Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  “Go!” she exclaimed. “Can’t you see that your mere presence horrifies me. It is quite unnecessary to show me this thing.”

  “On the contrary it is absolutely necessary. I tell you that Jean’s life depends upon it. This box contains a valuable lesson which may decide his fate.”

  “I don’t understand. Explain yourself.”

  “The explanation in all its details lies in this box. There, just look once more — only once — and you will have nothing more to learn.”

  He again offered her the box, and she summoned up courage to take a second look.

  This time she did not possess the strength to cry out. She shrank back with quivering lips, terrified eyes, and hands upraised before her as though to shut out some terrible vision.

  It was indeed a terrible sight. The box was a kind of stereoscope containing photographs which revolved by means of a mechanical contrivance, and thus showed the successive phases of the most frightful tortures. The photographs had been brought back from China by a gipsy, who had taken them himself while the torturer with a rough and ready skill flayed the limbs, removed the flesh, laid bare the bones, leaving but the trunk alive, and continued his fell work until his victim, not one of whose facial distortions-in his sufferings was lost, ended his martyrdom in a last breath.

  “You know how fanatical gipsies are,” went on de Lauriac. “I need not tell a Camargue girl who has lived in the shadow of St. Sarah to what lengths they are capable of going when their ‘religion’ is at stake. The prediction in the sacred writings must be fulfilled. You have just seen the torture to which the Council of the Elders has condemned Jean unless you consent to marry me. On the other hand, I have been granted his life and liberty if you marry me.... Now it is for you to make your choice.”

  CHAPTER LII

  THE OCTOPUS’S JOY

  THE OCTOPUS WAS as blithe as a lark; and indeed the entire city was rejoicing. The Council of Elders had issued a proclamation announcing to the populace that the coronation would take place on the morrow and be followed by the marriage. The queyra had at last given way before the law and the sacred writings and agreed to marry the alien, who had brought her back to Sever Turn.

  The glad tidings were received with rapture, and fittingly celebrated in the ancient Romany city and the new European quarter. The shops were closed and the street-sellers had disappeared from the caravanserai. but the place was as thronged by dancing multitudes as it was in general by the turmoil of buying and selling. —

  In the Hôtel des Balkans the guests gave themselves up to the tango and the fox-trot amid a flow of champagne. The worthy Monsieur Nicolas Tournesol was in the seventh heaven. Now and then he wondered what had become of Rouletabille, who had not been seen for three days, but he confessed that the exhilarating presence of Madame de Meyrens was of a nature to make him forget, for the time being, this startling disappearance.

  They remained together; danced together, dined together, drank together. She was indeed a delightful woman! “Always bright, always lively,” said Monsieur Tournesol to himself, admiring her animation and strength of mind.

  He made steady love to her but she merely laughed at him.

  “She does not care a fig about love,” thought Monsieur Tournesol. “That, of course, constitutes the force of the little thing. I understand why men go off their heads about her. I have never met any one like her, and I feel that I’m getting a bit cracked myself.”

  Between two cocktails, as she blew the smoke of her cigarette in his face, she asked him point blank:

  “What did Rouletabille tell you the other day?” Nicolas Tournesol blushed to the roots of his hair.

  “Tell me?” he echoed, trying to play the innocent. “Why, nothing.”

  She burst out laughing.

  “You are a decent fellow and a simpleton, Monsieur Tournesol. You don’t know how to tell a lie.”

  “I don’t even know what you mean,” he stammered. “Do you deny that he was shut up with you in your room for over a quarter of an hour?”

  “Oh, you mean the young man who...”

  “Yes, I mean the young man who... Of course you didn’t know it was Rouletabille! That won’t wash, my dear fellow.”

  “Well, he forgot to give me his name.... After all, he may possibly have mentioned it, but you were uppermost in my mind, you know, and when I am thinking of you, guns might go off and I shouldn’t hear anything.”

  “Still, Rouletabille or not, this youth was in your room for some definite object.”

  “Certainly! I seem to have gathered vaguely that he was getting ready to leave the Patriarchate and wouldn’t be sorry to have a fellow-traveller. But as I had made up my mind not to leave Sever Turn as long as you remained here, dear Madame, I must have given him to understand that I was not the man he was looking for. And I haven’t a doubt that he found someone else or set out alone, for I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Well, I will tell you, big story-teller that you are, what he called on you for, your Rouletabille. He came to give you a sealed packet containing documents which you were to deliver to the Minister of Foreign Affairs in Paris if any accident happened to cut short the life of Europe’s most famous journalist.”

  Nicolas Tournesol, flabbergasted and turning redder than ever, lowered his head.

  “Hush! That’s a secret, a secret between him and me,” he stammered, and went on: “I myself do not know him. He came to ask me to do him a service which I could not well refuse to a fellow-countryman. How did you get to know all this?”

  “In the simplest possible way, you big silly. Before he called on you he went to see the Wallachian Consul, who refused to take charge of the letter, and told me all about it — at supper, of course. As I already knew through Vladislas Kamenos, the obliging proprietor of the Hôtel des Balkans, of a stranger calling on you that very morning after leaving the Consulate, I had no difficulty in picturing to myself Rouletabille making this appeal, which the Consul had turned down, to you. There’s nothing wonderful about it, you see.”

  “Obviously there’s no keeping anything from you,” returned Tournesol, emptying his glass and making up his mind. “What I fail to understand is why a Consul should refuse the poor man so small a service which, when all is said, comes within the scope of his duties.”

  “He refused just because he is a Consul, and if you had ever been in the service you would have done the same thing. The Consul asked Rouletabille’s permission to open the packet to see what was in it, but Rouletabille declined to allow him, and the Consul naturally enough answered that he could not undertake to deliver a document of whose contents he knew nothing. What could have been more straightforward?”

  “Well, I am no diplomatist, and I speak my mind openly. If anyone asks me to do him a service, I do it.... And if I am in love I say so.”

  “Fathead!”

  “Madame de Meyrens, I am madly in love with you.”

  And placing his arm round her waist he forced her to dance a shimmy with him, and the result was so comical that she laughed till the tears came.

  Monsieur Tournesol, rejoicing in his success, became more and more insistent, and he had great difficulty in tearing himself away from Madame de Meyrens when he saw her to her room at two o’clock in the morning. She pointed to his own room at the end of the passage, and breaking away from him reminded him that the hour of repose had long since sounded, and the best of friends must part.

  Monsieur Tournesol sighed as though his heart would break.

  “I feel very weak, incredibly weak,” he said. “I have had supper sent up to my room, which I can’t possibly eat alone, and I foresee that if you don’t join me I shall undoubtedly faint.”

  “Unfortunately I am not hungry,” said Madame de Meyrens. “Still...”

  “Still what?”

  “Still if you have anything particular to say to me, you may come and say it in my room.”

  “Oh, you are a dear!”

  “On one condition.�
��

  “I agree to all your conditions.”

  “You must bring the packet which Rouletabille handed over to you.”

  “Devil take it!”

  Madame de Meyrens made no reply, and retired to her room leaving Monsieur Nicolay Tournesol standing irresolutely in the passage.

  He slowly regained his own room, closed the door behind him, sighed at the sight of the unnecessary supper with its two covers on a small table, sighed once more, took out his keys, and opened the small safe in the wall which Vladislas Kamenos, the up-to-date proprietor, had caused to be placed, at Monsieur Tournesol’s suggestion, in every room in the hotel, as a necessary precaution against the balogards, who entertained such sympathetic feelings for the property of others.

  The packet lay before him in the safe.

  Tournesol stretched out his hand, but just as he was about to seize the precious trust, he abruptly closed the safe, inwardly cursing himself.

  He went to bed supperless in a rage.

  CHAPTER LIII

  CORONATION DAY

  IT WAS CORONATION day. A glorious sun had risen over Sever Turn. The celestial orb shot its golden shafts into the halls of the Palace crowded with busy servants. In the women’s quarters the women were engaged in dressing the queyra, for whom they had brought out the richest treasures of the past and age-old jewels forming part of antique accumulations; accumulations stored during hundreds of years as though they were sacred; the golden calf, in short, which had never ceased to be the god of the People of the Road in spite of their adherence to a succession of religions and to the most extraordinary medley of beliefs and superstitions gathered together since the caravan made its first appearance.

  Odette allowed herself to be perfumed and arrayed in the heavy time-honoured costume of the queyra. It consisted of a kind of surcoat, as rigid as a coat of mail, fitting closely like a sheath to the form, open at the neck, and profusely studded with cabochons and precious stones; a silk robe divided into two parts of various colours, slashed and showing Turkish trousers underneath, which fell to the ankle; and sandals which might have been carved out of two gems. A court cloak emblazoned with the arms of Sever Turn in gold and silver thread hung over her shoulders.

  Odette let the women do what they pleased with her, submissive to their skilful hands, uttering no word of protest, and wholly indifferent to what was passing round her. Had they been dressing a dead body for a royal funeral they could not have had before them a more immobile princess. They were indeed preparing a funeral, the funeral of her young love, of the happiness which she had dimly glimpsed.

  And then, in truth, was she not about to die? If Jean’s life was saved nothing remained for her but to depart from this hateful world, which at first had smiled upon her and then caught her, as it were, in the vice of the most violent fanaticism. Had she not known Provence in its springtime, and wandered about on Jean’s arm in the enchantment of the morning air?... And now in this gloomy abyss of Sever Turn these veritable friends were bestirring themselves for the accursed wedding.... But their hopes would be deceived! At the moment when they believed that the queyra would be theirs, she would take wing like a bird....

  On your feet — the hour has come! The brazen voices of the bells peal forth their fateful notes; the processions are ready, and the incense is burning on the altars. On your feet, Odette!...

  Her costume is so heavy that she has to be lifted; her young form so frail that she has to be supported. But suddenly some strange power causes her to draw herself erect in an attitude of dreadful rigidity. She seems to have been turned into a statue by a look — a look from Zina!

  Zina is but a shadow, a poor decrepit shadow whom a breath might destroy, but her eyes gleam with a fire that gives life to others. And the life in her eyes seems to go out to Odette and to impart to her superhuman strength... Zina’s eyes compel obedience from that inert form.

  And now the statue moves.... Honour to the queyra!... She arrives at the temple for the wedding. The bridegroom is waiting.

  When she makes her appearance the enraptured people lift up their voices in hosannas.

  CHAPTER LIV

  AN INTERRUPTION

  MEANTIME JEAN IN his cell was waiting events. He did not give way to despair. The incidents of the last three days had given him renewed courage to bear the strain of his hideous captivity. The sudden appearance of Rouletabille in the dress of an Elder of the great council, and the few words that he had spoken, showed him that nothing was yet lost, and that Rouletabille was busied in preparing his escape.

  Moreover, the time spent with Odette had filled his heart with immeasurable joy, and painful though the subsequent hours had been, he was immensely buoyed up in his sufferings by the memory of her visit. Love contains within itself so much moral force that it inspires the most wretched with an unwavering optimism! — Thus he was wise not to abandon hope, they had tried to poison him, but Rouletabille had supervened in time, and now Zina was visiting him regularly, bringing him food, while the warders, bribed by Callista, were sufficiently accommodating to allow her to do as she pleased.

  Zina partook of the fare which she brought to him, thus showing that it was harmless; and whenever she visited him she dropped a few enigmatic words in which he seemed to discern that his miseries would soon be over and Odette and himself united once more.

  “It is to be to-morrow,” the old woman said definitely the night before.

  What did she mean?... His release?... Obviously.

  He had not seen Rouletabille again, but he no longer entertained any doubt that he was working for him in secret. He had reached the point when he could not hear the sound of a footstep in the passage without a feeling of agitation.

  And suddenly he started up in his cell. A dark form stood before the grating and put a key in the lock....

  He was surprised not to recognize Zina’s figure.... Who was this woman? She came in.

  It was Callista. A dull exclamation escaped his lips. “Come!” she said.

  He did not stir and she repeated:

  “Come, you are free.”

  He looked at her in an agony of suspense. He was at a loss; it was not she whom he expected to see. She was the origin of all his troubles. He was on his guard. She could only be meditating some new act of treachery. At last he asked:

  “Why are you here?”

  “To set you free.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Come with me and you will see.”

  “Where are you going to take me?”

  “Wherever you like. You are free. Come, you have nothing to fear. I have obtained a pardon for you from the Great Council. The Elders allowed themselves to be moved to pity on hearing my pleading. I told them how good you used to be to me, and how much you had suffered. I promised them that you would leave Sever Turn, never to come back to it. And here is the order for your release.”

  She gave him the order. He read it by the light of a lantern which shed a gleam from the other side of the grating. So it was true! He was free!

  “I shan’t leave Sever Turn without Odette,” he said.

  “Don’t rely upon that. And if you will take my advice, forget Odette. She has forgotten you.”

  “I don’t believe it. That’s just like you. I know that you can never come near me without trying to hurt me. Besides, nothing you say is of any use. I don’t know why I listen to you. I am free. Goodbye.”

  “Good-bye, Jean.”

  He made a movement to go, and it was she now who remained in the cell. He turned back.

  “All the same, if I owe my liberty to you, you have made amends for many things, and I forgive you, Callista.”

  “Forgive me, because anything I may have done was done out of love for you. Whatever you may do or hear, remember that you have no more devoted slave than Callista.”

  “Nor a more deceitful one. Why tell me that Odette has forgotten me? You must be crazy.”

  “I am not crazy. Go!... And anyon
e you meet will tell you the same thing.”

  “Explain yourself. Are you hiding anything from me?”

  “I am not hiding anything, though I am not anxious to explain what will probably cause you further pain. You would only turn against me again. I’m tired of your outbursts of temper.”

  He left the cage. No one was in the corridor. He did not know which way to take. He went back to Callista, who was leaving the cell and closing the grating.

  “Let me show you the way,” she said. ‘“It will be better for you to leave without attracting the attention of the Palace guard; otherwise they will want some explanation. I know an underground passage which leads to the temple. Once there, no one will take any notice of you, for a great state ceremony is taking place, and you will be able to reach the European quarter without difficulty.”

  “Are there many people in the temple?”

  “A tremendous crowd. Just think, this is the queyra’s wedding day.”

  “What queyra?” cried Jean in a hoarse voice.

  “Well, I only know one, my dear. Odette is being married to-day.”

  “Odette is being married to-day.” The words dulled Jean’s brain to such a degree that he was unable to utter a denial or a murmur.

  It seemed to him that his heart had ceased to beat and his life and life around him had come to a standstill. Nothing remained in the world but the frightful words: “Odette is being married to-day.” Odette was to be the wife of another!

  He did not doubt Callista’s word. He understood now why she had set him free. Unless she had had that piece of news to tell him, she would not have come to him, she would not have unlocked the door of his cell.

  Moreover, was she not, by way of precaution, herself taking him to the ceremony? With what delight she must have hastened to him! He had never felt so much hatred or contempt for her.... When he recovered somewhat from the blow which she had struck him, he took a mean revenge. He uttered the word uschein that conveyed the worst insult in the gipsy language, and spat on one side in the manner of a gipsy in a passion.