“No, the old omadhaun; an’ may the divil fly away wid him before I do.”
At last Vivienne reached the foot of the long flight of stone steps that led to the Hall of Mirrors. She sank down exhausted; she was unused to such great physical exertion, besides being almost mentally distracted when she thought how powerless she was to save Vandemar without the help of one who, she knew, hated him as intensely as did her own brother.
At length, she arose and, going to an open window, again called loudly for Manassa; but there was no response. Sick at heart, she turned away from the window and went slowly up the steps.
At sight of the closed door of the dungeon chamber, her forced composure gave way. She ran to it and beat wildly against it until the blood oozed through the tender skin; then she sank upon her knees. She raised her clasped hands to Heaven and cried:
“Oh, mon Dieu! Give me back my memory but for one moment. Pardon me, mon Dieu, not for what I say, but for the way I say it. I learned the instructions in the paper by heart, but they called me mad, and I have forgotten them. Then I fell sick, and all is a blank. Oh, mon Dieu, give me back my memory, that I may save a precious life. Oh, my dear father in heaven, entreat the good God, who is God of Love and Mercy, to help me!”
Full of her simple faith, she arose and stood before the door, as though expecting to see it open of its own accord; but there it stood, immovable, relentless, merciless. She regarded it for a time with a helpless, dazed look. Then there came a revulsion, and the weak woman, with a feeble voice, was transformed into a new creature; for the time being she was mad, and, with that madness came the fictitious physical and mental strength, the showing of which deceives all but those who are acquainted with such manifestations of mania.
“I must open it,” she cried; “I will! I will!! Oh, father! father!! Clarine! Clarine!! Where are you? Where is Manassa? He is lost—lost! Come listen, Clarine—come! Five days, Clarine, five long days and nights! Dear God, one long night—one hundred and twenty hours of darkness; no food, no drink, and naught but the cold stones to lie upon.
“I see him now, with his eyes turned towards that merciless door; watching, praying for the ray of light that never comes; waiting for the sound of the voice that promised to save him; listening for the step he can never hear.
“Oh, I shall go mad! Mad!! Vandemar! Vandemar!! It is I, Vivienne. I have come to save you, but the cruel walls will not let me in. Speak to me, Vandemar. Tell me that you live. I am coming—coming!”
Again she struck the wall, frantically, with her bleeding hands: