I put it on my finger and touched it a hundred times to assure myself that I was not the victim of an illusion; then I took it off and examined it with a care which I had not been equal to in the Castle of Ionis, and there deciphered this device in very ancient characters:
“Thy life belongs to me alone.”
Was it a command for me not to fight? Was the immortal nymph still unwilling for me to rejoin her? This was a great blow to me, for I was consumed with a thirst for death, and I had hoped that circumstances would authorize me to rid myself of life without being either rebellious or cowardly.
I rang for Baptiste whom I could still hear walking around the house.
“Come,” said I, “thou must tell me the truth, mon ami, for thou art an honest man, and my reason is in thy hands. Who has been here this evening? Who has put this ring in my room, on my pillow?”
“What ring, monsieur? I have seen no ring.”
“But don’t you see it now? Isn’t it on my finger? Haven’t you already seen it at the château d’Ionis?”
“Certainly, monsieur, I see it and recognize it perfectly. It is the same one that you lost over there and that I found between two tiles; but I swear upon my honor, that I don’t know how it came here, and when I turned down your bed I saw nothing on your pillow.”
“Perhaps thou canst tell me one thing at least, that I have never dared to ask thee since that fever that made me delirious for several hours. Who was it that took this ring away from me at the castle d’Ionis?”
“I know no more than you, monsieur. Seeing that it was not on your finger I thought you had hidden it—so that you might not compromise——.”