"Then let me still deserve that title as my consolation, whatever I may have to endure."
"But to flee from such indignity as this—such slander—such peril of death—"
"It is for me to bear these things," she interrupted, "if he to whom I vowed myself in marriage inflicts them upon me. If they be wrongs, it is I who must suffer but not I who must answer to heaven for them! I may be sinned against, but I will not sin. Though he fail in a husband's duty, I will not fail in a wife's. Do you not understand, Monsieur, it is not the things done to us, but the things we do, that we are accountable for?"
"But I can see no sin in your fleeing from the evils that beset you here, Madame."
"Nay, even if it were not a violation of my marriage vow, it would have the appearance of sin, and that we are to avoid. And it would be to throw away my one hope, that my husband's heart may yet be softened, and his eyes opened to my innocence."
"Alas! I trust it may turn out a true hope, Madame," said I sadly.
"Heaven has caused such things to occur before now," she replied. "As for you, Monsieur, I must never cease to thank you for your chivalrous intent, as I shall thank my good Mathilde for her devotion. And I will ever pray for you. And now, if you would make my lot easier—if you would remove one anxiety from my heart, and give me one solace—you will leave this chateau immediately. Save yourself, I beg. Monsieur: let there be no more blood shed on my account, and that blood yours! Mathilde can let you out at the postern—she knows where the key is hidden. She tells me you have a horse at Montoire. Go, Monsieur—lose not another moment—I implore—nay, if you will recognize me as mistress of this house, I command."
I bowed low. She offered me her hand: I kissed it.
"It will not be necessary for Mathilde to come to the postern," said I. "I know another way out of the chateau. Adieu, Madame!" It was all I could manage to say without the breaking of my voice. I turned and left the room, closing the door that the Countess and Mathilde might be spared the sight of the body on the landing. I then, for a reason, took the key, leaving the door unlocked. I groped my way down the stairs, taking care not to trip over the body below. I crossed the court-yards without any care for secrecy, entered the hall, and sat down upon a bench near the door.
When I had told the Countess I knew another way out of the chateau, I meant only the front gateway. But I did not intend immediately to try that way. I intended, for a purpose which had suddenly come into my head, to wait in the hall till morning and be the first to greet the Count when he appeared.