The Honor of the Name

by Emile Gaboriau

  CHAPTER XLV

  Detected by Mme. Blanche in a palpable falsehood, Chupin was quitecrestfallen for a moment.

  He saw the pleasing vision of a retreat at Courtornieu vanish; he sawhimself suddenly deprived of frequent gifts which permitted him to sparehis hoarded treasure, and even to increase it.

  But he soon regained his assurance, and with an affectation of franknesshe said:

  "I may be stupid, but I could not deceive an infant. Someone must havetold you falsely."

  Mme. Blanche shrugged her shoulders.

  "I obtained my information from two persons who were ignorant of theinterest it would possess for me."

  "As truly as the sun is in the heavens I swear----"

  "Do not swear; simply confess that you have been wanting in zeal."

  The young lady's manner betrayed such positive certainty that Chupinceased his denials and changed his tactics.

  With the most abject humility, he admitted that the evening before hehad relaxed his surveillance; he had been very busy; one of his boys hadinjured his foot; then he had encountered some friends who persuadedhim to enter a drinking-saloon, where he had taken more than usual, sothat----

  He told this story in a whining tone, and every moment he interruptedhimself to affirm his repentance and to cover himself with reproaches.

  "Old drunkard!" he said, "this will teach you----"

  But these protestations, far from reassuring Mme. Blanche, made herstill more suspicious,

  "All this is very well, Father Chupin," she said, dryly, "but what areyou going to do now to repair your negligence?"

  "What do I intend to do?" he exclaimed, feigning the most violentanger. "Oh! you will see. I will prove that no one can deceive me withimpunity. Near the Borderie is a small grove. I shall station myselfthere; and may the devil seize me if a cat enters that house unbeknownto me."

  Mme. Blanche drew her purse from her pocket, and taking out three louis,she gave them to Chupin, saying:

  "Take these, and be more careful in future. Another blunder like this,and I shall be compelled to ask the aid of some other person."

  The old poacher went away, whistling quite reassured; but he was wrong.The lady's generosity was only intended to allay his suspicions.

  And why should she not suppose he had betrayed her--this miserablewretch, who made it his business to betray others? What reason had shefor placing any confidence in his reports? She paid him! Others, bypaying him more, would certainly have the preference!

  But how could she ascertain what she wished to know? Ah! she saw but oneway--a very disagreeable, but a sure way. She, herself, would play thespy.

  This idea took such possession of her mind that, after dinner wasconcluded, and twilight had enveloped the earth in a mantle of gray, shesummoned Aunt Medea.

  "Get your cloak, quickly, aunt," she commanded. "I am going for a walk,and you must accompany me."

  Aunt Medea extended her hand to the bell-rope, but her niece stoppedher.

  "You will dispense with the services of your maid," said she. "I do notwish anyone in the chateau to know that we have gone out."

  "Are we going alone?"

  "Alone."

  "Alone, and on foot, at night----"

  "I am in a hurry, aunt," interrupted Blanche, "and I am waiting foryou."

  In the twinkling of an eye Aunt Medea was ready.

  The marquis had just been put to bed, the servants were at dinner, andBlanche and Aunt Medea reached the little gate leading from the gardeninto the open fields without being observed.

  "Good heavens! Where are we going?" groaned Aunt Medea.

  "What is that to you? Come!"

  Mme. Blanche was going to the Borderie.

  She could have followed the banks of the Oiselle, but she preferredto cut across the fields, thinking she would be less likely to meetsomeone.

  The night was still, but very dark, and the progress of the two womenwas often retarded by hedges and ditches. Twice Blanche lost her way.Again and again, Aunt Medea stumbled over the rough ground, and bruisedherself against the stones; she groaned, she almost wept, but herterrible niece was pitiless.

  "Come!" she said, "or I will leave you to find your way as best youcan."

  And the poor dependent struggled on.

  At last, after a tramp of more than an hour, Blanche ventured tobreathe. She recognized Chanlouineau's house, and she paused in thelittle grove of which Chupin had spoken.

  "Are we at our journey's end?" inquired Aunt Medea, timidly.

  "Yes, but be quiet. Remain where you are, I wish to look about alittle."

  "What! you are leaving me alone? Blanche, I entreat you! What are yougoing to do? _Mon Dieu_! you frighten me. I am afraid, Blanche!"

  But her niece had gone. She was exploring the grove, seeking Chupin. Shedid not find him.

  "I knew the wretch was deceiving me," she muttered through her setteeth. "Who knows but Martial and Marie-Anne are there in that housenow, mocking me, and laughing at my credulity?"

  She rejoined Aunt Medea, whom she found half dead with fright, and bothadvanced to the edge of the woods, which commanded a view of the frontof the house.

  A flickering, crimson light gleamed through two windows in the secondstory. Evidently there was a fire in the room.

  "That is right," murmured Blanche, bitterly; "Martial is such a chillyperson!"

  She was about to approach the house, when a peculiar whistle rooted herto the spot.

  She looked about her, and, in spite of the darkness, she discerned inthe footpath leading to the Borderie, a man laden with articles whichshe could not distinguish.

  Almost immediately a woman, certainly Marie-Anne, left the house andadvanced to meet him.

  They exchanged a few words and then walked together to the house. Soonafter the man emerged without his burden and went away.

  "What does this mean?" murmured Mme. Blanche.

  She waited patiently for more than half an hour, and as nothing stirred:

  "Let us go nearer," she said to Aunt Medea, "I wish to look through thewindows."

  They were approaching the house when, just as they reached the littlegarden, the door of the cottage opened so suddenly that they hadscarcely time to conceal themselves in a clump of lilac-bushes.

  Marie-Anne came out, imprudently leaving the key in the door, passeddown the narrow path, gained the road, and disappeared.

  Blanche pressed Aunt Medea's arm with a violence that made her cry out.

  "Wait for me here," she said, in a strained, unnatural voice, "andwhatever happens, whatever you hear, if you wish to finish your days atCourtornieu, not a word! Do not stir from this spot; I will return."

  And she entered the cottage.

  Marie-Anne, on going out, had left a candle burning on the table in thefront room.

  Blanche seized it and boldly began an exploration of the dwelling.

  She had gone over the arrangement of the Borderie so often in her ownmind that the rooms seemed familiar to her, she seemed to recognizethem.

  In spite of Chupin's description the poverty of this humble abodeastonished her. There was no floor save the ground; the walls werepoorly whitewashed; all kinds of grain and bunches of herbs hungsuspended from the ceiling; a few heavy tables, wooden benches, andclumsy chairs constituted the entire furniture.

  Marie-Anne evidently occupied the back room. It was the only apartmentthat contained a bed. This was one of those immense country affairs,very high and broad, with tall fluted posts, draped with green sergecurtains, sliding back and forth on iron rings.

  At the head of the bed, fastened to the wall, hung a receptacle forholy-water. Blanche dipped her finger in the bowl; it was full to thebrim.

  Beside the window was a wooden shelf supported by a hook, and on theshelf stood a basin and bowl of the commonest earthenware.

  "It must be confessed that my husband does not provide a very sumptuousabode for his idol," said Mme. Blanche, with a sneer.

  She was a
lmost on the point of asking herself if jealousy had not ledher astray.

  She remembered Martial's fastidious tastes, and she did not know howto reconcile them with these meagre surroundings. Then, there was theholy-water!

  But her suspicions became stronger when she entered the kitchen.Some savory compound was bubbling in a pot over the fire, and severalsaucepans, in which fragrant stews were simmering, stood among the warmashes.

  "All this cannot be for her," murmured Blanche.

  Then she remembered the two windows in the story above which she hadseen illuminated by the trembling glow of the fire-light.

  "I must examine the rooms above," she thought.

  The staircase led up from the middle of the room; she knew this. Shequickly ascended the stairs, pushed open a door, and could not repress acry of surprise and rage.

  She found herself in the sumptuously appointed room which Chanlouineauhad made the sanctuary of his great love, and upon which he hadlavished, with the fanaticism of passion, all that was costly andluxurious.

  "Then it is true!" exclaimed Blanche. "And I thought just now that allwas too meagre and too poor! Miserable dupe that I am! Below, all isarranged for the eyes of comers and goers. Here, everything is intendedexclusively for themselves. Now, I recognize Martial's astonishingtalent for dissimulation. He loves this vile creature so much that heis anxious in regard to her reputation; he keeps his visits to her asecret, and this is the hidden paradise of their love. Here they laughat me, the poor forsaken wife, whose marriage was but a mockery."

  She had desired to know the truth; certainty was less terrible to endurethan this constant suspicion, And, as if she found a little enjoymentin proving the extent of Martial's love for a hated rival, she took aninventory, as it were, of the magnificent appointments of the chamber,feeling the heavy brocaded silk stuff that formed the curtains, andtesting the thickness of the rich carpet with her foot.

  Everything indicated that Marie-Anne was expecting someone; the brightfire, the large arm-chair placed before the hearth, the embroideredslippers lying beside the chair.

  And whom could she expect save Martial? The person who had been there afew moments before probably came to announce the arrival of her lover,and she had gone out to meet him.

  For a trifling circumstance would seem to indicate that this messengerhad not been expected.

  Upon the mantel stood a bowl of still smoking bouillon.

  It was evident that Marie-Anne was on the point of drinking this whenshe heard the signal.

  Mme. Blanche was wondering how she could profit by her discovery, whenher eyes fell upon a large oaken box standing open upon a table near theglass door leading into the dressing-room, and filled with tiny boxesand vials.

  Mechanically she approached it, and among the bottles she saw two ofblue glass, upon which the word "poison" was inscribed.

  "Poison!" Blanche could not turn her eyes from this word, which seemedto exert a kind of fascination over her.

  A diabolical inspiration associated the contents of these vials with thebowl standing upon the mantel.

  "And why not?" she murmured. "I could escape afterward."

  A terrible thought made her pause. Martial would return with Marie-Anne;who could say that it would not be he who would drink the contents ofthe bowl.

  "God shall decide!" she murmured. "It is better one's husband should bedead than belong to another!"

  And with a firm hand, she took up one of the vials.

  Since her entrance into the cottage Blanche had scarcely been consciousof her acts. Hatred and despair had clouded her brain like fumes ofalcohol.

  But when her hand came in contact with the glass containing the deadlydrug, the terrible shock dissipated her bewilderment; she regainedthe full possession of her faculties; the power of calm deliberationreturned.

  This is proved by the fact that her first thought was this:

  "I am ignorant even of the name of the poison which I hold. What dosemust I administer, much or little?"

  She opened the vial, not without considerable difficulty, and poureda few grains of its contents into the palm of her hand. It was a fine,white powder, glistening like pulverized glass, and looking not unlikesugar.

  "Can it really be sugar?" she thought.

  Resolved to ascertain, she moistened the tip of her finger, andcollected upon it a few atoms of the powder which she placed upon hertongue.

  The taste was like that of an extremely acid apple.

  Without hesitation, without remorse, without even turning pale, shepoured into the bowl the entire contents of the vial.

  Her self-possession was so perfect, she even recollected that the powdermight be slow in dissolving, and she stirred it gently for a moment ormore.

  Having done this--she seemed to think of everything--she tastedthe bouillon. She noticed a slightly bitter taste, but it was notsufficiently perceptible to awaken distrust.

  Now Mme. Blanche breathed freely. If she could succeed in making herescape she was avenged.

  She was going toward the door when a sound on the stairs startled her.

  Two persons were ascending the staircase.

  Where should she go? where could she conceal herself?

  She was now so sure she would be detected that she almost decided tothrow the bowl into the fire, and then boldly face the intruders.

  But no--a chance remained--she darted into the dressing-room. She darednot close the door; the least click of the latch would have betrayedher.

  Marie-Anne entered the chamber, followed by a peasant, bearing a largebundle.

  "Ah! here is my candle!" she exclaimed, as she crossed the threshold."Joy must be making me lose my wits! I could have sworn that I left iton the table downstairs." Blanche shuddered. She had not thought of thiscircumstance.

  "Where shall I put this clothing?" asked the young peasant.

  "Lay it down here. I will arrange the articles by and by," replied MarieAnne.

  The boy dropped his heavy burden with a sigh of relief.

  "This is the last," he exclaimed. "Now, our gentleman can come."

  "At what hour will he start?" inquired Marie-Anne.

  "At eleven o'clock. It will be nearly midnight when he gets here."

  Marie-Anne glanced at the magnificent clock on the mantel.

  "I have still three hours before me," said she; "more time than I shallneed. Supper is ready; I am going to set the table here, by the fire.Tell him to bring a good appetite."

  "I will tell him, and many thanks, Mademoiselle, for having come to meetme and aid me with my second load. It was not so very heavy, but it wasclumsy to handle."

  "Will you not accept a glass of wine?"

  "No, thank you. I must hasten back. _Au revoir_, MademoiselleLacheneur."

  "_Au revoir_, Poignot."

  This name Poignot had no significance in the ears of Blanche.

  Ah! had she heard Monsieur d'Escorval's or the abbe's name mentioned,she might have felt some doubt of Marie-Anne's guilt; her resolutionmight have wavered, and--who knows?

  But no. Young Poignot, in referring to the baron had said: "ourgentleman," Marie-Anne said: "he."

  Is not "he" always the person who is uppermost in our minds, the husbandwhom one hates or the lover whom one adores?

  "Our gentleman!" "he!" Blanche translated Martial.

  Yes, it was the Marquis de Sairmeuse who was to arrive at midnight. Shewas sure of it. It was he who had been preceded by a messenger bearingclothing. This could only mean that he was about to establish himselfat the Borderie. Perhaps he would cast aside all secrecy and live thereopenly, regardless of his rank, of his dignity, and of his duties;forgetful even of his prejudices.

  These conjectures inflamed her fury still more.

  Why should she hesitate or tremble after that?

  Her only dread now, was lest she should be discovered.

  Aunt Medea was, it is true, in the garden; but after the orders shehad received the poor woman would remain motionless as
stone behind theclump of lilacs, the entire night if necessary.

  For two hours and a half Marie-Anne would be alone at the Borderie.Blanche reflected that this would give her ample time to watch theeffects of the poison upon her hated rival.

  When the crime was discovered she would be far away. No one knew shehad been absent from Courtornieu; no one had seen her leave the chateau;Aunt Medea would be as silent as the grave. And besides, who would dareto accuse her, Marquise de Sairmeuse _nee_ Blanche de Courtornieu, ofbeing the murderer? "But she does not drink it!" Blanche thought.

  Marie-Anne had, in fact, forgotten the bouillon entirely. She had openedthe bundle of clothing, and was busily arranging the articles in awardrobe near the bed.

  Who talks of presentiments. She was as gay and vivacious as in her daysof happiness; and as she worked, she hummed an air that Maurice hadoften sung.

  She felt that her troubles were nearly over; her friends would soon bearound her.

  When her task of putting away the clothing was completed and thewardrobe closed, she drew a small table up before the fire.

  Not until then did she notice the bowl standing upon the mantel.

  "Stupid!" she said, with a laugh; and taking the bowl she raised it toher lips.

  From her hiding-place Blanche had heard Marie-Anne's exclamation; shesaw the movement, and yet not the slightest remorse struck her soul.

  Marie-Anne drank but one mouthful, then, in evident disgust, set thebowl down.

  A horrible dread made the watcher's heart stand still. "Does she noticea peculiar taste in the bouillon?" she thought.

  No; but it had grown cold, and a slight coating of grease had formedover the top. Marie-Anne took the spoon, skimmed the bouillon, and thenstirred it up for some time, to divide the greasy particles.

  After she had done this she drank the liquid, put the bowl back upon themantel, and resumed her work.

  It was done. The _denouement_ no longer depended upon Blanche deCourtornieu's will. Come what would, she was a murderess.

  But though she was conscious of her crime, the excess of her hatredprevented her from realizing its enormity. She said to herself thatit was only an act of justice which she had accomplished; that thevengeance she had taken was not proportionate to the offence, and thatnothing could atone for the torture she had endured.

  But in a few moments a sinister apprehension took possession of hermind.

  Her knowledge of the effects of poison was extremely limited. She hadexpected to see Marie-Anne fall dead before her, as if stricken down bya thunder-bolt.

  But no. The moments slipped by, and Marie-Anne continued herpreparations for supper as if nothing had occurred.

  She spread a white cloth over the table, smoothed it with her hands, andplaced a dish upon it.

  "What if she should come in here!" thought Blanche.

  The fear of punishment which precedes remorse, made her heart beat withsuch violence that she could not understand why its throbbing werenot heard in the adjoining room. Her terror increased when she sawMarie-Anne take the light and go downstairs. Blanche was left alone. Thethought of making her escape occurred to her; but how, and by what waycould she leave the house without being seen?

  "It must be that poison does not work!" she said, in a rage.

  Alas! no. She knew better when Marie-Anne reappeared.

  In the few moments she had spent below, her features had becomefrightfully changed. Her face was livid and mottled with purple spots,her eyes were distended and glittered with a strange brilliancy. She letthe plates which she held fall upon the table with a crash.

  "The poison! it begins!" thought Blanche.

  Marie-Anne stood on the hearth, gazing wildly around her, as if seekingthe cause of her incomprehensible suffering. She passed and re-passedher hand across her forehead, which was bathed in a cold perspiration;she gasped for breath. Then suddenly, overcome with nausea, shestaggered, pressed her hands convulsively upon her breast, and sank intothe armchair, crying:

  "Oh, God! how I suffer!"