Clermont/Chapter 21
CHAP. V.
"Ah, fear, ah, frantic fear,
"I see, I see thee near:
"I know thy hurried step, thy haggard eye,
"Like thee I start, like thee disordered fly."
"What is the matter, Floretta?" asked Madeline, in a voice of alarm.
"Ah! Mademoiselle, (exclaimed Floretta, dropping into a chair, and wringing her hands) poor Agatha!"
"What of her?" cried Madeline, with an eagerness that shook her frame.
"She is dead!" replied Floretta.
"Dead! (repeated Madeline, receding a few paces and wildly staring) dead!" she exclaimed, with mingled doubt and horror.
"Yes, (said Floretta) and her death is attended with such appearances!"
Madeline trembled universally, her respiration grew faint, she sat down by Floretta, she laid her cold hand upon her, but it was many minutes ere she could speak.
"Her death has been attended with suspicious circumstances then?" said she.
"It has," replied Floretta.
Madeline started up, and wildly demanded whether she could not see Madame D'Alembert directly.
Without giving herself time to reflect how very improbable it was that they could have gained access to the castle to perpetrate the crime she accused them of, the moment Madeline heard of Agatha's death being attended with suspicious circumstances, she conceived the dreadful idea of her having fallen a victim to the murderers of the countess, in order to prevent their being discovered; and to a similar apprehension she could not doubt she would be sacrificed herself, as they had seen her in the chapel with Agatha.
It was this fear therefore that made her wish to see Madame D'Alembert directly that she might entreat her permission to return to her father without any farther delay.
"See my lady, Mademoiselle," said Floretta, also rising.
"Yes, (cried Madeline, almost gasping for breath), this house is no longer safe for me to dwell in, and she must let me quit it directly."
"I will go and try whether she can come to you Mademoiselle, (said Floretta, who, alarmed by her agitation, feared to oppose her), but indeed I fear she cannot, without Monsieurs knowledge, as she is now engaged with him and his company: I know she intends to visit you to-night, as she and my master are to have separate chambers, though it will be at a late hour; if you could wait till then it would be better."
"Well, (cried Madeline, growing a little composed and re-seating herself) if you are sure she intends to come, I will, however contrary to my inclination, wait her own time, rather than expose her to the displeasure of Monsieur D'Alembert: and yet, Floretta, (continued she looking earnestly at her) I cannot conceive why he should be displeased to hear I was in the chateau."
"Displeased! (repeated Floretta), Lord I am sure he would be rejoiced!"
"Rejoiced!" exclaimed Madeline.
"Yes, I have not a doubt but what he would," said Floretta.
"Then why (asked Madeline) am I concealed?"
"Because," cried Floretta—
"What?" eagerly demanded Madeline.
"Why to tell you the truth, Mademoiselle (cried Floretta) but remember it must go no farther, I believe my lady thinks you are too pretty to be seen by Monsieur."
"Heavens! (exclaimed Madeline) what would you have me imagine that your lady could harbour a suspicion of me?"
"Lord, no, to be sure I would not, (said Floretta) 'tis the very last thing in the world I would have you imagine, because it would be the most unjust idea you could form; 'tis not of you, but Monsieur, she harbours a suspicion; she knows if he saw you—"
"Would to God I had not consented to stay in the house," interrupted Madeline.
The motive for Madame D'Alembert's concealing her was now explained; the motive which prompted her lamented benefactress so repeatedly to tell her not to continue in the chateau, if Monsieur D'Alembert came to it.
"Oh! my father, (she sighed to herself) would to heaven I was again within your arms."
"I hope Mademoiselle, (said Floretta) you will not leave us; Monsieur departs in a few days, and I hope you will not mind a short confinement."
Madeline made no reply, but desired to hear the particulars of Agatha's death.
"About the middle of the night, (said Floretta) I and a fellow servant who sleeps with me were awoke by dreadful groans from the chamber of Agatha, which opened into ours; we directly jumped out of bed, and running into it, asked what was the matter; but groans were all we could hear: we grew dreadfully frightened, and called up more of the servants. A light was then procured, and we discovered Agatha in fits: the noise we made alarmed my master and mistress, o'er whose apartment we were, and throwing their wrappers over them they came up to inquire what was the matter. My lady appeared greatly shocked by the situation of Agatha, and directly ordered a physician to be sent for, but Monsieur countermanded this order; he said he had a medical friend in the house, who could do as much for her as any other person in the same line. He was accordingly sent for, and on examining Agatha, he declared her fits were owing to her having eaten something that disagreed with her. Scarcely had he spoken when she came to herself, and opening her eyes, in a hollow voice exclaimed, 'Poison! I am poisoned!'
'Good heavens! (cried Madame D'Alembert starting) what does she say? does she not say she is poisoned?'
'You are not to mind what she says, (replied Monsieur, in rather an angry voice) the woman raves, and I insist on your quitting her room directly, you are already sufficiently shocked by her.'
"My lady durst not disobey him, and re"My lady durst not disobey him, and retired, though I saw most unwillingly, with her woman."
'Send for father Bertrand, (again spoke Agatha, after the pause of a minute) for I am dying.'
'Nonsense, (exclaimed Monsieur D'Alembert) friend she will be well enough by and by, and I am sure I shall not permit my neighbourhood to be disturbed to gratify her, said my master.—['Ah! Mademoiselle, I fear he is but a bad christian']—I insist, therefore, (continued he) that not a servant in this castle shall go for father Bertrand, except they choose immediately to be dismissed my service.' Like my poor lady, none of us durst disobey him, he took care indeed that we should not, by continuing to watch us: In a little time Agatha relapsed, and died in a few minutes. She had scarcely breathed her last, ere she turned quite black and swelled to a great size; and, notwithstanding what my master and my master's friend says, we are all, that is, I mean, all the servants are of opinion, that she was poisoned; though how, or by whom, we cannot possibly conceive, as we know of no stranger that lately entered the castle, neither of any mortal that she ever offended."
"Tis a horrible affair," (said Madeline) who was now firmly convinced that the murderers of the countess had destroyed her.
"My master has insisted, (cried Floretta) upon our making no comment, at least no public comments on it; he declares if we do, he will have us severely punished. Poor Agatha, poor soul, there is nobody regrets her more than I do, though we had many little tiffs together; she was so good-natured and used to make me such a number of pretty little presents in the course of the year; if ever I wanted any thing nice, nice sweetmeats, or nice cordials, I had nothing to do but to ask her for them. Mr. Lubin will be holding up his head now I suppose, I fancy she has left me a legacy, I shall buy mourning for her."
"Poor Agatha! (said Madeline) she little thought she would have followed her dear lady so soon."
"True, Mademoiselle, (cried Floretta) but you look faint, let me give you a glass of wine?"
"First tell me (said Madeline, on whose agitated mind the dreadful idea of poison dwelt) first tell me, (said she, starting up) where or from whom did you procure this wine?"
"Lord bless me, Mademoiselle, (cried Floretta) how you frighten me by your looks; why, I stole it from the butler."
"Well, since you got it from him, I will take some of it, (cried Madeline.) She felt her spirits somewhat revived by doing so, and she then expressed her hopes that Floretta would stay with her till Madame D'Alembert came.
"'Tis quite out of my power to stay till then, (said Floretta, instantly rising, as if the very idea of doing so had terrified her) I must go, in order to watch for an opportunity for my lady to come to you."
"Hasten her to me I conjure you, (cried Madeline) as she followed Floretta to the door to lock it after her.
"O that I was out of this house, (exclaimed Madeline, as she turned from the door), danger and death surround me on every side."
She feared that Madame D'Alembert would oppose her quitting it, she feared she could not entreat her permission to do so without betraying in some degree the motive which prompted that entreaty. Impressed with terror, she knelt before a large crucifix near the head of the bed, and fervently implored the protection of heaven. As she prayed she was suddenly startled by the creaking of the closet door: she turned her head with quickness towards it, and beheld it half open; and the horror of that moment can better be conceived than described; a man whose face was shaded by a large hat leaning from it, and earnestly regarding her.
That the murderers of Agatha had by some means or other discovered her concealment, and from the garden had entered, through the closet window, with an intention of destroying her, was the dreadful idea which instantly started to her mind: all power of voice and motion forsook her, and straining an eye of agony and horror on the terrifying stranger, she still continued kneeling: in this situation she remained for about two minutes, when a soft tap came to the chamber door, the stranger hastily retreated, and shut the closet door; Madeline with a scream of mingled joy and terror then started from the ground, and flying to the door opened it and beheld Madame D'Alembert and Floretta.
Madeline fell upon the neck of the former, but for many minutes could only give vent to her feelings by sobs and broken sentences.
"Oh! you are come at last: (she exclaimed as she pressed her friend to her palpitating heart) you are come, the blessed instrument of providence, to save me from destruction; let us quit this chamber, and secure the door till the family can be alarmed and the closet searched."
"Heaven defend us! (cried Floretta, instantly retreating towards the gallery) what did you see within the closet, Mademoiselle?"
"Nothing to alarm her, I am sure," said Madame D'Alembert.
"Nothing to alarm her!" repeated Madeline emphatically.
"No, (cried Madame D'Alembert) every avenue to that closet is secured; tis therefore impossible any one could have entered it without your knowledge; your imagination affected by the gloom of your apartment has deceived you."
"Good heaven! Madam, (exclaimed Madeline) would you try to make me disbelieve my senses?"
"To prove how certain I am they have been deceived, I will search the closet myself," said Madame D'Alembert, advancing as she spoke into the chamber.
"Oh! do not be so rash, (cried Madeline, grasping her arm) do not too late repent your temerity."
Madame D'Alembert made no reply, but disengaging herself, she directly went to the closet, and flinging open the door, exclaimed,
"Come, see whether or not I have been mistaken."
Madeline approached her with trembling steps, and to her infinite amazement beheld there was no creature or trace of any creature within the closet.
"I am astonished indeed, (said she) but mysterious as was the entrance or disappearance of any person, that I saw some person is beyond a doubt."
"What kind of person, Mademoiselle?" asked Floretta.
Madeline, as clearly as she could, described him; but was hurt to find Madame D'Alembert still appeared incredulous.
"You see, (said she) that the window, the only way by which any person could have entered the closet, is secured within side."
"I see it is, (cried Madeline) I must therefore only suppose that it was a being of the other world I saw."
"No, no, my dear Madeline, (said Madame D'Alembert) I am sure you have too much sense to be superstitious."
"Ah! Madame, (replied Madeline) I should not wonder if my reason was impaired by the shocks I have lately received.—Wonder not, (she continued) if I declare I can no longer remain in this apartment. Oh! dearest Madam, be not surprised if I entreat your permission to return to my father; he wishes to see me; and who can wonder if I sigh to see him?"
"Unkind Madeline, (said Madame D'Alembert, shedding tears) will you then leave me? Will you disappoint the hopes I entertained of enjoying your society whilst I continued at the chateau? Your father, you must remember, in his last letter, assured you he did not expect, nay, he did not desire you to return, till I was going to Paris; and from all disagreeable confinement you will be released in two days, as Monsieur D'Alembert then departs."
Distressed, confused, perplexed, Madeline stood silent, irresolute how to act. Her fears, her reason urged her to quit the chateau directly, but her dread of being thought ungrateful, unfeeling, by Madame D'Alembert, if she did do so, almost tempted her to stay.
"Ah! (cried she to herself) how distressing a situation is mine; the fears which make me tremble to stay in the chateau I am bound by a solemn vow to conceal; and except I can assign better reasons for wishing to leave it than I have already done, (and to do so is impossible) Madame D'Alembert will certainly be offended at my quitting it."
Hurt by her silence, by her too evident wish of departing, Madame D'Alembert suddenly wiped away her tears, and while a crimson glow mantled her cheek, exclaimed,
"Against your inclination I will not detain you: no, Madeline, to inclination, not necessity, I must be indebted for your company. I see your reluctance to continue with me, and you are at liberty to depart the moment you please: I own—" and her voice faltered. "I had hoped, I had imagined, but it is no matter, 'tis not the first time I have been disappointed,—disappointed by those on whom my heart placed its tenderest affections, and by those it believed would sincerely return them."
Had a dagger pierced the bosom of Madeline it could scarcely have given her more pain than did the words of her friend: eager to be reinstated in her good opinion, she forgot those apprehensions which but a moment before had agitated her soul, and determined no longer to persist in desiring to quit the castle.
"Oh! Madam, (cried she, while tears trickled down her cheeks) how you have wounded me by your language: Do you then deem me unworthy? Do you think me ungrateful, forgetful of your kindness? Do you suppose I desire to fly from you?"
"Your words have intimated such a desire," replied Madame D'Alembert.
"Ah! Madame, (said Madeline) when I uttered them my senses were almost overpowered by terror; and if you wish me to continue in the castle,—"
"Wish you, (interrupted her friend) Ah! Madeline, (clasping her arms around her) do you doubt my wishing you to do so? Yes, my love, 'tis my wish, my entreaty, my earnest request, that you stay in the castle till I quit it. You shall not continue in your present chamber, I came on purpose to remove you from it, for, to be brief, Monsieur D'Alembert suspects your being in the castle, and may perhaps take it into his head to search it; I am therefore going to conduct you to a place where he will never think of looking for you."
"Oh! Madame, (cried Madeline, and she paused, fearful of again exciting the displeasure of her friend, for she had been on the point of again entreating permission to return to her father) to what place, Madame, (asked she, suddenly recollecting herself) are you going to take me."
"Ask me no questions at present, my love, (said Madame D'Alembert) our security perhaps depends upon our silence; for I know not at this very moment but we may be watched; follow me, therefore, I entreat in silence."
She now led the way from the chamber, and, preceded by Floretta carrying a light, they stole with trembling steps along the gallery, from whence they descended by the private stairs; opposite to them was a low arched door, which they past through, and proceeded along a dark passage to another flight of steep stone stairs, which seemed to lead to the subterraneous parts of the castle. Here Madeline paused, and entreated to know whither they were taking her.
"Be not alarmed, my love, (said Madame D'Alembert) be assured it is to a place of security."
The stairs were terminated by an iron door fastened by an immense padlock. Floretta laid down the light, and taking down a large rusty key with difficulty unlocked it, slowly opening with a grating noise, that absolutely struck terror into the soul of Madeline; it discovered to her view a black and hideous vault, dripping with damp, and from which a cold vapour issued that nearly extinguished the light; at its entrance Madeline again paused.
"Oh! heavens, (cried she, shuddering and leaning against the wall) whither are we going?"
"Ah! Madeline, (said Madame D'Alembert in a supplicating voice) after going so far will you at last disappoint me? Be not alarmed I again repeat; if you wish to confirm my obligations to you do not hesitate now: your life, your safety, are more precious to me than my own, follow therefore without fear, without hesitation, wherever I may lead."
To do so, however, was scarcely in the power of Madeline, and Madame D'Alembert taking her hand, rather drew than led her through a succession of gloomy vaults till they came to a low arched door, fastened by a bolt: Floretta undrew it, and Madeline, to her infinite horror and amazement, found herself in the chapel, beside the grave of her benefactress, and near the spot where she had received her fatal wound.
"Is this (said she, looking round her with terror and dismay) the place of security you said you were bringing me to? 'Tis all but secure; death and destruction hover o'er it. Oh! Madam! (wildly flinging herself at the feet of Madame D'Alembert) I cannot, cannot stay within it, for the murderer here takes his solitary rounds, to plunge his dagger in the heart of innocence and virtue."
"My love, (cried her friend, raising her from the ground) what do you mean? you strike me with horror by your words, you shake my very soul."
The energy of Madame D'Alembert recalled the scattered senses of Madeline, and made her reflect on the imprudence she had been guilty of; she shuddered as she considered she had nearly broken her solemn vow, and been on the point of planting unutterable and unappeasable sorrows in the heart of Madame D'Alembert.—Exerting all her resolution,
"Dear Madame, (said she) I know not what I said; my imagination was disordered by the gloom of the place."
"Surely my love, (said her friend) you could not imagine I would be so cruel as to intend to keep you here: no—to-night, as soon as it is dark, either Floretta or I, accompanied by Lubin, will come to re-conduct you to the castle, where you shall be again put in possession of your own apartment: my reason for bringing you to pass the day here, was to prevent your being seen by Monsieur D'Alembert, who, I will acknowledge, threatened to search the castle; but except he puts that threat in execution to-day, I am confident he never will, as to-morrow he will busy paying visits in the neighbourhood previous to his departure."
This assurance calmed the agitation of Madeline, and she grew still more composed when Madame D'Alembert declared she would not leave her till the morning was farther advanced.
They now ascended to the dormitory, which, as I have already said, was in an habitable state, and soon discovered a cell for Madeline to sit in, containing the remains of a wooden bedstead. Here Floretta left a small basket of provisions, and she and her lady continued with Madeline till the gloomy shadows of night had nearly fled, they then bade her adieu, and repeated their assurance of coming for her as soon as it grew dark.
Left to herself, the flurry of Madeline's spirits subsided, and she was able calmly to reconsider what was past and to reflect on her present situation; as she did so she bitterly regretted not having insisted on returning immediately to her father; for her longer residence in the castle, exposed her, she was convinced, to dangers of the most dreadful nature; that Agatha had fallen by the hands of the countess's murderers she could not doubt, neither that they had entered the closet with an intention of destroying her; for their strange and mysterious disappearance from it she accounted by supposing that behind some one of the large presses it contained there was a secret door.
"I cannot suppose, (said she) that one disappointment will make them lay aside their horrible intentions; by remaining in the castle I expose myself to their continual attempts, attempts which may perhaps at last be too successful, I must fly it therefore, (continued she) however unpleasant, however agonizing to my feelings to excite the displeasure of Madame D'Alembert; I must, when next we meet, entreat, implore her to let me return to my father."
As soon as the day was advanced Madeline descended to the chapel, in order to try and divert her mind from the dreadful ideas which depressed it, by examining the curious monuments within the building; the terror of Madeline's soul now gave way to awe and melancholy,—she felt chilled, she felt oppressed beyond expression, as she viewed the records of mortality, and trod the silent solitary aisles, which awfully echoed her lightest step, and whose gloom the beams of the sun that darted through the painted casements could not dissipate.
She had often (to use the words of an author, not less affecting than sublime) "Walked beneath the impending promontory's craggy cliff, sometimes trod the vast spaces of the lonely desert, and penetrated the inmost recesses of the dreary cavern, but had never, never before beheld nature louring with so tremendous an aspect,—never before felt such impressions of awe striking cold upon her heart, as now beneath the black browed arches, amidst the mouldy walls of the Monastery, where melancholy, deepest melancholy spread her raven wings."
Ah! if the children of vanity, of dissipation, sometimes visited a scene like this, surely (thought she) their hearts would be amended; they would be convinced of the littleness of this world, of the folly of placing their entire affections upon it, when they beheld "nobility arrayed in a winding sheet, grandeur mouldering in an urn, and the high grass waving round the hero's tomb, while his dusty banner, the banner which he once unfurled to strike consternation on his foes, hung idly fluttering o'er it."
At the grave of her benefactress she paused.
"Here (said she) gratitude and affection must ever linger. Oh! my friend, my mother, never can thy kindness be obliterated from my heart, never can my heart be consoled for thy loss: alas! from thy deep sleep the sighs of thy Madeline cannot awake thee! Cold is that breast which was the repository of her sorrows, silent the tongue which poured sympathy upon them."
When it grew dark she ascended to the cell, for the gloom of the chapel then grew too awful for her to bear. After sitting a considerable time there in a state of painful impatience, she went to a large folding door, which terminated the gallery, and commanded an extensive view of the valley, to try if she could discover any sign of Madame D'Alembert or Floretta, who had said, as I should previously have mentioned, that they would come to her through the garden; but no step, no voice, could she hear, no glimpse of any object could she distinguish.
"They cannot have forgotten me, (said she) they cannot let me pass the night amidst the dead; and yet 'tis far beyond the hour I expected them."
Her heart almost died away as she viewed the opposite mountains, whose dark brows seemed rising above the clouds, and from whose black cavities the wind issued with hoarse murmurs, like the yells of midnight murderers.
"Ah! (cried she, shuddering) within those cavities perhaps the murderers of the countess—of Agatha—the intended murderers of Madeline, may be now concealed; before to-morrow perhaps I may be cold and inanimate, like those o'er whose sculptured urns I so recently bent."
At this instant she thought she heard the echo of a light step outside the building; her heart palpitated, she bent forward, and caught a glimpse of a female figure habited in black, gliding into the Monastery and followed by a man wrapped up in a large dark coat: That it was Madame D'Alembert and Lubin she beheld she could not doubt, and in a transport of joy she instantly flew to the stairs to meet them, but at the head of the stairs she paused, and trembled, for as the low sound of voices reached her from below, she fancied she heard the voices of total strangers: she held in her breath that she might be better enabled to ascertain whether or not her fears were justly founded, and was soon convinced that it was neither Madame D'Alembert nor Lubin she had seen enter.
Alive only to one dreadful idea, to one apprehension, she now believed her fate approaching, and looked round for some place to secrete herself; she looked in vain however; for mouldering cells and narrow passages, choked with rubbish only, met her view.
At length she recollected, that near the cell where she had been sitting there was a long and winding gallery, pretty free from rubbish, and which Madame D'Alembert had informed her led to the innermost recesses of the building; down this she determined to fly.
At the head of the staircase which faced the body of the chapel was a large dismantled window, through which the moon, now beginning to rise, shed a faint light, but still sufficient to render objects conspicuous. Madeline therefore feared she should be seen as she crossed the staircase, she knew however there was no alternative, and that she must either run the risque of being discovered now, or remain where in a few minutes later she was sure of being so.
Madeline accordingly stepped forward, but though her step was too light to be heard, her figure was perceived, and she instantly heard a shout from the chapel, and ascending steps. Fear lent her wings, she flew to the gallery, but, just as she was darting into it, a large iron hook entangled her clothes: with a strength which desperation only could have given her, she attempted to tear them from it, but 'ere her efforts had succeeded her arm was rudely seized; she immediately turned her head and beheld the inflamed countenance of a man glaring upon her; the moment he saw her face he started back with a look which seemed to intimate she was not the person he expected to have seen, but the faint pleasure which this idea gave was quickly destroyed by his drawing a small dagger from his breast with which he again approached Madeline. Her death she now believed inevitable, and staggering back a few paces, "Ah! heaven have mercy upon me!" she said, and dropped lifeless on the floor.
As she recovered her senses she felt some one chafing her hands.
"Ah! (she cried, in a faint voice) do you restore me to life but to have the pleasure of depriving me of it?"
"My Madeline, my love, (exclaimed the soft voice of Madame D'Alembert) what has thus disordered your senses?"
Madeline raised her head from the ground, she looked at Madame D'Alembert,—she looked from her, and beheld Lubin.
"Gracious heaven! (cried she) do I dream or have I been in a frightful dream from which you have just awakened me?"
"My dearest girl, (said Madame D'Alembert) what has alarmed you?"
"Alarmed me? (repeated Madeline, wildly staring at her) Oh, heavens! surely it is but an instant ago since I saw the poignard of the murderer raised against me?"
"You terrify me," exclaimed her friend.
"Terrify you, (repeated Madeline, starting from the ground) Oh, let us fly this dreadful place directly, for even now perhaps our lives may be in danger."
"Don't be frightened, Mademoiselle, (cried Lubin) I am not unarmed."
"You strike me with horror, (said Madame D'Alembert) and take from me the power of moving: tell me what danger it is we have to apprehend, for no trace of any being, of any thing to alarm you, did we discover, and the swoon in which we found you we imputed to illness instead of terror."
Madeline in a few hasty words informed her of the manner in which she had been terrified, and whilst she gratefully returned her thanks to heaven for her safety, she expressed her astonishment at being uninjured.
"Oh! my love, (cried her friend, clasping her arms round her as she concluded) never, never can I requite you for what you have suffered on my account; never can I forgive myself for having exposed you to such alarms."
"I wish with all my soul (said Lubin, grasping the rusty sword he had brought from the chateau) I wish with all my soul I had caught the villain, I'll warrant if I had I should soon have made him confess what brought him hither; his companion I suppose, was only a man in disguise."
"Who these mysterious strangers were I cannot possibly conceive, (cried Madame D'Alembert) but that they certainly did not mean to harm you, however appearances may make you believe to the contrary, I think; for had such been their intention they most assuredly could have accomplished that intention 'ere we came."
"They only designed to rob her I suppose, (said Lubin) and frighten her to silence; pray search your pockets, Mademoiselle, to try if you have lost any thing."
"There was nothing of any value in them, (replied Madeline) so I need not take that trouble."
"They must certainly (resumed Lubin) have retreated, on hearing us, down that gallery," pointing to the one Madeline had attempted to conceal herself in; "I would give all the money I am worth for somebody now to assist me in searching it."
"Oh, Madeline! (cried her friend) I can no longer attempt to detain you: I came to half determined to let you return immediately to your father, as Monsieur D'Alembert, contrary to his first intention, has resolved on passing a month in the chateau; but I am now, in consequence of what I have heard, resolved on doing so; to-night therefore we part, and heaven knows whether we shall ever meet again."
"To-night!" repeated Madeline amazed.
"Yes, (replied Madame D'Alembert, whose tears scarcely permitted her to speak) to-night—was your journey postponed till to-morrow, Monsieur D'Alembert must discover that you have hitherto been concealed in the chateau, and the consequences of such a discovery would be extremely disagreeable to me."
"Heaven forbid then (said Madeline) I should delay my journey; and yet"—she paused, she recollected herself—and since her friend was anxious for her immediate departure, resolved not to mention the fears she felt at the idea of travelling by night.
"I confide you to the care of Lubin, (cried Madame D'Alembert) I know he is faithful, I know he is brave, and will fulfil the trust I repose in him."
"I humbly thank your Ladyship for your good opinion of me, (said Lubin, taking off his hat and making a low bow) it shall be my study to deserve it: I am sure I should be an ungrateful varlet if I would not go through fire and water for you, or any one beloved by you; and Mademoiselle may be assured, while I have an arm to stretch out in her defence, I will protect her."
"At the extremity of the wood surrounding the chateau, is the cottage of my nurse, (said Madame D'Alembert, addressing Madeline) thither Lubin must now conduct you, and there he will procure horses for your journey; for I am afraid to have any taken from the stables here, least a discovery should be the consequence of doing so: do not delay longer than is absolutely necessary at the cottage, I have important reasons for wishing you to get to a distance from the chateau, as soon as possible, when you are about half way between it and your father's house you can stop to rest."
"Yes, (replied Lubin) there is a snug house just thereabouts, where we can put up. You may recollect, Mademoiselle, (turning to Madeline) that you and my poor lady dined there last spring in your way to the chateau?"
A deep sigh stole from the breast of Madeline at the recollection of that happy period; and Madame D'Alembert was for a few minutes unable to speak.
"In the course of a few days, Madeline, (said she, as soon as she had recovered her voice) you may expect a letter, containing a full explanation of every thing that appeared mysterious in my conduct towards you. After suffering so much on my account you surely are entitled to know every secret of my heart—Oh! Madeline, that heart can never forget the gratitude it owes you."
"Ah, Madam, (cried Madeline, while tears trickled down her cheeks), do not hurt me by speaking in this manner; all that I could do, could never never repay the numerous favours I have received from you, 'tis I only have a right to speak of gratitude."
"Perhaps (resumed her friend) we may meet again: I will indulge such a hope, it will sooth, it will console me in some degree for your loss. Oh! Madeline, 'tis with pain, 'tis with agony I consent to our separation, but without murmuring I must submit to that as well as to many other sorrows."
She now took the trembling hand of Madeline, and they descended to the valley, thro' which they silently and swiftly passed, nor stopped 'till they came within sight of the chateau; Madame D'Alembert then paused, to give a last farewell to Madeline: locked in each others arms they continued many minutes unable to speak, unable to separate; at length Madame D'Alembert summoning all her resolution to her aid, disengaged herself from Madeline. "farewell, (said she) may heaven for ever bless, protect you, and make you as happy as you deserve to be." She turned away as she spoke as if fearful her resolution would fail her if she continued another moment with Madeline, and hastened to the chateau.
Silent and immovable Madeline stood gazing after her till addressed by Lubin.
"Come, Mademoiselle, (said he) we had better not delay any longer, 'twill be a late hour even as it is, I can assure you, 'ere we reach the house where we are to rest, this way, Mademoiselle."
Almost instinctively Madeline followed him to a door which opened from the garden to the lawn, but here she again stopped; the variety of distressing and terrifying scenes she had lately gone through had almost bewildered her senses, and she now felt as if she scarcely knew where she was, or whither she was going.
"Have I really taken my last leave of Madame D'Alembert? Am I really quitting the chateau?" said she, earnestly looking at Lubin.
"Lord, yes, that you have indeed Mademoiselle," answered he, somewhat surprised and alarmed.
"Gracious heaven! (cried she, with folded hands) if any person two months ago had told me I should quit the chateau in the manner I am at present doing, what little credit should I have given to their words.—
"Oh life! (she sighed to herself) how rapid are thy revolutions!—But a short time ago and that very mansion which I now leave with secrecy and precipitation, I entered with every hope of finding a permanent and happy home within it; but a short time ago and it was a refuge for distress, an asylum for innocence and virtue; but now the mendicant may wander to it in vain for relief, innocence and virtue seek protection without receiving it.
"With its virtues its honours must decline; for he who has not a heart to cherish the former, must surely want a spirit to support the latter.
"No more then shall the arm of valour unfurl its banners to the call of glory; no more shall the records of fame be swelled by its achievements; no more shall noble emulation be inspired by them.
"With its late owner its greatness and happiness departed; they are set, but set not like that sun whose splendours so lately brightened this scene, to rise again with renovated glory."