THE SISTER
In the sitting-room of a small inn whose sign reads "Hotel d'Orleans" sat the five persons whom the Polipheme brought to France. Amélie, no longer a fresh radiant girl, and in deep mourning for her husband, Jean Vilon, sits beside René who whispers:
"When shall I see you light-hearted, Amélie? I am jealous of the dead. He robs me of you."
"What else may I do than wear black? He was a great heart. Do not wonder at my grief, René."
Naundorff's face was almost transfigured. He looked twenty years younger. He seemed to have lost consciousness of his past sufferings. Joy obliterated sorrow and his lips were wreathed in smiles.
"My friends," he was saying, "I reproach myself for having doubted of human justice. Early or late, the human heart turns to good as the body to earth. This is the happiest moment of my unhappy life. I am about to receive a great consolation and greatly did I require it, for on reaching Paris, my old wounds were re-opened. To return here after so many years and with such a record fastened to my name! I have visited my parents' prison. Yes, I have had the courage to do so. I am a man of memories. The tower has already been demolished. What haste to obliterate my past! In the remainder of the building a convent has been established, to which I have been refused admittance. I was brave enough to walk on the bloody ground whereon my mother—"
Amélie rose and threw her arms around her father's neck.
"Why do I dwell on this theme?" he asked, resuming his radiant expression. "Has not my destiny changed aspect? In spite of what we have suffered on the voyage, in spite of what you, my loved Amélie, have suffered, I say: 'Blessed be the hour in which I left London! Blessed the inspiration whereby I saved that wretch! These things have been registered to my credit. Blessed the faith I had in the one person who can save me and whose heart throbs at the sound of my name!'"
He fervently crossed his hands in an attitude of prayer.
"It is my duty to announce to you the secret of my happiness. You have cast your lives into my cause and braved even death. But danger has at last ceased; and the sun has chased away the clouds. I am happy, happy. O how strange that word sounds on my lips!"
Louis Pierre fixed on Naundorff a penetrating look and said:
"Monseigneur, we are waiting to know in what that happiness consists—"
"Listen, listen. This morning at about eleven o'clock a most affable gentleman brought me a message in answer to a letter I had written,—can you guess to whom?"
Then with his heart in his voice, he added:
"My sister, my sister!"
There was a moment of silence. Then Amélie asked almost sharply:
"Are we to infer that Madame does not Know how to write?"
"My dear child, what more can she do than send me word she will receive me—"
"Receive us?" asked the girl.
"No, myself only. Amélie, consider that you are a stranger to her, whereas I am the companion of her childhood, the boy who wept and suffered with her during captivity. She consents to see me. Do you think this little? I asked only that much, for I know that once together, she will run to embrace me. O that embrace!"
"Does she summon you to the Palace?"
"No—not to the palace—"
"Aha! the meeting is to be clandestine!"
"My God!" groaned Naundorff. "How you poison the first happiness I have tasted! Can you not read the state of my soul? Ambition! 'Tis an illusive folly. I long only for those arms to be opened to me in which as a little child I slept. What are a crown and sceptre worth? Such baubles do not allure me. I wish above all things to recover my name and to feel my sister's kisses. Those kisses will banish the spectre back of my forehead. Am I mad? Have I dreamed my past life? She, she will tell me the truth."
"But father," remonstrated Amélie, "why do you permit such doubts to overpower you? Do you not possess proofs? Have you not cited many corroborating circumstances? Have you not been recognized by your father's faithful servitors? By Madame Rambaud who rocked you in your cradle? Did you not remind her that the blue velvet dress you were to wear to Versailles was tight in the sleeves and that it was in consequence removed? Did she not exclaim on hearing you: 'This is my prince and my king?"
"Well, Amélie, in spite of these testimonials, I, myself falter in faith. My past seems too extraordinary to fit within the bounds of the possible. Perhaps I am a visionary, one of the many in the ranks of spurious Dauphins who have emerged from every corner of France. 'Tis true that I possess genuine documentary proof; of that I am certain. But these papers may have been placed in my hands for an end incomprehensible to me. Montmorin, himself, that hero of loyalty, may have been duped. This is the terrible suspicion which seizes me always at the moment when I most require confidence and courage."
Amélie sent René a look almost of anguish. Naundorff continued:
"She is the only cure for this unbearable incertitude. She is all that remains of my past. Her voice calling me 'Brother' will sweep the cobwebs from my brain and restore my faith forever."
"Are we to understand, Monseigneur," asked René, "that you may not enter the Palace? Is Madame to visit you here?"
"No; we have agreed to meet in Versailles park, the place where as children we so often played together. My sister is accustomed to visit Versailles occasionally that she may be undisturbed in her religious devotions and perform works of charity among the poor. Ah! my sister is an angel. In the midst of the brilliant court life, she is an angel. They have sought to harden her and weaken her clear judgment, but such effort has been futile. Yes, 'tis Versailles where we shall meet in six days, next Thursday. I am to be just without the garden. We are to meet in the grove of Apollo, from which the public is excluded; she visits the park only on festival days. All these details have been explained.—I know so well that our first act will be to cast ourselves into each other's arms and mingle our tears. We have not yet mourned our mother together!"
Louis Pierre contracted his thin lips in a bitter smile and caustically remarked:
"So this is to be all, Monseigneur? Only a fraternal embrace?"
"No, indeed. She wishes to see the documents. I shall therefore take them to her and also the manuscript—"
If a bomb had exploded in their midst, not more consternation could have been evinced. They exclaimed in chorus:
"The papers!"
"Never!" protested Amélie.
"'Tis an infernal trap!" exclaimed Louis Pierre.
"Bandits! The snare is well laid," added Giacinto.
"Monseigneur!" implored de Brezé. "Those papers are of inestimable value to us; they should be exhibited only before a court of justice. Our enemies seek to obtain possession of these papers, and, if they succeed, our cause is lost. The watch-maker Naundorff will be without proofs of his identity."
Naundorff became tremulous with anger.
"Dare not impute such infamy to my sister or I shall attribute villainy to yourselves. In this matter, I accept suggestions from no one. 'Tis an affair between God and myself. This is not a question for man to settle, for what value have the misleading judgments of earth? I alone decide. I am the State! I am the King. These papers pertain to myself only, even as my life is my exclusive property. If my sister, on seeing me, shall waive material proofs, how happy I shall be! But if she doubt or repulse me, what a joy, what a Satanic joy 'twill be to fling these testimonials in her face and say, 'Farewell forever. Our mother curses you!'"
He broke into a mocking laugh, such a laugh as terminates in nervous hysteria, while the others with saddened faces remained silent. Then he rose to leave, saying to de Brezé:
"René, I trust to you to bring me the papers Thursday morning. If you do not accede to this request, you will force me to violence."
As he passed out, Amélie said entreatingly to her lover:
"Save him in spite of himself. Keep them in their place of concealment, for there they are secure."
"Most secure," replied de Brezé. "They are with a friend, Gontran de Lome. He thinks them a compromising love correspondence of mine. Who would suspect that amiable Lovelace? Nevertheless, in spite of his dissipations, he is a man of honor and discretion. I guarantee the security of the papers while they remain with Gontran. But should your father demand them, Amélie, I cannot refuse. He is the arbiter of his fate and of our own as well."
The Carbonari meanwhile conversed in low tones. After a while Louis Pierre advanced saying:
"There lives in Versailles a sister of mine, who terminated her vagrant peddling existence by the establishment of a little shop. Giacinto and I have formulated a plan which we shall explain to you. We cannot fold our arms in the moment of danger."
"Noble friends!" said Amélie, extending her hands to the two men.
"No, Mademoiselle; you are entitled to our lives. You were made in heaven and the mourning you wear for that unfortunate peasant testifies to the greatness of your soul. I would let myself be torn to pieces for you. Our danger is grave. From the moment the papers are delivered to our enemies, our necks will be in danger. Louis Pierre and I are endeavoring to counteract the blunder which—pardon me,—was committed in consequence of your father's generosity. I take an oath that 'tis the man whom I have vowed to kill that has woven the net which has caught your father. Has not your father suffered enough to destroy the impression that all men are to be trusted?"
"My opinion," said Louis Pierre, "is that the hands that have woven the snare are whiter and more patrician than the spy's, however much he love and care for them. An iniquitous plot has been hatched at the Duchess's shoulders, for the securing of the papers. If we find it impossible to prevent the catastrophe, why vengeance remains," he concluded, his face taking on a tragic grandeur.