Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v108.djvu/215

Rh sat there in the chair, at bay, trembling in final rage, and looked doggedly out upon the court below. Some one came forward from behind him—and halted. Then his averted vision was aware of a white scarf, and he dragged himself to his feet and leant on the chair to greet the Duchess. Never had she looked younger, more correct of feature, more frigid. She came forward, holding out her hand in her old way, for him to kiss. But he did not stoop to it, and only regarded her suspiciously.

"Your Grace never came before to my cell," he said, hoarsely. "What reason have you to visit me here? Go, madam; I am busy with my last thoughts." And he groped for his brushes again, his hands trembling with anger and desperation. But as she touched the latch he was sorry; he would have given worlds to have her stay just for five minutes' speech. He turned beseechingly towards the door. To his surprise, she was not trying to open it. She was half crouching there, listening, it seemed, her face strained and eager, her ear pressed close to the door. In a few seconds her figure relaxed; she drew herself up and came swiftly back to Pietro. She put her finger on her lip, pointed to the window, and once more went to him with outstretched hand. She took his, and drew him stealthily back into a recess of the room.

"We must whisper," she said. Her whisper was so soft that he only guessed the words by looking at her lips.

"I have only a few moments," she went on—"De Budry does not know. I have bribed the man who is at your door to let me in, but I cannot bribe the castle guards. There is no chance for you to get away just now. De Budry has only gone to flog a young horse which has just broken the neck of one of his grooms. And then he is to look at his new barge on the lake down there. He will be back so soon, so soon." She stopped, and he could feel her whole body quivering with apprehension.

"Why do you come at all, then?" he asked, bitterly.

She answered him with another question: "Do you not wonder why you are brought back this evening to your old apartment?"

He shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"It was my doing. It is to lead you to think yourself pardoned! You are to sup to-night with De Budry and me. It is my doing. I made him promise this." She began to laugh faintly, yet catching her breath. "You are to trust yourself to me. Do you understand?"

"How can I trust you, madam? You have told me nothing."

"Listen! Quick!" she whispered. "Put your head down lower."

He obeyed, and she spoke rapidly in short sentences, with the speech of one who rarely speaks or gives inkling of any design.

What he heard made his head spin with astonishment and his spirit drunk with impossible hope; but pride called out against it and sent him to his feet.

"I cannot," he said; "madam, I cannot."

"Do you wish to escape?" she said, doggedly.

The old spirit flared up in him, and present despair crushed it immediately.

"How dare you ask me?" he muttered, angrily.

She smiled, and drew him down again to whisper: "I want to escape too. I know the way for both of us. Help me."

"But look at the price!"

"There is no price, only your gain and mine."

"No, a bitter price—the price first of your Grace's honor and then of my name as a gentleman."

Her face grew transfigured, her eyes dilated; she took the crucifix hanging at her waist and kissed it.

"They say there must always be sacrifice," she murmured. "Give me your promise, Pietro d'Aranti!"

"I cannot give it. See what you ask me to do. You deliberately tell the Duke-Marshal that I have compromised your honor, that your name is tarnished forever, and that the cloister is your only refuge. Very well, let it be so, madam, if you will, and go your way, even as it is arranged, in the litter that will be ready for you to-night. But let me die decently and honorably in the morning, not sneak away free into the world upon the strength of such a story, which only damns you and makes me out a scoundrel."