Part 41 (1/2)
”Then strive to comprehend my point of view.”
”I can, I will, but----”
”What binds you to that Englishman?”
”My word, my uncle's word.”
”Exactly. And what else binds you to keep my secret?”
The woman stared at him.
”Oh, do not urge that against me,” she pleaded. ”I must tell all.”
”I have your word. That Eagle must remain hidden there until the Emperor comes back. Then you must give it to him and say that I died that you might place it in his hand.”
”There must be a way, and there shall be a way,” said the agonized woman. ”I love you. I cannot have you die. I cannot, I cannot.”
Her voice rose almost to a scream in mad and pa.s.sionate protest.
”Why,” said the man soothingly, ”I am the more ready to die now that I know that you love me. Few men have ever got so much out of life as that a.s.surance gives me. That I, peasant-born, beneath you, should have won your heart, that I should have been permitted to hold you to my breast, to feel that heart beat against my own, to drink of the treasures of your lips, to kiss your eyes that s.h.i.+ne upon me---- Oh, my G.o.d, what have I done to deserve it all? And it is better, far better, having had thus much and being stopped from anything further, that I should go to my grave in this sweet recollection. Could I live to think of you as his wife?”
”If you will only live I will die myself.”
”And could I purchase life at that price? No. We have duties to perform--hard, harsh words in a woman's ear, common accustomed phrase to a soldier. I have to die for my honor and you have to marry for yours.”
”Monsieur,” broke in the sharp, somewhat high, thin voice of the old Marquis standing by the door, ”the court-martial brands you as a traitor. Captain Yeovil and those who were with me last night think you are a thief and worse. But, by St. Louis,” continued the old n.o.ble, fingering his cross, as was his wont in moments in which he was deeply moved, ”I know that you are a soldier and a gentleman.”
”A soldier, yes; but a gentleman?--only 'almost,' my lord.”
”Not almost but altogether. There is not another man in France who could withstand such a plea from such a woman.”
”You heard!” exclaimed Marteau.
”Only the last words. I heard her beg you to live because she loved you.”
”And you did not hear----”
”I heard nothing else,” said the Marquis firmly. ”Would I listen? I spoke almost as soon as I came in. Laure, these Marteaux have lived long enough by the side of the d'Aumeniers to have become enn.o.bled by the contact,” he went on navely. ”I now know the young man as I know myself. It is useless for you to plead longer. I come to take you away.”
”Oh, not yet, not yet.”
”Go,” said the young officer. ”Indeed, I cannot endure this longer, and I must summon my fort.i.tude for to-morrow.”
”As for that,” said the Marquis, ”there must be a postponement of the execution.”
”I ask it not, monsieur. It is no favor to me for you to----”
”Thank G.o.d! Thank G.o.d!” cried the woman. ”Every hour means----”
”And I am not postponing it because of you,” continued the Marquis coolly. ”But he who must not be named----”