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Chapter LIV
Chapter LIV
The Third Day Of Captivity
Felton had fallen, but there was still another step to be taken - he
must be retained, or, rather, he must be left quite alone; and milady but
obscurely perceived the means which could lead to this result.
Still more must be done: he must be made to speak, in order that he
might be spoken to; for milady very well knew that her greatest seduction was
in her voice, which so skillfully ran over the whole gamut of tones, from
human speech to celestial language.
And yet, in spite of all this seduction, milady might fail; for Felton
was forewarned, and that against the least chance. From that moment she
watched all his actions, all his words, to the simplest glance of his eyes,
to his gestures, even to a respiration that could be interpreted as a sigh;
in short, she studied everything, as a skillful comedian does, to whom a new
part has been assigned in a line he has not been accustomed to.
With Lord de Winter her plan of conduct was more easy; she had laid that
down the preceding evening. To remain silent and dignified in his presence;
from time to time to irritate him by an affected disdain, by a contemptuous
word; to provoke him to threats and violence, which would produce a contrast
with her own resignation - such was her plan. Felton would see all; perhaps
he would say nothing, but he would see.
In the morning, Felton came as usual; but milady allowed him to preside
over all the preparations for the breakfast without addressing a word to him.
At the moment he was about to retire, she was cheered with a ray of hope, for
she thought he was about to speak; but his lips moved without any sound
passing from his mouth, and, making a powerful effort over himself, he sent
back to his heart the words that were about to escape from his lips, and
went out.
Toward midday, Lord de Winter came to her apartment.
It was a tolerably fine winter`s day, and a ray of that pale English
sun, which lightens but does not warm, passed through the bars of her prison.
Milady was looking out at the window, and pretended not to hear the door
as it opened.
"Ah, ah!" said Lord de Winter, "after having played comedy, after having
played tragedy, we are now playing melancholy, eh?"
The prisoner made no reply.
"Yes, yes," continued Lord de Winter, "I understand - you would like
very well to be at liberty on that beach! you would like very well to be in
a good ship, dancing upon the waves of that emerald-green sea; you would like
very well, either on land or on the ocean, to lay for me one of those nice
little ambuscades you are so skillful in planning. Patience, patience! in
four days time the shore will be beneath your foot, the sea will be open to
you - more open than will, perhaps, be agreeable to you; for in four days
England will be relieved of your presence."
Milady joined her hands, and raising her fine eyes toward heaven -
"Lord, lord!" said she, with an angelic meekness of gesture and tone,
"pardon this man, as I myself pardon him!"
"Yes, pray, accursed woman!" cried the baron; "your prayer is so much
the more generous from your being, I swear to you, in the power of a man who
will never pardon you!" And he left the room.
At the moment he went out, a piercing glance darted through the opening
of the nearly closed door, and she perceived Felton, who drew quickly on one
side to prevent being seen by her.
Then she threw herself upon her knees, and began to pray.
"My God, my God!" said she, "you know in what holy cause I suffer; give
me, then, the strength to support my sufferings."
The door opened gently; the beautiful supplicant pretended not to hear
the noise, and, in a voice broken by tears, she continued:
"God of vengeance! God of goodness! will you allow the frightful
projects of this man to be accomplished?"
Then only she feigned to hear the sound of Felton`s steps, and rising
quick as thought, she blushed, as if ashamed of being surprised on her knees.
"I do not like to disturb those who pray, madame," said Felton
seriously; "do not disturb yourself on my account, I beseech you."
"How do you know I was praying, sir?" said milady, in a voice
interrupted by sobs. "You were deceived, sir; I was not praying."
"Do you think, then, madame," replied Felton, in the same serious voice,
but with a more mild tone, "do you think I assume the right of preventing a
creature from prostrating herself before her Creator? God forbid! God
forbid! Besides, repentance becomes the guilty; whatever crimes they may
have committed, for me the guilty are sacred at the feet of God!"
"Guilty! I?" said milady, with a smile which might have disarmed the
angel of the last judgment. "Guilty! oh, my God, thou knowest whether I am
guilty! Say I am condemned, sir, if you please; but you know that God, who
loves martyrs, sometimes permits the innocent to be condemned."
"Were you condemned, were you innocent, were you a martyr," replied
Felton, "the greater would be the necessity for prayer; and I myself will aid
you with my prayers."
"Oh, you are a just man!" cried milady, throwing herself on her knees
at his feet; "I can hold out no longer, for I fear I shall be wandering in
strength in the moment at which I shall be forced to undergo the struggle,
and confess my faith. Listen, then, to the supplication of a despairing
woman. You are abused, sir, but that is not the question; I only ask you one
favor, and if you grant it me, I will bless you in this world and in the
next."
"Speak to the master, madame," said Felton; "happily, I am neither
charged with the power of pardoning nor punishing; it is upon one higher
placed than I am that God has laid this responsibility."
"To you - no, to you alone! Listen to me, rather than contribute to my
destruction, rather than contribute to my ignominy."
"If you have merited this shame, madame, if you have incurred this
ignominy, you must submit to it as an offering to God."
"What do you say? Oh, you do not understand me! When I speak of
ignominy, you think I speak of some punishment or other, of imprisonment or
death! Would to heaven it were no more! Of what consequence to me is
imprisonment or death?"
"It is I who no longer understand you, madame," said Felton.
"Or rather, who pretend not to understand me, sir!" replied the
prisoner, with a smile of doubt.
"No, madame, upon the honor of a soldier, upon the faith of a
Christian."
"What! you are ignorant of Lord de Winter`s designs upon me?"
"I am unacquainted with them."
"Impossible; you are his confidant!"
"I never lie, madame."
"Oh, he conceals them too little for you not to divine them."
"I seek to divine nothing, madame; I wait till I am confided in, and,
apart from that which Lord de Winter has said to me before you, he has
confided nothing to me."
"Why, then," cried milady, with an incredible tone of truthfulness,
"why, then, you are not his accomplice - you do not know that he destines me
to a disgrace which all the punishments of the world cannot equal in horror?"
"You are deceived, madame," said Felton, blushing; "Lord de Winter is
not capable of such a crime."
"Good!" said milady to herself; "without knowing what it is, he calls
it a crime!"
Then aloud:
"The friend of the infamous is capable of everything."
"Whom do you call the infamous?" asked Felton.
"Are there, then, in England two men to whom such an epithet can be
applied?"
"You mean George Villiers?" said Felton, whose looks became agitated.
"Whom Pagans and infidel Gentiles call Duke of Buckingham," replied
milady; "I could not have thought that there was an Englishman in all England
who would have required so long an explanation to make him understand of whom
I was speaking."
"The hand of the Lord is stretched over him," said Felton, "he will not
escape the chastisement he deserves."
Felton did but express, with regard to the duke, the feeling of
execration which all the English had vowed to him whom the Catholics
themselves called the extortioner, the pillager, the debauche; and whom the
Puritans styled simply Satan.
"Oh! my God! my God!" cried milady; "when I supplicate you to pour
upon this man the chastisement which is his due, you know that it is not my
own vengeance I pursue, but the deliverance of a whole nation that I
implore!"
"Do you know him, then?" asked Felton.
"At length he interrogates me!" said milady to herself, at the height
of joy at having obtained so quickly such a result. "Oh! know him! yes!
to my misfortune, to my eternal misfortune!" and milady wrung her hands, as
if arrived at the very paroxysm of grief.
Felton no doubt felt within himself that his strength was abandoning
him, and he made several steps toward the door; but the prisoner, whose eye
was never off him, sprang in pursuit of him, and stopped him.
"Sir," cried she, "be kind, be clement, listen to my prayer; that knife,
which the fatal prudence of the baron deprived me of, because he knows the
use I would make of it; oh! hear me to the end! that knife, give it to me
for a minute only, for mercy`s, for pity`s sake! I will embrace your knees!
you shall shut the door that you may be certain I contemplate no injury to
you! my God! to you! the only just, good, and compassionate being I have
met with! - to you! my saviour, perhaps! one minute, that knife, one
minute, a single minute, and I will restore it to you through the grating of
the door; only one minute, Master Felton, and you will have saved my honor!"
"To kill yourself!" cried Felton, with terror, forgetting to withdraw
his hands from the hands of the prisoner; "to kill yourself?"
"I have told, sir," murmured milady, lowering her voice, and allowing
herself to sink overpowered to the ground, "I have told my secret! He knows
all! My God, I am lost!"
Felton remained standing, motionless and undecided.
"He still doubts," thought milady, "I have not been earnest enough."
Some one was heard in the corridor, milady recognized the step of Lord
de Winter.
Felton recognized it also, and made a step toward the door.
Milady sprang toward him.
"Oh! not a word," said she in a concentrated voice, "not a word of all
that I have said to you to this man, or I am lost, and it would be you - you
- "
Then as the steps drew near she became silent, for fear of being heard,
applying, with a gesture of infinite terror, her beautiful hand to Felton`s
mouth.
Felton gently pushed milady from him, and she sank into a chair.
Lord de Winter passed before the door without stopping, and the sound
of his footsteps soon died away in the distance.
Felton, as pale as death, remained some instants with his ear turned and
listening; then, when the sound was quite extinct, he breathed like a man
awaking from a dream, and rushed out of the apartment.
"Ah!" said milady, listening in her turn to the noise of Felton`s steps,
which faded away in a direction opposite to those of Lord de Winter; "ah!
at length thou art mine!"
Then her brow darkened.
"If he tells the baron," said she, "I am lost, for the baron, who knows
very well that I shall not kill myself, will place me before him, with a
knife in my hand, and he will discover that all this despair is but played."
She went, and placed herself before the glass, and looked at herself
attentively; never had she appeared more beautiful.
"Yes! yes!" said she smiling, "but he won`t tell him!"
In the evening Lord de Winter accompanied the supper.
"Sir," said milady, "is your presence an indispensable accessory of my
captivity? could you not spare me the increase of tortures which your visits
inflict upon me?"
"How! my dear sister!" said Lord de Winter, "did not you sentimentally
inform me, with that pretty mouth of yours, so cruel to me to-day, that you
came to England solely for the pleasure of seeing me at your ease, an
enjoyment of which you told me you so sensibly felt the privation, that you
had risked everything for it - bad seas, tempests, and captivity? Well!
here I am, be satisfied: besides, this time, my visit has a motive."
Milady trembled - she thought Felton had told all; perhaps, never in her
life had this woman, who had experienced so many opposite and powerful
emotions, felt her heart beat so violently.
She was seated; Lord de Winter took a chair, drew it toward her, and sat
down close beside her; then taking a paper out of his pocket, he unfolded it
slowly.
"Here," said he, "I want to show you the kind of passport which I have
drawn up, and which will serve you henceforward as a numero of order in the
life I consent to leave you."
Then turning his eyes from milady to the paper, he read:
"`Order to conduct to - ;` the name is blank," interrupted Lord de
Winter; "if you have any preference you can point it out to me; and if it be
not within a thousand leagues of London, attention will be paid to your
wishes. I will begin again, then: `Order to conduct to - , the person named
Charlotte Backson, branded by the justice of the kingdom of France, but
liberated after chastisement; she is to dwell in this place, without ever
going more than three leagues from it. In case of any attempt to escape, the
penalty of death is to be applied. She will receive five shillings per day,
for lodging and food.`"
"That order does not concern me," replied milady coldly, "since it bears
another name than mine."
"A name! - have you a name, then?"
"I bear that of your brother."
"Ay, but you are mistaken; my brother is only your second husband, and
your first is still living. Tell me his name, and I will put it in the place
of the name of Charlotte Backson. No? - you will not? - you are silent?
Well! then you must be registered as Charlotte Backson."
Milady remained silent; only this time it was no longer from
affectation, but from terror: she believed the order to be about to be
executed; she thought that Lord de Winter had hastened her departure; she
thought she was condemned to set off that very evening. Everything, in her
mind, was lost for an instant, when all at once she perceived that no
signature was attached to the order. The joy she felt at this discovery was
so great she could not conceal it.
"Yes, yes," said Lord de Winter, who perceived what was passing in her
mind; "yes, you look for the signature, and you say to yourself, `All is not
lost, for that order is not signed; it is only shown to me to me to terrify
me; that`s all.` You are mistaken; to-morrow this order will be sent to the
Duke of Buckingham; after to-morrow, it will return signed by his hand and
marked with his seal; and four-and-twenty hours afterward, I will answer for
its being carried into execution. Adieu, madame; that is all I had to say
to you."
"And I reply to you, sir, that this abuse of power, this exile under a
false name, is infamous!"
"Would you like better to be hung in your true name, milady? You know
that the English laws are inexorable on the abuse of marriage! speak freely:
although my name, or rather that of my brother, would be mixed up with the
affair, I will risk the scandal of a public trial, to make myself certain of
getting rid of you."
Milady made no reply, but became as pale as a corpse.
"Oh! I see you prefer peregrination. That`s well, milady; and there
is an old proverb that says: `Traveling forms youth.` Ma foi! you are not
wrong after all; and life is sweet. That`s the reason why I take such care
you shall not deprive me of mine. There only remains, then, the question of
the five shillings to be settled; you think me rather parsimonious - don`t
you? That`s because I don`t care to leave you the means of corrupting your
jailers. Besides you will always have your charms left to seduce them with.
Employ them, if your check with regard to Felton has not disgusted you with
attempts of that kind."
"Felton has not told him," said milady to herself; "nothing is lost,
then."
"And now, madame, till I see you again. To-morrow I will come and
announce to you the departure of my messenger."
Lord de Winter rose, saluted her ironically, and left the room.
Milady breathed again; she had still four days before her; four days
would quite suffice to complete the seduction of Felton.
A terrible idea, however, rushed into her mind; she thought that Lord
de Winter would, perhaps, send Felton himself to get the order signed by the
Duke of Buckingham; in that case, Felton would escape her; for, in order to
secure success, the magic of a continuous seduction was necessary.
Nevertheless, as we have said, one circumstance reassured her - Felton had
not spoken.
As she would not appear to be agitated by the threats of Lord de Winter,
she placed herself at table and ate.
There, as she had done the evening before, she fell on her knees and
repeated her prayers aloud. As on the evening before, the soldier stopped
his march to listen to her.
Soon after, she heard lighter steps than those of the sentinel, which
came from the bottom of the corridor, and stopped before her door.
"That is he," said she.
And she began the same religious chant which had so strongly excited
Felton the evening before.
But, although her voice, sweet, full, and sonorous, vibrated as
harmoniously and as affectingly as ever, the door remained shut. It
appeared, however, to milady, that in one of the furtive glances she darted,
from time to time, at the grating of the door, she thought she saw the ardent
eyes of the young man through the narrow opening. But whether this was a
reality or not, he had, this time, sufficient self-command not to enter.
Only, a few instants after she had finished her religious song, milady
though she heard a profound sigh; then the same steps she had heard approach,
departed slowly, as if with regret.
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