Poor Rose d'Albret covered her eyes with her hands in terror and in grief; for she well knew that Monsieur de Liancourt was one who would consider such an oath, however rashly and intemperately spoken, as full justification for violating every dictate of propriety, right, and justice. Madame de Chazeul saw her agony, and enjoyed it; for anger and wounded pride had their share in the bitter determination which she had formed, to force the poor girl into the arms of her son; and amongst the many images which a quick fancy brought before her mind of future triumphs, was the prospect of mingling misery and care with Rose's married life, and taking vengeance, for what she called the disdain of the haughty girl, upon the unwilling bride. She sat silent, then, and Rose remained with her fair face covered, hiding the tears that would burst forth, and striving to smother the sobs that struggled for free course.
Neither uttered a word for several minutes. The house, and the chamber remained quite still; and then came a sound as of a key turning in a door, and next a gentle tap close to the chair where Madame de Chazeul was seated. Both Rose and the Marchioness started up, though with very different feeling; Rose with terror and alarm, lest Helen should discover herself; and the Marchioness with surprise, which did not at all deprive her of her prompt decision, and ready wit. Ere Mademoiselle d'Albret could utter a word, however, in the wild confusion into which her thoughts had been thrown, her fierce companion judging in a moment that the secret was about to be disclosed, said in a low, but quick tone. "Come in!" The door from the priest's room opened, and Helen de la Tremblade stood before them, with a face calm and placid when she first appeared, but which became glowing and agitated, as soon as she beheld her enemy.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
"Ha, ha, ha!" exclaimed Madame de Chazeul, bursting forth into a long peal of laughter, "so the secret is discovered! So here is the precious witness! So here is the wise intelligence bearer!--Strumpet, how dare you show yourself in my presence?"
"Neither willingly not wittingly, have I done so, Madam," answered Helen de la Tremblade, who had now recovered her self-possession, and spoke in a much calmer and firmer tone than the Marchioness had ever heard her assume; for, in the fire of adversity, she had gained strength, and the loss of hope had carried with it the loss of all those thrilling emotions, those vibrations of the heart, which shake and agitate the mind also. Thus, though surprised at seeing the woman who had so harshly used her, and whom,--in the long pause that had taken place in the conversation with Rose d'Albret,--she had thought gone from the chamber, she was nevertheless not confounded, and far less dismayed than might have been expected, "Neither wittingly nor willingly," she repeated, "but since it is so, it may be no better. I am, Madam, as you have said, both the witness, and the intelligence bearer; but happily not the only one."
"What minion, will you dare me?" cried Madame de Chazeul advancing a step, as if she would have struck her.
"Have a care, lady," said Helen in a deep tone. "Remember, I am not a servant, and no longer in any way under your authority, or, as you once termed it, protection.--Protection! Oh, God, what protection! Our position is different; and I bear not now, what I have borne before."
"On my life," exclaimed the Marchioness, "this is admirable! Where do you stand, girl?--Is this my brother's house, or yours?"
"Your brother's, Madam, but not yours," replied Helen, "and I know that brother too well, to doubt that he will do justice, when he knows the truth. To him I am now going; and at his feet I will tell all,--my own fault, and my own folly.--Ay, and your crimes, to me and to others."
She took a step towards the door; but Madame de Chazeul cast herself in the way, with a look of terrible fury. She well knew, that the poor girl had the power, if she could but obtain a few moments' interview with the Count, of overthrowing all that she had done with him, of exposing her conduct, ruining her schemes, and blasting by a breath all that she most desired to see bear fruit. The worm she had trampled upon, had turned to sting, her, and her only safety was to crush it.