Collected Works of Eugène Sue

by Eugène Sue

  “Do I wish to? I would not give up that precious moment for the throne of England! I shall go to the vessel, and see these two criminals set sail for their destination where the breath of my vengeance will take them!”

  “It is final, then, that you insist upon this?” said De Chemerant, still hesitating.

  “It is final,” returned Croustillac, in a most imposing and threatening voice, all in admirable accord with the part he played; “I expect to be obeyed when my orders are just. Make all preparations for the departure, I beg of you; if this miserable wretch does not choose to walk, he shall be carried; but above all, see that he is securely gagged, for if he should offer any further insolence I do not desire to hear it at any price.”

  One of the soldiers assured himself that the gag was securely tied; taking the duke, they tied his hands behind his back, and marched him off under guard.

  “Are you ready, De Chemerant?” said Croustillac.

  “Yes, your highness, I have only to give some orders to my men.”

  “Go, then, I will await you; I also have some orders to give.”

  The governor saluted and withdrew.

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  THE DEPARTURE.

  ANGELA AND THE chevalier were alone.

  “Saved! saved by you!” cried Angela.

  “I would have wished to use different means, madame, but, without reproach to the duke, he is as obstinate as I am. It was impossible to do differently. There only remain a few moments now in which we may act. Chemerant will return; let us think of what is most pressing. Your diamonds — where are they? Go quickly and get them, madame. Take them with you. Once all is discovered, beware of confiscation.”

  “The stones are there, in a secret box, in the duke’s apartment.”

  “Go quickly and get them. I will ring for Mirette to get you some clothing.”

  “Generous friend! But you! Oh God!”

  “Be quiet; when I have no longer need to protect you, I will look out for myself. But quick! get your diamonds. Chemerant will be here shortly; I will ring for Mirette.” The chevalier touched the bell.

  Angela disappeared through the door leading to the duke’s private apartments.

  Mirette appeared.

  “She is very pretty, this little duchess,” mused Croustillac to himself, “very pretty. Oh, this time I am struck to the heart, I know it only too well. I shall never forget her. This is love; yes, this is true love. Happily this danger will distract me, or these emotions would make me dizzy. Ah! there she comes!”

  Angela entered carrying a small box. “We have always kept these stones in reserve, in case we should be suddenly compelled to fly,” said she to Croustillac. “Our fortune is a thousand times assured. Alas! why is it that you — —”

  The young woman paused, fearing to offend the Gascon; then she continued sadly, with tears in her eyes, “You must have thought me very ignoble, did you not, in accepting without hesitation your noble sacrifice? But you will be kind and indulgent. It was necessary in order to save the one who is the dearest object in the world to me — the man for whom I would give my own life a thousand times over. But wait, this is frightful egotism, to speak to you thus, to you whom I owe everything, and who are going, perhaps, to death for me. I am mad! Forgive me.”

  “Not another word on this subject, madame, I beg of you. Here is the duke’s sword, it was his father’s; here also is this little box which his mother gave him. These are precious relics; put them all in this large basket.”

  “Good and generous man!” exclaimed Angela, who was deeply moved; “you think of everything!”

  Croustillac made no reply; he turned his head away in order that the duchess should not see the great tears rolling down his cheeks. He extended his large, bony hands to the duchess, and said, in a stifled voice, “Adieu, forever adieu! You will forget that I am a poor devil of a fellow and you will remember me sometimes as — —”

  “As our best friend, as our brother,” said Angela, bursting into tears.

  Then she took from her pocket a small medallion containing her cipher, and said to Croustillac, “See what I returned to the house to seek this evening. I desired to offer you this token of our friendship; it was in bringing it to you that I overheard your conversation with Colonel Rutler. Accept it, it will be a double souvenir of our friendship and of your generosity.”

  “Give it to me! oh, give it to me!” cried the Gascon, and then, pressing it to his lips, he said, “I am more than paid for what I have done for you, for the duke — —”

  “We are not ingrates. As soon as the duke is safe, we shall not leave you in the power of Chemerant, and — —”

  “Here is Mirette; let us resume our rôle,” cried Croustillac, interrupting the duchess.

  Mirette entered, followed by the slave, carrying in her hand Croustillac’s old sword; a soldier bore the basket containing the clothes.

  Angela placed the box of diamonds and Monmouth’s sword in the basket.

  Chemerant entered the room, saying, “Your highness, all is in readiness.”

  “Offer madame your arm, if you please,” said the chevalier to Chemerant, with a gloomy manner.

  Angela appeared struck with a sudden thought and said to the chevalier, “Sir, I wish to say something, privately, to Father Griffen. Do you refuse me this last petition?”

  “Just now, your highness, the good Father, hearing the noise, came to ask if he might speak to madame.”

  “He is here!” cried Angela, “God be praised!”

  “Let him enter,” said the Gascon gloomily.

  Chemerant bowed and the guard withdrew.

  Father Griffen entered. He was grave and sad.

  “My Father,” said Angela, “can you give me some moments’ interview?”

  So saying, she entered a room near by, followed by the priest.

  “Your highness,” said Chemerant, showing a paper to the Gascon, “here is a letter which was found on the person of Colonel Rutler; it leaves no doubts as to the plots of William of Orange against your highness. Rutler will be shot upon our arrival at Fort Royal.”

  “We will speak of that later, sir, but I lean toward clemency in the colonel’s case — not through weakness, but from policy. I will explain to you another time my reasons for this.”

  The little bay in which the Chameleon lay at anchor was not very far from the residence of Blue Beard. When the escort arrived there the horizon was tinged with the first rays of the rising sun. The Chameleon was a brigantine, light and swift as a kingfisher, riding gracefully on the waves, at her mooring. Not far from the Chameleon was seen one of the coast guards who traversed in his rounds the only point of Cabesterre which was accessible.

  The launch of the Chameleon, commanded by Captain Ralph’s first mate, waited at the landing; in it were four sailors seated, with oars raised, ready to row at the first signal.

  The Gascon’s heart beat as if it would burst. At the moment of attaining the price of his sacrifice, he trembled lest an unlooked-for accident should upset the fragile scaffolding of so many stratagems.

  The litter in which Monmouth was shut up arrived on the bank, and was quickly followed by that containing Angela.

  The soldiers ranged themselves along the landing. The Gascon said to Angela, in an agitated tone, “Go on board ship, madame, with your accomplice; this package (and he put into the hands of the mate a paper) will inform Captain Ralph of my final orders. Meanwhile,” said the chevalier all at once, “wait — I have an idea!”

  Chemerant and Angela gazed at Croustillac with surprise.

  The adventurer believed he had discovered a means of saving the duke, and of himself escaping from Chemerant; he had no doubt of the resolution and devotion of the five sailors in the boat; he thought of precipitating himself with Angela and Monmouth into the boat and ordering the sailors to make all speed over the waves in order to join the Chameleon, and to set sail with speed. The soldiers, though thirty in number, would be so surprised
by this sudden flight that success would be possible. A new incident upset this project of the chevalier.

  A voice which, though distant, was very powerful, cried, “In the name of the king, stop; allow no one to embark!”

  Croustillac turned suddenly toward the direction from which the voice came, and he saw a marine officer who was coming out of a redoubt erected near Cayman’s Cove.

  “In the name of the king, allow no one to embark,” came the voice again.

  “Be easy, lieutenant,” responded a subordinate, who until then had not been perceived, for he was hidden by the piles of the wharf, “I will not allow the tender to leave without your orders.”

  “That is well, Thomas, and beside,” replied the officer, firing a shot from his gun as a signal, “the coastguard will not permit the brigantine to sail.”

  It would be impossible to paint the frightful agony of the actors in this scene. Croustillac saw that his plan for flight was out of the question, because the slightest signal from the coastguard would prevent the departure of the Chameleon.

  The officer who had just appeared stopped in front of Croustillac and Chemerant, and said to them, “In the name of the king, I order you to tell me who you are and where you are going, gentlemen; by the governor’s orders no one can sail from here without a permit from him.

  “Sir,” said Chemerant, “the soldiers who are with me are part of the governor’s guard; you see, I am acting by his consent.”

  “An escort, sir! you have an escort!” said the astonished officer.

  “There, near the mole, sir,” said Croustillac.

  “Oh, that is another matter, sir; the light was so feeble that I had not noticed the soldiers. I hope you will pardon me, sir.”

  This man, who seemed extremely talkative, approached the governor’s guard, examined them a moment, and said with excessive volubility, “My orders are simply to prevent persons going toward the wharf, just now the Chameleon, and a fine vessel she is, belonging to Blue Beard, and which has bravely run down a Spanish pirate — came last night to the mooring.”

  “Sir, I beg you to silence this insupportable babbler,” said the chevalier to Chemerant, “you must see how painful this scene is to me.”

  “You see, sir,” said Chemerant to the lieutenant of marines, “the persons who are going to embark, do so under my personal responsibility. I am Chemerant, commissioner extraordinary to the king, and am furnished with full powers.”

  “Sir,” said the lieutenant, “it is unnecessary to cite your authority; this escort is sufficient guarantee, and — —”

  “Then, sir, remove the order.”

  “Nothing is easier, sir; the order being now useless, it is useless to maintain it.” “Thomas,” cried this irrepressible talker to his subordinate, “you know the order that I gave you?”

  “Which, lieutenant?”

  “How! brainless one!”

  “Sir, my time is valuable, I must return shortly to Fort Royal,” said Chemerant.

  The lieutenant continued, recklessly, “How! you have forgotten the order I gave you?”

  “The last one? no, lieutenant.”

  “No, lieutenant! well, repeat it, then; let us hear the order.” Then, addressing Chemerant, he said to him, while pointing to his soldier, “He hasn’t the memory of a gosling! I am not sorry to give him this lesson before you, it will profit him.”

  “Confound it! I am not here to assist in educating your functionaries,” said Chemerant.

  “Well, Thomas, this order?”

  “Lieutenant, it was to let no one embark on the vessel.”

  “Very well, that is all right; now I remove the embargo.”

  “Go on board at once, madame,” said Croustillac, unable to moderate his impatience.

  Angela cast a last look at him.

  The duke made a despairing effort to break his fetters, but he was quickly carried off to the tender by the soldiers.

  At a sign from Blue Beard, the sailors dipped their oars into the sea and headed for the Chameleon.

  “Are you satisfied now, your highness,” said Chemerant.

  “No, no; not yet, sir. I shall not be content until I see the vessel set sail,” replied the Gascon in a changed voice.

  “The prince is implacable in his hate,” thought Chemerant; “he trembles still with rage, although his revenge is assured.”

  All at once the sky was irradiated by the rays of the sun which made more somber still the line of azure which the sea formed on the horizon; the sun rose majestically, pouring torrents of red upon the water, the rocks, and the bay.

  At this instant the Chameleon, which had been joined by the small boat, flung to the breeze its white sails, and began to draw in its cable, by which it was attached to the mooring. The brigantine, with a graceful movement, began to tack; during a few seconds it completely hid the disk of the sun, and appeared enveloped in a brilliant aureole. Then the swift vessel, turning its prow toward Cayman’s Cove, began to make toward the open sea.

  Croustillac remained motionless in sorrowful reverie, with his eyes fixed upon the vessel, which was carrying away the woman whom he so suddenly and so madly loved.

  The adventurer, thanks to his keen sight, could perceive a white handkerchief which was waved from the stern of the vessel. It was the last farewell of Blue Beard.

  Shortly the breeze freshened. The little vessel, with swift movement, bent under her sails, and went so rapidly that it was, little by little, lost in the midst of the warm mist of the morning. Then it entered into a zone of torrid light which the sun threw on the waves.

  For some time Croustillac could not follow the Chameleon with his eyes; when he saw her again, the brigantine drew nearer and nearer to the horizon, appearing but a speck in space. Then, doubling the last point of the island, she disappeared all at once.

  When the poor chevalier could no longer see the vessel, he experienced a profound sorrow. His heart seemed as empty and as solitary as the ocean.

  “Now, sir,” said Chemerant, “let us go and find the friends who are awaiting you so impatiently. In an hour we will be on board the frigate.”

  PART IV.

  CHAPTER XXX.

  REGRETS.

  AS LONG AS Croustillac contemplated his sacrifice; as long as he had been exalted by its dangers and upheld by the presence of Angela and Monmouth; he had not realized the cruel consequences of his devotion; but when he was alone, his thoughts became very painful. Not that he feared the danger which menaced him, but he felt keenly the absence of Angela, for whom he had braved everything. Under the eye of Angela, he had gayly faced the greatest peril; but he would never see her again. This was the real reason of his gloomy dejection.

  With arms crossed upon his breast, bowed head, fixed gaze and somber manner, the adventurer remained silent and motionless. Twice De Chemerant addressed him: “Your highness, it is time to go.”

  Croustillac did not hear him. Chemerant, realizing the uselessness of words, touched him lightly on the arm, repeating louder, “Your highness, there still remain more than four leagues to travel before arriving at Fort Royal.”

  “Zounds! sir; what do you want?” cried the Gascon, turning impatiently toward De Chemerant.

  The face of the latter expressed so much surprise at hearing the man whom he believed to be the Duke of Monmouth give vent to such a peculiar exclamation, that the Gascon realized the imprudence of which he had been guilty. He quickly recovered his usual coolness, looked at De Chemerant in an abstracted manner; then, as if he had awakened from a profound meditation, he said, in a short tone, “Very well, sir, let us go.” Again mounting his horse, the Gascon took the road to Fort Royal, still followed by the escort and accompanied by De Chemerant.

  Croustillac was not a man, in spite of his chagrin, to entirely despair of the present. Chemerant, recovering from his surprise, attributed the somber taciturnity of the Gascon to the painful thoughts which the criminal conduct of the Duchess of Monmouth must cause him; while the adv
enturer, summing up the chances of escape which remained to him, analyzed the state of his heart, reasoning as follows: “Blue Beard (I shall always call her that — it was thus I heard her name for the first time, when I thought of her without knowing her), Blue Beard is gone — forever gone; I shall never see her again, never, never, it is evident. It will be impossible to escape from the memory of her. It is absurd, stupid, not to be imagined, but so it is — this proves it that this little woman has completely subjugated me. I was gay, careless and loquacious as a bird on the bough, but little scrupulous as to delicacy, and now behold me, sad, morose, taciturn, and of a delicacy so inordinate that I had a horrible fear lest Blue Beard should offer me, in parting, some remuneration other than the medallion from which she had the generosity to remove the jewels. Alas! from this time forth, this memory will be all my happiness — sad happiness! What a change! I, who heretofore cared so much the more for bravery of attire since I was badly clothed; I, who would have found such happiness in wearing this velvet coat garnished with rich gold buttons — I wish for the moment to come when I can don my old green garments and my pink hose, proud to say ‘I leave this Potosi, this Devil’s Cliff, this diamond mine, as much of a beggar as when I entered into it.’ Is it not, my faith, very plain that before knowing Blue Beard, I had never in my life had such thoughts? Now, what remains for me to hope?” said Croustillac, adopting, as was his wont, the interrogative form to make what he called his “examination of conscience.”

  “Now, then, be frank, Polyphème, do you care much for life?

  “Eh! eh!

  “What say you to being hanged?

  “H — m, h — m.

  “Come, now, frankly?

  “Frankly? well, the gallows, strictly speaking, might please me if Blue Beard was there to see me hanged. And yet, no, it is an ignoble death, a ridiculous death; one’s tongue hangs out, one kicks about ——

  “Polyphème, you are afraid — of being hanged?

  “No, faith! but hanged all alone, hanged by myself, hanged like a mad dog, hanged without two beautiful eyes looking at you, without a pretty mouth smiling at you ——