The Indiscretion of the Duchess Part 26

"You saw her, then, at the convent?" I asked.

"Yes, I met her in the chapel. Really, I should have expected to be safe from her there. And the Mother would not turn her out!" And then the d.u.c.h.ess, by a sudden transition, said to me, with a half-apologetic, half challenging smile: "You got my note, I suppose, Mr. Aycon?"

For a minute I regarded the d.u.c.h.ess. And I smiled, and my smile turned to a laugh as I answered:

"Oh, yes! I got the note."

"I meant it," said she. "But I suppose I must forgive you now. You've been so brave, and you're so much hurt." And the d.u.c.h.ess' eyes expressed a gratifying admiration of my powers.

I fingered my arm, which lay comfortably enough in the bandages and the sling that Suzanne's care had provided for it. And I rose to my feet.

"Oh, you mustn't move!" cried the d.u.c.h.ess, rising also and coming to where I stood.

"By Jove, but I must!" said I, looking at the clock. "The duke's got four hours' start of me."

"What do you want with my husband now?" she asked. "I don't see why you should fight him; anyhow, you can't fight him till your arm is well."

The d.u.c.h.ess' words struck on my ear and her dainty little figure was before my eyes, but my thoughts were absent from her.

"Don't go, Mr. Aycon," said she.

"I must go," I said. "By this time he'll be at the convent."

A frown gathered on the d.u.c.h.ess' face.

"What concern is it of yours?" she asked. "I--I mean, what good can you do?"

"I can hardly talk to you about it--" I began awkwardly; but the d.u.c.h.ess saved me the trouble of finishing my sentence, for she broke in angrily:

"Oh, as if I believe that! Mr. Aycon, why are you going?"

"I'm going to see that the duke doesn't--"

"Oh, you are very anxious--and very good, aren't you? Yes, and very chivalrous! Mr. Aycon, I don't care what he does;" and she looked at me defiantly.

"But I do," said I, and seeing my hat on the cabinet by the wall, I walked across the room and stretched out my hand for it. The d.u.c.h.ess darted after me and stood between my hat and me.

"Why do you care?" she asked, with a stamp of her small foot.

There were, no doubt, many most sound and plausible reasons for caring--reasons independent of any private feelings of my own in regard to Marie Delha.s.se; but not one of them did I give to the d.u.c.h.ess. I stood before her, looking, I fear, very embarra.s.sed, and avoiding her accusing eyes.

Then the d.u.c.h.ess flung her head back, and with pa.s.sionate scorn said to me:

"I believe you're in love with the woman yourself!"

And to this accusation also I made no reply.

"Are you really going?" she asked, her voice suddenly pa.s.sing to a note of entreaty.

"I must go," said I obstinately, callously, curtly.

"Then go!" cried the d.u.c.h.ess. "And never let me see you again!"

She moved aside, and I sprang forward and seized my hat. I took no notice of the d.u.c.h.ess, and, turning, I walked straight toward the door. But before I reached it the d.u.c.h.ess flung herself on the sofa and buried her face in the cushions. I would not leave her like that, so I stood and waited; but my tongue still refused to find excuses, and still I was in a fever to be off.

But the d.u.c.h.ess rose again and stood upright. She was rather pale and her lips quivered, but she held out her hand to me with a smile. And suddenly I understood what I was doing, and that for the second time the proud little lady before me saw herself left and neglected for the sake of that woman whose presence made even a convent uninhabitable to her; and the bitter wound that her pride suffered was declared in her bearing and in the pathetic effort at dignity which she had summoned up to hide her pain.

Yet, although on this account I was sorry for her, I discerned nothing beyond hurt pride, and was angry at the pride for the sake of Marie Delha.s.se, and when I spoke it was in defense of Marie Delha.s.se, and not in comfort to the d.u.c.h.ess.

"She is not what you think," I said.

The d.u.c.h.ess drew herself up to her full height, making the most of her inches.

"Really, Mr. Aycon," said she, "you must forgive me if I do not discuss that." And she paused, and then added, with a curl of her lip: "You and my husband can settle that between you;" and with a motion of her hand she signed to me to leave her.

Looking back on the matter, I do not know that I had any reason to be ashamed or to feel myself in any sort a traitor to the d.u.c.h.ess. Yet some such feelings I had as I backed out of the room leaving her standing there in unwonted immobility, her eyes haughty and cold, her lips set, her grace congealed to stateliness, her gay agility frozen to proud stiffness.

And I left her thus standing in obedience to the potent yet still but half-understood spell which drew me from her side and would not suffer me to rest, while the Duke of Saint-Maclou was working his devices in the valley beneath the town of Avranches.

CHAPTER XVI.

The Inn near Pontorson.

The moment I found myself outside the house--and I must confess that, for reasons which I have indicated, it was a relief to me to find myself there--I hastened to old Jean's cottage. The old man was eating his breakfast; his stolidity was unshaken by the events of the night; he manifested nothing beyond a mild satisfaction that the two rascals had justified his opinion of them, and a resigned regret that Pierre had not shared the fate of Lafleur. He told me that his inquiries after Marie Delha.s.se had been fruitless, and added that he supposed there would be a police inquiry into the attempted robbery and the consequent death of Lafleur; indeed he was of opinion that the duke had gone to Avranches to arrange for it as much as to prosecute his search for Marie. I seized the opportunity to suggest that I should be a material witness, and urged him to give me one of the duke's horses to carry me to Avranches. He grumbled at my request, declaring that I should end by getting him into trouble; but a few francs overcame his scruples, and he provided me with a st.u.r.dy animal, which I promised to bring or send back in the course of the day.

Great as my impatience was, I was compelled to spend the first hour of my arrival at Avranches under the doctor's hands. He discovered to my satisfaction that the bullet had not lodged in my arm and that my hurt was no more than a flesh-wound, which would, if all went well, heal in a few days. He enjoined perfect rest and freedom from worry and excitement. I thanked him, bowed myself out, mounted again, and rode to the hotel, where I left my horse with instructions for its return to its owner. Then, at my best speed, I hastened down the hill again, reached the grounds of the convent, and approached the door. Perfect rest and freedom from excitement were unattainable until I had learned whether Marie Delha.s.se was still safe within the old white walls which I saw before me; for, though I could not trace how the change in me had come, nor track its growth, I knew now that if she were there the walls held what was of the greatest moment to me in all the world, and that if she were not there the world was a h.e.l.l to me until I found her.

I was about to ring the bell, when from the gate of the burial-ground the Mother Superior came at a slow pace. The old woman was frowning as she walked, and her frown deepened at sight of me. But I, caring nothing for what she thought, ran up to her, crying before I had well reached her:

"Is Marie Delha.s.se still here?"

The Mother stopped dead, and regarded me with disapprobation.

"What business is it of yours, sir, where the young woman is?" she asked.

"I mean her no harm," I urged eagerly. "If she is safe here, I ask to know no more; I don't even ask to see her. Is she here? The d.u.c.h.ess of Saint-Maclou told me that you refused to send her away."

"G.o.d forbid that I should send away any sinner who will find refuge here,"

she said solemnly. "You have seen the d.u.c.h.ess?"

"Yes; she is at home. But Mlle. Delha.s.se?"

But the old woman would not be hurried. She asked again:

"What concern have you, sir, with Marie Delha.s.se?"