"I can indeed guess, madame," she answered, with almost her usual vivacity, "what reasons have induced those who should be dear to me to do this most wicked thing; but right glad am I to think that they have been foiled. By a strange mistake the bird they meant to catch has escaped, and I have for the moment fallen into the trap intended for another. I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance—a nearer acquaintance, indeed, I do not desire, if I am to understand that you are a willing party to this abominable plot—but I beg to introduce myself to you as the Baroness Clotilde de Valricour. May I beg the honour of your name and title?"
The lady's supercilious look gave place just for a few seconds to one of involuntary surprise, but it soon came back again as she replied, "Mademoiselle Lacroix will pardon me if I do not allow myself to be deceived by this little scheme. I have been made so far acquainted with the circumstances of the case as to know that much deceit has been already practised, in which I believe the young baroness you speak of has not been without her share, and this may be, for aught I know, some fresh and cleverly devised phase of it. I must be excused for believing that those who had the matter in hand would not make so very silly a mistake, and I have only to communicate to mademoiselle the object with which she has been brought hither."
It may well be imagined that Clotilde was not a little disconcerted both by the tone and tenor of this reply. Had she been able to frame any very definite wish during her journey, it would perhaps have been that she might meet with some such person as the Lady Superior of a religious house and claim her protection. Here she was in just such a position, yet with the clouds apparently gathering still more blackly over her. She would have been less surprised, however, had she known a little more about the antecedents of Madame de Varny, the Superior of the Ursuline Convent, the place to which she had been brought. Noble by birth, and pre-eminently lovely and accomplished, Madame de Varny had once been the proudest beauty of the court of King Louis, but having been attacked by that terrible scourge the small-pox, she had recovered only to find herself as hideous as she had once been beautiful. To be an object of loathing where she had formerly been courted and admired was more than her frivolous and worldly mind could bear, and she had retired to the seclusion of a nominally religious life, in which her rank and influence secured her the position she now enjoyed; but, like many of her class, she still clung to the world, and her intriguing disposition led her often enough to lend her aid, whenever those with whom she had been used to associate required it, to carry out some plot or scheme arising out of the debased and unscrupulous court life of that period. She was an old acquaintance of Madame de Valricour, and in her the baroness had found an able and willing confederate in the business now on hand.
"Madame," said Clotilde, after a short silence, "you will believe me or not, as you think best, and will make to me what communication you choose; it rests with me to decide how I shall act upon it."
"Not altogether," replied the lady, with a smile that had nothing very pleasant in it. "Mademoiselle will not have much choice in the matter. I shall not waste time," she continued, "by any allusion to the family circumstances to which you owe your visit here; they are as well known to you as to me—perhaps better. I can pity your infatuation of course; it must have been very great indeed to allow you to suppose that a personage so exalted as the Marquis de Beaujardin could for one moment dream of permitting an alliance between his son and one like yourself. Such a thing would be absurd, and of course the marquis and his relatives must prevent it by all and any means. It has been therefore arranged that a gentleman of excellent family, who it seems has had some opportunity of meeting you, and has, I hear, been much taken with your modest manners, as some foolish young men occasionally are, shall make you his wife. The marriage will take place here this afternoon; and I am permitted to tell you that the Marquis de Beaujardin has most generously taken it upon him to provide a dowry for you, notwithstanding your ingratitude to that noble family. You are indeed fortunate, my young lady, in so happy an ending to so lamentable an affair." Here the lady paused as if to receive the acknowledgments befitting such kindness and consideration.
"Indeed!" answered Clotilde at last. "Indeed! And pray, madame, what if, in the new character thus forced upon me, I should decline to accept the gentleman, and should fling my uncle's dowry in his face, and tell him that he ought to be ashamed of degrading himself by taking part against a poor orphan girl, whom he and his are bound by all that is sacred to love and protect? What then?"
The lady seemed just for a minute or so rather bewildered by Clotilde's vehement sally, but as soon as she recovered herself she replied with ominous coldness and decision, "I can scarcely suppose that mademoiselle could do anything so very silly; but if such should be the case, why there will be another ride in the coach, perhaps a longer one than the last. It will certainly not be to Beaujardin nor to Valricour. Where it may stop I will not pretend to say. But did Mademoiselle Marguerite never hear of such a thing as a lettre de cachet? Well, you will have some hours to think over it, and in the meanwhile you will be quite safe here; but pray do not cherish any foolish hope that you have any choice except between a ring and a ride to some place where you will not be less safe than here, but where you will most assuredly stay a good deal longer. Let us hope that you will be better advised, and accept the hand of Monsieur de Crillon."
The hand of Monsieur de Crillon! Yes, those were the words with which the imperious dame had swept out of the room, locking the door after her. Clotilde could scarcely believe her ears. Then he, too, who had allowed her, nay, led her to suppose that to win her hand was the object nearest to his heart, had consented for the sake of the promised dowry to wed one for whom he cared not a jot, well knowing that the union could only bring misery, not happiness, to the victim of his selfish covetousness! Never till this moment had Clotilde suspected how much she really cared for him; but that was now a thing of the past. Happily she had learned in time how mean and despicable he was, and in her indignation she rejoiced at the humiliation he would experience on finding that the wicked scheme was marred, and that he himself would have the task of proving who she was, and bringing about her release. But it was a bitter thing to find herself in such a position, and to know that her mother, and even the marquis, were concerned in such a plot. It is scarcely to be wondered at that she at length gave way to her grief; her only comfort was that, as it had turned out, Marguerite had escaped the present danger, and as she thought of this she could not help feeling thankful that there would yet be a delay of many hours before the shameless de Crillon would discover how they had been foiled.
Somewhat reassured by these reflections, she proceeded to examine a little more calmly the place where she was detained. She now observed for the first time a side-table, on which a repast that might serve either as a supper or a breakfast was laid out, and on looking timidly through an open door she found a sleeping apartment, evidently intended for the expected prisoner. She was too excited as yet to take either food or rest, and sat down to meditate on the prospect before her. It would, however, be as painful as it would be profitless to follow her through the long hours that ensued; let us see, then, what in the meanwhile was happening elsewhere.
Madame de Valricour had remained at Beaujardin for the night, perhaps not caring to have to answer the questions with which Clotilde might be expected to meet her on her return home. What was her surprise when, early in the forenoon, a messenger arrived from Valricour with a note from Madame de Bleury, informing her that immediately on the departure of the coach on the previous evening Isidore had left the chateau in company with Mademoiselle de Valricour, and that they had not since returned. Utterly at a loss to account for so strange a proceeding, the baroness prepared to hasten home at once, but finally resolved first to make sure that the plot against Marguerite, which she deemed of the greatest moment, had been successful; and she accordingly set out for the convent. It was a ride of some hours' length, and she did not arrive until the afternoon was well advanced. Imagine her amazement and anger when, after hearing from the Superior an account of her interview with the young lady, she satisfied herself beyond a doubt that Clotilde was really there, and that it must have been Marguerite with whom Isidore had escaped from Valricour.