The Mississippi Bubble Part 37

"Your Grace is not far wrong," said he. "I regret that you do not have your way in planning for me a surprise. Yet I must say to you, that I have already met this lady."

"What?" cried the regent. "You have met her? Impossible! Incredible!

How, Monsieur L'as? We will admit you wizard enough, and owner of the philosopher's stone--owner of anything you like, except this secret of mine own. According to mademoiselle's own words, it would have been impossible."

"None the less, what I have said is true," said John Law, calmly, his voice even and well-modulated, vibrating a little, yet showing no trace of anger nor of emotional uncontrol.

"But I tell you it could not be!" again exclaimed the regent.

"No, it is impossible," broke in the young Duc de Richelieu. "I would swear that had such beauty ever set foot in Paris before now, the news would so have spread that all France had been at her feet."

Law looked at the impudent youth with a gaze that seemed to pa.s.s through him, seeing him not. Then suddenly this scene and its significance, its ultimate meaning seemed to take instant hold upon him.

He could feel rising within his soul a flood of irresistible emotions.

All at once his anger, heritage of an impetuous youth, blazed up hot and furious. He trod a step farther forward, after his fashion advancing close to that which threatened him.

"This lady, your Grace," said he, "has been known to me for years. Mary Connynge, what do you masquerading here?"

A sudden silence fell, a silence broken at length by the voice of the regent himself.

"Surely, Monsieur L'as," said Philippe, "surely we must accept your statements. But Monsieur must remember that this is the table of the regent, that these are the friends of the regent. We bring no recollections here which shall cut short the joy of any person. Sir, I would not reprimand you, but I must beg that you be seated and be calm!"

Yet the imperious nature of the other brooked not even so pointed a rebuke. As though he had not heard, Law stepped yet a pace nearer to the woman, upon whom he now bent the blaze of his angered eyes. He looked neither to right nor left, but visually commanded the woman until in turn her eyes sought his own.

"This woman, your Grace," said Law, at length, "was for some time in effect my wife. This I do not offer as matter of interest. What I would say to your Grace is this--she was also my slave!"

"Sirrah!" cried the regent.

"Ah, Dame!" exclaimed the Duc de Richelieu. And even from the women about there came little murmurs of expostulation. Indeed there might have been pity, even in this a.s.semblage, for the agony now visible upon the brow of Mary Connynge.

"Monsieur, the wine has turned your head," said the regent scornfully.

"You boast!"

"I boast of nothing," cried Law, savagely, his voice now ringing with a tone none present had ever known it to a.s.sume. "I say to you again, this woman was my slave, and that she will again do as I shall choose. Your Grace, she would come and wipe the dust from my shoes if I should command it! She would kneel at my feet, and beg of me, if I should command it! Shall I prove this, your Grace?"

"Oh, a.s.suredly!" replied the regent, with a sarcasm which now seemed his only relief. "a.s.suredly, if Monsieur L'as should please. We here in Paris are quite his humble servants."

Law said nothing. He stood with his biting blue eyes still fixed upon Mary Connynge, whose own eyes faltered, trying their utmost to escape from his; whose fingers, resting just lightly on the snowy Hollands of the table cloth, moved tremulously; whose limbs appeared ready to sink beneath her.

"Come, then, Mary Connynge!" cried Law at last, his teeth setting savagely together. "Come, then, traitress and slave, and kneel before me, as you did once before!"

Then there ensued a strange and horrible spectacle. A hush as of death fell upon the group. Mary Connynge, trembling, halting, yet always advancing, did indeed as her master had bidden! She pa.s.sed from the head of the table, back of the chair of the regent, who stood gazing with horror in his eyes; she pa.s.sed the chair of a.s.se, near which Law now stood; she paused in front of him, and stood as though in a dream. Her knees would have indeed sunk beneath her. She drew from her bosom a silken kerchief, as though she would indeed have performed the ign.o.ble service which had been threatened for her. There came neither voice nor motion to those who saw this thing. The sheer force of one strong nature, terrible in the intensity of one supreme moment--this might have been the spell which commanded at the table of the regent. Yet this did occur.

There came a sound which broke the silence, which caused all to start as with swift relief. A sob, short, dry, hard, as from one whose heart is broken, came from beyond the place where Law stood facing the trembling woman. The eyes of all turned upon Will Law, from whom had burst this irrepressible exclamation of agony. Will Law, as one grown swiftly old, haggard, broken-down, stood gazing in wide-eyed horror at this woman, so humiliated in the presence of all in this brilliantly-lighted hall; before the blazing mirrors which should have reflected back naught but beauty and joy; under the twining roses, which should have been the signs manual of undying love; under the smiling cherubs, which should have typified the deities of happy love. Will Law, too, had loved.

Perhaps still he loved.

This sharp sound served to break also the spell under which Law himself seemed held. He cast aloft his arms, as in remorse or in despair. Then he extended a hand to the woman who would have sunk before him.

"G.o.d forgive me! Madam," he cried. "I had forgot. Savage indeed you are and have been, but 'tis not for me to treat you brutally."

"Your Grace," said he, turning toward the regent, "I crave your pardon. Our explanations shall reach you on the morrow."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

He turned, and taking his brother by the arm, advanced toward the door at which he had recently entered, pausing not to look behind him. Had his eye been more curious as he and his half-fainting brother bowed before pa.s.sing through the door, it might have seen that which he must long have borne in memory.

Mary Connynge, trembling, pallid, utterly broken, never found her way back to the right hand of the regent. She half stumbled into a chair near the foot of the table. Her bosom fluttered at the base of the throat. Half blindly she reached out her hand toward a gla.s.s of wine which stood near by, foaming and sparkling, its gem-like drops of keen pungency swimming continuously up to the surface. Her hand caught at the slender stem of the gla.s.s. Leaning upon her left arm, she half rose as though to put it to her lips. Her head moved, as though she would follow the retreating figure of the man who had thus scornfully used her. All at once, slowly, and then with a sudden crash, she sank down upon her seat and fell forward across the table. The fragile gla.s.s snapped in her fingers. The amber wine rushed in swift flood across the linen. In the broadening stain there fell and lay blazing the great gem of France.

CHAPTER IX

THE NEWS

"Lady Kitty! Lady Kitty! Have you heard the news?"

Thus, breathless, the Countess of Warrington, Lady Catharine's English neighbor in exile, who burst into the drawing-room early in the morning, not waiting for announcement of her presence.

"Nay, not yet, my dear," said Lady Catharine, advancing and embracing her. "What is it, pray? Has the poodle swallowed a bone, or the baby perhaps cut another tooth? And, forsooth, how is the little one?"

Lady Emily Warrington, slender, elegant, well clad, and for the most part languorously calm, was in a state of excitement quite without her customary _aplomb_. She sank into a seat, fanning herself with a vigor which threatened ruin to the precious slats of a fan which bore the handiwork of Watteau.

"The streets are full of it," said she. "Have you not heard, really?"

"I must say, not yet. But what is it?"

"Why, the quarrel between the regent and his director-general, Mr.

Law."

"No, I have not heard of it." Lady Catharine sought refuge behind her own fan. "But tell me" she continued.

"But that is not all. 'Twas the reason for the quarrel. Paris is all agog. 'Twas about a woman!"

"You mean--there was--a woman?"

"Yes, it all happened last night, at the Palais Royal. The woman is dead--died last night. 'Tis said she fell in a fit at the very table--'twas at a little supper given by the regent--and that when they came to her she was quite dead."

"But Mr. Law--"

"'Twas he that killed her!"

"Good G.o.d! What mean you?" cried Lady Catharine, her own face blanching behind her protecting fan. The blood swept back upon her heart, leaving her cold as a statue.

"Why," continued the caller, in her own excitement to tell the news scarce noting what went on before her, "it seems that this mysterious beauty of the regent's, of whom there has been so much talk, proved to be none other than a former mistress of this same Mr. Law, who is reputed to have been somewhat given to that sort of thing, though of late monstrous virtuous, for some cause or other. Mr. Law came suddenly upon her at the table of the regent, arrayed in some kind of savage finery--for 'twas in fashion a mask that evening, as you must know. And what doth my director-general do, so high and mighty? Why, in spite of the regent and in spite of all those present, he upbraids her, taunts her, reviles her, demanding that she fall on her knees before him, as it seems indeed she would have done--as, forsooth, half the dames of Paris would do to-day! Then, all of a sudden, my Lord Director changes, and he craves pardon of the woman and of the regent, and so stalks off and leaves the room! And now then the poor creature walks to the table, would lift a gla.s.s of wine, and so--'tis over! 'Twas like a play! Indeed all Paris is like a play nowadays. Of course you know the rest."

A gesture of negative came from the hand that lay in Lady Catharine's lap. The busy gossip went on.

"The regent, be sure, was angry enough at this cheapening of his own wares before all, and perhaps 'tis true he had a fancy for the woman. At any rate, 'tis said that this very morning he quarreled hotly with Mr.

Law. The latter gave back words hot as he received, and so they had it violent enough. 'Tis stated on the Quinquempoix that another must take Mr. Law's place. But if Mr. Law goes, what will become of the System?