The Mesmerist's Victim

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE GUILTY ONE

DRIVEN by Fritz, the count’s excellent team covered the ground swiftly.

Philip was silent if not patient during the ride, for he felt that he was not the superior power which could persuade or domineer over this wonderful man.

When they had passed the palace gates and were near the chapel, he stopped.

“A last word, my lord,” he said; “I do not know what question you were to put to my sister; at least, spare her the incidents of the horrible scene passing during her unconsciousness. Spare the purity of the soul since the reverse befell the virginity of the body.”

“Captain,” replied Balsamo, “mark this well. I never came into these gardens farther than the hedges you see yonder fronting the line of buildings where your sister is lodged. As for the scene which you fear the effect of on her mind, the effect will be for yourself alone, and on a sleeping person; for I will at the present send your sister into the mesmeric sleep.”

He made a halt folding his arms and turning towards the house where Andrea dwelt, he stood quiet for a space, frowning, with an expression of will strong on his face.

“It is done – she is asleep,” he said. “You doubt? To prove that I can command her at a distance, I order her to come and meet you at the foot of the stairs where took place our last interview.”

“When I see that, I shall believe,” said the officer.

They went and stood in the grove and Balsamo held out his hand towards the chapel. A sound made them start in the next cluster of trees.

“Look out, there is a man!” said Balsamo.

“I see – it is Gilbert, one of the gardeners here, but he used to be a retainer of ours,” said Philip.

“Have you anything to fear from him?”

“No, I should think not: but never mind, stay. If he is up already to work, others may be about.”

During this time, Gilbert fled frightened, for seeing Philip with Balsamo, he instinctively comprehended that he was lost.

“My lord,” said Philip, yielding to the charm the magnetiser exercised on everybody, “if really your power is great enough to bring my sister hither, manifest it by some sign, without having her out to a place so public as this where any passer may see and hear.”

“You spoke in time,” was the other’s answer, grasping his arm and pointing to Andrea’s white figure, appearing at the corridor window as she was obeying the supernatural mandate.

He held his palm open towards her and she stopped short.

Then, like a statue revolved on the pedestal, she wheeled round, and returned into her room.

Some instants afterwards the two gentlemen were in the same place.

But rapid as had been their movement, time was given for a third person to glide into the house and hide in Nicole’s room, for he understood that his life depended on this interview.

It was Gilbert.

Philip had taken his sister in his arms and placed her in a chair while the count shut the door. Then he took up a candle and passed it to and fro before her eyes, without the flame causing her lids to blink.

“Are you convinced that she sleeps?”

“That is plain but, good God! how strange is this sleep,” said Philip.

“I will question her; or since you fear I may put some inapt question to her, do so yourself.”

“But though I have spoken to her and touched her just now, she did not appear to hear me or heed me.”

“You were not in continuity with her: I will place you in contact.”

He joined the hands of brother and sister, and at once Andrea smiled and murmured:

“It is you, brother.”

“She knows you and will answer: question.”

“But if she did not remember awake, how can she when sleeping?”

“A mystery of science.”

Sighing, he sat in an armchair in the corner.

Philip was motionless, thinking how to begin, when as if responding to his reflections, Andrea, with her face clouding like his own, said:

“You are right, brother, it is a sad affliction to the family.”

Philip had not expected that she could translate his very mind and he shuddered.

“Make her speak, sir,” suggested Balsamo.

“How?”

“By willing that she shall do so.”

Philip looked at his sister while mentally formulating an inquiry and she blushed.

“Oh, Philip, how unkind of you to believe that Andrea would deceive you.”

“Then you love nobody?”

“Not one.”

“But there was an accomplice, the guilty person who must be punished.”

“I do not understand you, brother.”

“You must press her,” said Balsamo: “question her bluntly, without heed of her modesty, for when awakened she will recall nothing of this.”

“But can she answer such questions?”

“Mark,” said Balsamo: “Do you see?”

She started at the sound of his voice and turned towards him.

“Not so clearly as if you were speaking,” she replied: “but still I do see.”

“Then tell me what you see on the night of your fainting.”

“Why do you not commence by the night of the 31st of May, sir? Your suspicions start at that point, methinks? this is the time for all to be made clear.”

“No, my lord,” rejoined Philip: “it is useless: I now believe in your word of honor. He who disposes of so wondrous a power would not act in an ignoble way. Sister,” repeated he, “relate to me what happened on the night when you swooned.”

“I do not remember.”

“I suppose as she was asleep – ”

“Her spirit was awake,” said Balsamo, and holding out his hand to the obstinate medium with a frown indicating a doubling of will and action, he said:

“Remember – I will it!”

“I see myself,” said Andrea. “I hold in hand the glass prepared by Nicole. Oh, goodness! the wretch! she has put some drug in the water and if I drink, I am lost. I am going to drink it at the moment the count calls – ”

“What count?”

“There,” and Andrea pointed to Balsamo. “I set down the glass and I fall into the sleep. I go forth to meet him under my window in the linden grove.”

“The count never was in the same room with you, sister?”

“Never.”

“You see, sir?” said Balsamo.

“You say you went to meet the count?”

“Oh, I obey him when he calls.”

“What did he want?”

Andrea turned towards the third person, questioningly.

“Tell it, for I am not listening,” said Balsamo, burying his face in his hands to prevent the voice coming to him.

“He wanted news,” said Andrea in a diminishing voice, not to torture the count’s heart, “of a person who fled from his house and who is – now – dead.”

“Faintly as she breathed the last word, Balsamo heard it, or guessed it was spoken, for he uttered a gloomy sob.

“Proceed,” said he as a long silence fell: “your brother wants to know all and he must know it. After the man obtained the information he sought, what did he do?”

“He went away, leaving me in the garden, where I fell as he departed as though the sustaining force had vanished with him. I was still in the sleep, a leaden one. A man came out of the bushes, took me in his arms and carried me up into my rooms where he placed me on the sofa. Oh,” she said with scorn and disgust, “it is that little Gilbert again.”

“Gilbert?”

“He stands to listen – he goes into the other room but returns frightened. He enters Nicole’s closet – Horror!”

“What?”

“Another man comes in, and I cannot defend myself – not even scream, for I am locked in sleep.”

“Who is this man?”

“Brother,” she answered in the deepest distress, “it is the King!”

Philip shuddered.

“Just as I thought,” muttered Balsamo.

“He approaches me,” continued the medium, “he speaks, he takes me in his arms, he kisses me. Oh, brother!”

Tears rolled down the young captain’s cheeks while he grasped the sword handle which Balsamo had given him.

“Go on,” said the count in a more imperative tone than before.

“What a blessing! he is perplexed, he stops, he looks at me in terror – he flees – Andrea is saved!”

“Saved,” repeated Philip, who was breathlessly listening to her every word.

“Stay! I had forgotten the other, who lurks in the closet, with the bared knife in his hand – pale as death.”

“Gilbert?”

“Gilbert follows the King,” continued Andrea: “he shuts the door behind him, he puts his foot on the candle dropped on the carpet; he advances towards me – Oh!”

Rising on her brother’s arm, her muscles stiffened as though about to snap.

“The villain!” she got out at last, and fell without strength. “It was he!” Then rising so as to reach her brother’s ear, she hissed into it while her eyes glittered: “You will kill him, Philip?”

“Oh, yes,” said the young man.

As he leaped up he overturned a stand of china and the porcelain was shivered to pieces.

The crash was blended with the bang of a door, over which rang Andrea’s shriek.

“We were overheard,” said Philip.

“It is he,” said Andrea.

“Gilbert everywhere? Yes, I will kill him,” and he darted into the anteroom while Andrea fell on the sofa.

But Balsamo ran after him and caught him by the arm.

“Take care, sir,” he said: “the secret will become public; it will come out and the echo in royal residences is noisy.”

“To think it is Gilbert and that he was close to us, listening,” said Philip: “I might have killed the wretch – woe to him!”

“Yes: but silence: you will find him yet. But you must think of your sister. You see how fatigued she is with all this emotion.”

“Yes: I understand what she must suffer by my own feelings; the misfortune is so great and so difficult to repair. I shall die of the shame.”

“No, you will live for her sake. She has need of you, love her, pity her and preserve her! But you have no more want of me?” he asked after a pause.

“No: overlook my suspicions and my insults: although the evil happened through you.”

“I do not excuse myself: but remember what your sister said: that she would have drunk the sleeping draft but for my calling her away. In that case the guilt would have fallen on the King. Would you have considered the fate worse?”

“No, the same crime: I see that we were doomed. Awaken my poor sister, my lord.”

“Not for her to see me and perhaps guess what occurred. Better to do it when at a distance, as I sent her to sleep.”

“One word still, count, as you are a man of honor – ”

“You need not recommend secrecy to me, being what you say: and because having no farther points of community with mankind, I shall forget it and its secrets; but rely on me, knight, if I can in any way be useful. But no, I can be of use to nobody for I am worth nothing on this earth. Farewell, sir, farewell!”

Bowing, he glanced at Andrea, whose head dropped forward with all the tokens of pain and lassitude.

“O Science,” he sighed, “how many victims for a valueless result!”

As he disappeared, Andrea reanimated: she raised her heavy head as though it were made of lead and looking with astounded eyes at her brother, she muttered:

“Oh, Philip, what has passed?”

“Nothing,” he answered, repressing a sob.

“Nothing? and yet I dreamed – I thought that Dr. Louis said – ”

“Nothing: you are pure as the daylight: but all accuses you and looks black against you. A terrible secret is imposed on us both. I am going to see Dr. Louis who will tell the Dauphiness that you are home-sick, and we must get you down to Taverney to save you. Father will not go with us, and I will prepare him. Courage – heaven is the goal for all. Make out that you ought never to have left home – that is what made you ill. Be strong, for our honor – the honor of both of us – depends on this.”

He embraced his sister, picked up the sword which had fallen, sheathed it with a trembling hand and darted down the stairs.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

FATHER AND SON

THE knight of Redcastle knew he should find his father at their Paris Lodgings. Since his rupture with Richelieu, he found life insupportable at Versailles and he tried to conquer torpor by agitation, and by change of residence.

With frightful spells of swearing, he was pacing the little garden when he saw his son appear. In his expectation he snapped at any branch. He greeted him with a mixture of spite and curiosity; but when he saw his moody face, paleness, rigid lines of feature, and set of the mouth, it froze the flow of questions he was about to let go.

“You? by what hazard?”

“I am bringing bad news,” returned the captain gravely.

The baron staggered.

“Are we quite alone?” asked the younger man.

“Yes.”

“But I think we had better go in, as certain things should not be spoken under the light of heaven.”

Affecting unconcern and even to smile, the baron followed his son into the low sitting room where Philip carefully closed the doors.

“Father, my sister and I are going to take leave of you.”

“What is this?” said the old noble surprised. “How about the army?”

“I am not in the army: happily, the King does not require my services.”

“I do not understand the ‘happily?’”

“I am not driven to the extremity of preferring dishonor to fortune – there you have it.”

“But your sister? does she entertain the same ideas about duty?” asked the baron frowning.

“She has had to rank them beneath those the utmost necessity.”

The baron rose from his chair, grumbling:

“What a foolish pack these riddle-makers are!”

“If what I say is an enigma to you, then I will make it clear. My sister is obliged to go away lest she be dishonored.”

The baron laughed.

“Thunder, what model children I have!” he sneered. “The boy gives up his regiment and the girl a stool-of-state at a princess’s feet, all for fear of dishonor. We are going back to the time of Brutus and Lucretia. In my era, though we had no philosophy, if any one saw dishonor coming, he whipped out his sword and ran the dishonor through the middle. I know it was a sharp method, for a philosopher who does not like to see bloodshed. But, any way, military officers are not cut out for philosophers.”

“I have as much consciousness as you on what honor imposes; but blood will not redeem – ”

“A truce to your pretty phrases of philosophy,” cried the old man; irritated into trying to be majesty. “I came near saying poltroons.”

“You were quite right not to say it,” retorted the young chevalier, quivering.

The baron proudly bore the threatening and implacable glance.

“I thought that a man was born to me in my house,” said he: “a man who would cut out the tongue of the first knave who dared to tell of dishonor to the Taverney Redcastles.”

“Sometimes the shame comes from an inevitable misfortune, sir, and that is the case of my sister and myself.”

“I pass to the lady. If according to my reasoning, a man ought to attack the dagger, the woman should await it with a firm foot. Where would be the triumph of virtue unless it meets and defeats vice? Now, if my daughter is so weak as to feel like running away – ”

“My sister is not weak, but she has fallen victim to a plot of scoundrels who have cowardly schemed to stain unblemished honor. I accuse nobody. The crime was conceived in the dark; let it die in the dark, for I understand in my own way the honor of my house.”

“But how do you know?” asked the baron, his eyes glowing with joy at the hope of securing a fresh hold on the plunder. “In this case, Philip, the glory and honor of our house have not vanished; we triumph.”

“Ugh! you are really the very thing I feared,” said the captain with supreme disgust; “you have betrayed yourself – lacking presence of mind before your judge as righteousness before your son.”

“I have no luck with my children,” said the baron; “a fool and a brute.”

“I have yet to say two things to you. The King gave you a collar of pearls and diamonds – ”

“To your sister.”

“To you. But words matter not. My sister does not wear such jewels. Return them or if you like not to offend his Majesty, keep them.”

He handed the casket to his father who opened it, and threw it on the chiffonier.

“We are not rich since you have pledged or sold the property of our mother – for which I am not blaming you, but so we must choose. If you keep this lodging, we will go to Taverney.”

“Nay, I prefer Taverney,” said the baron, fumbling with his lace ruffles while his lips quivered without Philip appearing to notice the agitation.

“Then we take this house.”

“I will get out at once,” and the baron thought, “down at Taverney I will be a little king with three thousand a-year.”

He picked up the case of jewels and walked to the door, saying with an atrocious smile:

“Philip, I authorise you to dedicate your first philosophical work to me. As for Andrea’s first work, advise her to call it Louis, or Louise, as the case may be. It is a lucky name.”

He went forth, chuckling.

With bloodshot eye, and a brow of fire, Philip clutched his swordhilt, saying:

“God grant me patience and oblivion.”

CHAPTER XXXIX

GILBERT’S PROJECT

FOR a week that Gilbert had been in flight from Trianon, he lived in the woods with no other food than the wild roots, plants and fruit. At the last gasp, he went into town to Rousseau’s house, formerly a sure haven, not to foist himself on his hospitality, but to have temporary rest and nourishment.

It was there that he obtained the address of Baron Balsamo, or rather Count Fenix, and to his mansion he repaired.

As he entered, the proprietor was showing out the Prince of Rohan whom a duty of politeness brought to the generous alchemist. The poor, tattered boy dared not look up for fear of being dazzled.

Balsamo watched the cardinal go off in his carriage, with a melancholy eye and turned back on the porch, when this little beggar supplicated him.

“A brief hearing, my lord,” he said. “Do you not recall me?”

“No; but no matter, come in,” said the conspirator whose plots made him acquainted with stranger figures still: and he led him into the first room where he said, without altering his dull tone but gentle manner:

“You asked if I recalled you? well, I seem to have seen you before.”

“At Taverney, when the Archduchess came through. I was a dependent on the family. I have been away three years.”

“Coming to – ”

“To Paris, where I have studied under M. Rousseau and, later, a gardener at Trianon by the favor of Dr. Jussieu.”

“You are citing high and mighty names: What do you want of me?”

Gilbert fixed a glance on Balsamo not deficient in firmness.

“Do you remember coming to Trianon on the night of the great storm, Friday, six weeks ago? I saw you there.”