NIGHT
In the midst of her anxiety, a new trouble broke upon her,—the transformation taking place in her guardian, Jean. Not that the Breton permitted himself liberties; the deference he paid her was daily more marked and his attitude—that of devoté before an image—was more intensified; but the devoté had eyes and the eyes would light up on beholding his mistress; he had hands and those hands would tremble in placing food on the table. She felt that he loved her with a wild, deep love which only his iron will controlled.
She instinctively accentuated the difference in their ranks; she no longer walked with him through the woods. Her fear of him increased daily until she entered none of the castle's apartments, remaining constantly in the boudoir or in Baby's little chamber which adjoined her own.
"This misfortune," she soliloquized, for as such she designated Vilon's passion, "has its cause in my disguise. Had I appeared to him in my proper character he would never have dared. My God, help me! At the mercy of a man whose eyes dart lightning, and from whom I must conceal my fears, I have need of all my self-possession. If I falter, this splendid animal will grip me."
One night she lay awake listening to Vilon's furtive footfalls in the antechamber where, in his impassioned fidelity, he kept guard. Such vigilance, far from tranquilizing the girl, filled her with ever increasing terror. She tossed upon the gilded Pompadour bed, whose woodwork was carved in capricious and elegant mythological designs. The Marquise's pale shade seemed to be near. The child's tranquil breathing came to her from his little low bed, back of the embroidered Chinese screen. A tiny lamp, whose light was softened by a green glass globe, projected unsteady rays, which magnified shadows and increased her terror. She was fast becoming a victim to insomnia. Her lids closed but the light shining through them wrought figures of fantastic dragons and pale oblique-eyed damsels and mandarins with drooping mustaches who first became animated and then disappeared. When these grotesque visions vanished, there glowed on the silken background goddesses and nymphs of Watteau pattern, who, descending from amid the bed carvings, danced gayly on with clattering satin shoes and gleaming bosoms. Their laughs rang shrill as they too vanished and there arose from the depths of the tangled forest the tanned countenance and blond hair of Jean Vilon. He seized one of the nymphs around the waist; the nymph was herself; she struggled vainly; he clasped his rude hands around her delicate neck and compressed it with gradually increasing force, almost extinguishing life. In order to assure herself that all was delusion she opened wide her eyes just as the brass enameled clock pealed forth midnight.
In an effort to sleep, she turned on her side and drew the pillow over her face, but she continued to hear inexplicable noises. People seemed to be walking through the castle. Suddenly a wild hope filled her. Perhaps her father, having triumphed, had summoned her to join him. Perhaps René was the bearer of the good tidings. She raised herself on her elbow. No longer was there any question. Footsteps sounded through the vestibules, the antechambers, the salons; light gleamed under the door. Suddenly the lock was noisily forced and a lady in traveling costume, followed by two servants wearing the de Brezé livery, walked swiftly toward the bed.
Amélie became speechless with amazement. Seated upright, she stared at the lady with wide eyes, who, in turn, fastened on the girl a hostile, terrible look. The two recognized each other. Amélie beheld again the arrogant faded beauty of the face so wonderfully like René's in feature and so different in expression. And the lady gazed again awestruck upon the facsimile of the countenance which in miniatures, pastels, oil-paintings, engravings, lithographs, snuff boxes, etc., was the object of compassionate adoration. The resemblance was at that moment so striking that the Duchess de Rousillon remained motionless, dominated by an involuntary reverence. Quickly recovering her sang froid, she said:
"Leave the bed!"
"Why are you here?" demanded Amélie. "Why have you forced an entrance into my room at such an hour?"
The girl's indignation momentarily disconcerted the lady, but very soon she laughed disdainfully:
"I might ask with what shadow of a right you have taken up quarters in my castle?"
"This castle, madam, appertains to René de Giac, Marquis de Brezé."
"I am his mother. I come in his name and with full authority from him. Rise at once if you have a sense of decency that we may talk in a suitable manner."
"René has given you no authority," protested the girl.
"My authority will soon be manifest," replied the Duchess.
"Jean Vilon! Jean Vilon!" called Amélie.
"Jean Vilon will not come. He is my slave. Do not become hysterical. And rise, I repeat. 'Twill be a pleasanter method than having my servants pull you out of bed."
"In order that I should rise, madam, these servants must retire. I am not accustomed to dressing in the presence of men."
The Duchess was constrained into making a signal. The liveried attendants placed the wax tapers on the mantel and left the apartment and Amélie deftly and modestly made a hasty toilet. Then she turned to the Duchess, saying:
"Will you now be good enough to explain your conduct?"
The Duchess advanced upon her in fury.
"I dare say," she hissed, "that you can guess I have come to break the cords by which you hold my son,—you and that imposter, your father. The scales have at last dropped from René's eyes; he is disillusioned and repentant. He revealed to me your hiding place. In his name I come."
"You lie, madam. May my soul be banished forever from God if René knows you are here. Did he know it, he would stand before me now and shield me from you."
"Impertinent, intriguing adventuress! I tear away your mask. Believe what you choose regarding my son, but prepare to obey my orders."
"And I remind you that I am your son's betrothed wife."
"That pretence is the most amusing proof of your ingenuity. The wife of my son! So great an honor, Mademoiselle Naundorff, would overwhelm our family. The de Brezé contract an alliance with the daughter of the convict Prussian watch-maker!—Let us talk rationally; you are the sweetheart of a good man who loves you devotedly. My steward, Jean Vilon, is ready to marry you at this moment."
"What!" shrieked Amélie. "What do you say of Jean Vilon?"
"That he is to be your excellent husband. The dear fellow is wild with joy in knowing that I have brought the chaplain in my chaise to bless the couple. You have made him lose his head about you. Ah, do not play the innocent. You have understood each other very well for some time. I shall stand sponsor and bestow a dot upon you. As for Jean? I shall give him the Plouret farm. In short you shall be consoled for not being the Marquise de Brezé. The wife of an honest man is a more suitable position for your station—"
"Is this a nightmare?" cried Amélie. Then with supreme disdain, she added, "Not even René, himself, could obtain from me what you propose. My life is in your hands, the life of the woman whom your son loves. But my will you cannot conquer. Drag me to the altar I will say no with my last breath."
The Duchess seemed taken aback at the emphasis with which the refusal was spoken. She revealed her true character, that of a pompous impertinent woman, performing awkwardly an assigned role. With an angry gesture, she passed into the adjoining apartment, and held for ten minutes or more a whispered conference with others. She' returned accompanied by her two attendants, one of whom looked at Amélie in a peculiar manner. Both approached the bed whereon Baby was lying and lifted him up. The frightened child commenced to cry and Amélie ran to him, but they snatched him from her arms and disappeared.
"If you love the child so greatly," observed the Duchess, "you may have the happiness of his company by consenting to marry Jean Vilon. He is pretty badly spoilt, owing to the manner in which you have brought him up. Jean is willing to adopt him. Is he really your own? Well, we shall soon be able to judge of that."
The Duchess retired and the doors were barred and bolted after her. Amélie realized that she was indeed a prisoner.