Obrazy na stronie
PDF
ePub

'What!' cried Lucien hotly. You refuse to give me back what is my own?'

'I do indeed-in your own interest.'

'Do you mean that seriously?'

'Yes.'

'Do you mean that you will not?' 'I will not.'

'You cannot,' said Lucien suddenly; ' you have lost the manuscript.'

The next moment he would have given every prospect of money or of fame to recall the words.

CHAPTER II

THE POET FINDS HIS OWN

'SINCE that is your belief,' said the marquis in the tone of a polite stranger, ' I will restore the manuscript to you instantly. May I ask you to come upstairs with me?'

It was not in the room, then. Lucien's desire to see it vanished; he had been driven mad by two opposite convictions: one that his manuscript was lying there ready to hand, yet invisible; the other that it was not in the house at all. Now he became conscious that he had raised a storm about nothing. Nevertheless he followed in silence.

What else was there to do? At

the head of the staircase, however, he appealed for

mercy.

'Sir!'

The marquis turned.

'I do not want to see; it was nonsense.'

The marquis shrugged his shoulders and went on. "I am not going one step further,' said Lucien. 'You will kindly accompany me.'

Again Lucien followed like a cowed schoolboy. Who was it that had whispered strange suspicions in his ear?

The upper part of the house was unknown to him. If that portion which everyone might see was famous among those who knew for its treasures, what might

not be expected where the fastidious eye of the master alone surveyed them? He felt as though he had pried into his friend's secrets, and were trespassing where he had no right to go. Who could have imagined that there were so many stairs in the château?

At the end of a long passage de Civrac opened a door. The room into which Lucien followed him was small and low in the roof. A hanging of coarse serge divided them from the recess, which presumably held the bed. Another hanging covered the window. No carpet hid the bare boards. Instead of cushioned chairs and couches, behold a high seat before a tall wooden desk, like that which clerks use; on it a toadstool inkpot of common glass, a long goose-quill, standing in a tumbler of water, a sand-box, three or four sheets of blue paper, and a hare's foot. There was an odd smell, as if someone had just blown out a candle. The marquis set down the light he carried upon the desk. On a plain chest of drawers close to the recess lay a box of carved ivory-the only thing of value there -and another box of plain deal.

[ocr errors]

'Take what is your own,' said de Civrac, as he placed the ivory box in Lucien's hands. Here is the key. Unlock it!'

His tone grew more peremptory as Lucien stood undecided.

'I will not,' said Lucien.

'You do not know how, perhaps? Allow me.'

He took the box from Lucien and put it on the chest of drawers. The key turned in the lock, but when he tried to raise the lid, it stuck fast.

'What! Have I forgotten the way myself?' he said impatiently. I was sure it went to the left.'

This time he turned the key in the opposite direction. He raised the lid. The casket was empty. 'Heaven be praised!' thought Lucien. 'The devil!' said the marquis.

instant.

'Look! look!' he exclaimed.

He was silent for an

Lucien's eyes wandered vaguely round the room. There was nowhere to look. Everything lay naked and bare. The manuscript was not likely to conceal itself in a tumbler of water nor about the legs of a desk. Stay! What was that? The pointed toe of a little moss-green velvet slipper under the window-curtain. 'Cherchez!' repeated the marquis.

Cherchez la femme!' cried a voice from behind.

A small white hand, holding a bundle of manuscript, was thrust forth. The fingers were unusually long and slender. A ring containing a single emerald twinkled and shone upon the third.

Never before had Lucien noticed the beauty of a hand.

'Perfect!' he said to himself.

Was he interested? Was he annoyed? It was like a woman's vexatious ways to find a thing that a man was only too glad to have lost. Certainly she had exquisite hands.

The marquis leant across the desk and smiled. Nevertheless, he gave a long sigh, like one who is much relieved. He made no attempt to divide the curtains, which were jealously held together at the back.

'You showed me everything else that was in the house,' continued the voice, half plaintive, half, as it were, accusing. You never showed me that box. You never told me what was in it.'

6

The marquis said nothing.

'You left your watch and seals upon the table when you went out riding this afternoon.'

The marquis made no observation, but his face grew

stern.

'You may have it back again. It is enormously dull, and it is long-as long as your face.'

Return it to the author at once,' said the marquis, ' and apologize to him for your behaviour.' 'Ah, it is not yours, then!' she cried. How glad I am! I thought you never could have written it.' 'There, for once, you thought rightly.' He turned to Lucien. 'Take what is your own,' he said.

'Oh, do take it!' cried the plaintive voice. 'It is so heavy!'

The manuscript fell with a thud on the floor, all Lucien's hopes of literary distinction falling with it. The little white hand was withdrawn.

'You have not done as I told you,' said the marquis. 'I should wish you to apologize to this gen

tleman.'

[ocr errors]

Pray-pray!' interrupted Lucien.

"I apologize to this gentleman,' said the voice, without the slightest change of tone. 'Swear, sir, that you

have never seen me.'

'I swear,' said Lucien. 'The oath is easy enough, Mademoiselle, as I have not yet had that honour.'

[ocr errors]

Good-night!' said the marquis pointedly to the

curtain.

'Good-night!' said the curtain pointedly to the marquis.

'Good-night!' said Lucien.

He had not the least idea what to do. One convic

« PoprzedniaDalej »