The Honor of the Name by Emile Gaboriau (children's books read aloud txt) 📕

No one was in the corridor; he could not hear a sound.

He came back to Marie-Anne’s side, and tearing the sleeve of his jacket open with his teeth, he drew from it two letters, wrapped carefully in a piece of cloth.

“Here,” he said, in a low voice, “is a man’s life!”

Marie-Anne knew nothing of Chanlouineau’s promises and hopes, and bewildered by her distress, she did not at first understand.

“This,” she exclaimed, “is a man’s life!”

“Hush, speak lower!” interrupted Chanlouineau. “Yes, one of these letters might perhaps save the life of one who has been condemned to death.”

“Unfortunate man! Why do you not make use of it and save yourself?”

The young man sadly shook his head.

“Is it possible that you could ever love me?” he said, simply. “No, it is not. I have, therefore, no desire to live. Rest beneath the sod is preferable to the misery I am forced to endure. Moreover I was justly condemned. I knew what I was doing when I left the Reche with my gun upon my shoulder, and my sword by my side; I have no right to complain. But those cruel judges have condemned an innocent man——”

“Baron d’Escorval?”

“Yes—the father of—Maurice!”

His voice changed in uttering the name of this man, for whose happiness he would have given ten lives had they been his to give.

“I wish to save him,” he added, “I can do it.”

“Oh! if what you said were true? But you undoubtedly deceive yourself.”

“I know what I am saying.”

Fearing that some spy outside would overhear him, he came close to Marie-Anne and said, rapidly, and in a low voice:

“I never believed in the success of this conspiracy. When I sought for a weapon of defence in case of failure, the Marquis de Sairmeuse furnished it. When it became necessary to send a circular warning our accomplices of the date decided upon for the uprising, I persuaded Monsieur Martial to write a model. He suspected nothing. I told him it was for a wedding; he did what I asked. This letter, which is now in my possession, is the rough draft of the circular; and it was written by the hand of the Marquis de Sairmeuse. It is impossible for him to deny it. There is an erasure on each line. Everyone would regard it as the handiwork of a man who was seeking to convey his real meaning in ambiguous phrases.”

Chanlouineau opened the envelope and showed her the famous letter which he had dictated, and in which the space for the date of the insurrection was left blank.

“My dear friend, we are at last agreed, and the marriage is decided, etc.”

The light that had sparkled in Marie-Anne’s eye was suddenly extinguished.

“And you believe that this letter can be of any service?” she inquired, in evident discouragement.

“I do not believe it!”

“But——”

With a gesture, he interrupted her.

“We must not lose time in discussion—listen to me. Of itself, this letter might be unimportant, but I have arranged matters in such a way that it will produce a powerful effect. I declared before the commission that the Marquis de Sairmeuse was one of the leaders of the movement. They laughed; and I read incredulity on the faces of the judges. But calumny is never without its effect. When the Duc de Sairmeuse is about to receive a reward for his services, there will be enemies in plenty to remember and to repeat my words. He knew this so well that he was greatly agitated, even while his colleagues sneered at my accusation.”

“To accuse a man falsely is a great crime,” murmured the honest Marie-Anne.

“Yes, but I wish to save my friend, and I cannot choose my means. I was all the more sure of success as I knew that the marquis had been wounded. I declared that he was fighting against the troops by my side; I demanded that he should be summoned before the tribunal; I told them that I had in my possession unquestionable proofs of his complicity.”

“Did you say that the Marquis de Sairmeuse had been wounded?” inquired Marie-Anne.

Chanlouineau’s face betrayed the most intense astonishment.

“What!” he exclaimed, “you do not know——”

Then after an instant’s reflection:

“Fool that I am!” he resumed. “Who could have told you what had happened? You remember that when we were travelling over the Sairmeuse road on our way to the Croix d’Arcy, and after your father had left us to ride on in advance, Maurice placed himself at the head of one division, and you walked beside him, while your brother Jean and myself stayed behind to urge on the laggards. We were performing our duty conscientiously when suddenly we heard the gallop of a horse behind us. ‘We must know who is coming,’ Jean said to me.

“We paused. The horse soon reached us; we caught the bridle and held him. Can you guess who the rider was? Martial de Sairmeuse.

“To describe your brother’s fury on recognizing the marquis would be impossible.

“‘At last I find you, wretched noble!’ he exclaimed, ‘and now we will settle our account! After reducing my father, who has just given you a fortune, to despair and penury, you have tried to degrade my sister. I will have my revenge! Down, we must fight!’”

Marie-Anne could scarcely tell whether she was awake or dreaming.

“My brother,” she murmured, “has challenged the marquis! Is it possible?”

“Brave as Monsieur Martial is,” pursued Chanlouineau, “he did not seem inclined to accept the invitation. He stammered out something like this: ‘You are mad—you are jesting—have we not always been friends? What does this mean?’

“Jean ground his teeth in rage. ‘This means that we have endured your insulting familiarity long enough,’ he replied, ‘and if you do not dismount and meet me in open combat, I will blow your brains out!’

“Your brother, as he spoke, manipulated his pistol in so threatening a manner that the marquis dismounted, and addressing me:

“‘You see, Chanlouineau,’ he said, ‘I must fight a duel or submit to assassination. If Jean kills me there is no more to be said—but if I kill him, what is to be done?’

“I told him he would be free to depart on condition he would give me his word not to return to Montaignac before two o’clock.

“‘Then I accept the challenge,’ said he; ‘give me a weapon.’

“I gave him my sword, your brother drew his, and they took their places in