CHAPTER XIII.
HUSBAND AND WIFE.
Count Charny was clad in black, mourning for his brother slain two daysbefore.
This mourning was not solely in his habit, but in the recesses of hisheart, and his pallid cheeks attested what grief he had undergone. Neverare handsome faces finer than after sorrow, and the rapid glance of hiswife perceived that he had never looked more superb.
She closed her eyes an instant, slightly held back her head to draw afull breath and laid her hand on her heart which seemed about to break.
When she opened them, after a second, Charny was in the same place.
"Is the carriage to wait?" inquired the servant, urged by the footman atthe door.
An unspeakable look shot from the yearning eyes of the visitor upon hiswife, who was dazed into closing her own again, while she stoodbreathless as though she had not noticed the glance or heard thequestion. Both had penetrated to her heart.
Charny sought in this lovely living statue for some token to indicatewhat answer he should make. As her shiver might be read both ways, hesaid: "Bid the coachman wait."
The door closed and perhaps for the first time since their wedding thelord and his lady were alone together.
"Pardon me," said the count, breaking the silence, "but is my unexpectedcall intrusion? I have not seated myself and the carriage waits so thatI can depart as I came."
"No, my lord, quite the contrary," quickly said Andrea. "I knew you werewell and safe, but I am not the less happy to see you after recentevents."
"You have been good enough then to ask after me?"
"Of course; yesterday, and this morning, when I was answered that youwere at Versailles; and this evening, when I learnt that you were inattendance on the Queen."
Were those last words spoken simply or did they contain a reproach? Notknowing what to make of them, the count was evidently set thinking bythem. But probably leaving to the outcome of the dialogue the lifting ofthe veil lowered on his mind for the time, he replied almost instantly:
"My lady, a pious duty retained me at Versailles yesterday and this day;one as sacred in my eyes brought me instantly on my arrival in townbeside her Majesty."
Andrea tried in her turn to discover the true intent of the words.Thinking that she ought to respond, she said:
"Yes, I know of the terrible loss which--_you_ have experienced." Shehad been on the point of saying "we," but she dared not, and continued:"You have had the misfortune to lose your brother Valence de Charny."
The count seemed to be waiting for the clue, for he had started onhearing the pronoun "Your."
"Yes, my lady. As you say, a terrible loss for me, but you cannotappreciate the young man, as you little knew poor Valence, happily."
In the last word was a mild and melancholy reproach, which his auditorcomprehended, though no outward sign was manifested that she gave itheed.
"Still, one thing consoles me, if anything can console me; poor Valencedied doing his duty, as probably his brother Isidore will die, and Imyself."
This deeply affected Andrea.
"Alas, my lord," she asked, "do you believe matters so desperate thatfresh sacrifices of blood are necessary to appease the wrath of heaven?"
"I believe that the hour comes when the knell of kings is to peal; thatan evil genius pushes monarchy unto the abysm. In short I think, if itis to fall, it will be accompanied, and should be so, by all those whotook part in its splendor."
"True, but when comes that day, believe that it will find me ready likeyourself for the utmost devotion," said Andrea.
"Your ladyship has given too many proofs of that devotion in the past,for any one to doubt it for the future--I least of all--the less as Ihave for the first time flinched about an order from the Queen. Onarriving from Versailles, I found the order to present myself to herMajesty instantly."
"Oh," said Andrea, sadly smiling; "it is plain," she added, after apause, "like you, the Queen sees the future is sombre and mysterious andwishes to gather round her all those she can depend on."
"You are wrong, my lady," returned Charny, "for the Queen summoned me,not to bid me stand by her, but to send me afar."
"Send you away?" quickly exclaimed the countess, taking a step towardsthe speaker. "But I am keeping you standing," she said, pointing to achair.
So saying, she herself sank, as though unable to remain on foot anylonger, on the sofa where she had been sitting with Sebastian shortlybefore.
"Send you away? in what end?" she said with emotion not devoid of joy atthe thought that the suspected lovers were parting.
"To have me go to Turin to confer with Count Artois and the Duke ofBourbon, who have quitted the country."
"And you accepted?"
"No, my lady," responded Charny, watching her fixedly.
She lost color so badly that he moved as if to assist her, but thisrevived her strength and she recovered.
"No? you have answered No to an order of the Queen's, my lord?" shefaltered, with an indescribable accent of doubt and astonishment.
"I answered that I believed my presence here at present more necessarythan in Italy. Anybody could bear the message with which I was to behonored; I had a second brother, just arrived from the country, to placeat the orders of the King, and he was ready to start in my stead."
"Of course the Queen was happy to see the substitute," exclaimed Andrea,with bitterness she could not contain, and not appearing to escapeCharny.
"It was just the other way, for she seemed to be deeply wounded by therefusal. I should have been forced to go had not the King chanced in andI made him the arbiter."
"The King held you to be right?" sneered the lady with an ironicalsmile: "he like you advised your staying in the Tuileries? Oh, how goodhis Majesty is!"
"So he is," went on the count, without wincing: "he said that my brotherIsidore would be well fitted for the mission and the more so as it washis first visit to court, so that his absence would not be remarked. Headded that it would be cruel for the Queen to require my being sent awayfrom you at present."
"The King said, from me?" exclaimed Andrea.
"I repeat his own words, my lady. Looking round and addressing me, hewanted to know where the Countess of Charny was. 'I have not seen herthis evening,' said he. As this was specially directed to me, I madebold to reply. 'Sire,' I said, 'I have so seldom the pleasure of seeingthe countess that I am in the state of impossibility to tell where sheis; but if your Majesty wishes to know, he might inquire of the Queenwho, knowing, will reply!' I insisted as I judged from the Queen lookingblack, that some difference had arisen between you."
Andrea was so enwrapt in the listening that she did not think of sayinganything.
"The Queen made answer that the Countess of Charny had gone away fromthe palace with no intention to return. 'Why, what motive can your bestfriend have in quitting the palace at this juncture?' inquired the King.'Because she is uncomfortable here,' replied the Queen who had startedat the title you were given. 'Well, that may be so; but we will findaccommodation for her and the count beside our own rooms,' went on theKing. 'You will not be very particular, eh, my lord?' I told him that Ishould be satisfied with any post as long as I could serve him in it. 'Iknow it well: so that we only want the lady called back from--' theQueen did not know whither you had departed. 'Not know where your friendhas gone?' exclaimed the King. 'When my friends leave me I do notinquire after them.' 'Good, some woman's quarrel,' said Louis; 'my LordCharny, I have to speak a while with the Queen. Kindly wait for me andpresent your brother who shall start for Turin this evening. I am ofyour opinion that I shall require you and I mean to keep you by me.' SoI sent for my brother who was awaiting me in the Green Saloon, I wastold."
At the mention, Andrea, who had nearly forgotten Sebastian in herinterest in her husband's story, was made to think of all that hadpassed between mother and son, and she threw her eyes with anguish onthe bedroom door where she had placed him.
"But you must excuse me for ta
lking of matters but slightly interestingyou while you are no doubt wishful to know why I have come here."
"No, my lord, what you say does engage me," replied the countess; "yourpresence can only be agreeable on account of the fears I have felt onyour account. I pray you to continue. The King asked you to wait for himand to bring your brother."
"We went to the royal apartments, where he joined us in ten minutes. Asthe mission for the princes was urgent he began by that. TheirHighnesses were to be instructed about what had happened. A quarter ofan hour after the King came, my brother was on the road, and the Kingand I were left alone. He stopped suddenly in pacing the room and said:'My lord, do you know what has passed between the Queen and thecountess?' I was ignorant. 'Something must have happened,' he went on,'for the Queen is in a temper fit to massacre everybody, and it appearsto me unjust to the countess--which is odd, as the Queen usually defendsher friends through thick and thin, even when they are wrong.' 'I repeatI know nothing, but I venture to assert that the countess has done nowrong--even if we cannot admit that a queen ever does so.'"
"I thank your lordship for having so good an opinion of me," saidAndrea.
"'I suppose as the countess has a house in town that she has retiredthere,' I suggested. 'Of course! I will give you leave of absence tillto-morrow on condition that you bring back the countess,' said theKing."
Charny looked at his wife so fixedly that she was unable to bear theglance and had to close her eyes.
"Then, seeing that I was in mourning, he stayed me to say that my losswas one of those which monarchs could not repair; but that if my brotherleft a widow or a child he would help them, and would like thempresented to him, at any rate; the Queen should take care of the widowand he would of the children."
Charny spoke with tears in his voice.
"I daresay the King was only repeating what the Queen had said,"remarked the lady.
"The Queen did not honor me with a word on the subject," returnedCharny, "and that is why the King's speech affected me most deeply. Heended by bidding me 'Go to our dear Andrea; for though those we lovecannot console us they can mourn with us, and that is a relief!' Thus itis that I come by the King's order, which may be my excuse, my lady,"concluded the count.
"Did you doubt your welcome?" cried the lady, quickly rising and holdingout both hands to him.
He grasped them and kissed them; she uttered a scream as though theywere redhot iron, and sank back on the divan. But her hands wereclinging to his and he was drawn down so as to be placed sitting besideher.
But it was then that she thought she heard a noise in the next room, andshe started from him so abruptly that he rose and stood off a little,not knowing to what to attribute the outcry and the repulsion sosuddenly made.
Leaning on the sofa back, he sighed. The sigh touched her deeply.
At the very time when the bereaved mother found her child, somethinglike the dawn of love beamed on her previously dismal and sorrowfulhorizon. But by a strange coincidence, proven that she was not born tohappiness, the two events were so combined that one annulled the other:the return of the husband thrust aside the son's love as the latter'spresence destroyed the budding passion.
Charny could not divine this in the exclamation and the starting aloof,the silence full of sadness following, although the cry was of love andthe retreat from fear, not repulsion.
He gazed upon her with an expression which she could not have mistakenif she had been looking up.
"What answer am I to carry to the King?" he inquired emitting a sigh.
"My lord," she replied, starting at the sound and raising her clear andlimpid eyes to him, "I suffered so much while in the court that Iaccepted the leave to go when accorded by the Queen, with thankfulness.I am not fitted to live in society, and in solitude I have found reposeif not happiness. My happiest days were those spent as a girl atTaverney and in the convent of St. Denis with the noble princess of theHouse of France, the Lady Louise. But, with your lordship's permission,I will dwell in this summerhouse, full of recollections which are notwithout some sweetness spite of their sadness."
Charny bowed at this suggestion of his permission being sought, like aman who was obeying an order, far more than granting a request.
"As this is a fixed resolve," he said, marking how steady she was withall her meekness, "am I to be allowed to call on you here?"
She fastened her eyes on him, usually clear but now full of astonishmentand blandness.
"Of course, my lord," was her response, "and as I shall have no company,you can come any time that your duties at the palace allow you to setaside a little while to me."
Never had Charny seen so much charm in her gaze, or such tenderness inher voice. Something ran through his veins, like the shudder from alover's first kiss. He glanced at the place whence he had risen whenAndrea got up; he would have given a year of life to take his seat thereagain if she would not once more repel him. But the soldier was timid,and he dared not allow himself the liberty.
On her part, Andrea would have given ten years, sooner than only one, tohave him in that place, but, unfortunately, each was ignorant of theother's mood, and they stood still, in almost painful expectation.
"You were saying that you had to endure a great deal at court. Was notthe Queen pleasant towards you?"
"I have nothing to blame her Majesty for," replied the ex-lady of honor,"and I should be unjust if I did not acknowledge her Majesty's kindtreatment."
"I hinted at this, because I have lately noticed that the friendshipseemed to show a falling off," continued the count.
"That is possible, and that is why I am leaving the court."
"But you will live so lonely?"
"Have I not always lived so, my lord?" sighed Andrea, "as maid--wife--"she stopped, seeing that she was going too far.
"Do you make me a reproach?"
"What right have I in heaven's name to make reproaches to yourlordship?" retorted the countess: "do you believe I have forgot thecircumstances under which we were plighted? Just the opposite of thosewho vow before the altar reciprocal love and mutual protection, we sworeeternal indifference and complete separation. The blame would be to theone who forgot that oath."
Charny caught the sigh which these words had not entirely suppressed,from the speaker's heart.
"But this is such a small dwelling," he said: "a countess in one sittingroom with only another to eat in, and this for repose----"
She sprang in between him and the bedroom, seeing Sebastian behind thedoor, in her mind's eye.
"Oh, my lord, do not go that way, I entreat you," she exclaimed, barringthe passage with her extended arms.
"Oh, my lady," said he, looking at her so pale and trembling, withfright never more plain on a human face, "I knew that you did not likeme: but I had no idea you hated me to this degree."
Incapable of remaining any longer beside his wife without an outburst,he reeled for a space like an intoxicated man; recovering himself, herushed out of the room with an exclamation of pain which echoed in thedepths of the hearer's heart.
She watched him till he was out of sight; she listened till she could nolonger hear his departing carriage, and then with a breaking heart,dreading that she had not enough motherly love to combat with this otherpassion, she darted into the bedroom, calling out:
"Sebastian," but no voice replied.
By the trembling of the night-lamp in a draft she perceived that thewindow was open. It was the same by which the child was kidnappedfifteen years before.
"This is justice," she muttered; "did he not say that I was no more hismother?"
Comprehending that she had lost both husband and child at the periodwhen she had recovered them, Andrea threw herself on the couch, at theend of her resignation and her prayers exhausted.
Suddenly it seemed to her that something more dreadful than hersorrowful plight glided in between grief and her tears.
She looked up and beheld a man, after climbing in at the open window,standing on
the floor.
She wished to shriek and ring for help; but he bent on her thefascinating gaze which caused her the invincible lethargy she rememberedCagliostro could impose upon her: but in this mesmerist and hisspell-binding look and bearing, she recognized Gilbert.
How was it the execrated father stood in the stead of his beloved son?
The Hero of the People: A Historical Romance of Love, Liberty and Loyalty Page 13
