Affairs of State Part 35

"G.o.d be praised!" cried the d.u.c.h.ess. "G.o.d be praised," and she caught at the door to keep herself from falling. "He was a bad man," she added in another tone. "Therefore he needs our prayers!"

"I give Monsieur le Prince the congratulations of France," said an oily voice, and Monsieur Tellier bowed low.

"Oh!" cried Nell, and shrank away from him.

"Is that the scoundrel?" demanded Cranford. And he started across the room.

"One moment," interposed the Prince, "don't soil your hands on him.

Gluck!" he called, raising his voice.

And Gluck appeared on the instant.

His master indicated Tellier with the motion of a finger.

It was wonderful to see how Gluck's face brightened--almost into a smile--as he laid his hand on Tellier's shoulder.

"Canaille!" hissed the latter, and shook the hand away. "Do not touch me--do not defile me with those dirty fingers. Oh, I will go! I have my task accomplished! And you are fools, imbeciles--all--all--from that fat Dutchman, who thinks his wife still living--"

But Gluck was again upon him, this time not to be shaken off, and an instant later he and his victim disappeared together into the shadows of the hall.

"Just the same," shrieked Tellier's voice hoa.r.s.ely from the distance, "it was I who was right! In every detail! A veritable triumph! A success of--"

The voice sank into a gurgle and was still.

Pelletan, his face livid, clutching blindly at the wall for support, stumbled forth into the hall, along the corridor, down the stair, until at last he found Tellier, his face purple, rearranging his cravat before a mirror in the hotel office.

"Iss she not lifing?" he asked, huskily.

"Living!" echoed Tellier, whirling upon him fiercely. "No, pig-head, she has been dead these three years! But you are no more a pig-head than those others. Oh, they shall answer, they shall repay, they shall atone!

I will have my revenge--"

But Pelletan did not stop to listen. He groped his way across the room, his eyes shining, his lips trembling, repeating over and over a single word--

"Paris! Paris! Paris!"

Behind the desk he stumbled, through the little door, and dropped to his knees before Saint Genevieve, the protector of the city which he loved.

"You haf done eet!" he murmured, looking up at her with limpid eyes.

"You haf seen how I suffered, unt you haf taken pity. Gott sie dank!

Gott sie dank!"

CHAPTER XXI

Pardon

As Tellier's voice died away along the hall, a silence fell upon the room which he had left--a silence from which the d.u.c.h.ess was the first to rouse herself.

"Come, Fritz," she said, "we must go. We have work to do," and she held out her hand to him.

He took a step toward her, hesitated, stopped.

"In a moment, madame," said he. "Before I go, I have an apology to make and a pardon to crave."

"Of whom?" demanded the d.u.c.h.ess.

For answer, the Prince turned to Susie, so near that he almost touched her--so near that she could see the trembling of his hands, the throbbing of his heart.

"Miss Rushford," he said, in a voice low, carefully repressed, but vibrant with emotion, "I know that I have played the scoundrel; I know that I have no right whatever to address you; I know that I have done everything I could to forfeit your respect. Believe me, the cup is bitter--the more so, since I myself prepared it!"

His voice was trembling so that for the moment he could not go on.

"No, no!" cried the d.u.c.h.ess, from the door, "you wrong yourself, Fritz.

It was I prepared it--it is I who am to blame!"

But he motioned her to silence.

"It was I prepared it," he repeated, "by my unjust suspicions and ungentlemanly action. I shall drain it with what manhood I have. And I hope, mademoiselle, that you will, in time, find it in your heart to pardon me and to think of me with kindness. I can only repeat to you what I have already told your father--that I love you truly and deeply--with my whole heart--as I shall always love you--always--Oh, if I had not been a fool!"

The d.u.c.h.ess, looking on from the door, felt a sudden wave of tenderness sweep over her. Perhaps she recalled her own youth--perhaps it was not quite the truth that she had never regretted--perhaps she was softened by the emotions of the moment. She came to Susie and took her hand in hers.

"Mademoiselle," she said, softly, "I also ask pardon--you will not bear ill-will against an old woman, who imagined that she was acting wisely.

I feel that I am going to love you. You have spirit--you are worthy to be even a Markeld. You must forgive that poor boy yonder."

"I think I shall put him on probation," said Susie, glancing up with bright eyes into the eager face beside her.

The Prince sank to his knee, his face suddenly radiant with joy, caught her hand and covered it with kisses.

"Six months, a year, ten years!" he cried. "I shall be content!"

"Ten years! Nonsense!" cried the d.u.c.h.ess. "Ten days, mademoiselle. You do not love him if you make it an instant longer!"

"No, not ten days, madame," corrected Susie, with a laugh that was half a sob. "Let us say ten minutes!"