Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 20 (22 page)

 
          
“I
do not forget him;” and the hand that wore the ring closed with an ominous
gesture, which I well understood. “Monsieur merely claims his own, and the
other, being a man of sense and honor, w ill doubtless witipdraw at once; and
though ‘desolated,’ as the French say, will soon console himself with a new’
inamorata.
If he is so unw ise as to oppose Monsieur, w ho by the by is a dead shot, there
is but one wav in which both can receive satisfaction."

 
          
A
significant emphasis on the last word pointed his meaning, and the smile that
accompanied it almost goaded me to draw the sword I wore, and offer him that
satisfaction on the spot. I felt the color rise to my forehead, and dared not
look up, but leaning on the back of Clotilde’s chair, I bent as.
if
to speak to her.

 
          
“Bear
it a little longer for my sake, Paul,” she murmured, with a look of love and
despair, that
wrung my heart. Here some one spoke of a long
rehearsal in the morning, and the lateness of the hour.

 
          
“A
farewell toast before we part,” said Keen. “Come, Lamar, give us a sentiment,
after that whisper you ought to be inspired.”

 
          
“I
am. Let me give you —
The
love of liberty and the
liberty of love.”

 
          
“Good!
That would suit the hero and heroine of
St. John’s
story, for Monsieur wished much for his
liberty, and, no doubt, Madame will for her love,” said Denon, while the
glasses were filled.

 
          
Then
the toast was drunk with much merriment and the party broke up. While detained
by one of the strangers, I saw
St. John
approach Clotilde, who stood alone by the
window, and speak rapidly for several minutes. She listened with half-averted
head, answered briefly, and w rapping the mantilla closely about her, swept
away from him with her haughtiest mien. He watched for a moment, then followed,
and before I could reach her, offered his arm to lead her to the carriage. She
seemed about to refuse it, but something in the expression of his face
restrained her; and accepting it, they w
ent
down
together. The hall and little ante-room w ere dimly lighted, but as I slowly
followed, I saw her snatch her hand away, w hen she thought they were alone;
saw him draw her to him with an embrace as fond as it was irresistible; and
turning her indignant face to his, kiss it ardently, as he said in a tone, both
tender and imperious —

 
          
“Good
night, my darling. I give you one more day, and then I claim you.”

 
          
“Never!”
she answered, almost fiercely, as he released her. And w ishing me pleasant
dreams, as he passed, went out into the night, gaily humming the burden of a song
Clotilde had often sung to me.

 
          
The
moment we were in the carriage all her self-control deserted her, and a tempest
of despairing grief came over her. Lor a time, both w'ords and caresses were
unavailing, and I let her w eep herself calm before I asked the hard question —

 
          
“Is
all this true, Clotilde?”

 
          
“Yes,
Paul, all true, except that he said nothing of the neglect, the cruelty, the
insult that I bore before he left me. I was so young, so lonely, I was glad to
be loved and cared for, and I believed that lie would never change. I cannot
tell you all I suffered, but I rejoiced when I thought death had freed me; I
would keep nothing that reminded me of the bitter past, and went away to begin
again, as if it had never been.”

 
          
“Why
delay telling me this? Why let me learn it in such a strange and sudden way?”

 
          
“Ah,
forgive me!
1
am
so proud I could not bear to tell vou that
any man had wearied of me and deserted me. I meant to tell vou before our
marriage, but the fear that
St. John
was alive haunted me, and till it was set at rest I would not speak.
To-night there was no time, and I w as forced to leave all to chance. He found
pleasure in tormenting me through you, but would not speak out, because he is
as proud as I, and does not wish to hear our storv bandied from tongue to
tongue.”

 
          
“What
did he say to you, Clotilde?”

 
          
“He
begged me to submit and return to him, in spite of all that has passed; he w
arned me that if we attempted to escape it would be at the peril of your life,
for he would most assuredlv follow’ and find us, to whatever corner of the
earth we might fly; and he will, for he is as relentless as death.”

 
          
“What
did he mean bv giving vou one day more?” I asked, grinding my teeth with
impatient rage as I listened.

 
          
“He
gave me one day to recover from mv surprise, to prepare tor my departure w ith
him, and to bid you farewell.”

 
          
“And
will you, Clotilde?”

 
          
“No!”
she replied, clenching her hands with a gesture
ot
dogged resolution, while her eves glittered in the darkness. “I never will submit;
there must be some way of escape; I shall find it, and it I do not — I can
die.”

 
          
“Not
vet, dearest; we will appeal to the law first; I have a friend w hom I will
consult to-morrow’, and he may help us.”

 
          
“I
have no faith in law,” she said, despairingly, “money and
influence
so often outweigh
justice and mercy. I have no witnesses, no friends, no
wealth to help me; he has all, and we shall only be defeated. I must devise
some surer way. Let me think a little; a womans wit is quick when her heart
prompts it."

 
          
I
let the poor soul flatter herself with vague hopes; but 1 saw' no help for us
except in flight, and that she would not consent to, lest it should endanger
me.
More than once I said savagely within myself, “I will
kill him,” and then shuddered at the counsels of the devil, so suddenly roused
in my own breast.
As if she divined my thought by instinct, Clotilde
broke the heavy silence that followed her last words, by clinging to me with
the imploring cry,

 
          
“Oh,
Paul, shun him, else your fiery spirit will destroy you. He promised me he
would not harm you unless we drove him to it. Be careful, for my sake, and if
any one must suffer let it be miserable me.”

 
          
I
soothed her as I best could, and when our long, sad drive ended, bade her rest
while I worked, for she would need all her strength on the morrow. Then I left
her, to haunt the street all night long, guarding her door, and while I paced
to and fro without, I watched her shadow come and go before the lighted window
as she paced within, each racking our brains for some means of help till day
broke.

 
          
Early
on the following morning I consulted my friend, but when I laid the case before
him he gave me little hope of a happy issue should the attempt be made. A
divorce was hardly possible, when an unscrupulous man like
St. John
was bent on opposing it; and though no
decision could force her to remain with him, we should not be safe from his
vengeance, even if we chose to dare everything and fly together. Long and
earnestly we talked, but to little purpose, and I went to rehearsal with a
heavy heart.

 
          
Clotilde
was to have a benefit that night, and what a happy day I had fancied this would
be; how carefully I had prepared for it; what delight I had anticipated in
playing Romeo to her Juliet; and how eagerly I had longed for the time which
now seemed to approach with such terrible rapidity, for each hour brought our
parting nearer! On the stage I found Keen and his new friend amusing
themselves
with fencing, while waiting the arrival of some
of the company. I was too miserable to be dangerous just then, and when
St. John
bowed to me with his most courteous air, I
returned the greeting, though I could not speak to him. I think he saw mv
suffering, and enjoyed it with the satisfaction of a cruel nature, but he
treated me with the courtesy of an equal, which new demonstration surprised me,
till, through Denon, I discovered that having inquired much about me he had
learned that I was a gentleman by birth and education, which fact accounted for
the change in his demeanor. I roamed restlessly about the gloomy green room and
stage, till Keen, dropping his foil, confessed himself outfenced and called to
me.

 
          
“Come
here, Lamar, and try a bout with
St. John
. You are the best fencer among us, so, for
the honor of the companv, come and do your best instead of playing Romeo before
the time.”

 
          
A
sudden impulse prompted me to comply, and a few passes proved that I was the
better swordsman of the two. This annoved
St. John
, and though he complimented me with the
rest, he would not own himself outdone, and we kept it up till both grew w arm
and excited. In the midst of an animated match between us, I observed that the
button was off his foil, and a glance at his face assured me that he was aware
of it, and almost at the instant he made a skilful thrust, and the point
pierced my flesh. As I caught the foil from his hand and drew it out with an
exclamation of pain, I saw a gleam of exultation pass across his face, and knew
that his promise to Clotilde was but idle breath. My comrades surrounded me
with anxious inquiries, and no one was more surprised and solicitous than
St. John
. The wound was trifling, for a picture of
Clotilde had turned the thrust aside, else the force with which it was given
might have rendered it fatal. I made light of it, but hated him with a
redoubled hatred for the cold-blooded treachery that would have given to
revenge the screen of accident.

 
          
The
appearance of the ladies caused us to immediately ignore the mishap, and
address ourselves to business. Clotilde came last, looking so pale it was not
necessary for her to plead illness; but she went through her part with her
usual fidelity, while her husband watched her with the masterful expression
that nearly drove me wild. He haunted her like a shadow, and she listened to
him with the desperate look of a hunted creature driven to bay. I
Ie
might have softened her just resentment by a touch of
generosity or compassion, and won a little gratitude, even though love was
impossible; but he was blind, relentless, and goaded her beyond endurance,
rousing in her fiery Spanish heart a dangerous spirit he could not control. The
rehearsal was over at last, and l approached (do- tilde with a look that mutely
asked if I should leave her.
St. John
said something in a low voice, but she
answered sternly, as she took my arm with a decided gesture.

“My comrades surrounded me with anxious
inquiries

 
          
“This
day is mine; I will not be defrauded of an hour,” and we went away together for
our accustomed stroll in the sunny park.

 
          
A
sad and memorable walk was that, for neither had any hope with which to cheer
the other, and Clotilde grew gloomier as we talked. I told her of mv fruitless
consultation, also of the fencing match; at that her face darkened, and she
said, below her breath, “I shall remember that.”

 
          
We
walked long together, and I proposed plan after plan, all either unsafe or
impracticable. She seemed to listen, but when
I
paused she answered with averted eyes —

 
          
“Leave
it to me; I have a project; let me perfect it before I tell you. Now I must go
and rest, for I have had no sleep, and I shall need all mv strength for the
tragedy to-night.”

 
          
All
that afternoon I roamed about the city, too restless for anything but constant
motion, and evening found me ill prepared tor my now doubly arduous duties. It
was late when I reached the theatre, and I dressed hastily. My costume was new
for the occasion, and not till it w as on did I remember that I had neglected
to try it since the finishing touches were given. A stitch or two would remedy
the defects, and, hurrying up to the wardrobe room, a skilful pair of hands
soon set me right. As I came down the winding- stairs that led from the lofty
chamber to a dimly-lighted gallery below, St. John’s voice arrested me, and
pausing I saw that keen w as doing the honors of the theatre in defiance of all
rules. Just as they reached the stair-foot some one called to them, and
throwing open a narrow door, he said to his companion —

 
          
“From
here you get a fine view of the stage; steady yourself by the rope and look
down. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

           
He ran into the dressing-room from
whence the voice proceeded, and
St. John
stepped out upon a little platform, hastily
built for the launching of an aeriel-car in some grand spectacle. Glad to
escape meeting him, I was about to go on, when, from an obscure corner, a dark
figure glided noiselessly to the door and leaned in. I caught a momentary
glimpse of a white extended arm and the glitter of steel, then came a cry of mortal
fear, a heavy fall; and flying swiftly down the gallery the figure disappeared.
With one leap I reached the door, and looked in; the raft hung broken, the
platform was empty. At that instant Keen rushed out, demanding what had
happened, and scarcely knowing what I said, I answered hurriedly,

 
          
“The
rope broke and he fell.”

 
          
Keen
gave me a strange look, and dashed down stairs. I followed, to find myself in a
horror-stricken crowd, gathered about the piteous object which a moment ago had
been a living man. There was no need to call a surgeon, for that headlong fall
had dashed out life in the drawing of a breath, and nothing remained to do but
to take the poor body tenderly away to such friends as the newly-arrived
stranger possessed. The contrast between the gay crowd rustling before the
curtain and the dreadful scene transpiring behind
it,
was terrible; but the house was filling fast; there was no time for the
indulgence of pity or curiosity, and soon no trace of the accident remained but
the broken rope above, and an ominous damp spot on the newly-washed boards
below. At a word of command from our energetic manager, actors and actresses
were sent away to retouch their pale faces with carmine, to restoring their
startled nerves with any stimulant at hand, and to forget, if possible, the
awesome sight just witnessed.

 
          
I
returned to my dressing-room hoping Clotilde had heard nothing of this sad, and
yet for us most fortunate accident, though all the while a vague dread haunted
me, and I feared to see her. Mechanically completing my costume, I looked about
me for the dagger with which poor Juliet was to stab herself, and found that it
was gone. Trying to recollect where I put it, I remembered having it in my hand
just before I went up to have my sword-belt altered; and fancying that I must
have inadvertently taken it with me, I reluctantly retraced my steps. At the
top of the stairs leading to that upper gallery a little white object caught my
eve, and, taking it up, I found it to be a flower. If it had been a burning
coal I should not have dropped it more hastilv than 1 did when I recognized it
was one of a cluster I had left in Clotilde’s room because she loved them. They
were a rare and delicate kind, no one but herself was likely to possess them in
that place, nor was she likelv to have given one away, for my gifts were kept
with jealous care; vet how came it there? And as I asked myself the question,
like an answer returned the remembrance of her face w hen she said, “I shall
remember this.” The darkly-shrouded form was a female figure, the w hite arm a
woman’s, and horrible as was the act, w ho but that sorely- tried and tempted
creature would have committed it. For a moment my heart stood still, then I
indignantly rejected the black thought, and thrusting the flower into my breast
went on mv way, tr\ ing to convince myself that the foreboding fear which
oppressed me was caused by the agitating events of the last half hour. Mv w
eapon was not in the wardrobe-room; and as I returned, wondering w hat I had
done w ith it, I saw’ Keen standing in the little doorw ay with a candle in his
hand. He turned and asked w hat I was looking for. I told him, and explained
why I was searching for it there.

 
          
“Here
it is; I found it at the foot of these stairs. It is too sharp tor a
stage-dagger, and w ill do mischief unless you dull it,” he said, adding, as he
pointed to the broken rope, “Lamar, that was cut; I have examined it.”

 
          
The
light shone full in my face, and I knew that it changed, as did my voice, for I
thought of Clotilde, and till that fear was at rest resolved to be dumb
concerning w hat I had seen, but I could not repress a shudder as I said,
hastily,

 
          
“Don’t
suspect me of anv deviltry, for heaven’s sake. I’ve got to go on in fifteen
minutes, and how can I play unless you let me forget this horrible business.”

 
          
“Forget
it then, if you can; I’ll remind you of it to-morrow.” And, with a significant
nod, he walked a wav, leaving behind him a new trial to distract me. I ran to
Clotilde’s room, bent on relieving myself, if possible, of the suspicion that
w'ould return with redoubled pertinacity since the discovery of the dagger,
which I was sure I had not dropped where it was found. When I tapped at her
door, her voice, clear and sweet as ever, answered “Come!” and entering, I
found her ready, but alone. Before I could open my lips she put up her hand as
if to arrest the utterance of some dreadful intelligence.

 
          
“Don’t
speak of it; I have heard, and cannot bear a repetition of the horror. I must
forget it till to-morrow, then
— .”
There she stopped
abruptly, for I produced the flower, asking as naturally as I could —

 
          
“Did
you give this to anv one?”

 
          
“No;
why ask me that?” and she shrunk a little, as I bent to count the blossoms in
the cluster on her breast. I gave her seven; now there were but six, and I
fixed on her a look that betrayed my fear, and mutely demanded its confirmation
or denial. Other eyes she might have evaded or defied, not mine; the traitorous
blood dyed her face, then fading, left it colorless; her eyes wandered and
fell, she clasped her hands imploringly, and threw herself at my feet, crying
in a stifled voice,