O those first days of separation! The Marquis shut the door upon the friends who had been his life-long associates. He wished only to be in London, reunited to Amélie, but, not knowing her address, to find her would be impossible. At last a letter from her, forwarded by Adhemar, gave him the needed information. He was about to set out when a slow fever fastened upon him and kept him in bed for three months. He did not tell Amélie of his condition, fearing to alarm her. His letters were brief, but they breathed an unswerving devotion. When returning health sent the impetuous blood of youth through his veins, he declared to his mother an unalterable determination to persist in his love for the stranger girl. Then it was that, like a bomb exploding at his feet, these ominous words fell from the lips of the Duchess:
"It would be insanity in the Marquis de Brezé to bestow his name on the daughter of a mechanic by occupation, a vagabond without lineage, of tainted blood, an adventurer who has roamed over Europe, supported in his youth by a woman of middle age whom there is good reason to suppose was his mistress. I knew well these particulars, dear son of mine, and you may imagine how they harassed me, but I rebuked myself, saying that dignity and morality might exist in the humblest rank. Still, as those who are not blinded by love must ascertain facts, I investigated the situation and obtained these corroborating documents. You will admit that my course has not been one of capricious obstinacy. Listen. The father of your idol, by name Naundorff, seems to be of Jewish extraction. His past is sullied by grave felonies. Here is the deposition of the burgomaster of Spandau and letters from other Prussian authorities—a formal conviction, in fact. As an incendiary, he set fire to the city theatre, as a counterfeiter, he manufactured sackfuls of coins, which, when caught in the act, he flung into the river Spree. He expiated his flagitious acts by serving in the penitentiary of Alstadt the sentence imposed by a German court. Now you know the truth and if you still desire to unite the Naundorff blazonry with the unblemished arms of Brezé, glorious with crusader trophies, you are free to do so. I cannot restrain you. If I could, I should. I have discharged my duty in warning you. You cannot allege ignorance. And now, René, leave me. I trust soon to know whether the heir of Rousillon lives or whether I must mourn his passing."
This was the speech which the young Marquis had, earlier in the evening, abridged and modified before Amélie. And now, living over again the scene at the trellis, he felt that she would not forgive him and, nevertheless, that he could not live without her. Knightly honor, family pride, the obligations of nobility—all were impotent in combating his love for the fascinating, imperious girl.
[Chapter III]
THE ASSAULT
Telling himself that he was reprehensively weak in failing to resist his passion, René gazed out upon the river. He reflected that its dark surface had closed over many human sorrows and perplexities which seemed beyond alleviation. A chill crept over him, then a dizziness, as he gazed into the glistening, alluring current of the Thames.
In such situations, the slightest whisper is enough to break the spell. The Marquis started on beholding two men emerge from a noisome alley, conversing in French. When abroad, our native tongue always claims our attention, especially when one using it happens to pronounce a familiar name. These men twice spoke the name of Amélie's father, whereupon René stealthily followed the pair. He could not distinguish the topic of their conversation but was quite close enough to study the physical type of each of the suspicious characters, one of whom was close-shaven, coarse and short of stature, the other tall, full-bearded, alert and enveloped in a huge overcoat which concealed half his face. They walked slowly, peering at intervals in all directions. On perceiving René, they nudged each other, for the Marquis's fine clothes were out of keeping with the place, which was the thoroughfare of dissolute and disorderly sailors. They ceased talking and, a few moments later, suddenly turned a corner and disappeared in the labyrinth of malodorous, ill-lighted alleys. René realized that they had eluded him, but his hunter's scent and nimble legs put him again upon their trail. Why this espionage? He could scarcely have answered had he been questioned.
When he next perceived them, they were standing beneath the yellow lantern of a tavern. He saw them enter the filthy place, order some glasses of beer, which they gulped down like genuine Londoners and make their exit. Guardedly he followed them into the wider and better-lighted streets, through which rolled an occasional cab. Again they described a capricious curve, descended towards the river and emerged upon the park which faced the small house and garden—the scene of René's colloquy with Amélie. On noting the coincidence, his heart beat fast and the movement was quickened when he perceived that the wily couple were ambuscading back of the great trees in the centre of the square. Connecting the name he had twice heard spoken by the ruffians—for so he classified them—with the place of their concealment, he conjectured that an act was about to be perpetrated which would affect Amélie, an act in which he must interpose, whether impelled by fate or chance. He crept into the zone of shade cast by the dense foliage, his gray cloak blending in color with the walls and making him almost invisible.
The park remained deserted. The night grew darker each moment and the silence was broken only by the solemn striking of the church clock or the impatient step of a laborer returning homeward. Just as the hour of nine struck, a man appeared from that side of the park opposite the spot where René was watching. As he entered, walking leisurely, the two concealed men stepped forth and with a preconcerted movement placed themselves, the one on the stranger's right, the other on his left. René had scarcely realized what had occurred when the assault began. A few vigorous leaps brought him quickly to the assistance of the victim just as the assailants were about to deliver their blows. He seized the uplifted arm of the more threatening one, the tall man with the great coat, whose intended cudgel-blow was thereby made harmless.