194 DEATH IN LIFE.
to the vaults beneath the chapel. If at any time she fails to be within that chamber when the hour of eight in the evening arrives, or should leave it before the hour of six in the morning, she will immediately forfeit all that I have herein bequeathed to her, which will become the property of my nearest kinsman, Philip de Saint Evremonde, or his heirs. This condition I annex for reasons which my wife will understand, and in the belief that ‘a pure conscience, and a devout spirit can make her happy even in that dismal chamber.’”
The voice of the notary ceased abruptly, and Philip started from his seat. With a cry of horror Vivienne had risen from her chair, and then fallen back again ghastly pale, and with closed eyes. But she had not fainted. The sound of Philip’s hated voice, as he directed the notary to summon her attendants, recalled her to herself: She opened her eyes, and her breath came in long, gasping sighs.
Oh! it was so cruel, so terrible a revenge!
She must fulfill the condition, for her mother would die if she were removed from the chateau; and Vivienne knew from the pitiless, triumphant look in the eyes of the bad man near her, that he would turn them both out to starve without scruple or regret.
Even in the first instant of her horror and surprise, she determined that her dying mother should never know the condition upon which she was allowed to live on in tranquil ease and luxury. ‘I shall only have to bear it for a little while,” thought Vivienne. “Then my dear mother will be at rest, and TI shall seek refuge in a convent. Only a little while! Oh, heaven! give me strength to bear it for my dying mother's sake.”
Then the young marquise rose from her chair with quiet dignity, and turning to Saint Evre- monde, said calmly, ‘‘Monsieur, I am ready ed fulfill the condition. It is hard—but I shall find strength for it.”
“Nay, madame, it is too hard!” he cried; catching her hand, and gazing into her face passionately. ‘That such loveliness should be condemned to a living burial is intolerable! There is a way to escape it. Become my wife—”
But Vivienne’s hand was snatched from his grasp, her eyes flashed, and her cheek crimsoned with anger and resentment.
“Monsieur, you insult me!” she cried, in clear, steady tones, without one shade of fear? or irresolution. ‘I would rather be buried alive in the vaults themselves than become your wife. Monsieur, I desire that you leave my house. Appoint as many persons as you please to see that I fulfill the conditions of my husband’s will; but let me be relieved from your presence, which is hateful to me.” She swept from the room with the haughty air of an in- sulted queen, and Philip was left raging with mortification and anger.
And Vivienne, once in her own apartment, the young marquise lay prostrate before the shrine in her little oratory, weeping, trembling, praying for strength and courage to Elise and Marion, her favorite attendants, found her in this frightful state, and it was many minutes before she could answer their frightened questions.’ At last, under promise of strict secrecy, Vivienne confided to them the terrible provision of her husband’s will, and rising with inforced calmness, she began to make preparations for going to her gloomy resting-place.
‘Madame, you shall not go alone. We will stay with you,” cried both the attached women.
Vivienne shook her head mournfully.
“I must remain there alone,” she said; ‘that is the condition.”
“Then I will spend the night in the chapel. I will sleep on the threshold of your chamber!” exclaimed Elise, vehemently.
“No, Elise,” said Vivienne, with quivering lips. ‘I shall be safe there. Heaven will pro- tect me. On you, Elise and Marion, do I rely to take care of my dear mother, and, above all, to conceal from her the cause of my absence. Tell her that I am very weary to-night, and have gone to rest. I cannot-see her now.”
“May we not go with you, madame, and make that terrible place more fit for your occupa- tion?” asked Elise, and without waiting for an answer, she began to collect the rich shawls and silken quilts that lay on the couch of the marquise.
The great clock of the chateau boomed out the hour of half-past seven. Vivienne started at the sound, and followed by her attendants, hurried through hall and passage till the chapel-door was reached.
Darkness had long ago gathered in the silent chapel, and the lamp that burned constantly before the altar shone out like a star amidst black clouds.
For a moment Vivienne prostrated herself near the altar, and her lips moved in prayer; then she opened with a trembling hand the heavy door of the vaulted chamber, and stood again amidst its shadows, and its chill and clinging vapors.
‘Madame! Madame! You will die here! Oh! is there no help? Must you stay here?” sobbed
