XV.—THE GRATED WINDOW.
"Monsieur de Blassemare," she said, abruptly, "I cannot remain here!"
"And why not, madame?"
"I have passed a night of terror."
"I should be happy to protect madame."
The significance of his tone, made her eyes flash and her cheeks tingle; but she controlled her indignation, and said—
"I last night heard the sounds of violence and agony at my very door—in this apartment. Who was the woman that screamed? What have they done?"
"Shall I tell you?" asked Blassemare, with an odd smile.
"Yes, monsieur, who was she?" she persisted, her curiosity aroused by the pointed question of Blassemare.
"Well, madame, the person whom you heard scream at your door last night is Madame Le Prun, wife of the Fermier-General—the wealthy and benevolent owner of the Chateau des Anges, and your successful—lover!"
"Wife—wife of Monsieur Le Prun!" she faltered, nearly stupefied.
"Ay, madame, his wife."
"Then, thank God, he has no control over me. I am free!—that, at least, is a happiness."
"Nay, madame, you will not find it so easy to satisfy our tribunals—you seem to have forgotten the necessity of proofs. In the mean time, you are de facto the wife of Monsieur Le Prun, and he will exert, according to law, the rights and authority of a husband over you."
"Monsieur de Blassemare, for God's sake, help me—help me in this frightful extremity!"
"Madame, the fact is, I must be plain with you. If I mix myself further in this frightful affair, as you justly term it, I must lay my account with serious perils. Men do not run their heads into mischief for nothing; and, therefore, if I act as your champion, I must be accepted as your lover also."
"Oh, Monsieur de Blassemare, you cannot be serious!—you will not be so inhuman as to desert me!"
"By my faith, madame, the age of knight-errantry is over—nothing for nothing is the ruling principle of our own prosaic day. To be plain with you, I can't afford to quarrel with Le Prun for nothing; and, if you persist in refusing my services, I must only make it up with him as best I can; and of course you return to the Chateau des Anges."
"I can't believe you, Monsieur de Blassemare; I won't believe you. You are a gentleman—kind, honorable, humane."
"Gad!—so I am, madame; but I am no professed redresser of wrongs. I never interpose between husband and wife—or those who pass for such—without a sufficient motive. Now, Monsieur Le Prun believes I have gone down to his estate at Lyons, but he will have intelligence of your flight to-day, and he will learn, in a few days more, that I have also disappeared. The fact is, my complicity can't remain a secret long. You see, madame, I must take my course promptly. It altogether rests with you to decide what it shall be. But you are fatigued and excited: don't pronounce in too much haste. Consider your position, and I shall have the honor to present myself again in the course of the afternoon."
She did not attempt to detain him, or, indeed, to reply. Her thoughts were too distracted.
Lucille, alone once more, became a prey to the terror of another visit from the so-called Madame Le Prun, whose ill-omened approaches had inspired her with so much terror on the night preceding.
The chambers looked, if possible, more decayed and dilapidated by daylight than they had upon the preceding night. She went to the windows, but they afforded no more cheering prospect—looking out upon a dark courtyard, round which the vast hotel rose in sombre altitude—dreary, inauspicious, and colossal. The court was utterly deserted, and the gate leading from it into the fore-court was closed and barred. The Bastile itself would have been cheerful compared with this vast and fearful castle of solitude, or, as it might be, worse. The sense of absolute defencelessness added poignancy to her fears of a renewed visit from some ill-disposed denizen of the mansion; and her fears at last became so strong, that she ventured to leave the rooms where she had been established, intending to retreat to some part of the house where her presence might at all events be less certainly expected than where she was. Accordingly she was soon wending among all the intricacies and solemn grandeur of a huge and half-ruinous hotel. Descending, at last, a turret stair, she came to a small stone chamber, in which was a little grated window. Standing upon a block of stone, she looked through the strong bars of this little aperture, and perceived that it was but some six or seven feet above the pavè of a dark and narrow lane. She would have given worlds to escape from the prison in which she found herself, but the close, thick bars rendered all chance of making that a passage of escape wholly desperate.
As she looked wistfully through, a little ragged urchin came whistling carelessly along the lane, kicking a turnip before him.
She called the gamin: he was a shrewd monkey-faced fellow, with an insolent crafty eye.
"My good boy, here is a louis-d'or, as earnest of twenty more which I will give you, if you bring this safely to Monsieur le Marquis de Secqville, at the Hotel de Secqville, Rue St. Etienne, and conduct him hither."
"Hey, mademoiselle! it is a bargain. But how shall I know you again?—what is your name?"
"I am Madame Le Prun; but the marquis will tell you where I am to be found. See, here is the note!"
She had written a few lines upon a leaf of her tablet. She tore it off, directed it, and then threw it out to the boy, together with the promised coin. He ran away, chuckling and singing upon his errand, believing his fortune made, and in an instant was out of sight.
Let us now see how he fared.
As the demon of contrariety would have it, Monsieur Le Prun, almost insane with rage and spite, had, not five minutes before, dismounted at the Hotel de Secqville, to consult the marquis respecting the flight of Madame Le Prun. He had certainly chosen his advisers well. The marquis, as it happened, was out, and Le Prun, who, of course, had access under all circumstances to the interior of the hotel, established himself in the private apartment of De Secqville, awaiting his return.
While there, the servant brought in the pencil-note on which so much depended.
"It must be intended for monsieur," said the man presenting it upon his salver, "for the messenger says it comes from Madame Le Prun."
"Hey!—ha!—let us see! Ten thousand devils, what is this?"
He read—
"Relying upon your professions of devotion, I implore of you to deliver me from a prison as terrifying as that of which my husband was the jailer. The messenger, a little boy whom fortune has sent to me, will conduct you to this spot. I know not the name of the street, nor of the hotel. In the name of heaven lose not a moment!
"Lucille."
Monsieur Le Prun descended the stairs, and was in the street in a second.
"Well, garçon, here I am—I've got the note—conduct me to the place."
"Ha, ha! then you are—the marquis?"
"To be sure I am. Here, boy, take this, and lead on."
He gave him a piece of money, and, following his little guide, Le Prun, in less than half an hour, reached the spot from which he had started.
"Bon jour, madame. I hope you have recovered the fatigue of your night's journey. You see I lose no time in hastening to bid you welcome."
So cried Monsieur Le Prun, with a sardonic grin upon his pale face, as he bowed to the horror-stricken girl, who still occupied the little window, where she expected so different an image.
She fled from this spectre as if she had seen the Evil One incarnate. Flying wildly through the passages and chambers of the deserted house, she found herself on a sudden in an apartment furnished like an office, with shelves, desks, &c., and here Blassemare was sitting among a pile of papers. He started on seeing her, and she exclaimed:
"Monsieur Le Prun has seen me—he will be here in a moment."
"Here!—where is he?"
"He saw me in the window, and spoke to me with furious irony from the street. For God's sake, hide me. I feel that he will kill me."
"Hum!—so. Gad, he will be here in a moment. I must meet him boldly—I have nothing for it but impudence. A few fibs, and, if the worst should come, my sword. But don't be frightened, madame, he shan't hurt you."
Blassemare proceeded to the court, awaiting the advent of his incensed patron.