Mysteries of Paris Volume II Part 112

"My poor father looked at his wife, Dr. Polidori, Sir Walter, and myself in a bewildered manner; his features expressed deep agony, I read upon his careworn face the violent struggle which tore his heart.

Without doubt he was resisting with all his strength growing and terrible suspicions, fearing to be obliged to recognize the guilt of my step-mother; at length, concealing his face in his hands, he cried, 'Oh! all this is horrible--impossible! Is this, then, a dream?'

"'No, it is not a dream!' cried my step-mother, audaciously: 'nothing is more real than this atrocious calumny, previously concocted, to ruin an unhappy woman, whose sole crime has been consecrating her life to you. Come, come, my friend, let us not remain a second longer here!' added she, addressing herself to my father; 'perhaps your daughter will not have the insolence to detain you in spite of yourself.'

"'Yes, yes, let us go,' said my father, almost wild; 'this is not true--cannot be true; I wish to hear nothing further; my reason would give way; frightful suspicions would arise in my mind, empoison the few days remaining for me to live, and nothing could console me for such an abominable discovery!'

"My father seemed so suffering, so despairing, that at any sacrifice, I would have put a stop to a scene so cruel for him. Sir Walter divined my thoughts; but, wis.h.i.+ng to do full and entire justice, he answered my father.

"'Yet a few words, my lord; you are about to experience the affliction, doubtless very painful, of discovering that a woman whom you believe attached to you by grat.i.tude, has always been a monstrous hypocrite; but you will find certain consolation in the affection of your daughter, who has always been true."

"'This pa.s.ses all bounds!' cried my step-mother, in a rage; 'by what right, sir, on what proofs, dare you utter such frightful calumnies?

You say the vial contains poison. I deny it, sir; and I will deny it until you prove the contrary; and even if Dr. Polidori might have by accident mistaken one medicine for another, is that a reason to dare to accuse me of having wished, with him as an accomplice--oh! no, no, I cannot finish--an idea so horrible is already a crime. Once more, sir, I defy you to say on what proofs you and madame dare to sustain this frightful calumny,' said my step-mother, with incredible audacity. 'Yes, on what proofs?' cried my unfortunate father. 'The torture I suffer must be brought to a close.'

"'I have not come here without proofs, my lord,' said Sir Walter. 'And these proofs the answers of this wretch will furnish directly.' Then Sir Walter spoke to Dr. Polidori in German, who seemed to have recovered a little a.s.surance, but lost it immediately."

"What did you say to him?" demanded Rudolph, laying aside the letter for a moment.

"Some significant words to this effect: 'You escaped by flight the sentence p.r.o.nounced against you in the grand duchy; you live in the Rue du Temple, under the false name of Bradamanti; your present occupation is unknown; you poisoned the count's first wife; three days ago Madame d'Orbigny came to bring you here to poison her husband. His serene highness is in Paris, and has the proofs of all I advance. If you confess the truth, so as to convict this miserable woman, you may hope, not pardon, but some mitigation of the punishment you deserve; you must follow me to Paris, where I will place you in security, until his royal highness decides your fate. Otherwise two things; one, the prince will demand you from the government, or this moment I will send to the neighboring town for a magistrate; this vial containing poison, shall be placed in his hands; you will be arrested at once, your lodgings in the Rue du Temple searched; you know how much that will compromise you, and French justice shall follow its course. Choose then.' These revelations, accusations, and threats, that he knew well-founded, succeeding one another so rapidly, confounded this miscreant, who did not expect to find me so well informed. In the hope of lessening the punishment which awaited him, he did not hesitate to sacrifice his accomplice, and answered, 'Interrogate me--I will tell the truth concerning this woman.'"

"Well, well, my worthy friend, I expected no less from you."

"During my interview with Polidori, the features of Madame d'Orbigny changed their expression of a.s.surance alarmingly, although she did not understand German. She saw, from the increasing dejection of her confederate, from his supplicating att.i.tude, that I had him in my power. In great anxiety, she endeavored to catch the eye of Polidori, in order to give him courage or to implore his discretion, but he avoided her glances."

"And the count?"

"His emotion was indescribable; with his contracted fingers he clutched, convulsively, the arm of his chair, the perspiration standing on his forehead: he hardly breathed; his burning and glazed eyes were fixed on mine; his agony equaled that of his wife. The continuation of the letter of Madame d'Harville will instruct your highness as to the end of this painful scene."

Rudolph resumed the perusal of the letter. "After a conversation in German, which lasted for some moments, Sir Walter said to Polidori, 'Now answer, was it not madame,' and he pointed at my step-mother, 'who, at the time of the illness of my lord's first wife, introduced you in the house as a physician?' 'Yes, it was she,' answered Polidori.

"'In order to serve the fearful projects of madame, have you not been criminal enough to render mortal (by your homicidal prescriptions) the slight illness of the Countess d'Orbigny?' 'Yes,' said Polidori.

"My father uttered a heart-rending sigh, raised his two hands toward heaven, and let them fall, quite overwhelmed. 'Falsehoods and infamy!'

cried my stepmother; 'all this is false; they conspire to ruin me!'

'Silence, madame!' said Sir Walter, in an imposing voice; then, continuing to question Polidori:

"'Is it true, that three days ago, madame went to seek you at No. 17 Rue du Temple, where you reside, concealed under the false name of Bradamanti?'

"'That is true.'

"'Did not madame propose to you to come here to murder the Count d'Orbigny, as you had murdered his wife?'

"'Alas! I cannot deny it,' said Polidori. "'At this overwhelming revelation, my father arose on his feet; he showed the door to my step-mother; then, extending his arms toward me, he cried, in a broken voice, 'In the name of your unfortunate mother, pardon me, pardon me!

I have caused you much suffering; but I swear to you I was a stranger to the crime which has conducted her to the tomb.'

"And before I could prevent him, he fell at my feet.

"When Sir Walter and myself raised him, he had fainted. I rang for the servants. Sir Walter took the doctor by the arm, and went out with him, saying to my step-mother, 'Believe me, madame, you had better leave this house before an hour, or I will deliver you up to justice.'

"The wretched woman left the room in a state of alarm and rage which your highness will easily conceive.

"When my father recovered his senses, all that had taken place appeared like a horrid dream. I was under the sad necessity of relating to him my first suspicions concerning the premature death of my mother--suspicions which your highness's knowledge of the previous crimes of Dr. Polidori changed into certainty.

"I was obliged, also, to tell my father how my stepmother had carried her hatred even to my marriage, and what had been her object in causing me to marry M. d'Harville.

"As much as my father had shown himself weak and blind respecting this woman, just so much he wished to treat her without mercy; he accused himself, with despair, of having been the accomplice of this monster, in giving her his hand after the death of my mother. He wished to give her up to justice; I represented to him the odious notoriety of such proceedings. I engaged him to drive her away forever from his presence, allowing her just enough for her support, since she bore his name.

"I had great trouble in procuring my father's consent to this; he wished me to turn her out of the house. This mission would be doubly painful; I thought that Sir Walter, perhaps, would act for me. He consented."

"And I consented with joy," said Murphy to Rudolph; "nothing pleases me more than to give to the wicked this kind of extreme unction."

"And what did this woman say?"

"Madame d'Harville had carried her goodness so far as to ask from her father a pension of one hundred louis for this creature. This appeared to me not goodness, but weakness; it was bad enough to rob justice of such a dangerous woman. I went to find the count; he coincided entirely with me; it was agreed that we should give, in all, twenty-five louis to the infamous wretch, so that she might subsist until she found employment. 'And what kind of employment can the Countess d'Orbigny find?' demanded she, insolently. 'That's your business; you might be something like a nurse or housekeeper; but, believe me, seek the most humble and obscure calling; for if you have the audacity to tell your t.i.tle, which you owe to a crime, people will be astonished to see the Countess d'Orbigny reduced to such a condition; they will inquire, and you can judge of the consequences, if you are fool enough to noise abroad the past. Conceal yourself in some distant place; cause yourself to be forgotten; become Madame Pier re or Madame Jacques, and repent--if you can.' 'And do you think, sir,' said she to me, 'that I shall not claim the advantages secured to me by my marriage contract?' 'Certainly, madame, nothing can be more just; it would be unworthy of M. d'Orbigny not to execute his promises, and not to recognize all that you have done for him, and all you would have done. Sue, sue; address yourself to justice; I have no doubt the decision will be against your husband. A quarter of an hour after our conversation, the creature was on the road to the neighboring town."

"You are right; it is painful to allow such a woman to escape with impunity; but the scandal of such a trial for this old man, already so much debilitated, is not to be thought of."

"I have easily persuaded my father to leave Les Aubiers to-day,"

resumed Rudolph, continuing to read the letter from Madame d'Harville: "too many sad recollections attend him here; although his health is delicate, the journey and change of air may be of service, as the physician says who has taken the place of Dr. Polidori. My father wished that he should a.n.a.lyze the contents of the vial, without informing him of what had pa.s.sed; he answered that he could only do this at his own house, but that in two hours we should know the result. This was, that several doses of this liquid, prepared with infernal skill, would, in a given time, produce death, without leaving any traces.

"In a few hours I leave with my father and daughter for Fontainebleau; we will remain there for some time; then, according to the wish of my father, we return to Paris, but not to my own house; it will be impossible for me to live there after the deplorable accident which has taken place.

"Thus, as I have said, on commencing this letter, events show all that I owe to your highness's solicitude. Warned by you, aided by your advice, strong in the co-operation of your excellent and courageous Sir Walter, I have been able to s.n.a.t.c.h my father from certain death, and I am a.s.sured of the return of his tenderness.

"Adieu! it is impossible for me to say more, my heart is too full: too many emotions agitate it; I should badly express all that I feel.

"D'ORBIGNY D'HARVILLE.

"I open this letter in haste, your highness, to repair a neglect of which I am ashamed. In seeking, by your n.o.ble advice, to do some good, I went to the prison of Saint Lazare to visit the poor prisoners. I found there an unfortunate child in whom you are interested; Her angelic sweetness and pious resignation are the admiration of the matron who overlooks the inmates. To inform you where the Goualeuse (such I believe is her name) can be found is to request you to obtain her liberty. This unfortunate girl will relate to you by what a concourse of sinister circ.u.mstances, carried away from the asylum where you had placed her, she has been thrown into this prison, where she is appreciated for the purity of her conduct. Permit me also to recall to your highness's mind my two future _protegees_ the unhappy mother and daughter--despoiled by the notary Ferrand, Where are they? Have you had any information concerning them? Oh, I pray you endeavor to discover them, so that on my return to Paris I can pay them the debt which I have contracted toward all unfortunates!"

"Goualeuse has, then, left the farm of Bouqueval?" cried Murphy, as much astonished as Rudolph at this new revelation.

"I heard but just now that she was seen coming out of Saint Lazare,"

answered Rudolph. "I am lost in conjecture; the silence of Madame George confounds and distresses me. Poor little Fleur-de-Marie, what new misfortunes have happened to you? Let a man on horseback be sent off at once to the farm, and write to Madame George that I beg her to come at once to Paris. Say also to M. de Graun, I wish an order to enter Saint Lazare. From what Madame d'Harville writes, Fleur-de-Marie is confined there; but no," said Rudolph, reflecting, "she is no longer a prisoner, for Rigolette saw her come out in company with an aged woman. Can it be Madame George? Otherwise, who is the woman?

Where is the Goualeuse gone to?"

"Patience, my lord; before to-night you shall know all about it.

To-morrow you will have to interrogate this scoundrel Polidori; he has, he said, important communications to make to you, but to you alone."

"The interview will be hateful to me," said Rudolph, sadly; "for I have never seen this man since the fatal day--when--"

Rudolph could not finish; he concealed his face in his hands.

"Why consent to what Polidori demands? Threaten him with the French courts, or an extradition on the Government; he must resign himself to confess to me what he is only willing to confess to you."

"You are right, my good friend; for the sight of this wretch would render still more torturing these terrible recollections, to which are attached so many incurable griefs; from the death of my father to that of my poor little girl--I do not know but that the more I advance in life, the more I feel the loss of this child. How I should have adored her! how dear and precious to me had been this fruit of my first love, of my first and pure belief, or, rather, my young illusions!"