgave you the death of my mother,
dying here through her marriage with you, did you not promise me never
to
thwart my wishes? 'I will obey you as the family god,' were the
words you said to me. I ask nothing of you, I simply demand my freedom
in a matter which concerns my life and myself only,--namely, my
marriage."
"I understood," replied the old man, all the blood in his body rushing
into his face, "that you would not oppose the
continuation of our
noble race."
"You made no condition," said Etienne. "I do not know what love has to
do with race; but this I know, I love the daughter of your old friend
Beauvouloir, and the granddaughter of your friend La Belle Romaine."
"She is dead," replied the old colossus, with an air both
savage and
jeering, which told only too
plainly his
intention of making away with
her.
A moment of deep silence followed.
The duke saw, through the half-opened door, the three ladies and
d'Artagnon. At that crucial moment Etienne, whose sense of
hearing was
acute, heard in the cardinal's library poor Gabrielle's voice,
singing, to let her lover know she was there,--
"Ermine hath not
Her pureness;
The lily not her whiteness."
The hated son, whom his father's
horrible speech had flung into a gulf
of death, returned to the surface of life at the sound of that voice.
Though the
emotion of
terror thus rapidly cast off had already in that
instant, broken his heart, he gathered up his strength, looked his
father in the face for the first time in his life, gave scorn for
scorn, and said, in tones of hatred:--
"A
nobleman ought not to lie."
Then with one bound he
sprang to the door of the library and cried:--
"Gabrielle!"
Suddenly the gentle creature appeared among the shadows, like the lily
among its leaves, trembling before those mocking women thus informed
of Etienne's love. As the clouds that bear the
thunderproject upon
the heavens, so the old duke, reaching a degree of anger that defies
description, stood out upon the
brilliantbackground produced by the
rich clothing of those courtly dames. Between the
destruction of his
son and a mesalliance, every other father would have hesitated, but in
this uncontrollable old man
ferocity was the power which had so far
solved the difficulties of life for him; he drew his sword in all
cases, as the only
remedy that he knew for the gordian knots of life.
Under present circumstances, when the
convulsion of his ideas had
reached its
height, the nature of the man came uppermost. Twice
detected in flagrant
falsehood by the being he abhorred, the son he
cursed, cursing him more than ever in this
supreme moment when that
son's despised, and to him most despicable,
weakness triumphed over
his own omnipotence,
infallible till then, the father and the man
ceased to exist, the tiger issued from its lair. Casting at the angels
before him--the sweetest pair that ever set their feet on earth--a
murderous look of hatred,--
"Die, then, both of you!" he cried. "You, vile abortion, the proof of
my shame--and you," he said to Gabrielle, "miserable strumpet with the
viper tongue, who has poisoned my house."
These words struck home to the hearts of the two children the
terrorthat already surcharged them. At the moment when Etienne saw the huge
hand of his father raising a
weapon upon Gabrielle he died, and
Gabrielle fell dead in striving to
retain him.
The old man left them, and closed the door
violently,
saying to
Mademoiselle de Grandlieu:--
"I will marry you myself!"
"You are young and
gallant enough to have a fine new lineage,"
whispered the
countess in the ear of the old man, who had served under
seven kings of France.
End