LIII
DIVINE JUSTICE
The next evening, about eight o'clock, the Comte de Marvejols entered the public promenade called the Pré-aux-Clercs; it was an extensive meadow, divided into two parts by a canal called the Petite-Seine, which started from the river to carry water to fill the moats of the abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés. At that time some buildings had already been erected on the small Pré-aux-Clercs, and preparations were being made for building on the larger tract, where Rues des Petits-Augustins, de Verneuil, de l'Université, des Saints-Pères, etc., were subsequently laid out.
But the works in progress on the Pré-aux-Clercs still left ample space for walking and for rendezvous; so that spot was a favorite one for duellists and for lovers.
It was quite dark, and Léodgard had not taken a hundred steps on the Grand Pré-aux-Clercs, when a woman stopped before him. Valentine was dressed entirely in black, and her excitement, the pallor of her face, the thrill that ran through her body at sight of the count, seemed to enhance her majestic beauty.
Without a word, she offered her hand to Léodgard, who felt it tremble as he took it in his.
"Come," said Valentine, in a broken voice, "let us sit on this bench. Miretta is watching close by, and we may talk without fear.—Oh! I was still afraid that you would not come, that you had changed your mind; but you believed what I wrote in my letter, did you not? Yes, you must have believed it, as you are here. And now, tell me if you have forgiven me."
As she spoke, Valentine fixed upon Léodgard her lovely black eyes, overflowing with love and fear. Thereupon the passion that that woman had previously kindled in the count's heart broke forth into flame, more ardent, more impetuous, more powerful than ever; and he could only fall at her feet, crying:
"Forgive you! And you tell me that you love me—you confess that only the passion that you felt for me inspired the wish to be revenged!—Ah! am I not too happy to be so loved by you? If I had met the death that I deserved, my fate would have been an enviable one. It is for me, who refused the happiness that was offered me, to implore your forgiveness!"
"Let us not revert to the past.—Léodgard, as I have told you, I love you; and now I can no longer endure the presence of the Marquis de Santoval! If you share my love, I will be yours, but yours alone. Valentine de Mongarcin will never stoop to deceive a man! She will leave that man forever; for, once yours, she will die rather than return to him!—You have heard me, Léodgard. Take me to some other country, beneath a different sky; whither, it matters not to me, provided that I am with you, that I may fly from a man whom I detest, that I may live for you alone, with you alone!—But until then I will not be your mistress; for, I say again, when I have been once in your arms, I will never return to the Marquis de Santoval."
The thought of abducting Valentine, of taking her away from her husband, made Léodgard's heart beat fast; he could no longer doubt the love of that woman, who offered to sacrifice her reputation, her honor, her exalted position in society, to be his; and she was so lovely, so young, so fascinating, she promised such a wealth of tenderness and rapture, that the count looked forward with ecstatic delight to the moment when that prospect of love and bliss would become a reality.