John Leech, His Life and Work Volume I Part 12

d'Aubray. A long pause, broken by Sainte-Croix:

"'Marie,' he said, 'they must die, or our happiness is impossible.'"

The Marchioness was not yet hardened enough to receive this announcement with equanimity; and the lovers were still discussing the _pros_ and _cons_ of it, when they were surprised by Monsieur d'Aubray, who, entering by a secret door, "stood looking on the scene before him." Any doubts of guilty intimacy, if he had any, were dispelled; and, after ordering his daughter to her chamber, he turned to Sainte-Croix, and said:

"'Monsieur de Sainte-Croix, I will provide you with a lodging where you will run no risk of compromising the honour of a n.o.ble family.'"

And so saying, he produced a _lettre de cachet_, armed with which the exempts, who were waiting for him, speedily deposited M. de Sainte-Croix at the Bastille. The Marchioness, separated from her children and her husband, was exiled to Offremont, a family place some distance from Paris. Here she lived with her father, who so entirely believed in her repentance and determination to lead a new life that he proposed a speedy return to Paris.

"'I have no wish to go, _mon pere_,' replied the hypocrite; 'I would sooner remain here with you--for ever!'"

After much talk and reiterated professions of sorrow for the past, the Marchioness says, in reply to her father's order that "she shall never speak to Sainte-Croix--who had been released from the Bastille--or recognise him again:

"'You shall be obeyed, monsieur--too willingly.'"

The words had not long left her lips when she placed a lamp in the window of the room, to guide her lover to a prearranged a.s.signation.

The awful interview that followed is described in Mr. Smith's book.

The greater villain ran the risk of interruption in his lengthened arguments in favour of parricide; but hearing approaching footsteps, Sainte-Croix hurried away.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

M. d'Aubray had gone to bed. A servant suggested the night-drink.

"'I will give it to him myself, Jervais,' said the Marchioness."

Taking a jug from the man, she poured the contents into an old cup of thin silver; then, "with a hurried glance round the room, she broke the seals of the packet Sainte-Croix had left in her hands, and shook a few grains of its contents into the beverage. No change was visible; a few bubbles rose and broke upon the surface, but this was all."

Sleep had surprised M. d'Aubray. His daughter touched him lightly, and he "awoke with the exclamation of surprise attendant upon being suddenly disturbed from sleep.

"'I have brought your wine, _mon pere_,' said the murderess.

"'Thanks, thanks, my good girl,' said the old man, as he raised himself up in bed, and took the cup from the Marchioness. He drank off the contents, and then, once more bestowing a benediction upon his daughter, turned again to his pillow."

Let those who desire to see how beauty can be retained, though disfigured by devilish pa.s.sion, study the face of the Marchioness in this drawing. For skilful arrangement of light and shade, and of the objects that go to make up the _mise en scene_, and for natural action in the figures; this drawing takes the lead of all the admirable ill.u.s.trations in the "Marchioness of Brinvilliers."

CHAPTER IX.

"THE MARCHIONESS OF BRINVILLIERS" (_continued_).

A great reception was given at Versailles by the King. M. d'Aubray was "suffering from a sudden and fearful indisposition, but he insisted upon his daughter accepting an invitation, were it only to establish her _entree_ into society."

There, amongst the trees in the gardens, the Marchioness encounters Sainte-Croix. "His face looked ghastly in the moonbeams, and his eyes gleamed with a light that conscience made demoniac in the eyes of the Marchioness."

"'You here!' she exclaimed.

"'Where should I be but in the place of rejoicing just now?' replied Gaudin through his set teeth, and with a sardonic smile. 'I am this moment from Paris. We are free!'

"'My father?' cried the Marchioness, as a terrible expression overspread her countenance.

"'He is dead,' returned Sainte-Croix, 'and we are free!'"

There was a pause, and they looked at each other for nearly a minute.

"'Come,' at length said the Marchioness, 'come to the ball.'"

A prominent and very interesting figure in Mr. Smith's book is Louise Gauthier, a girl of comparatively humble birth, who had the misfortune to love Sainte-Croix with the intense self-sacrificing love that good women so often show for bad men, who return their affection with coldness and neglect. This girl, who had become the friend of Marotte Dupre, one of the actresses in the plays of Moliere which were part of the attraction at the Versailles fete, accompanied the actress to Versailles, where she accidentally overheard a conversation between the Marchioness of Brinvilliers and M. de Sainte-Croix, which not only convinced her that the love for her that Sainte-Croix had once professed was given to another, but that some fearful tie existed between the two, caused by actions which had destroyed their happiness here and their hopes of it hereafter.

She came from her concealment, and was received with jealous fury by the Marchioness, who believed, or affected to believe, that the girl was at "the grotto" by appointment with Sainte-Croix. She bestowed what is commonly called "a piece of her mind" upon her lover, and concluded her rhapsody by informing him that from henceforth "we meet no more."

Louise, however, convinced the pa.s.sionate Marchioness that she had made no appointment, but was at "the grotto" by, "perhaps, a dispensation of Providence," in order that she might, having overheard their guilty conversation, so act upon their consciences as to "save them both."

The first result of her good intentions is a declaration to the Marchioness by Sainte-Croix that, though there had been some love-pa.s.sages between him and the girl, they were "madness, infatuation--call it what name you will; but you are the only one I ever loved." Thus the ruffian speaks in the presence of the woman he had betrayed; but her love, though crushed, still urges her to become the man's good angel, and, seizing his arm, she cries:

"'Hear me, Gaudin. By the recollection of what we once were to each other--although you scorn me now, and the shadowy remembrance of old times--before these terrible circ.u.mstances, whatever they may be, had thus turned your heart from me and from your G.o.d, there is still time to make amends for all that has occurred. I do not speak for myself, for all those feelings have pa.s.sed, but for you alone. Repent and be happy, for happy now you are not!'"

"Gaudin made no reply, but his bosom heaved rapidly, betraying his emotion.

"'This is idle talk,' said the Marchioness.... 'Will you not come with me, Gaudin?'

"'Marie!' cried Gaudin faintly, 'take me where you list. In life or after it, on earth or in h.e.l.l, I am yours--yours only!'

"A flush of triumph pa.s.sed over her face as she led Sainte-Croix from the grotto," etc.

By the death of her father the Marchioness hoped, not only to have freed herself and her lover from an ever-recurring obstacle to their intercourse, but also to have inherited a much-needed sum of money--no less than "one hundred and fifty thousand livres were to have been the legacy to his daughter, Madame de Brinvilliers--and, what was more, her absolute freedom to act as she pleased. The money had pa.s.sed to her brothers, in trust for her, and she was left entirely under their surveillance.

"'This must be altered,' said the Chevalier Sainte-Croix in an interview with the _alter ego_ of an Italian vendor of poisons named Exili.'"

This man undertakes the "alteration," or, in other words, the murder, of the two brothers for a "consideration" in the form of "one-fifth of whatever may fall to the Marchioness thereupon.

"'Of course, there is a barrier between the brothers of Madame de Brinvilliers and myself,' said Sainte-Croix to his accomplice, 'that must for ever prevent our meeting. I will provide the means, and you their application.'"

Sainte-Croix had the right to claim the merit of this scheme for enriching the Marchioness, and at the same time relieving her from a guardianship that was impenetrable by her lover. The murder of her brothers seemed a trifling affair after the poisoning of her father, and she readily consented to a.s.sist in procuring a situation for the poisoner's a.s.sistant--a man named Lechaussee--in the household of her brothers, who happened, very fortunately, to be in want of a servant at the moment. How this wretch administered the poison to the two brothers, who died instantly from its effect, the curious reader may ascertain--together with the other dramatic particulars--by consulting Mr. Albert Smith's book, in which the incidents are told with great force and skill.

By eavesdropping in somewhat improbable places--notably at a grand fete at the Hotel de Cluny, given by the Marquis de Lauzan, the Italian poisoner Exili becomes master of the guilty pair's secrets. The Marchioness's jealousy had been aroused during the evening by Sainte-Croix's attention to an actress; and she left the great _salon_, and retired with her friend to a cabinet, in which, after the usual denial and reconciliation, secure, as they thought, from interruption, they discussed their demoniacal schemes. As they were about to pa.s.s from the room, "a portion of a large bookcase, masking a door, was thrown open, and Exili stood before them."

The somewhat theatrical character that Leech gives to the figure of Sainte-Croix is much less apparent in this powerful drawing; and in the figures of Exili and the Marchioness there is not a trace of it. Though the Brinvilliers is masked according to a habit of the time, we feel that the mask conceals a beautiful face, distorted by fear, no doubt, but still lovely. The Italian is altogether excellent.

Exili loses no time in turning his information to account, and in reply to Sainte-Croix, who asks him what he wants, he replies that his trade as a sorcerer is failing, and as a poisoner he is in "a yet worse position, thanks to the Lieutenant of Police, M. de la Regnie.

"'I must have money,' he adds, 'to enable me to retire and die elsewhere than on the Greve.'"

He ends by extorting from Sainte-Croix an undertaking to share with him the wealth obtained through the murder of the brothers. But if Exili relied upon the bond as a security of value, he displayed a degree of ignorance of the human nature of such individuals as Sainte-Croix that was surprising in so astute a person.

"To elude the payment of Exili's bond," says the author, "he had determined upon destroying him, running the risk of whatever might happen subsequently through the physician's knowledge of the murders."