The captain seemed to have given Montauran a death-blow, for he re-entered the house with a staggering step, pale, haggard, and undone.
Another scene had meanwhile taken place in the dining-room, which assumed, in the marquis’s absence, such a threatening character that Marie, alone without her protector, might well fancy she read her death-warrant in the eyes of her rival. At the noise of the volley the guests all sprang to their feet, but Madame du Gua remained seated.
“It is nothing,” she said; “our men are despatching the Blues.” Then, seeing the marquis outside on the portico, she rose. “Mademoiselle whom you here see,” she continued, with the calmness of concentrated fury, “came here to betray the Gars! She meant to deliver him up to the Republic.”
“I could have done so twenty times to-day and yet I saved his life,” said Mademoiselle de Verneuil.
Madame du Gua sprang upon her rival like lightning; in her blind excitement she tore apart the fastenings of the young girl’s spencer, the stuff, the embroidery, the corset, the chemise, and plunged her savage hand into the bosom where, as she well knew, a letter lay hidden. In doing this her jealousy so bruised and tore the palpitating throat of her rival, taken by surprise at the sudden attack, that she left the bloody marks of her nails, feeling a sort of pleasure in making her submit to so degrading a prostitution. In the feeble struggle which Marie made against the furious woman, her hair became unfastened and fell in undulating curls about her shoulders; her face glowed with outraged modesty, and tears made their burning way along her cheeks, heightening the brilliancy of her eyes, as she quivered with shame before the looks of the assembled men. The hardest judge would have believed in her innocence when he saw her sorrow.
Hatred is so uncalculating that Madame du Gua did not perceive she had overshot her mark, and that no one listened to her as she cried triumphantly: “You shall now see, gentlemen, whether I have slandered that horrible creature.”
“Not so horrible,” said the bass voice of the guest who had thrown the first stone. “But for my part, I like such horrors.”
“Here,” continued the cruel woman, “is an order signed by Laplace, and counter-signed by Dubois, minister of war.” At these names several heads were turned to her. “Listen to the wording of it,” she went on.
“‘The military citizen commanders of all grades, the district
administrators, the procureur-syndics, et cetera, of the
insurgent departments, and particularly those of the localities in
which the ci-devant Marquis de Montauran, leader of the brigands
and otherwise known as the Gars, may be found, are hereby
commanded to give aid and assistance to the citoyenne Marie
Verneuil and to obey the orders which she may give them at her
discretion.’
“A worthless hussy takes a noble name to soil it with such treachery,” added Madame du Gua.