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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34939-8.txt b/34939-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..380e16e --- /dev/null +++ b/34939-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13081 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Secret of Sarek, by Maurice Leblanc, +Translated by Alexander Teixera de Mattos + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Secret of Sarek + + +Author: Maurice Leblanc + + + +Release Date: January 13, 2011 [eBook #34939] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET OF SAREK*** + + +E-text prepared by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 34939-h.htm or 34939-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/34939/34939-h/34939-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/34939/34939-h.zip) + + + + + +THE SECRET OF SAREK + +by + +MAURICE LEBLANC + +Translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos + + +[Illustration: "We're Done For! They Are Aiming At Us!"] + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +FRONTISPIECE + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers New York + +Published by arrangement with The Macaulay Company + +Copyright, 1920 +By The Macaulay Company + +Printed in U. S. A. + + + + +FOREWORD + + +The war has led to so many upheavals that not many people now remember +the Hergemont scandal of seventeen years ago. Let us recall the details +in a few lines. + +One day in July 1902, M. Antoine d'Hergemont, the author of a series of +well-known studies on the megalithic monuments of Brittany, was walking +in the Bois with his daughter Véronique, when he was assaulted by four +men, receiving a blow in the face with a walking-stick which felled him +to the ground. + +After a short struggle and in spite of his desperate efforts, +Véronique, the beautiful Véronique, as she was called by her friends, +was dragged away and bundled into a motor-car which the spectators of +this very brief scene saw making off in the direction of Saint-Cloud. + +It was a plain case of kidnapping. The truth became known next morning. +Count Alexis Vorski, a young Polish nobleman of dubious reputation but +of some social prominence and, by his own account, of royal blood, was +in love with Véronique d'Hergemont and Véronique with him. Repelled and +more than once insulted by the father, he had planned the incident +entirely without Véronique's knowledge or complicity. + +Antoine d'Hergemont, who, as certain published letters showed, was a +man of violent and morose disposition and who, thanks to his capricious +temper, his ferocious egoism and his sordid avarice, had made his +daughter exceedingly unhappy, swore openly that he would take the most +ruthless revenge. + +He gave his consent to the wedding, which took place two months later, +at Nice. But in the following year a series of sensational events +transpired. Keeping his word and cherishing his hatred, M. d'Hergemont +in his turn kidnapped the child born of the Vorski marriage and set sail +in a small yacht which he had bought not long before. + +The sea was rough. The yacht foundered within sight of the Italian +coast. The four sailors who formed the crew were picked up by a +fishing-boat. According to their evidence M. d'Hergemont and the child +had disappeared amid the waves. + +When Véronique received the proof of their death, she entered a +Carmelite convent. + +These are the facts which, fourteen years later, were to lead to the +most frightful and extraordinary adventure, a perfectly authentic +adventure, though certain details, at first sight, assume a more or less +fabulous aspect. But the war has complicated existence to such an extent +that events which happen outside it, such as those related in the +following narrative, borrow something abnormal, illogical and at times +miraculous from the greater tragedy. It needs all the dazzling light of +truth to restore to those events the character of a reality which, when +all is said, is simple enough. + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I THE DESERTED CABIN 11 + II ON THE EDGE OF THE ATLANTIC 25 + III VORSKI'S SON 43 + IV THE POOR PEOPLE OF SAREK 67 + V "FOUR WOMEN CRUCIFIED" 87 + VI ALL'S WELL 113 + VII FRANÇOIS AND STÉPHANE 133 + VIII ANGUISH 149 + IX THE DEATH-CHAMBER 167 + X THE ESCAPE 181 + XI THE SCOURGE OF GOD 200 + XII THE ASCENT OF GOLGOTHA 221 + XIII "ELOI, ELOI, LAMA SABACHTHANI!" 243 + XIV THE ANCIENT DRUID 262 + XV THE HALL OF THE UNDERGROUND SACRIFICES 283 + XVI THE HALL OF THE KINGS OF BOHEMIA 309 + XVII "CRUEL PRINCE, OBEYING DESTINY" 328 + XVIII THE GOD-STONE 349 + + + + + +THE SECRET OF SAREK + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE DESERTED CABIN + + +Into the picturesque village of Le Faouet, situated in the very heart of +Brittany, there drove one morning in the month of May a lady whose +spreading grey cloak and the thick veil that covered her face failed to +hide her remarkable beauty and perfect grace of figure. + +The lady took a hurried lunch at the principal inn. Then, at about +half-past eleven, she begged the proprietor to look after her bag for +her, asked for a few particulars about the neighbourhood and walked +through the village into the open country. + +The road almost immediately branched into two, of which one led to +Quimper and the other to Quimperlé. Selecting the latter, she went down +into the hollow of a valley, climbed up again and saw on her right, at +the corner of another road, a sign-post bearing the inscription, +"Locriff, 3 kilometers." + +"This is the place," she said to herself. + +Nevertheless, after casting a glance around her, she was surprised not +to find what she was looking for and wondered whether she had +misunderstood her instructions. + +There was no one near her nor any one within sight, as far as the eye +could reach over the Breton country-side, with its tree-lined meadows +and undulating hills. Not far from the village, rising amid the budding +greenery of spring, a small country house lifted its grey front, with +the shutters to all the windows closed. At twelve o'clock, the +angelus-bells pealed through the air and were followed by complete peace +and silence. + +Véronique sat down on the short grass of a bank, took a letter from her +pocket and smoothed out the many sheets, one by one. + +The first page was headed: + + "DUTREILLIS' AGENCY. + + _"Consulting Rooms._ + _"Private Enquiries._ + _"Absolute Discretion Guaranteed."_ + +Next came an address: + + _"Madame Véronique,_ + _"Dressmaker,_ + _"BESANÇON."_ + +And the letter ran: + + "MADAM, + + "You will hardly believe the pleasure which it gave me + to fulfill the two commissions which you were good + enough to entrust to me in your last favour. I have + never forgotten the conditions under which I was able, + fourteen years ago, to give you my practical + assistance at a time when your life was saddened by + painful events. It was I who succeeded in obtaining + all the facts relating to the death of your honoured + father, M. Antoine d'Hergemont, and of your beloved + son François. This was my first triumph in a career + which was to afford so many other brilliant + victories. + + "It was I also, you will remember, who, at your + request and seeing how essential it was to save you + from your husband's hatred and, if I may add, his + love, took the necessary steps to secure your + admission to the Carmelite convent. Lastly, it was I + who, when your retreat to the convent had shown you + that a life of religion did not agree with your + temperament, arranged for you a modest occupation as a + dressmaker at Besançon, far from the towns where the + years of your childhood and the months of your + marriage had been spent. You had the inclination and + the need to work in order to live and to escape your + thoughts. You were bound to succeed; and you + succeeded. + + "And now let me come to the fact, to the two facts in + hand. + + "To begin with your first question: what has become, + amid the whirlwind of war, of your husband, Alexis + Vorski, a Pole by birth, according to his papers, and + the son of a king, according to his own statement? I + will be brief. After being suspected at the + commencement of the war and imprisoned in an + internment-camp near Carpentras, Vorski managed to + escape, went to Switzerland, returned to France and + was re-arrested, accused of spying and convicted of + being a German. At the moment when it seemed + inevitable that he would be sentenced to death, he + escaped for the second time, disappeared in the Forest + of Fontainebleau and in the end was stabbed by some + person unknown. + + "I am telling you the story quite crudely, Madam, well + knowing your contempt for this person, who had + deceived you abominably, and knowing also that you + have learnt most of these facts from the newspapers, + though you have not been able to verify their absolute + genuineness. + + "Well, the proofs exist. I have seen them. There is no + doubt left. Alexis Vorski lies buried at + Fontainebleau. + + "Permit me, in passing, Madam, to remark upon the + strangeness of this death. You will remember the + curious prophecy about Vorski which you mentioned to + me. Vorski, whose undoubted intelligence and + exceptional energy were spoilt by an insincere and + superstitious mind, readily preyed upon by + hallucinations and terrors, had been greatly impressed + by the prediction which overhung his life and which he + had heard from the lips of several people who + specialize in the occult sciences: + + "'Vorski, son of a king, you will die by the hand of a + friend and your wife will be crucified!' + + "I smile, Madam, as I write the last word. Crucified! + Crucifixion is a torture which is pretty well out of + fashion; and I am easy as regards yourself. But what + do you think of the dagger-stroke which Vorski + received in accordance with the mysterious orders of + destiny? + + "But enough of reflections. I now come . . ." + +Véronique dropped the letter for a moment into her lap. M. Dutreillis' +pretentious phrasing and familiar pleasantries wounded her fastidious +reserve. Also she was obsessed by the tragic image of Alexis Vorski. A +shiver of anguish passed through her at the hideous memory of that man. +She mastered herself, however, and read on: + + "I now come to my other commission, Madam, in your + eyes the more important of the two, because all the + rest belongs to the past. + + "Let us state the facts precisely. Three weeks ago, on + one of those rare occasions when you consented to + break through the praiseworthy monotony of your + existence, on a Thursday evening when you took your + assistants to a cinema-theatre, you were struck by a + really incomprehensible detail. The principal film, + entitled 'A Breton Legend,' represented a scene which + occurred, in the course of a pilgrimage, outside a + little deserted road-side hut which had nothing to do + with the action. The hut was obviously there by + accident. But something really extraordinary attracted + your attention. On the tarred boards of the old door + were three letters, drawn by hand: 'V. d'H.,' and + those three letters were precisely your signature + before you were married, the initials with which you + used to sign your intimate letters and which you have + not used once during the last fourteen years! + Véronique d'Hergemont! There was no mistake possible. + Two capitals separated by the small 'd' and the + apostrophe. And, what is more, the bar of the letter + 'H.', carried back under the three letters, served as + a flourish, exactly as it used to do with you! + + "It was the stupefaction due to this surprising + coincidence that decided you, Madam, to invoke my + assistance. It was yours without the asking. And you + knew, without any telling, that it would be effective. + + "As you anticipated, Madam, I have succeeded. And here + again I will be brief. + + "What you must do, Madam, is to take the night express + from Paris which brings you the next morning to + Quimperlé. From there, drive to Le Faouet. If you have + time, before or after your luncheon, pay a visit to + the very interesting Chapel of St. Barbe, which stands + perched on the most fantastic site and which gave rise + to the 'Breton Legend' film. Then go along the Quimper + road on foot. At the end of the first ascent, a little + way short of the parish-road which leads to Locriff, + you will find, in a semicircle surrounded by trees, + the deserted hut with the inscription. It has nothing + remarkable about it. The inside is empty. It has not + even a floor. A rotten plank serves as a bench. The + roof consists of a worm-eaten framework, which admits + the rain. Once more, there is no doubt that it was + sheer accident that placed it within the range of the + cinematograph. I will end by adding that the 'Breton + Legend' film was taken in September last, which means + that the inscription is at least eight months old. + + "That is all, Madam. My two commissions are completed. + I am too modest to describe to you the efforts and the + ingenious means which I employed in order to + accomplish them in so short a time, but for which you + will certainly think the sum of five hundred francs, + which is all that I propose to charge you for the + work done, almost ridiculous. + + "I beg to remain, + "Madam, &c." + +Véronique folded up the letter and sat for a few minutes turning over +the impressions which it aroused in her, painful impressions, like all +those revived by the horrible days of her marriage. One in particular +had survived and was still as powerful as at the time when she tried to +escape it by taking refuge in the gloom of a convent. It was the +impression, in fact the certainty, that all her misfortunes, the death +of her father and the death of her son, were due to the fault which she +had committed in loving Vorski. True, she had fought against the man's +love and had not decided to marry him until she was obliged to, in +despair and to save M. d'Hergemont from Vorski's vengeance. +Nevertheless, she had loved that man. Nevertheless, at first, she had +turned pale under his glance: and this, which now seemed to her an +unpardonable example of weakness, had left her with a remorse which time +had failed to weaken. + +"There," she said, "enough of dreaming. I have not come here to shed +tears." + +The craving for information which had brought her from her retreat at +Besançon restored her vigour; and she rose resolved to act. + +"A little way short of the parish-road which leads to Locriff . . . a +semicircle surrounded by trees," said Dutreillis' letter. She had +therefore passed the place. She quickly retraced her steps and at once +perceived, on the right, the clump of trees which had hidden the cabin +from her eyes. She went nearer and saw it. + +It was a sort of shepherd's or road-labourer's hut, which was crumbling +and falling to pieces under the action of the weather. Véronique went up +to it and perceived that the inscription, worn by the rain and sun, was +much less clear than on the film. But the three letters were visible, as +was the flourish; and she even distinguished, underneath, something +which M. Dutreillis had not observed, a drawing of an arrow and a +number, the number 9. + +Her emotion increased. Though no attempt had been made to imitate the +actual form of her signature, it certainly was her signature as a girl. +And who could have affixed it there, on a deserted cabin, in this +Brittany where she had never been before? + +Véronique no longer had a friend in the world. Thanks to a succession of +circumstances, the whole of her past girlhood had, so to speak, +disappeared with the death of those whom she had known and loved. Then +how was it possible for the recollection of her signature to survive +apart from her and those who were dead and gone? And, above all, why was +the inscription here, at this spot? What did it mean? + +Véronique walked round the cabin. There was no other mark visible there +or on the surrounding trees. She remembered that M. Dutreillis had +opened the door and had seen nothing inside. Nevertheless she determined +to make certain that he was not mistaken. + +The door was closed with a mere wooden latch, which moved on a screw. +She lifted it; and, strange to say, she had to make an effort, not a +physical so much as a moral effort, an effort of will, to pull the door +towards her. It seemed to her that this little act was about to usher +her into a world of facts and events which she unconsciously dreaded. + +"Well," she said, "what's preventing me?" + +She gave a sharp pull. + +A cry of horror escaped her. There was a man's dead body in the cabin. +And, at the moment, at the exact second when she saw the body, she +became aware of a peculiar characteristic: one of the dead man's hands +was missing. + +It was an old man, with a long, grey, fan-shaped beard and long white +hair falling about his neck. The blackened lips and a certain colour of +the swollen skin suggested to Véronique that he might have been +poisoned, for no trace of an injury showed on his body, except the arm, +which had been severed clean above the wrist, apparently some days +before. His clothes were those of a Breton peasant, clean, but very +threadbare. The corpse was seated on the ground, with the head resting +against the bench and the legs drawn up. + +These were all things which Véronique noted in a sort of unconsciousness +and which were rather to reappear in her memory at a later date, for, at +the moment, she stood there all trembling, with her eyes staring before +her, and stammering: + +"A dead body! . . . A dead body! . . ." + +Suddenly she reflected that she was perhaps mistaken and that the man +was not dead. But, on touching his forehead, she shuddered at the +contact of his icy skin. + +Nevertheless this movement roused her from her torpor. She resolved to +act and, since there was no one in the immediate neighbourhood, to go +back to Le Faouet and inform the authorities. She first examined the +corpse for any clue which could tell her its identity. + +The pockets were empty. There were no marks on the clothes or linen. +But, when she shifted the body a little in order to make her search, it +came about that the head drooped forward, dragging with it the trunk, +which fell over the legs, thus uncovering the lower side of the bench. + +Under this bench, she perceived a roll consisting of a sheet of very +thin drawing-paper, crumpled, buckled and almost wrung into a twist. She +picked up the roll and unfolded it. But she had not finished doing so +before her hands began to tremble and she stammered: + +"Oh, God! . . . Oh, my God! . . ." + +She summoned all her energies to try and enforce upon herself the calm +needed to look with eyes that could see and a brain that could +understand. + +The most that she could do was to stand there for a few seconds. And +during those few seconds, through an ever-thickening mist that seemed to +shroud her eyes, she was able to make out a drawing in red, representing +four women crucified on four tree-trunks. + +And, in the foreground, the first woman, the central figure, with the +body stark under its clothing and the features distorted with the most +dreadful pain, but still recognizable, the crucified woman was herself! +Beyond the least doubt, it was she herself, Véronique d'Hergemont! + +Besides, above the head, the top of the post bore, after the ancient +custom, a scroll with a plainly legible inscription. And this was the +three initials, underlined with the flourish, of Véronique's maiden +name, "V. d'H.", Véronique d'Hergemont. + +A spasm ran through her from head to foot. She drew herself up, turned +on her heel and, reeling out of the cabin, fell on the grass in a dead +faint. + + * * * * * + +Véronique was a tall, energetic, healthy woman, with a wonderfully +balanced mind; and hitherto no trial had been able to affect her fine +moral sanity or her splendid physical harmony. It needed exceptional and +unforeseen circumstances such as these, added to the fatigue of two +nights spent in railway-travelling, to produce this disorder in her +nerves and will. + +It did not last more than two or three minutes, at the end of which her +mind once more became lucid and courageous. She stood up, went back to +the cabin, picked up the sheet of drawing-paper and, certainly with +unspeakable anguish, but this time with eyes that saw and a brain that +understood, looked at it. + +She first examined the details, those which seemed insignificant, or +whose significance at least escaped her. On the left was a narrow column +of fifteen lines, not written, but composed of letters of no definite +formation, the down-strokes of which were all of the same length, the +object being evidently merely to fill up. However, in various places, a +few words were visible. And Véronique read: + + "Four women crucified." + +Lower down: + + "Thirty coffins." + +And the bottom line of all ran: + + "The God-Stone which gives life or death." + +The whole of this column was surrounded by a frame consisting of two +perfectly straight lines, one ruled in black, the other in red ink; and +there was also, likewise in red, above it, a sketch of two sickles +fastened together with a sprig of mistletoe under the outline of a +coffin. + +The right-hand side, by far the more important, was filled with the +drawing, a drawing in red chalk, which gave the whole sheet, with its +adjacent column of explanations, the appearance of a page, or rather of +a copy of a page, from some large, ancient illuminated book, in which +the subjects were treated rather in the primitive style, with a complete +ignorance of the rules of drawing. + +And it represented four crucified women. Three of them showed in +diminishing perspective against the horizon. They wore Breton costumes +and their heads were surmounted by caps which were likewise Breton but +of a special fashion that pointed to local usage and consisted chiefly +of a large black bow, the two wings of which stood out as in the bows of +the Alsatian women. And in the middle of the page was the dreadful thing +from which Véronique could not take her terrified eyes. It was the +principal cross, the trunk of a tree stripped of its lower branches, +with the woman's two arms stretched to right and left of it. + +The hands and feet were not nailed but were fastened by cords which +were wound as far as the shoulders and the upper part of the tied legs. +Instead of the Breton costume, the woman wore a sort of winding-sheet +which fell to the ground and lengthened the slender outline of a body +emaciated by suffering. + +The expression on the face was harrowing, an expression of resigned +martyrdom and melancholy grace. And it was certainly Véronique's face, +especially as it looked when she was twenty years of age and as +Véronique remembered seeing it at those gloomy hours when a woman gazes +in a mirror at her hopeless eyes and her overflowing tears. + +And about the head was the very same wave of her thick hair, flowing to +the waist in symmetrical curves: + +And above it the inscription, "V. d'H." + +Véronique long stayed thinking, questioning the past and gazing into the +darkness in order to link the actual facts with the memory of her youth. +But her mind remained without a glimmer of light. Of the words which she +had read, of the drawing which she had seen, nothing whatever assumed +the least meaning for her or seemed susceptible of the least +explanation. + +She examined the sheet of paper again and again. Then, slowly, still +pondering on it, she tore it into tiny pieces and threw them to the +wind. When the last scrap had been carried away, her decision was taken. +She pushed back the man's body, closed the door and walked quickly +towards the village, in order to ensure that the incident should have +the legal conclusion which was fitting for the moment. + +But, when she returned an hour later with the mayor of Le Faouet, the +rural constable and a whole group of sightseers attracted by her +statements, the cabin was empty. The corpse had disappeared. + +And all this was so strange, Véronique felt so plainly that, in the +disordered condition of her ideas, it was impossible for her to answer +the questions put to her, or to dispel the suspicions and doubts which +these people might and must entertain of the truth of her evidence, the +cause of her presence and even her very sanity, that she forthwith +ceased to make any effort or struggle. The inn-keeper was there. She +asked him which was the nearest village that she would reach by +following the road and if, by so doing, she would come to a +railway-station which would enable her to return to Paris. She retained +the names of Scaër and Rosporden, ordered a carriage to bring her bag +and overtake her on the road and set off, protected against any ill +feeling by her great air of elegance and by her grave beauty. + +She set off, so to speak, at random. The road was long, miles and miles +long. But such was her haste to have done with these incomprehensible +events and to recover her tranquillity and to forget what had happened +that she walked with great strides, quite oblivious of the fact that +this wearisome exertion was superfluous, since she had a carriage +following her. + +She went up hill and down dale and hardly thought at all, refusing to +seek the solution of all the riddles that were put to her. It was the +past which was reascending to the surface of her life; and she was +horribly afraid of that past, which extended from her abduction by +Vorski to the death of her father and her child. She wanted to think of +nothing but the simple, humble life which she had contrived to lead at +Besançon. There were no sorrows there, no dreams, no memories; and she +did not doubt but that, amid the little daily habits which enfolded her +in the modest house of her choice, she would forget the deserted cabin, +the mutilated body of the man and the dreadful drawing with its +mysterious inscription. + +But, a little while before she came to the big market-town of Scaër, as +she heard the bell of a horse trotting behind her, she saw, at the +junction of the road that led to Rosporden, a broken wall, one of the +remnants of a half-ruined house. + +And on this broken wall, above an arrow and the number 10, she again +read the fateful inscription, "V. d'H." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +ON THE EDGE OF THE ATLANTIC + + +Véronique's state of mind underwent a sudden alteration. Even as she had +fled resolutely from the threat of danger that seemed to loom up before +her from the evil past, so she was now determined to pursue to the end +the dread road which was opening before her. + +This change was due to a tiny gleam which flashed abruptly through the +darkness. She suddenly realized the fact, a simple matter enough, that +the arrow denoted a direction and that the number 10 must be the tenth +of a series of numbers which marked a course leading from one fixed +point to another. + +Was it a sign set up by one person with the object of guiding the steps +of another? It mattered little. The main thing was that there was here a +clue capable of leading Véronique to the discovery of the problem which +interested her: by what prodigy did the initials of her maiden name +reappear amid this tangle of tragic circumstances? + +The carriage sent from Le Faouet overtook her. She stepped in and told +the driver to go very slowly to Rosporden. + +She arrived in time for dinner; and her anticipations had not misled +her. Twice she saw her signature, each time before a division in the +road, accompanied by the numbers 11 and 12. + +Véronique slept at Rosporden and resumed her investigations on the +following morning. + +The number 12, which she found on the wall of a church-yard, sent her +along the road to Concarneau, which she had almost reached before she +saw any further inscriptions. She fancied that she must have been +mistaken, retraced her steps and wasted a whole day in useless +searching. + +It was not until the next day that the number 13, very nearly +obliterated, directed her towards Fouesnant. Then she abandoned this +direction, to follow, still in obedience to the signs, some +country-roads in which she once more lost her way. + +At last, four days after leaving Le Faouet, she found herself facing the +Atlantic, on the great beach of Beg-Meil. + +She spent two nights in the village without gathering the least reply to +the discreet questions which she put to the inhabitants. At last, one +morning, after wandering among the half-buried groups of rocks which +intersect the beach and upon the low cliffs, covered with trees and +copses, which hem it in, she discovered, between two oaks stripped of +their bark, a shelter built of earth and branches which must at one time +have been used by custom-house officers. A small menhir stood at the +entrance. The menhir bore the inscription, followed by the number 17. No +arrow. A full stop underneath; and that was all. + +In the shelter were three broken bottles and some empty meat-tins. + +"This was the goal," thought Véronique. "Some one has been having a +meal here. Food stored in advance, perhaps." + +Just then she noticed that, at no great distance, by the edge of a +little bay which curved like a shell amid the neighbouring rocks, a boat +was swinging to and fro, a motor-boat. And she heard voices coming from +the village, a man's voice and a woman's. + +From the place where she stood, all that she could see at first was an +elderly man carrying in his arms half-a-dozen bags of provisions, potted +meats and dried vegetables. He put them on the ground and said: + +"Well, had a pleasant journey, M'ame Honorine?" + +"Fine!" + +"And where have you been?" + +"Why, Paris . . . a week of it . . . running errands for my master." + +"Glad to be back?" + +"Of course I am." + +"And you see, M'ame Honorine, you find your boat just where she was. I +came to have a look at her every day. This morning I took away her +tarpaulin. Does she run as well as ever?" + +"First-rate." + +"Besides, you're a master pilot, you are. Who'd have thought, M'ame +Honorine, that you'd be doing a job like this?" + +"It's the war. All the young men in our island are gone and the old ones +are fishing. Besides, there's no longer a fortnightly steamboat service, +as there used to be. So I go the errands." + +"What about petrol?" + +"We've plenty to go on with. No fear of that." + +"Well, good-bye for the present, M'ame Honorine. Shall I help you put +the things on board?" + +"Don't you trouble; you're in a hurry." + +"Well, good-bye for the present," the old fellow repeated. "Till next +time, M'ame Honorine. I'll have the parcels ready for you." + +He went away, but, when he had gone a little distance, called out: + +"All the same, mind the jagged reefs round that blessed island of yours! +I tell you, it's got a nasty name! It's not called Coffin Island, the +island of the thirty coffins, for nothing! Good luck to you, M'ame +Honorine!" + +He disappeared behind a rock. + +Véronique had shuddered. The thirty coffins! The very words which she +had read in the margin of that horrible drawing! + +She leant forward. The woman had come a few steps nearer the boat and, +after putting down some more provisions which she had been carrying, +turned round. + +Véronique now saw her full-face. She wore a Breton costume; and her +head-dress was crowned by two black wings. + +"Oh," stammered Véronique, "that head-dress in the drawing . . . the +head-dress of the three crucified women!" + +The Breton woman looked about forty. Her strong face, tanned by the sun +and the cold, was bony and rough-hewn but lit up by a pair of large, +dark, intelligent, gentle eyes. A heavy gold chain hung down upon her +breast. Her velvet bodice fitted her closely. + +She was humming in a very low voice as she took up her parcels and +loaded the boat, which made her kneel on a big stone against which the +boat was moored. When she had done, she looked at the horizon, which was +covered with black clouds. She did not seem anxious about them, however, +and, loosing the painter, continued her song, but in a louder voice, +which enabled Véronique to hear the words. It was a slow melody, a +children's lullaby; and she sang it with a smile which revealed a set of +fine, white teeth. + + "And the mother said, + Rocking her child a-bed: + + 'Weep not. If you do, + The Virgin Mary weeps with you. + + Babes that laugh and sing + Smiles to the Blessed Virgin bring. + + Fold your hands this way + And to sweet Mary pray.'" + +She did not complete the song. Véronique was standing before her, with +her face drawn and very pale. + +Taken aback, the other asked: + +"What's the matter?" + +Véronique, in a trembling voice, replied: + +"That song! Who taught it you? Where do you get it from? . . . It's a +song my mother used to sing, a song of her own country, Savoy . . . . +And I have never heard it since . . . since she died . . . . So I want +. . . I should like . . ." + +She stopped. The Breton woman looked at her in silence, with an air of +stupefaction, as though she too were on the point of asking questions. +But Véronique repeated: + +"Who taught it you?" + +"Some one over there," the woman called Honorine answered, at last. + +"Over there?" + +"Yes, some one on my island." + +Véronique said, with a sort of dread: + +"Coffin Island?" + +"That's just a name they call it by. It's really the Isle of Sarek." + +They still stood looking at each other, with a look in which a certain +doubt was mingled with a great need of speech and understanding. And at +the same time they both felt that they were not enemies. + +Véronique was the first to continue: + +"Excuse me, but, you see, there are things which are so puzzling . . ." + +The Breton woman nodded her head in approval and Véronique continued: + +"So puzzling and so disconcerting! . . . For instance, do you know why +I'm here? I must tell you. Perhaps you alone can explain . . . It's like +this: an accident--quite a small accident, but really it all began with +that--brought me to Brittany for the first time and showed me, on the +door of an old, deserted, road-side cabin, the initials which I used to +sign when I was a girl, a signature which I have not used for fourteen +or fifteen years. As I went on, I discovered the same inscription many +times repeated, with each time a different consecutive number. That was +how I came here, to the beach at Beg-Meil and to this part of the +beach, which appeared to be the end of a journey foreseen and arranged +by . . . I don't know whom." + +"Is your signature here?" asked Honorine, eagerly. "Where?" + +"On that stone, above us, at the entrance to the shelter." + +"I can't see from here. What are the letters?" + +"V. d'H." + +The Breton woman suppressed a movement. Her bony face betrayed profound +emotion, and, hardly opening her lips, she murmured: + +"Véronique . . . Véronique d'Hergemont." + +"Ah," exclaimed the younger woman, "so you know my name, you know my +name!" + +Honorine took Véronique's two hands and held them in her own. Her +weather-beaten face lit up with a smile. And her eyes grew moist with +tears as she repeated: + +"Mademoiselle Véronique! . . . Madame Véronique! . . . So it's you, +Véronique! . . . O Heaven, is it possible! The Blessed Virgin Mary be +praised!" + +Véronique felt utterly confounded and kept on saying: + +"You know my name . . . you know who I am . . . . Then you can explain +all this riddle to me?" + +After a long pause, Honorine replied: + +"I can explain nothing. I don't understand either. But we can try to +find out together . . . . Tell me, what was the name of that Breton +village?" + +"Le Faouet." + +"Le Faouet. I know. And where was the deserted cabin?" + +"A mile and a quarter away." + +"Did you look in?" + +"Yes; and that was the most terrible thing of all. Inside the cabin was +. . ." + +"What was in the cabin?" + +"First of all, the dead body of a man, an old man, dressed in the local +costume, with long white hair and a grey beard . . . . Oh, I shall never +forget that dead man! . . . He must have been murdered, poisoned, I +don't know what . . . ." + +Honorine listened greedily, but the murder seemed to give her no clue +and she merely asked: + +"Who was it? Did they have an inquest?" + +"When I came back with the people from Le Faouet, the corpse had +disappeared." + +"Disappeared? But who had removed it?" + +"I don't know." + +"So that you know nothing?" + +"Nothing. Except that, the first time, I found in the cabin a drawing +. . . a drawing which I tore up; but its memory haunts me like a +nightmare that keeps on recurring. I can't get it out of my mind . . . . +Listen, it was a roll of paper on which some one had evidently copied an +old picture and it represented . . . Oh, a dreadful, dreadful thing, +four women crucified! And one of the women was myself, with my name +. . . . And the others wore a head-dress like yours." + +Honorine had squeezed her hands with incredible violence: + +"What's that you say?" she cried. "What's that you say? Four women +crucified?" + +"Yes; and there was something about thirty coffins, consequently about +your island." + +The Breton woman put her hands over Véronique's lips to silence them: + +"Hush! Hush! Oh, you mustn't speak of all that! No, no, you mustn't +. . . . You see, there are devilish things . . . which it's a sacrilege +to talk about . . . . We must be silent about that . . . . Later on, +we'll see . . . another year, perhaps . . . . Later on . . . . Later on +. . . ." + +She seemed shaken by terror, as by a gale which scourges the trees and +overwhelms all living things. And suddenly she fell on her knees upon +the rock and muttered a long prayer, bent in two, with her hands before +her face, so completely absorbed that Véronique asked her no more +questions. + +At last she rose and, presently, said: + +"Yes, this is all terrifying, but I don't see that it makes our duty any +different or that we can hesitate at all." + +And, addressing Véronique, she said, gravely: + +"You must come over there with me." + +"Over there, to your island?" replied Véronique, without concealing her +reluctance. + +Honorine again took her hands and continued, still in that same, rather +solemn tone which appeared to Véronique to be full of secret and +unspoken thoughts: + +"Your name is truly Véronique d'Hergemont?" + +"Yes." + +"Who was your father?" + +"Antoine d'Hergemont." + +"You married a man called Vorski, who said he was a Pole?" + +"Yes, Alexis Vorski." + +"You married him after there was a scandal about his running off with +you and after a quarrel between you and your father?" + +"Yes." + +"You had a child by him?" + +"Yes, a son, François." + +"A son that you never knew, in a manner of speaking, because he was +kidnapped by your father?" + +"Yes." + +"And you lost sight of the two after a shipwreck?" + +"Yes, they are both dead." + +"How do you know?" + +It did not occur to Véronique to be astonished at this question, and she +replied: + +"My personal enquiries and the police enquiries were both based upon the +same indisputable evidence, that of the four sailors." + +"Who's to say they weren't telling lies?" + +"Why should they tell lies?" asked Véronique, in surprise. + +"Their evidence may have been bought; they may have been told what to +say." + +"By whom?" + +"By your father." + +"But what an idea! . . . Besides, my father was dead!" + +"I say once more: how do you know that?" + +This time Véronique appeared stupefied: + +"What are you hinting?" she whispered. + +"One minute. Do you know the names of those four sailors?" + +"I did know them, but I don't remember them." + +"You don't remember that they were Breton names?" + +"Yes, I do. But I don't see that . . ." + +"If you never came to Brittany, your father often did, because of the +books he used to write. He used to stay in Brittany during your mother's +lifetime. That being so, he must have had relations with the men of the +country. Suppose that he had known the four sailors a long time, that +these men were devoted to him or bribed by him and that he engaged them +specially for that adventure. Suppose that they began by landing your +father and your son at some little Italian port and that then, being +four good swimmers, they scuttled and sank their yacht in view of the +coast. Just suppose it." + +"But the men are living!" cried Véronique, in growing excitement. "They +can be questioned." + +"Two of them are dead; they died a natural death a few years ago. The +third is an old man called Maguennoc; you will find him at Sarek. As for +the fourth, you may have seen him just now. He used the money which he +made out of that business to buy a grocer's shop at Beg-Meil." + +"Ah, we can speak to him at once!" cried Véronique, eagerly. "Let's go +and fetch him." + +"Why should we? I know more than he does." + +"You know? You know?" + +"I know everything that you don't. I can answer all your questions. Ask +me what you like." + +But Véronique dared not put the great question to her, the one which was +beginning to quiver in the darkness of her consciousness. She was afraid +of a truth which was perhaps not inconceivable, a truth of which she +seemed to catch a faint glimpse; and she stammered, in mournful accents: + +"I don't understand, I don't understand . . . . Why should my father +have behaved like that? Why should he wish himself and my poor child to +be thought dead?" + +"Your father had sworn to have his revenge." + +"On Vorski, yes; but surely not on me, his daughter? . . . . And such a +revenge!" + +"You loved your husband. Once you were in his power, instead of running +away from him, you consented to marry him. Besides, the insult was a +public one. And you know what your father was, with his violent, +vindictive temperament and his rather . . . his rather unbalanced +nature, to use his own expression." + +"But since then?" + +"Since then! Since then! He felt remorseful as he grew older, what with +his affection for the child . . . and he tried everywhere to find you. +The journeys I have taken, beginning with my journey to the Carmelites +at Chartres! But you had left long ago . . . and where for? Where were +you to be found?" + +"You could have advertised in the newspapers." + +"He did try advertising, once, very cautiously, because of the scandal. +There was a reply. Some one made an appointment and he kept it. Do you +know who came to meet him? Vorski, Vorski, who was looking for you too, +who still loved you . . . and hated you. Your father became frightened +and did not dare act openly." + +Véronique did not speak. She felt very faint and sat down on the stone, +with her head bowed. + +Then she murmured: + +"You speak of my father as though he were still alive to-day." + +"He is." + +"And as though you saw him often." + +"Daily." + +"And on the other hand"--Véronique lowered her voice--"on the other hand +you do not say a word of my son. And that suggests a horrible thought: +perhaps he did not live? Perhaps he is dead since? Is that why you do +not mention him?" + +She raised her head with an effort. Honorine was smiling. + +"Oh, please, please," Véronique entreated, "tell me the truth! It is +terrible to hope more than one has a right to. Do tell me." + +Honorine put her arm round Véronique's neck: + +"Why, my poor, dear lady, would I have told you all this if my handsome +François had been dead?" + +"He is alive, he is alive?" cried Véronique, wildly. + +"Why, of course he is and in the best of health! Oh, he's a fine, sturdy +little chap, never fear, and so steady on his legs! And I have every +right to be proud of him, because it's I who brought him up, your little +François." + +She felt Véronique, who was leaning on her shoulder, give way to +emotions which were too much for her and which certainly contained as +much suffering as joy; and she said: + +"Cry, my dear lady, cry; it will do you good. It's a better sort of +crying than it was, eh? Cry, until you've forgotten all your old +troubles. I'm going back to the village. Have you a bag of any kind at +the inn? They know me there. I'll bring it back with me and we'll be +off." + +When the Breton woman returned, half an hour later, she saw Véronique +standing and beckoning to her to hurry and heard her calling: + +"Quick, quick! Heavens, what a time you've been! We have not a minute to +lose." + +Honorine, however, did not hasten her pace and did not reply. Her rugged +face was without a smile. + +"Well, are we going to start?" asked Véronique, running up to her. +"There's nothing to delay us, is there, no obstacle? What's the matter? +You seem quite changed." + +"No, no." + +"Then let's be quick." + +Honorine, with her assistance, put the bag and the provisions on board. +Then, suddenly standing in front of Véronique, she said: + +"You're quite sure, are you, that the woman on the cross, as she was +shown in the drawing, was yourself?" + +"Absolutely. Besides, there were my initials above the head." + +"That's a strange thing," muttered Honorine, "and it's enough to +frighten anybody." + +"Why should it be? It must have been someone who used to know me and who +amused himself by . . . It's merely a coincidence, a chance fancy +reviving the past." + +"Oh, it's not the past that's worrying me! It's the future." + +"The future?" + +"Remember the prophecy." + +"I don't understand." + +"Yes, yes, the prophecy made about you to Vorski." + +"Ah, you know?" + +"I know. And it is so horrible to think of that drawing and of other +much more dreadful things which you don't know of." + +Véronique burst out laughing: + +"What! Is that why you hesitate to take me with you, for, after all, +that's what we're concerned with?" + +"Don't laugh. People don't laugh when they see the flames of hell before +them." + +Honorine crossed herself, closing her eyes as she spoke. Then she +continued: + +"Of course . . . you scoff at me . . . you think I'm a superstitious +Breton woman, who believes in ghosts and jack-o'-lanterns. I don't say +you're altogether wrong. But there, there! There are some truths that +blind one. You can talk it over with Maguennoc, if you get on the right +side of him." + +"Maguennoc?" + +"One of the four sailors. He's an old friend of your boy's. He too +helped to bring him up. Maguennoc knows more about it than the most +learned men, more than your father. And yet . . ." + +"What?" + +"And yet Maguennoc tried to tempt fate and to get past what men are +allowed to know." + +"What did he do?" + +"He tried to touch with his hand--you understand, with his own hand: he +confessed it to me himself--the very heart of the mystery." + +"Well?" said Véronique, impressed in spite of herself. + +"Well, his hand was burnt by the flames. He showed me a hideous sore: I +saw it with my eyes, something like the sore of a cancer; and he +suffered to that degree . . ." + +"Yes?" + +"That it forced him to take a hatchet in his left hand and cut off his +right hand himself." + +Véronique was dumbfounded. She remembered the corpse at Le Faouet and +she stammered: + +"His right hand? You say that Maguennoc cut off his right hand?" + +"With a hatchet, ten days ago, two days before I left . . . . I dressed +the wound myself . . . . Why do you ask?" + +"Because," said Véronique, in a husky voice, "because the dead man, the +old man whom I found in the deserted cabin and who afterwards +disappeared, had lately lost his right hand." + +Honorine gave a start. She still wore the sort of scared expression and +betrayed the emotional disturbance which contrasted with her usually +calm attitude. And she rapped out: + +"Are you sure? Yes, yes, you're right, it was he, Maguennoc . . . . He +had long white hair, hadn't he? And a spreading beard? . . . Oh, how +abominable!" + +She restrained herself and looked around her, frightened at having +spoken so loud. She once more made the sign of the cross and said, +slowly, almost under her breath: + +"He was the first of those who have got to die . . . he told me so +himself . . . and old Maguennoc had eyes that read the book of the +future as easily as the book of the past. He could see clearly where +another saw nothing at all. 'The first victim will be myself, Ma'me +Honorine. And, when the servant has gone, in a few days it will be the +master's turn.'" + +"And the master was . . . ?" asked Véronique, in a whisper. + +Honorine drew herself up and clenched her fists violently: + +"I'll defend him! I will!" she declared. "I'll save him! Your father +shall not be the second victim. No, no, I shall arrive in time! Let me +go!" + +"We are going together," said Véronique, firmly. + +"Please," said Honorine, in a voice of entreaty, "please don't be +persistent. Let me have my way. I'll bring your father and your son to +you this very evening, before dinner." + +"But why?" + +"The danger is too great, over there, for your father . . . and +especially for you. Remember the four crosses! It's over there that they +are waiting . . . . Oh, you mustn't go there! . . . The island is under +a curse." + +"And my son?" + +"You shall see him to-day, in a few hours." + +Véronique gave a short laugh: + +"In a few hours! Woman, you must be mad! Here am I, after mourning my +son for fourteen years, suddenly hearing that he's alive; and you ask +me to wait before I take him in my arms! Not one hour! I would rather +risk death a thousand times than put off that moment." + +Honorine looked at her and seemed to realize that Véronique's was one of +those resolves against which it is useless to fight, for she did not +insist. She crossed herself for the third time and said, simply: + +"God's will be done." + +They both took their seats among the parcels which encumbered the narrow +space. Honorine switched on the current, seized the tiller and skilfully +steered the boat through the rocks and sandbanks which rose level with +the water. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +VORSKI'S SON + + +Véronique smiled as she sat to starboard on a packing-case, with her +face turned towards Honorine. Her smile was anxious still and undefined, +full of reticence and flickering as a sunbeam that tries to pierce the +last clouds of the storm; but it was nevertheless a happy smile. + +And happiness seemed the right expression for that wonderful face, +stamped with dignity and with that particular modesty which gives to +some women, whether stricken by excessive misfortune or preserved by +love, the habit of gravity, combined with an absence of all feminine +affectation. + +Her black hair, touched with grey at the temples, was knotted very low +down on the neck. She had the dead-white complexion of a southerner and +very light blue eyes, of which the white seemed almost of the same +colour, pale as a winter sky. She was tall, with broad shoulders and a +well-shaped bust. + +Her musical and somewhat masculine voice became light and cheerful when +she spoke of the son whom she had found again. And Véronique could speak +of nothing else. In vain the Breton woman tried to speak of the problems +that harassed her and kept on interrupting Véronique: + +"Look here, there are two things which I cannot understand. Who laid the +trail with the clues that brought you from Le Faouet to the exact spot +where I always land? It almost makes one believe that someone had been +from Le Faouet to the Isle of Sarek. And, on the other hand, how did old +Maguennoc come to leave the island? Was it of his own free will? Or was +it his dead body that they carried? If so, how?" + +"Is it worth troubling about?" Véronique objected. + +"Certainly it is. Just think! Besides me, who once a fortnight go either +to Beg-Meil or Pont-l'Abbé in my motor-boat for provisions, there are +only two fishing-boats, which always go much higher up the coast, to +Audierne, where they sell their catch. Then how did Maguennoc get +across? Then again, did he commit suicide? But, if so, how did his body +disappear?" + +But Véronique protested: + +"Please don't! It doesn't matter for the moment. It'll all be cleared +up. Tell me about François. You were saying that he came to Sarek . . ." + +Honorine yielded to Véronique's entreaties: + +"He arrived in poor Maguennoc's arms, a few days after he was taken from +you. Maguennoc, who had been taught his lesson by your father, said that +a strange lady had entrusted him with the child; and he had it nursed by +his daughter, who has since died. I was away, in a situation with a +Paris family. When I came home again, François had grown into a fine +little fellow, running about the moors and cliffs. It was then that I +took service with your father, who had settled in Sarek. When +Maguennoc's daughter died, we took the child to live with us." + +"But under what name?" + +"François, just François. M. d'Hergemont was known as Monsieur Antoine. +François called him grandfather. No one ever made any remark upon it." + +"And his character?" asked Véronique, with some anxiety. + +"Oh, as far as that's concerned, he's a blessing!" replied Honorine. +"Nothing of his father about him . . . nor of his grandfather either, as +M. d'Hergemont himself admits. A gentle, lovable, most willing child. +Never a sign of anger; always good-tempered. That's what got over his +grandfather and made M. d'Hergemont come round to you again, because his +grandson reminded him so of the daughter he had cast off. 'He's the very +image of his mother,' he used to say. 'Véronique was gentle and +affectionate like him, with the same fond and coaxing ways.' And then he +began his search for you, with me to help him; for he had come to +confide in me." + +Véronique beamed with delight. Her son was like her! Her son was bright +and kind-hearted! + +"But does he know about me?" she said. "Does he know that I'm alive?" + +"I should think he did! M. d'Hergemont tried to keep it from him at +first. But I soon told him everything." + +"Everything?" + +"No. He believes that his father is dead and that, after the shipwreck +in which he, I mean François, and M. d'Hergemont disappeared, you became +a nun and have been lost sight of since. And he is so eager for news, +each time I come back from one of my trips! He too is so full of hope! +Oh, you can take my word for it, he adores his mother! And he's always +singing that song you heard just now, which his grandfather taught him." + +"My François, my own little François!" + +"Ah, yes, he loves you! There's Mother Honorine. But you're mother, just +that. And he's in a great hurry to grow up and finish his schooling, so +that he may go and look for you." + +"His schooling? Does he have lessons?" + +"Yes, with his grandfather and, since two years ago, with such a nice +fellow that I brought back from Paris, Stéphane Maroux, a wounded +soldier covered with medals and restored to health after an internal +operation. François dotes on him." + +The boat was running quickly over the smooth sea, in which it ploughed a +furrow of silvery foam. The clouds had dispersed on the horizon. The +evening boded fair and calm. + +"More, tell me more!" said Véronique, listening greedily. "What does my +boy wear?" + +"Knickerbockers and short socks, with his calves bare; a thick flannel +shirt with gilt buttons; and a flat knitted cap, like his big friend, M. +Stéphane; only his is red and suits him to perfection." + +"Has he any friends besides M. Maroux?" + +"All the growing lads of the island, formerly. But with the exception of +three or four ship's boys, all the rest have left the island with their +mothers, now that their fathers are at the war, and are working on the +mainland, at Concarneau or Lorient, leaving the old people at Sarek by +themselves. We are not more than thirty on the island now." + +"Whom does he play with? Whom does he go about with?" + +"Oh, as for that, he has the best of companions!" + +"Really? Who is it?" + +"A little dog that Maguennoc gave him." + +"A dog?" + +"Yes; and the funniest dog you ever saw: an ugly ridiculous-looking +thing, a cross between a poodle and a fox-terrier, but so comical and +amusing! Oh, there's no one like Master All's Well!" + +"All's Well?" + +"That's what François calls him; and you couldn't have a better name for +him. He always looks happy and glad to be alive. He's independent, too, +and he disappears for hours and even days at a time; but he's always +there when he's wanted, if you're feeling sad, or if things aren't going +as you might like them to. All's Well hates to see any one crying or +scolding or quarrelling. The moment you cry, or pretend to cry, he comes +and squats on his haunches in front of you, sits up, shuts one eye, +half-opens the other and looks so exactly as if he was laughing that you +begin to laugh yourself. 'That's right, old chap,' says François, +'you're quite right: all's well. There's nothing to take on about, is +there?' And, when you're consoled, All's Well just trots away. His task +is done." + +Véronique laughed and cried in one breath. Then she was silent for a +long time, feeling more and more gloomy and overcome by a despair which +overwhelmed all her gladness. She thought of all the happiness that she +had missed during the fourteen years of her childless motherhood, +wearing her mourning for a son who was alive. All the cares that a +mother lavishes upon the little creature new-born into the world, all +the pride that she feels at seeing him grow and hearing him speak, all +that delights a mother and uplifts her and makes her heart overflow with +daily renewed affection: all this she had never known. + +"We are half-way across," said Honorine. + +They were running in sight of the Glenans Islands. On their right, the +headland of Penmarch, whose coast-line they were following at a distance +of fifteen miles, marked a darker line which was not always +differentiated from the horizon. + +And Véronique thought of her sad past, of her mother, whom she hardly +remembered, of her childhood spent with a selfish, disagreeable father, +of her marriage, ah, above all of her marriage! She recalled her first +meetings with Vorski, when she was only seventeen. How frightened she +had been from the very beginning of that strange and unusual man, whom +she dreaded while she submitted to his influence, as one does at that +age submit to the influence of anything mysterious and incomprehensible! + +Next came the hateful day of the abduction and the other days, more +hateful still, that followed, the weeks during which he had kept her +imprisoned, threatening her and dominating her with all his evil +strength, and the promise of marriage which he had forced from her, a +pledge against which all the girl's instincts and all her will revolted, +but to which it seemed to her that she was bound to agree after so great +a scandal and also because her father was giving his consent. + +Her brain rebelled against the memories of her years of married life. +Never that! Not even in the worst hours, when the nightmares of the past +haunt one like spectres, never did she consent to revive, in the +innermost recesses of her mind, that degrading past, with its +mortifications, wounds and betrayals, and the disgraceful life led by +her husband, who, shamelessly, with cynical pride, gradually revealed +himself as the man he was, drinking, cheating at cards, robbing his boon +companions, a swindler and blackmailer, giving his wife the impression, +which she still retained and which made her shudder, of a sort of evil +genius, cruel and unbalanced. + +"Have done with dreams, Madame Véronique," said Honorine. + +"It's not so much dreams and memories as remorse," she replied. + +"Remorse, Madame Véronique? You, whose life has been one long +martyrdom?" + +"A martyrdom that was a punishment." + +"But all that is over and done with, Madame Véronique, seeing that you +are going to meet your son and your father again. Come, come, you must +think of nothing but being happy." + +"Happy? Can I be happy again?" + +"I should think so! You'll soon see! . . . Look, there's Sarek." + +Honorine took from a locker under her seat a large shell which she used +as a trumpet, after the manner of the mariners of old, and, putting her +lips to the mouthpiece and puffing out her cheeks, she blew a few +powerful notes, which filled the air with a sound not unlike the lowing +of an ox. + +Véronique gave her a questioning look. + +"It's him I'm calling," said Honorine. + +"François? You're calling François?" + +"Yes, it's the same every time I come back. He comes scrambling from the +top of the cliffs where we live and runs down to the jetty." + +"So I shall see him?" exclaimed Véronique, turning very pale. + +"You will see him. Fold your veil double, so that he may not know you +from your photographs. I'll speak to you as I would to a stranger who +has come to look at Sarek." + +They could see the island distinctly, but the foot of the cliffs was +hidden by a multitude of reefs. + +"Ah, yes, there's no lack of rocks! They swarm like a shoal of herring!" +cried Honorine, who had been obliged to switch off the motor and was +using two short paddles. "You know how calm the sea was just now. It's +never calm here." + +Thousands and thousands of little waves were dashing and clashing +against one another and waging an incessant and implacable war upon the +rocks. The boat seemed to be passing through the backwater of a torrent. +Nowhere was a strip of blue or green sea visible amid the bubbling foam. +There was nothing but white froth, whipped up by the indefatigable swirl +of the forces which desperately assailed the pointed teeth of the reefs. + +"And it's like that all round the island," said Honorine, "so much so +that you may say that Sarek isn't accessible except in a small boat. Ah, +the Huns could never have established a submarine base on our island! To +make quite sure and remove all doubts, some officers came over from +Lorient, two years ago, because of a few caves on the west, which can +only be entered at low tide. It was waste of time. There was nothing +doing here. Just think, it's like a sprinkle of rocks all around; and +pointed rocks at that, which get at you treacherously from underneath. +And, though these are the most dangerous, perhaps it is the others that +are most to be feared, the big ones which you see and have got their +name and their history from all sorts of crimes and shipwrecks. Oh, as +to those! . . ." + +Her voice grew hollow. With a hesitating hand, which seemed afraid of +the half-completed gesture, she pointed to some reefs which stood up in +powerful masses of different shapes, crouching animals, crenellated +keeps, colossal needles, sphynx-heads, jagged pyramids, all in black +granite stained with red, as though soaked in blood. + +And she whispered: + +"Oh, as to those, they have been guarding the island for centuries and +centuries, but like wild beasts that only care for doing harm and +killing. They . . . they . . . no, it's better never to speak about them +or even think of them. They are the thirty wild beasts. Yes, thirty, +Madame Véronique, there are thirty of them . . . ." + +She made the sign of the cross and continued, more calmly: + +"There are thirty of them. Your father says that Sarek is called the +island of the thirty coffins because the people instinctively ended in +this case by confusing the two words _écueils_ and _cercueils_.[1] +Perhaps . . . . It's very likely . . . . But, all the same, they are +thirty real coffins, Madame Véronique; and, if we could open them, we +should be sure to find them full of bones and bones and bones. M. +d'Hergemont himself says that Sarek comes from the word Sarcophagus, +which, according to him, is the learned way of saying coffin. Besides, +there's more than that . . . ." + +[Footnote 1: "Reefs" and "coffins."--_Translator's Note._] + +Honorine broke off, as though she wanted to think of something else, +and, pointing to a reef of rocks, said: + +"Look, Madame Véronique, past that big one right in our way there, you +will see, through an opening, our little harbour and, on the quay, +François in his red cap." + +Véronique had been listening absent-mindedly to Honorine's explanations. +She leant her body farther out of the boat, in order to catch sight the +sooner of her son, while the Breton woman, once more a victim to her +obsession, continued, in spite of herself: + +"There's more than that. The Isle of Sarek--and that is why your father +came to live here--contains a collection of dolmens which have nothing +remarkable about them, but which are peculiar for one reason, that they +are all nearly alike. Well, how many of them do you think there are? +Thirty! Thirty, like the principal reefs. And those thirty are +distributed round the islands, on the cliffs, exactly opposite the +thirty reefs; and each of them bears the same name as the reef that +corresponds to it: Dol-er-H'roeck, Dol-Kerlitu and so on. What do you +say to that?" + +She had uttered these names in the same timid voice in which she spoke +of all these things, as if she feared to be heard by the things +themselves, to which she was attributing a formidable and sacred life. + +"What do you say to that, Madame Véronique? Oh, there's plenty of +mystery about it all; and, once more, it's better to hold one's tongue! +I'll tell you about it when we've left here, right away from the island, +and when your little François is in your arms, between your father and +you." + +Véronique sat silent, gazing into space at the spot to which Honorine +had pointed. With her back turned to her companion and her two hands +gripping the gunwale, she stared distractedly before her. It was there, +through that narrow opening, that she was to see her child, long lost +and now found; and she did not want to waste a single second after the +moment when she would be able to catch sight of him. + +They reached the rock. One of Honorine's paddles grazed its side. They +skirted and came to the end of it. + +"Oh," said Véronique, sorrowfully, "he is not there!" + +"François not there? Impossible!" cried Honorine. + +She in her turn saw, three or four hundred yards in front of them, the +few big rocks on the beach which served as a jetty. Three women, a +little girl and some old seafaring men were waiting for the boat, but no +boy, no red cap. + +"That's strange," said Honorine, in a low voice. "It's the first time +that he's failed to answer my call." + +"Perhaps he's ill?" Véronique suggested. + +"No, François is never ill." + +"What then?" + +"I don't know." + +"But aren't you afraid?" asked Véronique, who was already becoming +frightened. + +"For him, no . . . but for your father. Maguennoc said that I oughtn't +to leave him. It's he who is threatened." + +"But François is there to defend him; and so is M. Maroux, his tutor. +Come, answer me: what do you imagine?" + +After a moment's pause, Honorine shrugged her shoulders. + +"A pack of nonsense! I get absurd, yes, absurd things into my head. +Don't be angry with me. I can't help it: it's the Breton in me. Except +for a few years, I have spent all my life here, with legends and stories +in the very air I breathed. Don't let's talk about it." + +The Isle of Sarek appears in the shape of a long and undulating +table-land, covered with ancient trees and standing on cliffs of medium +height than which nothing more jagged could be imagined. It is as though +the island were surrounded by a reef of uneven, diversified lacework, +incessantly wrought upon by the rain, the wind, the sun, the snow, the +frost, the mist and all the water that falls from the sky or oozes from +the earth. + +The only accessible point is on the eastern side, at the bottom of a +depression where a few houses, mostly abandoned since the war, +constitute the village. A break in the cliffs opens here, protected by +the little jetty. The sea at this spot is perfectly calm. + +Two boats lay moored to the quay. + +Before landing, Honorine made a last effort: + +"We're there, Madame Véronique, as you see. Now is it really worth your +while to get out? Why not stay where you are? I'll bring your father and +your son to you in two hours' time and we'll have dinner at Beg-Meil or +at Pont-l'Abbé. Will that do?" + +Véronique rose to her feet and leapt on to the quay without replying. +Honorine joined her and insisted no longer: + +"Well, children, where's young François? Hasn't he come?" + +"He was here about twelve," said one of the women. "Only he didn't +expect you until to-morrow." + +"That's true enough . . . but still he must have heard me blow my horn. +However, we shall see." + +And, as the man helped her to unload the boat, she said: + +"I shan't want all this taken up to the Priory. Nor the bags either. +Unless . . . Look here, if I am not back by five o'clock, send a +youngster after me with the bags." + +"No, I'll come myself," said one of the seamen. + +"As you please, Corréjou. Oh, by the way, where's Maguennoc?" + +"Maguennoc's gone. I took him across to Pont-l'Abbé myself." + +"When was that, Corréjou?" + +"Why, the day after you went, Madame Honorine." + +"What was he going over for?" + +"He told us he was going . . . I don't know where . . . . It had to do +with the hand he lost . . . . a pilgrimage . . . ." + +"A pilgrimage? To Le Faouet, perhaps? To St. Barbe's Chapel?" + +"That's it . . . that's it exactly: St. Barbe's Chapel, that's what he +said." + +Honorine asked no more. She could no longer doubt that Maguennoc was +dead. She moved away, accompanied by Véronique, who had lowered her +veil; and the two went along a rocky path, cut into steps, which ran +through the middle of an oak-wood towards the southernmost point of the +island. + +"After all," said Honorine, "I am not sure--and I may as well say +so--that M. d'Hergemont will consent to leave. He treats all my stories +as crotchets, though there's plenty of things that astonish even him +. . . ." + +"Does he live far from here?" asked Véronique. + +"It's forty minutes' walk. As you will see, it's almost another island, +joined to the first. The Benedictines built an abbey there." + +"But he's not alone there, is he, with François and M. Maroux?" + +"Before the war, there were two men besides. Lately, Maguennoc and I +used to do pretty well all the work, with the cook, Marie Le Goff." + +"She remained, of course, while you were away?" + +"Yes." + +They reached the top of the cliffs. The path, which followed the coast, +rose and fell in steep gradients. On every hand were old oaks with their +bunches of mistletoe, which showed among the as yet scanty leaves. The +sea, grey-green in the distance, girded the island with a white belt. + +Véronique continued: + +"What do you propose to do, Honorine?" + +"I shall go in by myself and speak to your father. Then I shall come +back and fetch you at the garden-gate; and in François' eyes you will +pass for a friend of his mother's. He will guess the truth gradually." + +"And you think that my father will give me a good welcome?" + +"He will receive you with open arms, Madame Véronique," cried the Breton +woman, "and we shall all be happy, provided . . . provided nothing has +happened . . . It's so funny that François doesn't run out to meet me! +He can see our boat from every part of the island . . . as far off as +the Glenans almost." + +She relapsed into what M. d'Hergemont called her crotchets; and they +pursued their road in silence. Véronique felt anxious and impatient. + +Suddenly Honorine made the sign of the cross: + +"You do as I'm doing, Madame Véronique," she said. "The monks have +consecrated the place, but there's lots of bad, unlucky things remaining +from the old days, especially in that wood, the wood of the Great Oak." + +The old days no doubt meant the period of the Druids and their human +sacrifices; and the two women were now entering a wood in which the +oaks, each standing in isolation on a mound of moss-grown stones, had a +look of ancient gods, each with his own altar, his mysterious cult and +his formidable power. + +Véronique, following Honorine's example, crossed herself and could not +help shuddering as she said: + +"How melancholy it is! There's not a flower on this desolate plateau." + +"They grow most wonderfully when one takes the trouble. You shall see +Maguennoc's, at the end of the island, to the right of the Fairies' +Dolmen . . . a place called the Calvary of the Flowers." + +"Are they lovely?" + +"Wonderful, I tell you. Only he goes himself to get the mould from +certain places. He prepares it. He works it up. He mixes it with some +special leaves of which he knows the effect." And she repeated, "You +shall see Maguennoc's flowers. There are no flowers like them in the +world. They are miraculous flowers . . . ." + +After skirting a hill, the road descended a sudden declivity. A huge +gash divided the island into two parts, the second of which now +appeared, standing a little higher, but very much more limited in +extent. + +"It's the Priory, that part," said Honorine. + +The same jagged cliffs surrounded the smaller islet with an even steeper +rampart, which itself was hollowed out underneath like the hoop of a +crown. And this rampart was joined to the main island by a strip of +cliff fifty yards long and hardly thicker than a castle-wall, with a +thin, tapering crest which looked as sharp as the edge of an axe. + +There was no thoroughfare possible along this ridge, inasmuch as it was +split in the middle with a wide fissure, for which reason the abutments +of a wooden bridge had been anchored to the two extremities. The bridge +started flat on the rock and subsequently spanned the intervening +crevice. + +They crossed it separately, for it was not only very narrow but also +unstable, shaking under their feet and in the wind. + +"Look, over there, at the extreme point of the island," said Honorine, +"you can see a corner of the Priory." + +The path that led to it ran through fields planted with small fir-trees +arranged in quincunxes. Another path turned to the right and disappeared +from view in some dense thickets. + +Véronique kept her eyes upon the Priory, whose low-storied front was +lengthening gradually, when Honorine, after a few minutes, stopped +short, with her face towards the thickets on the right, and called out: + +"Monsieur Stéphane!" + +"Whom are you calling?" asked Véronique. "M. Maroux?" + +"Yes, François' tutor. He was running towards the bridge: I caught sight +of him through a clearing . . . Monsieur Stéphane! . . . But why doesn't +he answer? Did you see a man running?" + +"No." + +"I declare it was he, with his white cap. At any rate, we can see the +bridge behind us. Let us wait for him to cross." + +"Why wait? If anything's the matter, if there's a danger of any kind, +it's at the Priory." + +"You're right. Let's hurry." + +They hastened their pace, overcome with forebodings; and then, for no +definite reason, broke into a run, so greatly did their fears increase +as they drew nearer to the reality. + +The islet grew narrower again, barred by a low wall which marked the +boundaries of the Priory domain. At that moment, cries were heard, +coming from the house. + +Honorine exclaimed: + +"They're calling! Did you hear? A woman's cries! It's the cook! It's +Marie Le Goff! . . ." + +She made a dash for the gate and grasped the key, but inserted it so +awkwardly that she jammed the lock and was unable to open it. + +"Through the gap!" she ordered. "This way, on the right!" + +They rushed along, scrambled through the wall and crossed a wide grassy +space filled with ruins, in which the winding and ill-marked path +disappeared at every moment under trailing creepers and moss. + +"Here we are! Here we are!" shouted Honorine. "We're coming!" + +And she muttered: + +"The cries have stopped! It's dreadful! Oh, poor Marie Le Goff!" + +She grasped Véronique's arm: + +"Let's go round. The front of the house is on the other side. On this +side the doors are always locked and the window-shutters closed." + +But Véronique caught her foot in some roots, stumbled and fell to her +knees. When she stood up again, the Breton woman had left her and was +hurrying round the left wing. Unconsciously, Véronique, instead of +following her, made straight for the house, climbed the step and was +brought up short by the door, at which she knocked again and again. + +The idea of going round, as Honorine had done, seemed to her a waste of +time which nothing could ever make good. However, realising the +futility of her efforts, she was just deciding to go, when once more +cries sounded from inside the house and above her head. + +It was a man's voice, which Véronique seemed to recognize as her +father's. She fell back a few steps. Suddenly one of the windows on the +first floor opened and she saw M. d'Hergemont, his features distorted +with inexpressible terror, gasping: + +"Help! Help! Oh, the monster! Help!" + +"Father! Father!" cried Véronique, in despair. "It's I!" + +He lowered his head for an instant, appeared not to see his daughter and +made a quick attempt to climb over the balcony. But a shot rang out +behind him and one of the window-panes was blown into fragments. + +"Murderer, murderer!" he shouted, turning back into the room. + +Véronique, mad with fear and helplessness, looked around her. How could +she rescue her father? The wall was too high and offered nothing to +cling to. Suddenly, she saw a ladder, lying twenty yards away, beside +the wall of the house. With a prodigious effort of will and strength, +she managed to carry the ladder, heavy though it was, and to set it up +under the open window. + +At the most tragic moment in life, when the mind is no more than a +seething confusion, when the whole body is shaken by the tremor of +anguish, a certain logic continues to connect our ideas: and Véronique +wondered why she had not heard Honorine's voice and what could have +delayed her coming. + +She also thought of François. Where was François? Had he followed +Stéphane Maroux in his inexplicable flight? Had he gone in search of +assistance? And who was it that M. d'Hergemont had apostrophized as a +monster and a murderer? + +The ladder did not reach the window; and Véronique at once became aware +of the effort which would be necessary if she was to climb over the +balcony. Nevertheless she did not hesitate. They were fighting up there; +and the struggle was mingled with stifled shouts uttered by her father. +She went up the ladder. The most that she could do was to grasp the +bottom rail of the balcony. But a narrow ledge enabled her to hoist +herself on one knee, to put her head through and to witness the tragedy +that was being enacted in the room. + +At that moment, M. d'Hergemont had once more retreated to the window and +even a little beyond it, so that she almost saw him face to face. He +stood without moving, haggard-eyed and with his arms hanging in an +undecided posture, as though waiting for something terrible to happen. +He stammered: + +"Murderer! Murderer! . . . Is it really you? Oh, curse you! François! +François!" + +He was no doubt calling upon his grandson for help; and François no +doubt was also exposed to some attack, was perhaps wounded, was possibly +dead! + +Véronique summoned up all her strength and succeeded in setting foot on +the ledge. + +"Here I am! Here I am!" she meant to cry. + +But her voice died away in her throat. She had seen! She saw! Facing +her father, at a distance of five paces, against the opposite wall of +the room, stood some one pointing a revolver at M. d'Hergemont and +deliberately taking aim. And that some one was . . . oh, horror! +Véronique recognized the red cap of which Honorine had spoken, the +flannel shirt with the gilt buttons. And above all she beheld, in that +young face convulsed with hideous emotions, the very expression which +Vorski used to wear at times when his instincts, hatred and ferocity, +gained the upper hand. + +The boy did not see her. His eyes were fixed on the mark which he +proposed to hit; and he seemed to take a sort of savage joy in +postponing the fatal act. + +Véronique herself was silent. Words or cries could not possibly avert +the peril. What she had to do was to fling herself between her father +and her son. She clutched hold of the railings, clambered up and climbed +through the window. + +It was too late. The shot was fired. M. d'Hergemont fell with a groan of +pain. + +And, at the same time, at that very moment, while the boy still had his +arm outstretched and the old man was sinking into a huddled heap, a door +opened at the back. Honorine appeared; and the abominable sight struck +her, so to speak, full in the face. + +"François!" she screamed. "You! You!" + +The boy sprang at her. The woman tried to bar his way. There was not +even a struggle. The boy took a step back, quickly raised his weapon and +fired. + +Honorine's knees gave way beneath her and she fell across the +threshold. And, as he jumped over her body and fled, she kept on +repeating: + +"François . . . . François . . . . No, it's not true! . . . Oh, can it +be possible? . . . François . . . ." + +There was a burst of laughter outside. Yes, the boy had laughed. +Véronique heard that horrible, infernal laugh, so like Vorski's laugh; +and it all agonized her with the same anguish which used to sear her in +Vorski's days! + +She did not run after the murderer. She did not call out. + +A faint voice beside her was murmuring her name: + +"Véronique . . . . Véronique . . . ." + +M. d'Hergemont lay on the ground, staring at her with glassy eyes which +were already filled with death. + +She knelt down by his side; but, when she tried to unbutton his +waistcoat and his bloodstained shirt, in order to dress the wound of +which he was dying, he gently pushed her hand aside. She understood that +all aid was useless and that he wished to speak to her. She stooped +still lower. + +"Véronique . . . forgive . . . Véronique . . . ." + +It was the first utterance of his failing thoughts. + +She kissed him on the forehead and wept: + +"Hush, father . . . . Don't tire yourself . . . ." + +But he had something else to say; and his mouth vainly emitted syllables +which did not form words and to which she listened in despair. His life +was ebbing away. His mind was fading into the darkness. Véronique glued +her ear to the lips which exhausted themselves in a supreme effort and +she caught the words: + +"Beware . . . beware . . . the God-Stone . . . ." + +Suddenly he half raised himself. His eyes flashed as though lit by the +last flicker of an expiring flame. Véronique received the impression +that her father, as he looked at her, now understood nothing but the +full significance of her presence and foresaw all the dangers that +threatened her; and, speaking in a hoarse and terrified but quite +distinct voice, he said: + +"You mustn't stay . . . . It means death if you stay . . . . Escape this +island . . . . Go . . . Go . . . ." + +His head fell back. He stammered a few more words which Véronique was +just able to grasp: + +"Oh, the cross! . . . The four crosses of Sarek! . . . My daughter . . . +my daughter . . . crucified! . . ." + +And that was all. + +There was a great silence, a vast silence which Véronique felt weighing +upon her like a burden that grows heavier second after second. + +"You must escape from this island," a voice repeated. "Go, quickly. Your +father bade you, Madame Véronique." + +Honorine was beside her, livid in the face, with her two hands clasping +a napkin, rolled into a plug and red with blood, which she held to her +chest. + +"But I must look after you first!" cried Véronique. "Wait a moment +. . . . Let me see . . . ." + +"Later on . . . they'll attend to me presently," spluttered Honorine. +"Oh, the monster! . . . If I had only come in time! But the door below +was barricaded . . . ." + +"Do let me see to your wound," Véronique implored. "Lie down." + +"Presently . . . . First Marie Le Goff, the cook, at the top of the +staircase . . . . She's wounded too . . . mortally perhaps . . . . Go +and see." + +Véronique went out by the door at the back, the one through which her +son had made his escape. There was a large landing here. On the top +steps, curled into a heap, lay Marie Le Goff, with the death-rattle in +her throat. + +She died almost at once, without recovering consciousness, the third +victim of the incomprehensible tragedy. As foretold by old Maguennoc, M. +d'Hergemont had been the second victim. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE POOR PEOPLE OF SAREK + + +Honorine's wound was deep but did not seem likely to prove fatal. When +Véronique had dressed it and moved Marie Le Goff's body to the room +filled with books and furnished like a study in which her father was +lying, she closed M. d'Hergemont's eyes, covered him with a sheet and +knelt down to pray. But the words of prayer would not come to her lips +and her mind was incapable of dwelling on a single thought. She felt +stunned by the repeated blows of misfortune. She sat down in a chair, +holding her head in her hands. Thus she remained for nearly an hour, +while Honorine slept a feverish sleep. + +With all her strength she rejected her son's image, even as she had +always rejected Vorski's. But the two images became mingled together, +whirling around her and dancing before her eyes like those lights which, +when we close our eyelids tightly, pass and pass again and multiply and +blend into one. And it was always one and the same face, cruel, +sardonic, hideously grinning. + +She did not suffer, as a mother suffers when mourning the loss of a son. +Her son had been dead these fourteen years; and the one who had come to +life again, the one for whom all the wells of her maternal affection +were ready to gush forth, had suddenly become a stranger and even worse: +Vorski's son! How indeed could she have suffered? + +But ah, what a wound inflicted in the depths of her being! What an +upheaval, like those cataclysms which shake the whole of a peaceful +country-side! What a hellish spectacle! What a vision of madness and +horror! What an ironical jest, a jest of the most hideous destiny! Her +son killing her father at the moment when, after all these years of +separation and sorrow, she was on the point of embracing them both and +living with them in sweet and homely intimacy! Her son a murderer! Her +son dispensing death and terror broadcast! Her son levelling that +ruthless weapon, slaying with all his heart and soul and taking a +perverse delight in it! + +The motives which might explain these actions interested her not at all. +Why had her son done these things? Why had his tutor, Stéphane Maroux, +doubtless an accomplice, possibly an instigator, fled before the +tragedy? These were questions which she did not seek to solve. She +thought only of the frightful scene of carnage and death. And she asked +herself if death was not for her the only refuge and the only ending. + +"Madame Véronique," whispered Honorine. + +"What is it?" asked Véronique, roused from her stupor. + +"Don't you hear?" + +"What?" + +"A ring at the bell below. They must be bringing your luggage." + +She sprang to her feet. + +"But what am I to say? How can I explain? . . . If I accuse that boy +. . ." + +"Not a word, please. Let me speak to them." + +"You're very weak, my poor Honorine." + +"No, no, I'm feeling better." + +Véronique went downstairs, crossed a broad entrance-hall paved with +black and white flags and drew the bolts of a great door. + +It was, as they expected, one of the sailors: + +"I knocked at the kitchen-door first," said the man. "Isn't Marie Le +Goff there? And Madame Honorine?" + +"Honorine is upstairs and would like to speak to you." + +The sailor looked at her, seemed impressed by this young woman, who +looked so pale and serious, and followed her without a word. + +Honorine was waiting on the first floor, standing in front of the open +door: + +"Ah, it's you, Corréjou? . . . Now listen to me . . . and no silly talk, +please." + +"What's the matter, M'ame Honorine? Why, you're wounded! What is it?" + +She stepped aside from the doorway and, pointing to the two bodies under +their winding-sheets, said simply: + +"Monsieur Antoine and Marie Le Goff . . . both of them murdered." + +The man's face became distorted. He stammered: + +"Murdered . . . you don't say so . . . . Why?" + +"I don't know; we arrived after it happened." + +"But . . . young François? . . . Monsieur Stéphane? . . ." + +"Gone . . . . They must have been killed too." + +"But . . . but . . . Maguennoc?" + +"Maguennoc? Why do you speak of Maguennoc?" + +"I speak of Maguennoc, I speak of Maguennoc . . . because, if he's alive +. . . this is a very different business. Maguennoc always said that he +would be the first. Maguennoc only says things of which he's certain. +Maguennoc understands these things thoroughly." + +Honorine reflected and then said: + +"Maguennoc has been killed." + +This time Corréjou lost all his composure: and his features expressed +that sort of insane terror which Véronique had repeatedly observed in +Honorine. He made the sign of the cross and said, in a low whisper: + +"Then . . . then . . . it's happening, Ma'me Honorine? . . . Maguennoc +said it would . . . . Only the other day, in my boat, he was saying, 'It +won't be long now . . . . Everybody ought to get away.'" + +And suddenly the sailor turned on his heel and made for the staircase. + +"Stay where you are, Corréjou," said Honorine, in a voice of command. + +"We must get away. Maguennoc said so. Everybody has got to go." + +"Stay where you are," Honorine repeated. + +Corréjou stopped, undecidedly. And Honorine continued: + +"We are agreed. We must go. We shall start to-morrow, towards the +evening. But first we must attend to Monsieur Antoine and to Marie Le +Goff. Look here, you go to the sisters Archignat and send them to keep +watch by the dead. They are bad women, but they are used to doing that. +Say that two of the three must come. Each of them shall have double the +ordinary fee." + +"And after that, Ma'me Honorine?" + +"You and all the old men will see to the coffins; and at daybreak we +will bury the bodies in consecrated ground, in the cemetery of the +chapel." + +"And after that, Ma'me Honorine?" + +"After that, you will be free and the others too. You can pack up and be +off." + +"But you, Ma'me Honorine?" + +"I have the boat. That's enough talking. Are we agreed?" + +"Yes, we're agreed. It means one more night to spend here. But I suppose +that nothing fresh will happen between this and to-morrow? . . ." + +"Why no, why no . . . Go, Corréjou. Hurry. And above all don't tell the +others that Maguennoc is dead . . . or we shall never keep them here." + +"That's a promise, Ma'me Honorine." + +The man hastened away. + +An hour later, two of the sisters Archignat appeared, two skinny, +shrivelled old hags, looking like witches in their dirty, greasy caps +with the black-velvet bows. Honorine was taken to her own room on the +same floor, at the end of the left wing. + +And the vigil of the dead began. + + * * * * * + +Véronique spent the first part of the night beside her father's body and +then went and sat with Honorine, whose condition seemed to grow worse. +She ended by dozing off and was wakened by the Breton woman, who said to +her, in one of those accesses of fever in which the brain still retains +a certain lucidity: + +"François must be hiding . . . and M. Stéphane too . . . The island has +safe hiding-places, which Maguennoc showed them. We shan't see them, +therefore; and no one will know anything about them." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Quite. So listen to me. To-morrow, when everybody has left Sarek and +when we two are alone, I shall blow the signal with my horn and he will +come here." + +Véronique was horrified: + +"But I don't want to see him!" she exclaimed, indignantly. "I loathe +him! . . . Like my father, I curse him! . . . Have you forgotten? He +killed my father, before our eyes! He killed Marie Le Goff! He tried to +kill you! . . . No, what I feel for him is hatred and disgust! The +monster!" + +The Breton woman took her hand, as she had formed a habit of doing, and +murmured: + +"Don't condemn him yet . . . . He did not know what he was doing." + +"What do you mean? He didn't know? Why, I saw his eyes, Vorski's eyes!" + +"He did not know . . . he was mad." + +"Mad? Nonsense!" + +"Yes, Madame Véronique. I know the boy. He's the kindest creature on +earth. If he did all this, it was because he went mad suddenly . . . he +and M. Stéphane. They must both be weeping in despair now." + +"It's impossible. I can't believe it." + +"You can't believe it because you know nothing of what is happening +. . . and of what is going to happen . . . . But, if you did know . . . +Oh, there are things . . . there are things!" + +Her voice was no longer audible. She was silent, but her eyes remained +wide open and her lips moved without uttering a sound. + +Nothing occurred until the morning. At five o'clock Véronique heard them +nailing down the coffins; and almost immediately afterwards the door of +the room in which she sat was opened and the sisters Archignat entered +like a whirlwind, both greatly excited. + +They had heard the truth from Corréjou, who, to give himself courage, +had taken a drop too much to drink and was talking at random: + +"Maguennoc is dead!" they screamed. "Maguennoc is dead and you never +told us! Give us our money, quick! We're going!" + +The moment they were paid, they ran away as fast as their legs would +carry them; and, an hour later, some other women, informed by them, came +hurrying to drag their men from their work. They all used the same +words: + +"We must go! We must get ready to start! . . . It'll be too late +afterwards. The two boats can take us all." + +Honorine had to intervene with all her authority and Véronique was +obliged to distribute money. And the funeral was hurriedly conducted. +Not far away was an old chapel, carefully restored by M. d'Hergemont, +where a priest came once a month from Pont-l'Abbé to say mass. Beside it +was the ancient cemetery of the abbots of Sarek. The two bodies were +buried here; and an old man, who in ordinary times acted as sacristan, +mumbled the blessing. + +All the people seemed smitten with madness. Their voices and movements +were spasmodic. They were obsessed with the fixed idea of leaving the +island and paid no attention to Véronique, who knelt a little way off, +praying and weeping. + +It was all over before eight o'clock. Men and women made their way down +across the island. Véronique, who felt as though she were living in a +nightmare world where events followed upon one another without logic and +with no connected sequence, went back to Honorine, whose feeble +condition had prevented her from attending her master's funeral. + +"I'm feeling better," said the Breton woman. "We shall go to-day or +to-morrow and we shall go with François." + +Véronique protested angrily; but Honorine repeated: + +"With François, I tell you, and with M. Stéphane. And as soon as +possible. I also want to go . . . and to take you with me . . . and +François too. There is death in the island. Death is the master here. We +must leave Sarek. We shall all go." + +Véronique did not wish to thwart her. But at nine o'clock hurried steps +were heard outside. It was Corréjou, coming from the village. On +reaching the door he shouted: + +"They've stolen your motor-boat, Ma'me Honorine! She's disappeared!" + +"Impossible!" said Honorine. + +But the sailor, all out of breath, declared: + +"She's disappeared. I suspected something this morning early. But I +expect I had had a glass too much; I did not give it another thought. +Others have since seen what I did. The painter has been cut . . . . It +happened during the night. And they've made off. No one saw or heard +them." + +The two women exchanged glances; and the same thought occurred to both +of them: François and Stéphane Maroux had taken to flight. + +Honorine muttered between her teeth: + +"Yes, yes, that's it: he understands how to work the boat." + +Véronique perhaps felt a certain relief at knowing that the boy had gone +and that she would not see him again. But Honorine, seized with a +renewed fear, exclaimed: + +"Then . . . then what are we to do?" + +"You must leave at once, Ma'me Honorine. The boats are ready . . . +everybody's packing up. There'll be no one in the village by eleven +o'clock." + +Véronique interposed: + +"Honorine's not in a condition to travel." + +"Yes, I am; I'm better," the Breton woman declared. + +"No, it would be ridiculous. Let us wait a day or two . . . . Come back +in two days, Corréjou." + +She pushed the sailor towards the door. He, for that matter, was only +too anxious to go: + +"Very well," he said, "that'll do: I'll come back the day after +to-morrow. Besides, we can't take everything with us. We shall have to +come back now and again to fetch our things . . . . Good-bye, Ma'me +Honorine; take care of yourself." + +And he ran outside. + +"Corréjou! Corréjou!" + +Honorine was sitting up in bed and calling to him in despair: + +"No, no, don't go away, Corréjou! . . . Wait for me and carry me to your +boat." + +She listened; and, as the man did not return, she tried to get up: + +"I'm frightened," she said. "I don't want to be left alone." + +Véronique held her down: + +"You're not going to be left alone, Honorine. I shan't leave you." + +There was an actual struggle between the two women; and Honorine, pushed +back on her bed by main force, moaned, helplessly: + +"I'm frightened . . . . I'm frightened . . . . The island is accursed +. . . . It's tempting Providence to remain behind . . . . Maguennoc's +death was a warning . . . . I'm frightened . . . ." + +She was more or less delirious, but still retained a half-lucidity which +enabled her to intersperse a few intelligible and reasonable remarks +among the incoherent phrases which revealed her superstitious Breton +soul. + +She gripped Véronique by her two shoulders and declared: + +"I tell you, the island's cursed. Maguennoc confessed as much himself +one day: 'Sarek is one of the gates of hell,' he said. 'The gate is +closed now, but, on the day when it opens, every misfortune you can +think of will be upon it like a squall.'" + +She calmed herself a little, at Véronique's entreaty, and continued, in +a lower voice, which grew fainter as she spoke: + +"He loved the island, though . . . as we all do. At such times he would +speak of it in a way which I did not understand: 'The gate is a double +one, Honorine, and it also opens on Paradise.' Yes, yes, the island was +good to live in . . . . We loved it . . . . Maguennoc made flowers grow +on it . . . . Oh, those flowers! They were enormous: three times as tall +. . . and as beautiful . . ." + +The minutes passed slowly. The bedroom was at the extreme left of the +house, just above the rocks which overhung the sea and separated from +them only by the width of the road. + +Véronique sat down at the window, with her eyes fixed on the white waves +which grew still more troubled as the wind blew more strongly. The sun +was rising. In the direction of the village she saw nothing except a +steep headland. But, beyond the belt of foam studded with the black +points of the reefs, the view embraced the deserted plains of the +Atlantic. + +Honorine murmured, drowsily: + +"They say that the gate is a stone . . . and that it comes from very far +away, from a foreign country. It's the God-Stone. They also say that +it's a precious stone . . . the colour of gold and silver mixed . . . . +The God-Stone . . . . The stone that gives life or death . . . . +Maguennoc saw it . . . . He opened the gate and put his arm through +. . . . And his hand . . . his hand was burnt to a cinder." + +Véronique felt oppressed. Fear was gradually overcoming her also, like +the oozing and soaking of stagnant water. The horrible events of the +last few days, of which she had been a terrified witness, seemed to +evoke others yet more dreadful, which she anticipated like an inevitable +hurricane that is bound to carry off everything in its headlong course. + +She expected them. She had no doubt that they would come, unloosed by +the fatal power which was multiplying its terrible assaults upon her. + +"Don't you see the boats?" asked Honorine. + +"No," she said, "you can't see them from here." + +"Yes, you can: they are sure to come this way. They are heavy boats: and +there's a wider passage at the point." + +The next moment, Véronique saw the bow of a boat project beyond the end +of the headland. The boat lay low in the water, being very heavily +laden, crammed with crates and parcels on which women and children were +seated. Four men were rowing lustily. + +"That's Corréjou's," said Honorine, who had left her bed, half-dressed. +"And there's the other: look." + +The second boat came into view, equally burdened. Only three men were +rowing, with a woman to help them. + +Both boats were too far away--perhaps seven or eight hundred yards--to +allow the faces of the occupants to be seen. And no sound of voices rose +from those heavy hulls with their cargoes of wretchedness, which were +fleeing from death. + +"Oh dear, oh dear!" moaned Honorine. "If only they escape this hell!" + +"What can you be afraid of, Honorine? They are in no danger." + +"Yes, they are, as long as they have not left the island." + +"But they have left it." + +"It's still the island all around the island. It's there that the +coffins lurk and lie in wait." + +"But the sea is not rough." + +"There's more than the sea. It's not the sea that's the enemy." + +"Then what is?" + +"I don't know . . . . I don't know . . . ." + +The two boats veered round at the southern point. Before them lay two +channels, which Honorine pointed out by the name of two reefs, the +Devil's Rock and the Sarek Tooth. + +It at once became evident that Corréjou had chosen the Devil's Channel. + +"They're touching it," said Honorine. "They are there. Another hundred +yards and they are safe." + +She almost gave a chuckle: + +"Ah, all the devil's machinations will be thwarted, Madame Véronique! I +really believe that we shall be saved, you and I and all the people of +Sarek." + +Véronique remained silent. Her depression continued and was all the more +overwhelming because she could attribute it only to vague presentiments +which she was powerless to fight against. She had drawn an imaginary +line up to which the danger threatened, would continue to threaten, and +where it still persisted; and this line Corréjou had not yet reached. + +Honorine was shivering with fever. She mumbled: + +"I'm frightened . . . . I'm frightened . . . ." + +"Nonsense," declared Véronique, pulling herself together, "It's absurd! +Where can the danger come from?" + +"Oh," cried the Breton woman, "what's that? What does it mean?" + +"What? What is it?" + +They had both pressed their foreheads to the panes and were staring +wildly before them. Down below, something had so to speak shot out from +the Devil's Rock. And they at once recognized the motor-boat which they +had used the day before and which according to Corréjou had disappeared. + +"François! François!" cried Honorine, in stupefaction. "François and +Monsieur Stéphane!" + +Véronique recognized the boy. He was standing in the bow of the +motor-boat and making signs to the people in the two rowing-boats. The +men answered by waving their oars, while the women gesticulated. In +spite of Véronique's opposition, Honorine opened both halves of the +window; and they could hear the sound of voices above the throbbing of +the motor, though they could not catch a single word. + +"What does it mean?" repeated Honorine. "François and M. Stéphane! . . . +Why did they not make for the mainland?" + +"Perhaps," Véronique explained, "they were afraid of being observed and +questioned on landing." + +"No, they are known, especially François, who often used to go with me. +Besides, the identity-papers are in the boat. No, they were waiting +there, hidden behind the rock." + +"But, Honorine, if they were hiding, why do they show themselves now?" + +"Ah, that's just it, that's just it! . . . I don't understand . . . and +it strikes me as odd . . . . What must Corréjou and the others think?" + +The two boats, of which the second was now gliding in the wake of the +first, had almost stopped. All the passengers seemed to be looking round +at the motor-boat, which came rapidly in their direction and slackened +speed when she was level with the second boat. In this way, she +continued on a line parallel with that of the two boats and fifteen or +twenty yards away. + +"I don't understand . . . . I don't understand," muttered Honorine. + +The motor had been cut off and the motor-boat now very slowly reached +the space that separated the two fish-boats. + +And suddenly the two women saw François stoop and then stand up again +and draw his right arm back, as though he were going to throw something. + +And at the same time Stéphane Maroux acted in the same way. + +Then the unexpected, terrifying thing happened. + +"Oh!" cried Véronique. + +She hid her eyes for a second, but at once raised her head again and saw +the hideous sight in all its horror. + +Two things had been thrown across the little space, one from the bow, +flung by François, the other from the stern, flung by Stéphane Maroux. + +And two bursts of fire at once shot up from the two boats, followed by +two whirls of smoke. + +The explosions re-echoed. For a moment, nothing of what happened amid +that black cloud was visible. Then the curtain parted, blown aside by +the wind, and Véronique and Honorine saw the two boats swiftly sinking, +while their occupants jumped into the sea. + +The sight, the infernal sight, did not last long. They saw, standing on +one of the buoys that marked the channel, a woman holding a child in her +arms, without moving: then some motionless bodies, no doubt killed by +the explosion; then two men fighting, mad perhaps. And all this went +down with the boats. + +A few eddies, some black specks floating on the surface; and that was +all. + +Honorine and Véronique, struck dumb with terror, had not uttered a +single word. The thing surpassed the worst that their anguished minds +could have conceived. + +When it was all over, Honorine put her hand to her head and, in a hollow +voice which Véronique was never to forget, said: + +"My head's bursting. Oh, the poor people of Sarek! They were my friends, +the friends of my childhood; and I shall never see them again . . . . +The sea never gives up its dead at Sarek: it keeps them. It has its +coffins all ready: thousands and thousands of hidden coffins . . . . Oh, +my head is bursting! . . . I shall go mad . . . mad like François, my +poor François!" + +Véronique did not answer. She was grey in the face. With clutching +fingers she clung to the balcony, gazing downwards as one gazes into an +abyss into which one is about to fling oneself. What would her son do? +Would he save those people, whose shouts of distress now reached her +ears, would he save them without delay? One may have fits of madness; +but the attacks pass away at the sight of certain things. + +The motor-boat had backed at first to avoid the eddies. François and +Stéphane, whose red cap and white cap were still visible, were standing +in the same positions at the bow and the stern; and they held in their +hands . . . what? The two women could not see clearly, because of the +distance, what they held in their hands. It looked like two rather long +sticks. + +"Poles, to help them," suggested Véronique. + +"Or guns," said Honorine. + +The black specks were still floating. There were nine of them, the nine +heads of the survivors, whose arms also the two women saw moving from +time to time and whose cries for help they heard. + +Some were hurriedly moving away from the motor-boat, but four were +swimming towards it; and, of those four, two could not fail to reach it. + +Suddenly François and Stéphane made the same movement, the movement of +marksmen taking aim. + +There were two flashes, followed by the sound of a single report. + +The heads of the two swimmers disappeared. + +"Oh, the monsters!" stammered Véronique, almost swooning and falling on +her knees. + +Honorine, beside her, began screaming: + +"François! François!" + +Her voice did not carry, first because it was too weak and then the wind +was in her face. But she continued: + +"François! François!" + +She next stumbled across the room and into the corridor, in search of +something, and returned to the window, still shouting: + +"François! François!" + +She had ended by finding the shell which she used as a signal. But, on +lifting it to her mouth, she found that she could produce only dull and +indistinct sounds from it: + +"Oh, curse the thing!" she cried, flinging the shell away. "I have no +strength left . . . . François! François!" + +She was terrible to look at, with her hair all in disorder and her face +covered with the sweat of fever. Véronique implored her: + +"Please, Honorine, please!" + +"But look at them, look at them!" + +The motor-boat was drifting forward down below, with the two marksmen at +their posts, holding their guns ready for murder. + +The survivors fled. Two of them hung back in the rear. + +These two were aimed at. Their heads disappeared from view. + +"But look at them!" Honorine said, explosively, in a hoarse voice. +"They're hunting them down! They're killing them like game! . . . Oh, +the poor people of Sarek! . . ." + +Another shot. Another black speck vanished. + +Véronique was writhing in despair. She shook the rails of the balcony, +as she might have shaken the bars of a cage in which she was imprisoned. + +"Vorski! Vorski!" she groaned, stricken by the recollection of her +husband. "He's Vorski's son!" + +Suddenly she felt herself seized by the throat and saw, close to her own +face, the distorted face of the Breton woman. + +"He's your son!" spluttered Honorine. "Curse you! You are the monster's +mother and you shall be punished for it!" + +And she burst out laughing and stamping her feet, in an overpowering fit +of hilarity. + +"The cross, yes, the cross! You shall be crucified, with nails through +your hands! . . . What a punishment, nails through your hands!" + +She was mad. + +Véronique released herself and tried to hold the other motionless: but +Honorine, filled with malicious rage, threw her off, making her lose +balance, and began to climb into the balcony. + +She remained standing outside the window, lifting up her arms and once +more shouting: + +"François! François!" + +The first floor was not so high on this side of the house, owing to the +slope of the ground. Honorine jumped into the path below, crossed it, +pushed her way through the shrubs that lined it and ran to the ridge of +rocks which formed the cliff and overhung the sea. + +She stopped for a moment, thrice called out the name of the child whom +she had reared and flung herself headlong into the deep. + +In the distance, the man-hunt drew to a finish. + +The heads sank one by one. The massacre was completed. + +Then the motor-boat with François and Stéphane on board fled towards the +coast of Brittany, towards the beaches of Beg-Meil and Concarneau. + +Véronique was left alone on Coffin Island. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +"FOUR WOMEN CRUCIFIED" + + +Véronique was left alone on Coffin Island. Until the sun sank among the +clouds that seemed, on the horizon, to rest upon the sea, she did not +move, but sat huddled against the window, with her head buried in her +two arms resting on the sill. + +The dread reality passed through the darkness of her mind like pictures +which she strove not to see, but which at times became so clearly +defined that she imagined herself to be living through those atrocious +scenes again. + +Still she sought no explanation of all this and formed no theories as to +all the motives which might have thrown a light upon the tragedy. She +admitted the madness of François and of Stéphane Maroux, being unable to +suppose any other reasons for such actions as theirs. And, believing the +two murderers to be mad, she did not even try to attribute to them any +projects or definite wishes. + +Moreover, Honorine's madness, of which she had, so to speak, observed +the outbreak, impelled her to look upon all that had happened as +provoked by a sort of mental upset to which all the people of Sarek had +fallen victims. She herself at moments felt that her brain was reeling, +that her ideas were fading away in a mist, that invisible ghosts were +hovering around her. + +She dozed off into a sleep which was haunted by these images and in +which she felt so wretched that she began to sob. Also it seemed to her +that she could hear a slight noise which, in her benumbed wits, assumed +a hostile significance. Enemies were approaching. She opened her eyes. + +A couple of yards in front of her, sitting upon its haunches, was a +queer animal, covered with long mud-coloured hair and holding its +fore-paws folded like a pair of arms. + +It was a dog; and she at once remembered François' dog, of which +Honorine had spoken as a dear, devoted, comical creature. She even +remembered his name, All's-Well. + +As she uttered this name in an undertone, she felt an angry impulse and +was almost driving away the animal endowed with such an ironical +nickname. All's-Well! And she thought of all the victims of the horrible +nightmare, of all the dead people of Sarek, of her murdered father, of +Honorine killing herself, of François going mad. All's-Well, forsooth! + +Meanwhile the dog did not stir. He was sitting up as Honorine had +described, with his head a little on one side, one eye closed, the +corners of his mouth drawn back to his ears and his arms crossed in +front of him; and there was really something very like a smile flitting +over his face. + +Véronique now remembered: this was the manner in which All's-Well +displayed his sympathy for those in trouble. All's-Well could not bear +the sight of tears. When people wept, he sat up until they in their turn +smiled and petted him. + +Véronique did not smile, but she pressed him against her and said: + +"No, my poor dog, all's not well; on the contrary, all's as bad as it +can be. No matter: we must live, mustn't we, and we mustn't go mad +ourselves like the others?" + +The necessities of life obliged her to act. She went down to the +kitchen, found some food and gave the dog a good share of it. Then she +went upstairs again. + +Night had fallen. She opened, on the first floor, the door of a bedroom +which at ordinary times must have been unoccupied. She was weighed down +with an immense fatigue, caused by all the efforts and violent emotions +which she had undergone. She fell asleep almost at once. All's Well lay +awake at the foot of her bed. + +Next morning she woke late, with a curious feeling of peace and +security. It seemed to her that her present life was somehow connected +with her calm and placid life at Besançon. The few days of horror which +she had passed fell away from her like distant events whose return she +had no need to fear. The men and women who had gone under in the great +horror became to her mind almost like strangers whom one has met and +does not expect to see again. Her heart ceased bleeding. Her sorrow for +them did not reach the depths of her soul. + +It was due to the unforeseen and undisturbed rest, the consoling +solitude. And all this seemed to her so pleasant that, when a steamer +came and anchored on the spot of the disaster, she made no signal. No +doubt yesterday, from the mainland, they had seen the flash of the +explosions and heard the report of the shots. Véronique remained +motionless. + +She saw a boat put off from the steamer and supposed that they were +going to land and explore the village. But not only did she dread an +enquiry in which her son might be involved: she herself did not wish to +be found, to be questioned, to have her name, her identity, her story +discovered and to be brought back into the infernal circle from which +she had escaped. She preferred to wait a week or two, to wait until +chance brought within hailing-distance of the island some fishing-boat +which could pick her up. + +But no one came to the Priory. The steamer put off; and nothing +disturbed her isolation. + +And so she remained for three days. Fate seemed to have reconsidered its +intention of making fresh assaults upon her. She was alone and her own +mistress. All's Well, whose company had done her a world of good, +disappeared. + +The Priory domain occupied the whole end of the island, on the site of a +Benedictine abbey, which had been abandoned in the fifteenth century and +gradually fallen into ruin and decay. + +The house, built in the eighteenth century by a wealthy Breton +ship-owner out of the materials of the old abbey and the stones of the +chapel, was in no way interesting either outside or in. Véronique, for +that matter, did not dare to enter any of the rooms. The memory of her +father and son checked her before the closed doors. + +But, on the second day, in the bright spring sunshine, she explored the +park. It extended to the point of the island and, like the sward in +front of the house, was studded with ruins and covered with ivy. She +noticed that all the paths ran towards a steep promontory crowned with a +clump of enormous oaks. When she reached the spot, she found that these +oaks stood round a crescent-shaped clearing which was open to the sea. + +In the centre of the clearing was a cromlech with a rather short, oval +table upheld by two supports of rock, which were almost square. The spot +possessed an impressive magnificence and commanded a boundless view. + +"The Fairies' Dolmen, of which Honorine spoke," thought Véronique. "I +cannot be far from the Calvary and Maguennoc's flowers." + +She walked round the megalith. The inner surface of the two uprights +bore a few illegible engraved signs. But the two outer surfaces facing +the sea formed as it were two smooth slabs prepared to receive an +inscription; and here she saw something that caused her to shudder with +anguish. On the right, deeply encrusted, was an unskilful, primitive +drawing of four crosses with four female figures writhing upon them. On +the left was a column of lines of writing, whose characters, +inadequately carved in the stone, had been almost obliterated by the +weather, or perhaps even deliberately effaced by human hands. A few +words remained, however, the very words which Véronique had read on the +drawing which she found beside Maguennoc's corpse: + +"Four women crucified . . . . Thirty coffins . . . . The God-Stone which +gives life or death." + +Véronique moved away, staggering. The mystery was once more before her, +as everywhere in the island, and she was determined to escape from it +until the moment when she could leave Sarek altogether. + +She took a path which started from the clearing and led past the last +oak on the right. This oak appeared to have been struck by lightning, +for all that remained of it was the trunk and a few dead branches. + +Farther on, she went down some stone steps, crossed a little meadow in +which stood four rows of menhirs and stopped suddenly with a stifled +cry, a cry of admiration and amazement, before the sight that presented +itself to her eyes. + +"Maguennoc's flowers," she whispered. + +The last two menhirs of the central alley which she was following stood +like the posts of a door that opened upon the most glorious spectacle, a +rectangular space, fifty yards long at most, which was reached by a +short descending flight of steps and bordered by two rows of menhirs all +of the same height and placed at accurately measured intervals, like the +columns of a temple. The nave and side-aisles of this temple were paved +with wide, irregular, broken granite flag-stones, which the grass, +growing in the cracks, marked with patterns similar to those of the lead +which frames the pieces of a stained-glass window. + +In the middle was a small bed of flowers thronging around an ancient +stone crucifix. But such flowers! Flowers which the wildest imagination +or fancy never conceived, dream-flowers, miraculous flowers, flowers out +of all proportion to ordinary flowers! + +Véronique recognized all of them; and yet she stood dumbfounded at their +size and splendour. There were flowers of many varieties, but few of +each variety. It was like a nosegay made to contain every colour, every +perfume and every beauty that flowers can possess. + +And the strangest thing was that these flowers, which do not usually +bloom at the same time and which open in successive months, were all +growing and blossoming together! On one and the same day, these flowers, +all perennial flowers whose time does not last much more than two or +three weeks, were blooming and multiplying, full and heavy, vivid, +sumptuous, proudly borne on their sturdy stems. + +There were spiderworts, there were ranunculi, tiger-lilies, columbines, +blood-red potentillas, irises of a brighter violet than a bishop's +cassock. There were larkspurs, phlox, fuchsias, monk's-hoods, +montbretias. And, above all this, to Véronique's intense emotion, above +the dazzling flower-bed, standing a little higher in a narrow border +around the pedestal of the crucifix, with all their blue, white and +violet clusters seeming to lift themselves so as to touch the Saviour's +very form, were veronicas! + +She was faint with emotion. As she came nearer, she had read on a little +label fastened to the pedestal these two words. + +"Mother's flowers." + + * * * * * + +Véronique did not believe in miracles. She was obliged to admit that the +flowers were wonderful, beyond all comparison with the flowers of our +climes. But she refused to think that this anomaly was not to be +explained except by supernatural causes or by magic recipes of which +Maguennoc held the secret. No, there was some reason, perhaps a very +simple one, of which events would afford a full explanation. + +Meanwhile, amid the beautiful pagan setting, in the very centre of the +miracle which it seemed to have wrought by its presence, the figure of +Christ Crucified rose from the mass of flowers which offered Him their +colours and their perfumes. Véronique knelt and prayed. + +Next day and the day after, she returned to the Calvary of the Flowers. +Here the mystery that surrounded her on every side had manifested itself +in the most charming fashion; and her son played a part in it that +enabled Véronique to think of him, before her own flowers, without +hatred or despair. + +But, on the fifth day, she perceived that her provisions were becoming +exhausted; and in the middle of the afternoon she went down to the +village. + +There she noticed that most of the houses had been left open, so certain +had their owners been, on leaving, of coming back again and taking what +they needed in a second trip. + +Sick at heart, she dared not cross the thresholds. There were geraniums +on the window-ledges. Tall clocks with brass pendulums were ticking off +the time in the empty rooms. She moved away. + +In a shed near the quay, however, she saw the sacks and boxes which +Honorine had brought with her in the motor-boat. + +"Well," she thought, "I shan't starve. There's enough to last me for +weeks; and by that time . . ." + +She filled a basket with chocolate, biscuits, a few tins of preserved +meat, rice and matches; and she was on the point of returning to the +Priory, when it occurred to her that she would continue her walk to the +other end of the island. She would fetch her basket on the way back. + +A shady road climbed upwards on the right. The landscape seemed to be +the same: the same flat stretches of moorland, without ploughed fields +or pastures; the same clumps of ancient oaks. The island also became +narrower, with no obstacle to block the view of the sea on either side +or of the Penmarch headland in the distance. + +There was also a hedge which ran from one cliff to the other and which +served to enclose a property, a shabby property, with a straggling, +dilapidated, tumbledown house upon it, some out-houses with patched +roofs and a dirty, badly-kept yard, full of scrap-iron and stacks of +firewood. + +Véronique was already retracing her steps, when she stopped in alarm and +surprise. It seemed to her that she heard some one moan. She listened, +striving to plumb the vast silence, and once again the same sound, but +this time more distinctly, reached her ears; and there were others: +cries of pain, cries for help, women's cries. Then had not all the +inhabitants taken to flight? She had a feeling of joy mingled with some +sorrow, to know that she was not alone in Sarek, and of fear also, at +the thought that events would perhaps drag her back again into the fatal +cycle of death and horror. + +So far as Véronique was able to judge, the noise came not from the +house, but from the buildings on the right of the yard. This yard was +closed with a simple gate which she had only to push and which opened +with the creaking sound of wood upon wood. + +The cries in the out-house at once increased in number. The people +inside had no doubt heard Véronique approach. She hastened her steps. + +Though the roof of the out-buildings was gone in places, the walls were +thick and solid, with old arched doors strengthened with iron bars. +There was a knocking against one of these doors from the inside, while +the cries became more urgent: + +"Help! Help!" + +But there was a dispute; and another, less strident voice grated: + +"Be quiet, Clémence, can't you? It may be them!" + +"No, no, Gertrude, it's not! I don't hear them! . . . Open the door, +will you? The key ought to be there." + +Véronique, who was seeking for some means of entering, now saw a big key +in the lock. She turned it; and the door opened. + +She at once recognized the sisters Archignat, half-dressed, gaunt, +evil-looking, witch-like. They were in a wash-house filled with +implements; and Véronique saw at the back, lying on some straw, a third +woman, who was bewailing her fate in an almost inaudible voice and who +was obviously the third sister. + +At that moment, one of the first two collapsed from exhaustion; and the +other, whose eyes were bright with fever, seized Véronique by the arm +and began to gasp: + +"Did you see them, tell me? . . . Are they there? . . . How is it they +didn't kill you? . . . They are the masters of Sarek since the others +went off . . . . And it's our turn next . . . . We've been locked in +here now for six days . . . . Listen, it was on the day when everybody +left. We three came here, to the wash-house, to fetch our linen, which +was drying. And then _they_ came . . . . We didn't hear them . . . . One +never does hear them . . . . And then, suddenly, the door was locked on +us . . . . A slam, a turn of the key . . . and the thing was done +. . . . We had bread, apples and best of all, brandy . . . . We didn't +do so badly . . . . Only, were they going to come back and kill us? Was +it our turn next? . . . Oh, my dear good lady, how we strained our ears! +And how we trembled with fear! . . . My eldest sister's gone crazy +. . . . Hark, you can hear her raving . . . . The other, Clémence, has +borne all she can . . . . And I . . . I . . . Gertrude . . ." + +Gertrude had plenty of strength left, for she was twisting Véronique's +arm: + +"And Corréjou? He came back, didn't he, and went away again? Why didn't +anyone come to look for us? It would have been easy enough: everybody +knew where we were; and we called out at the least sound. So what does +it all mean?" + +Véronique hesitated what to reply. Still, why should she conceal the +truth? + +She replied: + +"The two boats went down." + +"What?" + +"The two boats sank in view of Sarek. All on board were drowned. It was +opposite the Priory . . . after leaving the Devil's Passage." + +Véronique said no more, so as to avoid mentioning the names of François +and his tutor or speaking of the part which these two had played. But +Clémence now sat up, with distorted features. She had been leaning +against the door and raised herself to her knees. + +Gertrude murmured: + +"And Honorine?" + +"Honorine is dead." + +"Dead!" + +The two sisters both cried out at once. Then they were silent and looked +at each other. The same thought struck them both. They seemed to be +reflecting. Gertrude was moving her fingers as though counting. And the +terror on their two faces increased. + +Speaking in a very low voice, as though choking with fear, Gertrude, +with her eyes fixed on Véronique, said: + +"That's it . . . that's it . . . I've got the total . . . . Do you know +how many there were in the boats, without my sisters and me? Do you +know? Twenty . . . . Well, reckon it up: twenty . . . and Maguennoc, who +was the first to die . . . and M. Antoine, who died afterwards . . . and +little François and M. Stéphane, who vanished, but who are dead too +. . . and Honorine and Marie Le Goff, both dead . . . . So reckon it up: +that makes twenty-six, twenty-six . . . The total's correct, isn't it? +. . . Now take twenty-six from thirty . . . . You understand, don't you? +The thirty coffins: they have to be filled . . . . So twenty-six from +thirty . . . leaves four, doesn't it?" + +She could no longer speak; her tongue faltered. Nevertheless the +terrible syllables came from her mouth; and Véronique heard her +stammering: + +"Eh? Do you understand? . . . That leaves four . . . us four . . . the +three sisters Archignat, who were kept behind and locked up . . . and +yourself . . . . So--do you follow me?--the three crosses--you know, the +'four women crucified'--the number's there . . . it's our four selves +. . . there's no one besides us on the island . . . four women . . . ." + +Véronique had listened in silence. She broke out into a slight +perspiration. + +She shrugged her shoulders, however: + +"Well? And then? If there's no one except ourselves on the island, what +are you afraid of?" + +"_Them_, of course! _Them!_" + +Véronique lost her patience: + +"But if everybody has gone!" she exclaimed. + +Gertrude took fright: + +"Speak low. Suppose they heard you!" + +"But who?" + +"_They_: the people of old." + +"The people of old?" + +"Yes, those who used to make sacrifices . . . the people who killed men +and women . . . to please their gods." + +"But that's a thing of the past! The Druids: is that what you mean? +Come, come; there are no Druids nowadays." + +"Speak quietly! Speak quietly! There are still . . . there are evil +spirits . . ." + +"Then they're ghosts?" asked Véronique, horror-stricken by these +superstitions. + +"Ghosts, yes, but ghosts of flesh and blood . . . with hands that lock +doors and keep you imprisoned . . . creatures that sink boats, the same, +I tell you, that killed M. Antoine, Marie Le Goff and the others . . . +that killed twenty-six of us . . . ." + +Véronique did not reply. There was no reply to make. She knew, she knew +only too well who had killed M. d'Hergemont, Marie Le Goff and the +others and sunk the two boats. + +"What time was it when the three of you were locked in?" she asked. + +"Half-past ten . . . . We had arranged to meet Corréjou in the village +at eleven." + +Véronique reflected. It was hardly possible that François and Stéphane +should have had time to be at half-past ten in this place and an hour +later to be behind the rock from which they had darted out upon the two +boats. Was it to be presumed that one or more of their accomplices were +left on the island? + +"In any case," she said, "you must come to a decision. You can't remain +in this state. You must rest yourselves, eat something . . . ." + +The second sister had risen to her feet. She said, in the same hollow +and violent tones as her sister: + +"First of all, we must hide . . . and be able to defend ourselves +against _them_." + +"What do you mean?" asked Véronique. + +She too, in spite of herself, felt this need of a refuge against a +possible enemy. + +"What do I mean? I'll tell you. The thing has been talked about a lot in +the island, especially this year; and Maguennoc decided that, at the +first attack, everybody should take shelter in the Priory." + +"Why in the Priory?" + +"Because we could defend ourselves there. The cliffs are perpendicular. +You're protected on every side." + +"What about the bridge?" + +"Maguennoc and Honorine thought of everything. There's a little hut +fifteen yards to the left of the bridge. That's the place they hit on to +keep their stock of petrol in. Empty three or four cans over the bridge, +strike a match . . . and the thing's done. You're just as in your own +home. You can't be got at and you can't be attacked." + +"Then why didn't they come to the Priory instead of taking to flight in +the boats?" + +"It was safer to escape in the boats. But we no longer have the choice." + +"And when shall we start?" + +"At once. It's daylight still; and that's better than the dark." + +"But your sister, the one on her back?" + +"We have a barrow. We've got to wheel her. There's a direct road to the +Priory, without passing through the village." + +Véronique could not help looking with repugnance upon the prospect of +living in close intimacy with the sisters Archignat. She yielded, +however, swayed by a fear which she was unable to overcome: + +"Very well," she said. "Let's go. I'll take you to the Priory and come +back to the village to fetch some provisions." + +"Oh, you mustn't be away long!" protested one of the sisters. "As soon +as the bridge is cut, we'll light a bonfire on Fairies' Dolmen Hill and +they'll send a steamer from the mainland. To-day the fog is coming up; +but to-morrow . . ." + +Véronique raised no objection. She now accepted the idea of leaving +Sarek, even at the cost of an enquiry which would reveal her name. + +They started, after the two sisters had swallowed a glass of brandy. The +madwoman sat huddled in the wheel-barrow, laughing softly and uttering +little sentences which she addressed to Véronique as though she wanted +her to laugh too: + +"We shan't meet them yet . . . . They're getting ready . . . ." + +"Shut up, you old fool!" said Gertrude. "You'll bring us bad luck." + +"Yes, yes, we shall see some sport . . . . It'll be great fun . . . . I +have a cross of gold hung round my neck . . . and another cut into the +skin of my head . . . . Look! . . . Crosses everywhere . . . . One ought +to be comfortable on the cross . . . . One ought to sleep well there +. . . ." + +"Shut up, will you, you old fool?" repeated Gertrude, giving her a box +on the ear. + +"All right, all right! . . . But it's they who'll hit you; I see them +hiding! . . ." + +The path, which was pretty rough at first, reached the table-land formed +by the west cliffs, which were loftier, but less rugged and worn away +than the others. The woods were scarcer; and the oaks were all bent by +the wind from the sea. + +"We are coming to the heath which they call the Black Heath," said +Clémence Archignat. + +"_They_ live underneath." + +Véronique once more shrugged her shoulders: + +"How do you know?" + +"We know more than other people," said Gertrude. "They call us witches; +and there's something in it. Maguennoc himself, who knew a great deal, +used to ask our advice about anything that had to do with healing, lucky +stones, the herbs you gather on St. John's Eve . . ." + +"Mugwort and vervain," chuckled the madwoman. "They are picked at +sunset." + +"Or tradition too," continued Gertrude. "We know what's been said in the +island for hundreds of years; and it's always been said that there was a +whole town underneath, with streets and all, in which _they_ used to +live of old. And there are some left still, I've seen them myself." + +Véronique did not reply. + +"Yes, my sister and I saw one. Twice, when the June moon was six days +old. He was dressed in white . . . and he was climbing the Great Oak to +gather the sacred mistletoe . . . with a golden sickle. The gold +glittered in the moonlight. I saw it, I tell you, and others saw it too +. . . . And he's not the only one. There are several of them left over +from the old days to guard the treasure . . . . Yes, as I say, the +treasure . . . . They say it's a stone which works miracles, which can +make you die if you touch it and which makes you live if you lie down on +it. That's all true, Maguennoc told us so, all perfectly true. _They_ of +old guard the stone, the God-Stone, and _they_ are to sacrifice all of +us this year . . . . yes, all of us, thirty dead people for the thirty +coffins . . . ." + +"Four women crucified," crooned the madwoman. + +"And it will be soon. The sixth day of the moon is near at hand. We must +be gone before _they_ climb the Great Oak to gather the mistletoe. Look, +you can see the Great Oak from here. It's in the wood on this side of +the bridge. It stands out above the others." + +"_They_ are hiding behind it," said the madwoman, turning round in her +wheel-barrow. "_They_ are waiting for us." + +"That'll do; and don't you stir . . . . As I was saying, you see the +Great Oak . . . over there . . . beyond the end of the heath. It is +. . . it is . . ." + +She dropped the wheel-barrow, without finishing her sentence. + +"Well?" asked Clémence. "What's the matter?" + +"I've seen something," stammered Gertrude. "Something white, moving +about." + +"Something? What do you mean? _They_ don't show themselves in broad +daylight! You've gone cross-eyed." + +They both looked for a moment and then went on again. Soon the Great Oak +was out of sight. + +The heath which they were now crossing was wild and rough, covered with +stones lying flat like tombstones and all pointing in the same +direction. + +"It's _their_ burying-ground," whispered Gertrude. + +They said nothing more. Gertrude repeatedly had to stop and rest. +Clémence had not the strength to push the wheel-barrow. They were both +of them tottering on their legs; and they gazed into the distance with +anxious eyes. + +They went down a dip in the ground and up again. The path joined that +which Véronique had taken with Honorine on the first day; and they +entered the wood which preceded the bridge. + +Presently the growing excitement of the sisters Archignat made +Véronique understand that they were approaching the Great Oak; and she +saw it standing on a mound of earth and roots, bigger than the others +and separated from them by wider intervals. She could not help thinking +that it was possible for several men to hide behind that massive trunk +and that perhaps several were hiding there now. + +Notwithstanding their fears, the sisters had quickened their pace; and +they kept their eyes turned from the fatal tree. + +They left it behind. Véronique breathed more freely. All danger was +passed; and she was just about to laugh at the sisters Archignat, when +one of them, Clémence, spun on her heels and dropped with a moan. + +At the same time something fell to the ground, something that had struck +Clémence in the back. It was an axe, a stone axe. + +"Oh, the thunder-stone, the thunder-stone!" cried Gertrude. + +She looked up for a second, as if, in accordance with the inveterate +popular belief, she believed that the axe came from the sky and was an +emanation of the thunder. + +But, at that moment, the madwoman, who had got out of her barrow, leapt +from the ground and fell head forward. Something else had whizzed +through the air. The madwoman was writhing with pain. Gertrude and +Véronique saw an arrow which had been driven through her shoulder and +was still vibrating. + +Then Gertrude fled screaming. + +Véronique hesitated. Clémence and the madwoman were rolling about on +the ground. The madwoman giggled: + +"Behind the oak! They're hiding . . . I see them." + +Clémence stammered: + +"Help! . . . Lift me up . . . carry me . . . I'm terrified!" + +But another arrow whizzed past them and fell some distance farther. + +Véronique now also took to her heels, urged not so much by panic, though +this would have been excusable, as by the eager longing to find a weapon +and defend herself. She remembered that in her father's study there was +a glass case filled with guns and revolvers, all bearing the word +"loaded," no doubt as a warning to François; and it was one of these +that she wished to seize in order to face the enemy. She did not even +turn round. She was not interested to know whether she was being +pursued. She ran for the goal, the only profitable goal. + +Being lighter and swifter of foot, she overtook Gertrude, who panted: + +"The bridge . . . . We must burn it . . . . The petrol's there . . . ." + +Véronique did not reply. Breaking down the bridge was a secondary matter +and would even have been an obstacle to her plan of taking a gun and +attacking the enemy. + +But, when she reached the bridge, Gertrude whirled about in such a way +that she almost fell down the precipice. An arrow had struck her in the +back. + +"Help! Help!" she screamed. "Don't leave me!" + +"I'm coming back," replied Véronique, who had not seen the arrow and +thought that Gertrude had merely caught her foot in running. "I'm coming +back, with two guns. You join me." + +She imagined in her mind that, once they were both armed, they would go +back to the wood and rescue the other sisters. Redoubling her efforts, +therefore, she reached the wall of the estate, ran across the grass and +went up to her father's study. Here she stopped to recover her breath; +and, after she had taken the two guns, her heart beat so fast that she +had to go back at a slower pace. + +She was astonished at not meeting Gertrude, at not seeing her. She +called her. No reply. And it was not till then that the thought occurred +to her that Gertrude had been wounded like her sisters. + +She once more broke into a run. But, when she came within sight of the +bridge, she heard shrill cries pierce through the buzzing in her ears +and, on coming into the open opposite the sharp ascent that led to the +wood of the Great Oak, she saw . . . + +What she saw rivetted her to the entrance to the bridge. On the other +side, Gertrude was sprawling upon the ground, struggling, clutching at +the roots, digging her nails into the grass and slowly, slowly, with an +imperceptible and uninterrupted movement, moving along the slope. + +And Véronique became aware that the unfortunate woman was fastened under +the arms and round the waist by a cord which was hoisting her up, like a +bound and helpless prey, and which was pulled by invisible hands above. + +Véronique raised one of the guns to her shoulder. But at what enemy was +she to take aim? What enemy was she to fight? Who was hiding behind the +trees and stones that crowned the hill like a rampart? + +Gertrude slipped between those stones, between those trees. She had +ceased screaming, no doubt she was exhausted and swooning. She +disappeared from sight. + +Véronique had not moved. She realized the futility of any venture or +enterprise. By rushing into a contest in which she was beaten beforehand +she would not be able to rescue the sisters Archignat and would merely +offer herself to the conqueror as a new and final victim. + +Besides, she was overcome with fear. Everything was happening in +accordance with the ruthless logic of facts of which she did not grasp +the meaning but which all seemed connected like the links of a chain. +She was afraid, afraid of those beings, afraid of those ghosts, +instinctively and unconsciously afraid, afraid like the sisters +Archignat, like Honorine, like all the victims of the terrible scourge. + +She stooped, so as not to be seen from the Great Oak, and, bending +forward and taking the shelter offered by some bramble-bushes, she +reached the little hut of which the sisters Archignat had spoken, a sort +of summer-house with a pointed roof and coloured tiles. Half the +summer-house was filled with cans of petrol. + +From here she overlooked the bridge, on which no one could step without +being seen by her. But no one came down from the wood. + +Night fell, a night of thick fog silvered by the moon which just +allowed Véronique to see the opposite side. + +After an hour, feeling a little reassured, she made a first trip with +two cans which she emptied on the outer beams of the bridge. + +Ten times, with her ears pricked up, carrying her gun slung over her +shoulder and prepared at any moment to defend herself, she repeated the +journey. She poured the petrol a little at random, groping her way and +yet as far as possible selecting the places where her sense of touch +seemed to tell her that the wood was most rotten. + +She had a box of matches, the only one that she had found in the house. +She took out a match and hesitated a moment, frightened at the thought +of the great light it would make: + +"Even so," she reflected, "if it could be seen from the mainland . . . +But, with this fog . . ." + +Suddenly she struck the match and at once lit a paper torch which she +had prepared by soaking it in petrol. + +A great flame blazed and burnt her fingers. Then she threw the paper in +a pool of petrol which had formed in a hollow and fled back to the +summer-house. + +The fire flared up immediately and, at one flash, spread over the whole +part which she had sprinkled. The cliffs on the two islands, the strip +of granite that united them, the big trees around, the hill, the wood of +the Great Oak and the sea at the bottom of the ravine: these were all +lit up. + +"_They_ know where I am . . . . _They_ are looking at the summer-house +where I am hiding," thought Véronique, keeping her eyes fixed on the +Great Oak. + +But not a shadow passed through the wood. Not a sound of voices reached +her ears. Those concealed above did not leave their impenetrable +retreat. + +In a few minutes, half the bridge collapsed, with a great crash and a +gush of sparks. But the other half went on burning; and at every moment +a piece of timber tumbled into the precipice, lighting up the depths of +the night. + +Each time that this happened, Véronique had a sense of relief and her +overstrung nerves grew relaxed. A feeling of security crept over her and +became more and more justified as the gulf between her and her enemies +widened. Nevertheless she remained inside the summer-house and resolved +to wait for the dawn in order to make sure that no communication was +henceforth possible. + +The fog increased. Everything was shrouded in darkness. About the middle +of the night, she heard a sound on the other side, at the top of the +hill, so far as she could judge. It was the sound of wood-cutters +felling trees, the regular sound of an axe biting into branches which +were finally removed by breaking. + +Véronique had an idea, absurd though she knew it to be, that they were +perhaps building a foot-bridge; and she clutched her gun resolutely. + +About an hour later, she seemed to hear moans and even a stifled cry, +followed, for some time, by the rustle of leaves and the sound of steps +coming and going. This ceased. Once more there was a great silence which +seemed to absorb in space every stirring, every restless, every +quivering, every living thing. + +The numbness produced by the fatigue and hunger from which she was +beginning to suffer left Véronique little power of thought. She +remembered above all that, having failed to bring any provisions from +the village, she had nothing to eat. She did not distress herself, for +she was determined, as soon as the fog lifted--and this was bound to +happen before long--to light bonfires with the cans of petrol. She +reflected that the best place would be at the end of the island, at the +spot where the dolmen stood. + +But suddenly a dreadful thought struck her: had she not left her box of +matches on the bridge? She felt in her pockets but could not find it. +All search was in vain. + +This also did not perturb her unduly. For the time being, the feeling +that she had escaped the attacks of the enemy filled her with such +delight that it seemed to her that all the difficulties would disappear +of their own accord. + +The hours passed in this way, endlessly long hours, which the +penetrating fog and the cold made more painful as the morning +approached. + +Then a faint gleam overspread the sky. Things emerged from the gloom and +assumed their actual forms. And Véronique now saw that the bridge had +collapsed throughout its length. An interval of fifty yards separated +the two islands, which were only joined below by the sharp, pointed, +inaccessible ridge of the cliff. + +She was saved. + +But, on raising her eyes to the hill opposite, she saw, right at the +top of the slope, a sight that made her utter a cry of horror. Three of +the nearest trees of those which crowned the hill and belonged to the +wood of the Great Oak had been stripped of their lower branches. And, on +the three bare trunks, with their arms strained backward, with their +legs bound, under the tatters of their skirts, and with ropes drawn +tight beneath their livid faces, half-hidden by the black bows of their +caps, hung the three sisters Archignat. + +They were crucified. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ALL'S WELL + + +Walking erect, with a stiff and mechanical gait, without turning round +to look at the abominable spectacle, without recking of what might +happen if she were seen, Véronique went back to the Priory. + +A single aim, a single hope sustained her: that of leaving the Isle of +Sarek. She had had her fill of horror. Had she seen three corpses, three +women who had had their throats cut, or been shot, or even hanged, she +would not have felt, as she did now, that her whole being was in revolt. +But this, this torture, was too much. It involved an ignominy, it was an +act of sacrilege, a damnable performance which surpassed the bounds of +wickedness. + +And then she was thinking of herself, the fourth and last victim. Fate +seemed to be leading her towards that catastrophe as a person condemned +to death is pushed on to the scaffold. How could she do other than +tremble with fear? How could she fail to read a warning in the choice of +the hill of the Great Oak for the torture of the three sisters +Archignat? + +She tried to find comfort in words: + +"Everything will be explained. At the bottom of these hideous mysteries +are quite simple causes, actions apparently fantastic but in reality +performed by beings of the same species as myself, who behave as they +do from criminal motives and in accordance with a determined plan. No +doubt all this is only possible because of the war; the war brings about +a peculiar state of affairs in which events of this kind are able to +take place. But, all the same, there is nothing miraculous about it nor +anything inconsistent with the rules of ordinary life." + +Useless phrases! Vain attempts at argument which her brain found +difficulty in following! In reality, upset as she was by violent nervous +shocks, she came to think and feel like all those people of Sarek whose +death she had witnessed. She shared their weakness, she was shaken by +the same terrors, besieged by the same nightmares, unbalanced by the +persistence within her of the instincts of bygone ages and lingering +superstitions ever ready to rise to the surface. + +Who were these invisible beings who persecuted her? Whose mission was it +to fill the thirty coffins of Sarek? Who was it that was wiping out all +the inhabitants of the luckless island? Who was it that lived in +caverns, gathering at the fateful hours the sacred mistletoe and the +herbs of St. John, using axes and arrows and crucifying women? And in +view of what horrible task, of what monstrous duty? In accordance with +what inconceivable plans? Were they spirits of darkness, malevolent +genii, priests of a dead religion, sacrificing men, women and children +to their blood-thirsty gods? + +"Enough, enough, or I shall go mad!" she said, aloud. "I must go! That +must be my only thought: to get away from this hell!" + +But it was as though destiny were taking special pains to torture her! +On beginning her search for a little food, she suddenly noticed, in her +father's study, at the back of a cupboard, a drawing pinned to the wall, +representing the same scene as the roll of paper which she had found +near Maguennoc's body in the deserted cabin. + +A portfolio full of drawings lay on one of the shelves in the cupboard. +She opened it. It contained a number of sketches of the same scene, +likewise in red chalk. Each of them bore above the head of the first +woman the inscription, "V. d'H." One of them was signed, "Antoine +d'Hergemont." + +So it was her father who had made the drawing on Maguennoc's paper! It +was her father who had tried in all these sketches to give the tortured +woman a closer and closer resemblance to his own daughter! + +"Enough, enough!" repeated Véronique. "I won't think, I won't reflect!" + +Feeling very faint, she pursued her search but found nothing with which +to stay her hunger. + +Nor did she find anything that would allow her to light a fire at the +point of the island, though the fog had lifted and the signals would +certainly have been observed. + +She tried rubbing two flints against each other, but she did not +understand how to go to work and she did not succeed. + +For three days she kept herself alive with water and wild grapes +gathered among the ruins. Feverish and utterly exhausted, she had fits +of weeping which nearly every time produced the sudden appearance of +All's Well; and her physical suffering was such that she felt angry with +the poor dog for having that ridiculous name and drove him away. All's +Well, greatly surprised, squatted on his haunches farther off and began +to sit up again. She felt exasperated with him, as though he could help +being François' dog! + +The least sound made her shake from head to foot and covered her with +perspiration. What were the creatures in the Great Oak doing? From which +side were they preparing to attack her? She hugged herself nervously, +shuddering at the thought of falling into those monsters' hands, and +could not keep herself from remembering that she was a beautiful woman +and that they might be tempted by her good looks and her youth. + +But, on the fourth day, a great hope uplifted her. She had found in a +drawer a powerful reading-glass. Taking advantage of the bright +sunshine, she focussed the rays upon a piece of paper which ended by +catching fire and enabling her to light a candle. + +She believed that she was saved. She had discovered quite a stock of +candles, which allowed her, to begin with, to keep the precious flame +alive until the evening. At eleven o'clock, she took a lantern and went +towards the summer-house, intending to set fire to it. It was a fine +night and the signal would be perceived from the coast. + +Fearing to be seen with her light, fearing above all the tragic vision +of the sisters Archignat, whose tragic Calvary was flooded by the +moonlight, she took, on leaving the Priory, another road, more to the +left and bordered with thickets. She walked anxiously, taking care not +to rustle the leaves or stumble over the roots. When she reached open +country, not far from the summer-house, she felt so tired that she had +to sit down. Her head was buzzing. Her heart almost refused to beat. + +She could not see the place of execution from here either. But, on +turning her eyes, despite herself, in the direction of the hill, she +received the impression that something resembling a white figure had +moved. It was in the very heart of the wood, at the end of an avenue +which intersected the thick mass of trees on that side. + +The figure appeared again, in the full moonlight; and Véronique saw, +notwithstanding the considerable distance, that it was the figure of a +person clad in a robe and perched amid the branches of a tree which +stood alone and higher than the others. + +She remembered what the sisters Archignat had said: + +"The sixth day of the moon is near at hand. _They_ will climb the Great +Oak and gather the sacred mistletoe." + +And she now remembered certain descriptions which she had read in books +and different stories which her father had told her; and she felt as if +she were present at one of those Druid ceremonies which had appealed to +her imagination as a child. But at the same time she felt so weak that +she was not convinced that she was awake or that the strange sight +before her eyes was real. Four other figures formed a group at the foot +of the tree and raised their arms as though to catch the bough ready to +fall. A light flashed above. The high-priest's golden sickle had cut off +the bunch of mistletoe. + +Then the high-priest climbed down from the oak; and all five figures +glided along the avenue, skirted the wood and reached the top of the +knoll. + +Véronique, who was unable to take her haggard eyes from those creatures, +bent forward and saw the three corpses hanging each from its tree of +torment. At the distance where she stood, the black bows of the caps +looked like crows. The figures stopped opposite the victims as though to +perform some incomprehensible rite. At last the high-priest separated +himself from the group and, holding the bunch of mistletoe in his hand, +came down the hill and went towards the spot where the first arch of the +bridge was anchored. + +Véronique was almost fainting. Her wavering eyes, before which +everything seemed to dance, fastened on to the glittering sickle which +swung from side to side on the priest's chest, below his long white +beard. What was he going to do? Though the bridge no longer existed, +Véronique was convulsed with anguish. Her legs refused to carry her. She +lay down on the ground, keeping her eyes fixed upon the terrifying +sight. + +On reaching the edge of the chasm, the priest again stopped for a few +seconds. Then he stretched out the arm in which he carried the mistletoe +and, preceded by the sacred plant as by a talisman which altered the +laws of nature in his favour, he took a step forward above the yawning +gulf. + +And he walked thus in space, all white in the moonlight. + +What happened Véronique did not know, nor was she quite sure what had +been happening, if she had not been the sport of an hallucination, nor +at what stage of the strange ceremony this hallucination had originated +in her enfeebled brain. + +She waited with closed eyes for events which did not take place and +which, for that matter, she did not even try to foresee. But other, more +real things preoccupied her mind. Her candle was going out inside the +lantern. She was aware of this; and yet she had not the strength to pull +herself together and return to the Priory. And she said to herself that, +if the sun should not shine again within the next few days, she would +not be able to light the flame and that she was lost. + +She resigned herself, weary of fighting and realizing that she was +defeated beforehand in this unequal contest. The only ending that was +not to be endured was that of being captured. But why not abandon +herself to the death that offered, death from starvation, from +exhaustion? If you suffer long enough, there must come a moment when the +suffering decreases and when you pass, almost unconsciously, from life, +which has grown too cruel, to death, which Véronique was gradually +beginning to desire. + +"That's it, that's it," she murmured. "To go from Sarek or to die: it's +all the same. What I want is to get away." + +A sound of leaves made her open her eyes. The flame of the candle was +expiring. But behind the lantern All's Well was sitting, beating the air +with his fore-paws. + +And Véronique saw that he carried a packet of biscuits, fastened round +his neck by a string. + + * * * * * + +"Tell me your story, you dear old All's Well," said Véronique, next +morning, after a good night's rest in her bedroom at the Priory. "For, +after all, I can't believe that you came to look for me and bring me +food of your own accord. It was an accident, wasn't it? You were +wandering in that direction, you heard me crying and you came to me. But +who tied that little box of biscuits round your neck? Does it mean that +we have a friend in the island, a friend who takes an interest in us? +Why doesn't he show himself? Speak and tell me, All's Well." + +She kissed the dog and went on: + +"And whom were those biscuits intended for? For your master, for +François? Or for Honorine? No? Then for Monsieur Stéphane perhaps?" + +The dog wagged his tail and moved towards the door. He really seemed to +understand. Véronique followed him to Stéphane Maroux's room. All's Well +slipped under the tutor's bed. There were three more cardboard boxes of +biscuits, two packets of chocolate and two tins of preserved meat. And +each parcel was supplied with a string ending in a wide loop, from which +All's Well must have released his head. + +"What does it mean?" asked Véronique, bewildered. "Did you put them under +there? But who gave them to you? Have we actually a friend in the +island, who knows us and knows Stéphane Maroux? Can you take me to him? +He must live on this side of the island, because there is no means of +communicating with the other and you can't have been there." + +Véronique stopped to think. But, in addition to the provisions stowed +away by All's Well, she also noticed a small canvas-covered satchel +under the bed; and she wondered why Stéphane Maroux had hidden it. She +thought that she had the right to open it and to look for some clue to +the part played by the tutor, to his character, to his past perhaps, to +his relations with M. d'Hergemont and François: + +"Yes," she said, "it is my right and even my duty." + +Without hesitation, she took a pair of big scissors and forced the frail +lock. + +The satchel contained nothing but a manuscript-book, with a rubber band +round it. But, the moment she opened the book, she stood amazed. + +On the first page was her own portrait, her photograph as a girl, with +her signature in full and the inscription: + + "To my friend Stéphane." + +"I don't understand, I don't understand," she murmured. "I remember the +photograph: I must have been sixteen. But how did I come to give it to +him? I must have known him!" + +Eager to learn more, she read the next page, a sort of preface worded as +follows: + + "Véronique, I wish to lead my life under your eyes. In + undertaking the education of your son, of that son + whom I ought to loathe, because he is the son of + another, but whom I love because he is your son, my + intention is that my life shall be in full harmony + with the secret feeling that has swayed it so long. + One day, I have no doubt, you will resume your place + as François' mother. On that day you will be proud of + him. I shall have effaced all that may survive in him + of his father and I shall have exalted all the fine + and noble qualities which he inherits from you. The + aim is great enough for me to devote myself to it body + and soul. I do so with gladness. Your smile shall be + my reward." + +Véronique's heart was flooded with a singular emotion. Her life was lit +with a calmer radiance; and this new mystery, which she was unable to +fathom any more than the others, was at least, like that of Maguennoc's +flowers, gentle and comforting. + +As she continued to turn the pages, she followed her son's education +from day to day. She beheld the pupil's progress and the master's +methods. The pupil was engaging, intelligent, studious, zealous loving, +sensitive, impulsive and at the same time thoughtful. The master was +affectionate, patient and borne up by some profound feeling which showed +through every line of the manuscript. + +And, little by little, there was a growing enthusiasm in the daily +confession, which expressed itself in terms less and less restrained: + + "François, my dearly-beloved son--for I may call you + so, may I not?--François, your mother lives once again + in you. Your eyes are pure and limpid as hers. Your + soul is grave and simple as her soul. You are + unacquainted with evil; and one might almost say that + you are unacquainted with good, so closely is it + blended with your beautiful nature." + +Some of the child's exercises were copied into the book, exercises in +which he spoke of his mother with passionate affection and with the +persistent hope that he would soon see her again. + + "We shall see her again, François," Stéphane added, + "and you will then understand better what beauty means + and light and the charm of life and the delight of + beholding and admiring." + +Next came anecdotes about Véronique, minor details which she herself did +not remember or which she thought that she alone knew: + + "One day, at the Tuileries--she was only sixteen--a + circle was formed round her . . . by people who looked + at her and wondered at her loveliness. Her girl + friends laughed, happy at seeing her admired . . . . + + "Open her right hand, François. You will see a long, + white scar in the middle of the palm. When she was + quite a little girl, she ran the point of an iron + railing into her hand . . . ." + +But the last pages were not written for the boy and had certainly not +been read by him. The writer's love was no longer disguised beneath +admiring phrases. It displayed itself without reserve, ardent, exalted, +suffering, quivering with hope, though always respectful. + +Véronique closed the book. She could read no more. + +"Yes, I confess, All's Well," she said to the dog, who was already +sitting up, "my eyes are wet with tears. Devoid of feminine weaknesses +as I am, I will tell you what I would say to nobody else: that really +touches me. Yes, I must try to recall the unknown features of the man +who loves me like this . . . some friend of my childhood whose +affection I never suspected and whose name has not left even a trace in +my memory." + +She drew the dog to her: + +"Two kind hearts, are they not, All's Well? Neither the master nor the +pupil is capable of the crimes which I saw them commit. If they are the +accomplices of our enemies here, they are so in spite of themselves and +without knowing it. I cannot believe in philtres and incantations and +plants which deprive you of your reason. But, all the same, there is +something, isn't there, you dear little dog? The boy who planted +veronicas round the Calvary of Flowers and who wrote, 'Mother's +flowers,' is not guilty, is he? And Honorine was right, when she spoke +of a fit of madness, and he will come back to look for me, won't he? +Stéphane and he are sure to come back." + +The hours that went by were full of soothing quiet. Véronique was no +longer lonely. The present had no terrors for her; and she had faith in +the future. + +Next morning, she said to All's Well, whom she had locked up to prevent +his running away: + +"Will you take me there now my man? Where? Why, to the friend, of +course, who sent provisions to Stéphane Maroux. Come along." + +All's Well was only waiting for Véronique's permission. He dashed off in +the direction of the grassy sward that led to the dolmen; and he stopped +half way. Véronique came up with him. He turned to the right and took a +path which brought them to a huddle of ruins near the edge of the +cliffs. Then he stopped again. + +"Is it here?" asked Véronique. + +The dog lay down flat. In front of him, at the foot of two blocks of +stones leaning against each other and covered with the same growth of +ivy, was a tangle of brambles with under it a little passage like the +entrance to a rabbit-warren. All's Well slipped in, disappeared and then +returned in search of Véronique, who had to go back to the Priory and +fetch a bill-hook to cut down the brambles. + +She managed in half an hour to uncover the top step of a staircase, +which she descended, feeling her way and preceded by All's Well, and +which took her to a long tunnel, cut in the body of the rock and lighted +on the left by little openings. She raised herself on tip-toe and saw +that these openings overlooked the sea. + +She walked on the level for ten minutes and then went down some more +steps. The tunnel grew narrower. The openings, which all looked towards +the sky, no doubt so as not to be seen from below, now gave light from +both the right and the left. Véronique began to understand how All's +Well was able to communicate with the other part of the island. The +tunnel followed the narrow strip of cliff which joined the Priory estate +to Sarek. The waves lapped the rocks on either side. + +They next climbed by steps under the knoll of the Great Oak. Two tunnels +opened at the top. All's Well chose the one on the left, which continued +to skirt the sea. + +Then on the right there were two more passages, both quite dark. The +island appeared to be riddled in this way with invisible communications; +and Véronique felt something clutch at her heart as she reflected that +she was making for the part which the sisters Archignat had described as +the enemy's subterranean domains, under the Black Heath. + +All's Well trotted in front of her, turning round from time to time to +see if she was following. + +"Yes, yes, dear, I'm coming," she whispered, "and I am not a bit afraid: +I am sure that you are leading me to a friend . . . a friend who has +taken shelter down here. But why has he not left his shelter? Why did +you not show him the way?" + +The passage had been chipped smooth throughout, with a rounded ceiling +and a very dry granite floor, which was amply ventilated by the +openings. There was not a mark, not a scratch of any kind on the walls. +Sometimes the point of a black flint projected. + +"Is it here?" asked Véronique, when All's Well stopped. + +The tunnel went no farther and widened into a chamber into which the +light filtered more thinly through a narrower window. + +All's Well seemed undecided. He listened, with his ears pricked up, +standing on his hind-legs and resting his fore-paws against the end wall +of the tunnel. + +Véronique noticed that the wall, at this spot, was not formed throughout +its length of the bare granite but consisted of an accumulation of +stones of unequal size set in cement. The work evidently belonged to a +different, doubtless more recent period. + +A regular partition-wall had been built, closing the underground +passage, which was probably continued on the other side. + +She repeated: + +"It's here, isn't it?" + +But she said nothing more. She had heard the stifled sound of a voice. + +She went up to the wall and presently gave a start. The voice was raised +higher. The sounds became more distinct. Some one, a child, was singing, +and she caught the words: + + "And the mother said, + Rocking her child abed: + + 'Weep not. If you do, + The Virgin Mary weeps with you.'" + +Véronique murmured: + +"The song . . . the song . . ." + +It was the same that Honorine had hummed at Beg-Meil. Who could be +singing it now? A child, imprisoned in the island? A boy friend of +François'? + +And the voice went on: + + "'Babes that laugh and sing + Smiles to the Blessed Virgin bring. + + Fold your hands this way + And to sweet Mary pray.'" + +The last verse was followed by a silence that lasted for a few minutes. +All's Well appeared to be listening with increasing attention, as though +something, which he knew of, was about to take place. + +Thereupon, just where he stood, there was a slight noise of stones +carefully moved. All's Well wagged his tail frantically and barked, so +to speak, in a whisper, like an animal that understands the danger of +breaking the silence. And suddenly, about his head, one of the stones +was drawn inward, leaving a fairly large aperture. + +All's Well leapt into the hole at a bound, stretched himself out and, +helping himself with his hind-legs, twisting and crawling, disappeared +inside. + +"Ah, there's Master All's Well!" said the young voice. "How are we, +Master All's Well? And why didn't we come and pay our master a visit +yesterday? Serious business, was it? A walk with Honorine? Oh, if you +could talk, my dear old chap, what stories you would have to tell! And, +first of all, look here . . ." + +Véronique, thrilled with excitement, had knelt down against the wall. +Was it her son's voice that she heard? Was she to believe that he was +back and in hiding? She tried in vain to see. The wall was thick; and +there was a bend in the opening. But how clearly each syllable uttered, +how plainly each intonation reached her ears! + +"Look here," repeated the boy, "why doesn't Honorine come to set me +free? Why don't you bring her here? You managed to find me all right. +And grandfather must be worried about me . . . . But _what_ an +adventure! . . . So you're still of the same mind, eh, old chap? All's +well, isn't it? All's as well as well can be!" + +Véronique could not understand. Her son--for there was no doubt that it +was François--her son was speaking as if he knew nothing of what had +happened. Had he forgotten? Had his memory lost every trace of the deeds +done during his fit of madness? + +"Yes, a fit of madness," thought Véronique, obstinately. "He was mad. +Honorine was quite right: he was undoubtedly mad. And his reason has +returned. Oh, François, François! . . ." + +She listened, with all her tense being and all her trembling soul, to +the words that might bring her so much gladness or such an added load of +despair. Either the darkness would close in upon her more thickly and +heavily than ever, or daylight was to pierce that endless night in which +she had been struggling for fifteen years. + +"Why, yes," continued the boy, "I agree with you, All's Well. But all +the same, I should be jolly glad if you could bring me some real proof +of it. On the one hand, there's no news of grandfather or Honorine, +though I've given you lots of messages for them; on the other hand, +there's no news of Stéphane. And that's what alarms me. Where is he? +Where have they locked him up? Won't he be starving by now? Come, All's +Well, tell me: where did you take the biscuits yesterday? . . . But, +look here, what's the matter with you? You seem to have something on +your mind. What are you looking at over there? Do you want to go away? +No? Then what is it?" + +The boy stopped. Then, after a moment, in a much lower voice: + +"Did you come with some one?" he asked. "Is there anybody behind the +wall?" + +The dog gave a dull bark. Then there was a long pause, during which +François also must have been listening. + +Véronique's emotion was so great that it seemed to her that François +must hear the beating of her heart. + +He whispered: + +"Is that you, Honorine?" + +There was a fresh pause; and he continued: + +"Yes, I'm sure it's you . . . . I can hear you breathing . . . . Why +don't you answer?" + +Véronique was carried away by a sudden impulse. Certain gleams of light +had flashed upon her mind since she had understood that Stéphane was a +prisoner, no doubt like François, therefore a victim of the enemy; and +all sorts of vague suppositions flitted through her brain. Besides, how +could she resist the appeal of that voice? Her son was asking her a +question . . . her son! + +"François . . . François!" she stammered. + +"Ah," he said, "there's an answer! I knew it! Is it you, Honorine?" + +"No, François," she said. + +"Then who is it?" + +"A friend of Honorine's." + +"I don't know you, do I?" + +"No . . . but I am your friend." + +He hesitated. Was he on his guard? + +"Why didn't Honorine come with you?" + +Véronique was not prepared for this question, but she at once realized +that, if the involuntary suppositions that were forcing themselves upon +her were correct, the boy must not yet be told the truth. + +She therefore said: + +"Honorine came back from her journey, but has gone away again." + +"Gone to look for me?" + +"That's it, that's it," she said, quickly. "She thought that you had +been carried away from Sarek and your tutor with you." + +"But grandfather?" + +"He's gone too: so have all the inhabitants of the island." + +"Ah! The old story of the coffins and the crosses, I suppose?" + +"Just so. They thought that your disappearance meant the beginning of +the disasters; and their fear made them take to flight." + +"But you, madame?" + +"I have known Honorine for a long time. I came from Paris with her to +take a holiday at Sarek. I have no reason to go away. All these +superstitions have no terrors for me." + +The child was silent. The improbability and inadequacy of the replies +must have been apparent to him: and his suspicions increased in +consequence. He confessed as much, frankly: + +"Listen, madame, there's something I must tell you. It's ten days since +I was imprisoned in this cell. During the first part of that time, I saw +and heard nobody. But, since the day before yesterday, every morning a +little wicket opens in the middle of my door and a woman's hand comes +through and gives a fresh supply of water. A woman's hand . . . so . . . +you see?" + +"So you want to know if that woman is myself?" + +"Yes, I am obliged to ask you." + +"Would you recognize that woman's hand?" + +"Yes, it is lean and bony, with a yellow arm." + +"Here's mine," said Véronique. "It can pass where All's Well did." + +She pulled up her sleeve; and by flexing her bare arm she easily passed +it through. + +"Oh," said François, at once, "that's not the hand I saw!" + +And he added, in a lower voice: + +"How pretty this one is!" + +Suddenly Véronique felt him take it in his own with a quick movement; +and he exclaimed: + +"Oh, it can't be true, it can't be true!" + +He had turned her hand over and was separating the fingers so as to +uncover the palm entirely. And he whispered: + +"The scar! . . . It's there! . . . The white scar! . . ." + +Then Véronique became greatly agitated. She remembered Stéphane Maroux's +diary and certain details set down by him which François must have +heard. One of these details was this scar, which recalled an old and +rather serious injury. + +She felt the boy's lips pressed to her hand, first gently and then with +passionate ardour and a great flow of tears, and heard him stammering: + +"Oh, mother, mother darling! . . . My dear, dear mother! . . ." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +FRANÇOIS AND STÉPHANE + + +Long the mother and son remained thus, kneeling against the wall that +divided them, yet as close together as though they were able to see each +other with their frenzied eyes and to mingle their tears and kisses. +They spoke both at once, asking each other questions and answering them +at random. They were in a transport of delight. The life of each flowed +over into the other's life and became swallowed up in it. No power on +earth could now dissolve their union or break the bonds of love and +confidence which unite mothers and sons. + +"Yes, All's Well, old man," said François, "you may sit up as much and +as long as you like. We are really crying this time . . . and you will +be the first to get tired, for one doesn't mind shedding such tears as +these, does one, mother?" + +As for Véronique, her mind retained not a vestige of the terrible +visions which had dismayed it. Her son a murderer, her son killing and +massacring people: she no longer admitted any of that. She did not even +admit the excuse of madness. Everything would be explained in some other +way which she was not even in a hurry to understand. She thought only of +her son. He was there. His eyes saw her through the wall. His heart beat +against hers. He lived; and he was the same gentle, affectionate, pure +and charming child that her maternal dreams had pictured. + +"My son, my son!" she kept on repeating, as though she could not utter +those marvellous words often enough. "My son, it's you, it's you! I +believed you dead, a thousand times dead, more dead than it is possible +to be . . . . And you are alive! And you are here! And I am touching +you! O Heaven, can it be true! I have a son . . . and my son is alive! +. . ." + +And he, on his side, took up the refrain with the same passionate +fervour: + +"Mother! Mother! I have waited for you so long! . . . To me you were not +dead, but it was so sad to be a child and to have no mother . . . to see +the years go by and to waste them in waiting for you." + +For an hour they talked at random, of the past, of the present, of a +hundred subjects which at first appeared to them the most interesting +things in the world and which they forthwith dropped to ask each other +more questions and to try to know each other a little better and to +enter more deeply into the secret of their lives and the privacy of +their souls. + +It was François who first attempted to impart some little method to +their conversation: + +"Listen, mother; we have so much to say to each other that we must give +up trying to say it all to-day and even for days and days. Let us speak +now of what is essential and in the fewest possible words, for we have +perhaps not much time before us." + +"What do you mean?" said Véronique, instantly alarmed. "I have no +intention of leaving you!" + +"But, mother, if we are not to leave each other, we must first be +united. Now there are many obstacles to be overcome, even if it were +only the wall that separates us. Besides, I am very closely watched; and +I may be obliged at any moment to send you away, as I do All's Well, at +the first sound of footsteps approaching." + +"Watched by whom?" + +"By those who fell upon Stéphane and me on the day when we discovered +the entrance to these caves, under the heath on the table-land, the +Black Heath." + +"Did you see them?" + +"No, it was too dark." + +"But who are they? Who are those enemies?" + +"I don't know." + +"You suspect, of course?" + +"The Druids?" he said, laughing. "The people of old of whom the legends +speak? Rather not! Ghosts? Not that either. They were just simply +creatures of to-day, creatures of flesh and blood." + +"They live down here, though?" + +"Most likely." + +"And you took them by surprise?" + +"No, on the contrary. They seemed even to be expecting us and to be +lying in wait for us. We had gone down a stone staircase and a very long +passage, lined with perhaps eighty caves, or rather eighty cells. The +doors, which were of wood, were open; and the cells overlooked the sea. +It was on the way back, as we were going up the staircase again in the +dark, that we were seized from one side, knocked down, bound, +blindfolded and gagged. The whole thing did not take a minute. I +suspect that we were carried back to the end of the long passage. When +I succeeded in removing my bonds and my bandage, I found that I was +locked in one of the cells, probably the last in the passage; and I have +been here ten days." + +"My poor darling, how you must have suffered!" + +"No, mother, and in any case not from hunger. There was a whole stack of +provisions in one corner and a truss of straw in another to lie on. So I +waited quietly." + +"For whom?" + +"You promise not to laugh, mother?" + +"Laugh at what, dear?" + +"At what I'm going to tell you?" + +"How can you think . . . ?" + +"Well, I was waiting for some one who had heard of all the stories of +Sarek and who promised grandfather to come." + +"But who was it?" + +The boy hesitated: + +"No, I am sure you will make fun of me, mother, I'll tell you later. +Besides, he never came . . . though I thought for a moment . . . Yes, +fancy, I had managed to remove two stones from the wall and to open this +hole of which my gaolers evidently didn't know. All of a sudden, I heard +a noise, someone scratching . . ." + +"It was All's Well?" + +"It was Master All's Well coming by the other road. You can imagine the +welcome he received! Only what astonished me was that nobody followed +him this way, neither Honorine nor grandfather. I had no pencil or paper +to write to them; but, after all, they had only to follow All's Well." + +"That was impossible," said Véronique, "because they believed you to be +far away from Sarek, carried off no doubt, and because your grandfather +had left." + +"Just so: why believe anything of the sort? Grandfather knew, from a +lately discovered document, where we were, for it was he who told us of +the possible entrance to the underground passage. Didn't he speak to you +about it?" + +Véronique had been very happy in listening to her son's story. As he had +been carried off and imprisoned, he was not the atrocious monster who +had killed M. d'Hergemont, Marie Le Goff, Honorine and Corréjou and his +companions. The truth which she had already vaguely surmised now assumed +a more definite form and, though still thickly shrouded, was visible in +its essential part. François was not guilty. Some one had put on his +clothes and impersonated him, even as some one else, in the semblance of +Stéphane, had pretended to be Stéphane. Ah, what did all the rest +matter, the improbabilities and inconsistencies, the proofs and +certainties! Véronique did not even think about it. The only thing that +counted was the innocence of her beloved son. + +And so she still refused to tell him anything that would sadden him and +spoil his happiness; and she said: + +"No, I have not seen your grandfather. Honorine wanted to prepare him +for my visit, but things happened so hurriedly . . ." + +"And you were left alone on the island, poor mother? So you hoped to +find me here?" + +"Yes," she said, after a moment's hesitation. + +"Alone, but with All's Well, of course." + +"Yes. I hardly paid any attention to him during the first days. It was +not until this morning that I thought of following him." + +"And where does the road start from that brought you here?" + +"It's an underground passage the outlet of which is concealed between +two stones near Maguennoc's garden." + +"What! Then the two islands communicate?" + +"Yes, by the cliff underneath the bridge." + +"How strange! That's what neither Stéphane not I guessed, nor anybody +else, for that matter . . . except our dear All's Well, when it came to +finding his master." + +He interrupted himself and then whispered: + +"Hark!" + +But, the next moment, he said: + +"No, it's not that yet. Still, we must hurry." + +"What am I to do?" + +"It's quite simple, mother. When I made this hole, I saw that it could +be widened easily enough, if it were possible also to take out the three +or four stones next to it. But these are firmly fixed; and we should +need an implement of some kind." + +"Well, I'll go and . . ." + +"Yes, do, mother. Go back to the Priory. To the left of the house, in a +basement, is a sort of workshop where Maguennoc kept his garden-tools. +You will find a small pick-axe there, with a very short handle. Bring it +me in the evening. I will work during the night; and to-morrow morning I +shall give you a kiss, mother." + +"Oh, it sounds too good to be true!" + +"I promise you I shall. Then all that we shall have to do will be to +release Stéphane." + +"Your tutor? Do you know where he is shut up?" + +"I do almost know. According to the particulars which grandfather gave +us, the underground passages consist of two floors one above the other; +and the last cell of each is fitted as a prison. I occupy one of them. +Stéphane should occupy the other, below mine. What worries me . . ." + +"What is it?" + +"Well, it's this: according to grandfather again, these two cells were +once torture-chambers . . . 'death chambers' was the word grandfather +used." + +"Oh, but how alarming!" + +"Why alarm yourself, mother? You see that they are not thinking of +torturing me. Only, on the off chance and not knowing what sort of fate +was in store for Stéphane, I sent him something to eat by All's Well, +who is sure to have found a way of getting to him." + +"No," she said, "All's Well did not understand." + +"How do you know, mother?" + +"He thought you were sending him to Stéphane Maroux's room and he heaped +it all under the bed." + +"Oh!" said the boy, anxiously. "What can have become of Stéphane?" And +he at once added, "You see, mother, that we must hurry, if we would save +Stéphane and save ourselves." + +"What are you afraid of?" + +"Nothing, if you act quickly." + +"But still . . ." + +"Nothing, I assure you. I feel certain that we shall get the better of +every obstacle." + +"And, if any others present themselves . . . dangers which we cannot +foresee? . . ." + +"It is then," said François, laughing, "that the man whom I am expecting +will come and protect us." + +"You see, my darling, you yourself admit the need of assistance . . . ." + +"Why, no, mother, I am trying to ease your mind, but nothing will +happen. Come, how would you have a son who has just found his mother +lose her again at once? It isn't possible. In real life, may be . . . +but we are not living in real life. We are absolutely living in a +romance; and in romances things always come right. You ask All's Well. +It's so, old chap, isn't it: we shall win and be united and live happy +ever after? That's what you think, All's Well? Then be off, old chap, +and take mother with you. I'm going to fill up the hole, in case they +come and inspect my cell. And be sure not to try and come in when the +hole is stopped, eh, All's Well? That's when the danger is. Go, mother, +and don't make a noise when you come back." + +Véronique was not long away. She found the pick-axe; and, forty minutes +after, brought it and managed to slip it into the cell. + +"No one has been yet," said François, "but they are certain to come soon +and you had better not stay. I may have a night's work before me, +especially as I shall have to stop because of likely visits. So I shall +expect you at seven o'clock to-morrow . . . . By the way, talking of +Stéphane: I have been thinking it over. Some noises which I heard just +now confirmed my notion that he is shut up more or less underneath me. +The opening that lights my cell is too narrow for me to pass through. +Is there a fairly wide window at the place where you are now?" + +"No, but it can be widened by removing the little stones round it." + +"Capital. You will find in Maguennoc's workshop a bamboo ladder, with +iron hooks to it, which you can easily bring with you to-morrow morning. +Next, take some provisions and some rugs and leave them in a thicket at +the entrance to the tunnel." + +"What for, darling?" + +"You'll see. I have a plan. Good-bye, mother. Have a good night's rest +and pick up your strength. We may have a hard day before us." + +Véronique followed her son's advice. The next morning, full of hope, she +once more took the road to the cell. This time, All's Well, reverting to +his instincts of independence, did not come with her. + +"Keep quite still, mother," said François, in so low a whisper that she +could scarcely hear him. "I am very closely watched; and I think there's +some one walking up and down in the passage. However, my work is nearly +done; the stones are all loosened. I shall have finished in two hours. +Have you the ladder?" + +"Yes." + +"Remove the stones from the window . . . that will save time . . . for +really I am frightened about Stéphane . . . . And be sure not to make a +noise . . . ." + +Véronique moved away. + +The window was not much more than three feet from the floor: and the +small stones, as she had supposed, were kept in place only by their own +weight and the way in which they were arranged. The opening which she +thus contrived to make was very wide; and she easily passed the ladder +which she had brought with her through and secured it by its iron hooks +to the lower ledge. + +She was some hundred feet or so above the sea, which lay all white +before her, guarded by the thousand reefs of Sarek. But she could not +see the foot of the cliff, for there was under the window a slight +projection of granite which jutted forward and on which the ladder +rested instead of hanging perpendicularly. + +"That will help François," she thought. + +Nevertheless, the danger of the undertaking seemed great; and she +wondered whether she herself ought not to take the risk, instead of her +son, all the more so as François might be mistaken, as Stéphane's cell +was perhaps not there at all and as perhaps there was no means of +entering it by a similar opening. If so, what a waste of time! And what +a useless danger for the boy to run! + +At that moment she felt so great a need of self-devotion, so intense a +wish to prove her love for him by direct action, that she formed her +resolution without pausing to reflect, even as one performs immediately +a duty which there is no question of not performing. Nothing deterred +her: neither her inspection of the ladder, whose hooks were not wide +enough to grip the whole thickness of the ledge, nor the sight of the +precipice, which gave an impression that everything was about to fall +away from under her. She had to act; and she acted. + +Pinning up her skirt, she stepped across the wall, turned round, +supported herself on the ledge, groped with her foot in space and found +one of the rungs. Her whole body was trembling. Her heart was beating +furiously, like the clapper of a bell. Nevertheless she had the mad +courage to catch hold of the two uprights and go down. + +It did not take long. She knew that there were twenty rungs in all. She +counted them. When she reached the twentieth, she looked to the left and +murmured, with unspeakable joy: + +"Oh, François . . . my darling!" + +She had seen, three feet away at most, a recess, a hollow which appeared +to be the entrance to a cavity cut in the rock itself. + +"Stéphane . . . Stéphane," she called, but in so faint a voice that +Stéphane Maroux, if he were there, could not hear her. + +She hesitated a few seconds, but her legs were giving way and she no +longer had the strength either to climb up again or to remain hanging +where she was. Taking advantage of a few irregularities in the rock and +thus shifting the ladder, at the risk of unhooking it, she succeeded, by +a sort of miracle of which she was quite aware, in catching hold of a +flint which projected from the granite and setting foot in the cave. +Then, with fierce energy, she made one supreme effort and, recovering +her balance with a jerk, she entered. + +She at once saw some one, fastened with cords, lying on a truss of +straw. + +The cave was small and not very deep, especially in the upper portion, +which pointed towards the sky rather than the sea and which must have +looked, from a distance, like a mere fold in the cliff. There was no +projection to bound it at the edge. The light entered freely. + +Véronique went nearer. The man did not move. He was asleep. + +She bent over him; though she did not recognize him for certain, it +seemed to her that a memory was emerging from that dim past in which all +the faces of our childhood gradually fade away. This one was surely not +unknown to her: a gentle visage, with regular features, fair hair flung +well back, a broad, white forehead and a slightly feminine countenance, +which reminded Véronique of the charming face of a convent friend who +had died before the war. + +She deftly unfastened the bonds with which the wrists were fastened +together. + +The man, without waking immediately, stretched his arms, as though +submitting himself to a familiar operation, not effected for the first +time, which did not necessarily interfere with his sleep. Presumably he +was released like this at intervals, perhaps in order to eat and at +night, for he ended by muttering: + +"So early? . . . But I'm not hungry . . . and it's still light!" + +This last reflection astonished the man himself. He opened his eyes and +at once sat up where he lay, so that he might see the person who was +standing in front of him, no doubt for the first time in broad daylight. + +He was not greatly surprised, for the reason that the reality could not +have been manifest to him at once. He probably thought that he was the +sport of a dream or an hallucination; and he said, in an undertone: + +"Véronique . . . Véronique . . ." + +She felt a little embarrassed by his gaze, but finished releasing his +bonds; and, when he distinctly felt her hand on his own hands and on his +imprisoned limbs, he understood the wonderful event which her presence +implied and he said, in a faltering voice: + +"You! You! . . . Can it be? . . . Oh, speak just one word, just one! +. . . Can it possibly be you?" He continued, almost to himself, "Yes, it +is she . . . it is certainly she . . . . She is here!" And, anxiously, +aloud, "You . . . at night . . . on the other nights . . . it wasn't you +who came then? It was another woman, wasn't it? An enemy? . . . Oh, +forgive me for asking you! . . . It's because . . . because I don't +understand . . . . How did you come here?" + +"I came this way," she said, pointing to the sea. + +"Oh," he said, "how wonderful!" + +He stared at her with dazed eyes, as he might have stared at some vision +descended from Heaven; and the circumstances were so unusual that he did +not think of suppressing the eagerness of his gaze. + +She repeated, utterly confused: + +"Yes, this way . . . . François suggested it." + +"I did not mention him," he said, "because, with you here, I felt sure +that he was free." + +"Not yet," she said, "but he will be in an hour." + +A long pause ensued. She interrupted it to conceal her agitation: + +"He will be free . . . . You shall see him . . . . But we must not +frighten him: there are things which he doesn't know." + +She perceived that he was listening not to the words uttered but to the +voice that uttered them and that this voice seemed to plunge him into a +sort of ecstasy, for he was silent and smiled. She thereupon smiled too +and questioned him, thus obliging him to answer: + +"You called me by my name at once. So you knew me? I also seem to . . . +Yes, you remind me of a friend of mine who died." + +"Madeleine Ferrand?" + +"Yes, Madeleine Ferrand." + +"Perhaps I also remind you of her brother, a shy schoolboy who used +often to visit the parlour at the convent and who used to look at you +from a distance." + +"Yes, yes," she declared. "I remember. We even spoke to each other +sometimes; you used to blush. Yes, that's it: your name was Stéphane. +But how do you come to be called Maroux?" + +"Madeleine and I were not children of the same father." + +"Ah," she said, "that was what misled me!" + +She gave him her hand: + +"Well, Stéphane," she said, "as we are old friends and have renewed our +acquaintance, let us put off all our remembrances until later. For the +moment, the most urgent matter is to get away. Have you the strength?" + +"The strength, yes: I have not had such a very bad time. But how are we +to go from here?" + +"By the same road by which I came, a ladder communicating with the upper +passage of cells." + +He was now standing up: + +"You had the courage, the pluck?" he asked, at last realizing what she +had dared to do. + +"Oh, it was not very difficult!" she declared. "François was so anxious! +He maintained that you were both occupying old torture-chambers . . . +death-chambers . . . ." + +It was as though these words aroused him violently from a dream and made +him suddenly see that it was madness to converse in such circumstances. + +"Go away!" he cried. "François is right! Oh, if you knew the risk you +are running. Please, please go!" + +He was beside himself, as though convulsed by the thought of an +immediate peril. She tried to calm him, but he entreated her: + +"Another second may be your undoing. Don't stay here . . . . I am +condemned to death and to the most terrible death. Look at the ground on +which we are standing, this sort of floor . . . . But it's no use +talking about it. Oh, please do go!" + +"With you," she said. + +"Yes, with me. But save yourself first." + +She resisted and said, firmly: + +"For us both to be saved, Stéphane, we must above all things remain +calm. What I did just now we can do again only by calculating all our +actions and controlling our excitement. Are you ready?" + +"Yes," he said, overcome by her magnificent confidence. + +"Then follow me." + +She stepped to the very edge of the precipice and leant forward: + +"Give me your hand," she said, "to help me keep my balance." + +She turned round, flattened herself against the cliff and felt the +surface with her free hand. + +Not finding the ladder, she leant outward slightly. + +The ladder had become displaced. No doubt, when Véronique, perhaps with +too abrupt a movement, had set foot in the cave, the iron hook of the +right-hand upright had slipped and the ladder, hanging only by the other +hook, had swung like a pendulum. + +The bottom rungs were now out of reach. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ANGUISH + + +Had Véronique been alone, she would have yielded to one of those moods +of despondency which her nature, brave though it was, could not escape +in the face of the unrelenting animosity of fate. But in the presence of +Stéphane, who she felt to be the weaker and who was certainly exhausted +by his captivity, she had the strength to restrain herself and announce, +as though mentioning quite an ordinary incident: + +"The ladder has swung out of our reach." + +Stéphane looked at her in dismay: + +"Then . . . then we are lost!" + +"Why should we be lost?" she asked, with a smile. + +"There is no longer any hope of getting away." + +"What do you mean? Of course there is. What about François?" + +"François?" + +"Certainly. In an hour at most, François will have made his escape; and, +when he sees the ladder and the way I came, he will call to us. We shall +hear him easily. We have only to be patient." + +"To be patient!" he said, in terror. "To wait for an hour! But they are +sure to be here in less than that. They keep a constant watch." + +"Well, we will manage somehow." + +He pointed to the wicket in the door: + +"Do you see that wicket?" he said. "They open it each time. They will +see us through the grating." + +"There's a shutter to it. Let's close it." + +"They will come in." + +"Then we won't close it and we'll keep up our confidence, Stéphane." + +"I'm frightened for you, not for myself." + +"You mustn't be frightened either for me or for yourself . . . . If the +worst comes to the worst, we are able to defend ourselves," she added, +showing him a revolver which she had taken from her father's rack of +arms and carried on her ever since. + +"Ah," he said, "what I fear is that we shall not even be called upon to +defend ourselves! They have other means." + +"What means?" + +He did not answer. He had flung a quick glance at the floor; and +Véronique for a moment examined its curious structure. + +All around, following the circumference of the walls, was the granite +itself, rugged and uneven. But outlined in the granite was a large +square. They could see, on each of the four sides, the deep crevice that +divided it from the rest. The timbers of which it consisted were worn +and grooved, full of cracks and gashes, but nevertheless massive and +powerful. The fourth side almost skirted the edge of the precipice, from +which it was divided by eight inches at most. + +"A trap-door?" she asked, with a shudder. + +"No, not that," he said. "It would be too heavy." + +"Then what?" + +"I don't know. Very likely it is nothing but a remnant of some past +contrivance which no longer works. Still . . ." + +"Still what?" + +"Last night . . . or rather this morning there was a creaking sound down +below there. It seemed to suggest attempts, but they stopped at once +. . . it's such a long time since! . . . No, the thing no longer works +and they can't make use of it." + +"Who's _they_?" + +Without waiting for his answer, she continued: + +"Listen, Stéphane, we have a few minutes before us, perhaps fewer than +we think. François will be free at any moment now and will come to our +rescue. Let us make the most of the interval and tell each other the +things which both of us ought to know. Let us discuss matters quietly. +We are threatened with no immediate danger; and the time will be well +employed." + +Véronique was pretending a sense of security which she did not feel. +That François would make his escape she refused to doubt; but who could +tell that the boy would go to the window and notice the hook of the +hanging ladder? On failing to see his mother, would he not rather think +of following the underground tunnel and running to the Priory? + +However, she mastered herself, feeling the need of the explanation for +which she had asked, and, sitting down on a granite projection which +formed a sort of bench, she at once began to tell Stéphane the events +which she had witnessed and in which she had played a leading part, from +the moment when her investigations led her to the deserted cabin +containing Maguennoc's dead body. + +Stéphane listened to the terrifying narrative without attempting to +interrupt her but with an alarm marked by his gestures of abhorrence and +the despairing expression of his face. M. d'Hergemont's death in +particular seemed to crush him, as did Honorine's. He had been greatly +attached to both of them. + +"There, Stéphane," said Véronique, when she had described the anguish +which she suffered after the execution of the sisters Archignat, the +discovery of the underground passage and her interview with François. +"That is all that I need absolutely tell you. I thought that you ought +to know what I have kept from François, so that we may fight our enemies +together." + +He shook his head: + +"Which enemies?" he said. "I, too, in spite of your explanations, am +asking the very question which you asked me. I have a feeling that we +are flung into the midst of a great tragedy which has continued for +years, for centuries, and in which we have begun to play our parts only +at the moment of the crisis, at the moment of the terrific cataclysm +prepared by generations of men. I may be wrong. Perhaps there is nothing +more than a disconnected series of sinister, weird and horrible +coincidences amid which we are tossed from side to side, without being +able to appeal to any other reasons than the whim of chance. In reality +I know no more than you do. I am surrounded by the same obscurity, +stricken by the same sorrows and the same losses. It's all just +insanity, extravagant convulsions, unprecedent shocks, the crimes of +savages, the fury of the barbaric ages." + +Véronique agreed: + +"Yes, of the barbaric ages; and that is what baffles me most and +impresses me so much! What is the connection between the present and the +past, between our persecutors of to-day and the men who lived in these +caves in days of old and whose actions are prolonged into our own time, +in a manner so impossible to understand? To what do they all refer, +those legends of which I know nothing except from Honorine's delirium +and the distress of the sisters Archignat?" + +They spoke low, with their ears always on the alert. Stéphane listened +for sounds in the corridor, Véronique concentrated her attention on the +cliff, in the hope of hearing François' signal. + +"They are very complicated legends," said Stéphane, "very obscure +traditions in which we must abandon any attempt to distinguish between +what is superstition and what might be truth. Out of this jumble of old +wives' tales, the very most that we can disentangle is two sets of +ideas, those referring to the prophecy of the thirty coffins and those +relating to the existence of a treasure, or rather of a miraculous +stone." + +"Then they take as a prophecy," said Véronique, "the words which I read +on Maguennoc's drawing and again on the Fairies' Dolmen?" + +"Yes, a prophecy which dates back to an indeterminate period and which +for centuries has governed the whole history and the whole life of +Sarek. The belief has always prevailed that a day would come when, +within a space of twelve months, the thirty principal reefs which +surround the island and which are called the thirty coffins would +receive their thirty victims, who were to die a violent death, and that +those thirty victims would include four women who were to die crucified. +It is an established and undisputed tradition, handed down from father +to son: and everybody believes in it. It is expressed in the line and +part of a line inscribed on the Fairies' Dolmen: 'Four women crucified,' +and 'For thirty coffins victims thirty times!'" + +"Very well; but people have gone on living all the same, normally and +peaceably. Why did the outburst of terror suddenly take place this +year?" + +"Maguennoc was largely responsible. Maguennoc was a fantastic and rather +mysterious person, a mixture of the wizard and the bone-setter, the +healer and the charlatan, who had studied the stars in their courses and +whom people liked to consult about the most remote events of the past as +well as the future. Now Maguennoc announced not long ago that 1917 would +be the fateful year." + +"Why?" + +"Intuition perhaps, presentiment, divination, or subconscious knowledge: +you can choose any explanation that you please. As for Maguennoc, who +did not despise the practices of the most antiquated magic, _he_ would +tell you that he knew it from the flight of a bird or the entrails of a +fowl. However, his prophecy was based on something more serious. He +pretended, quoting evidence collected in his childhood among the old +people of Sarek, that, at the beginning of the last century, the first +line of the inscription on the Fairies' Dolmen was not yet obliterated +and that it formed this, which would rhyme with 'Four women shall be +crucified on tree:' 'In Sarek's isle, in year fourteen and three.' The +year fourteen and three is the year seventeen; and the prediction became +more impressive for Maguennoc and his friends of late years, because the +total number was divided into two numbers and the war broke out in 1914. +From that day, Maguennoc grew more and more important and more and more +sure of the truth of his previsions. For that matter, he also grew more +and more anxious; and he even announced that his death, followed by the +death of M. d'Hergemont, would give the signal for the catastrophe. Then +the year 1917 arrived and produced a genuine terror in the island. The +events were close at hand." + +"And still," said Véronique, "and still it was all absurd." + +"Absurd, yes; but it all acquired a curiously disturbing significance on +the day when Maguennoc was able to compare the scraps of prophecy +engraved on the dolmen with the complete prophecy." + +"Then he succeeded in doing so?" + +"Yes. He discovered under the abbey ruins, in a heap of stones which had +formed a sort of protecting chamber round it, an old worn and tattered +missal, which had a few of its pages in good condition, however, and one +in particular, the one which you saw, or rather of which you saw a copy +in the deserted cabin." + +"A copy made by my father?" + +"By your father, as were all those in the cupboard in his study. M. +d'Hergemont, you must remember, was fond of drawing, of painting +water-colours. He copied the illuminated page, but of the prophecy that +accompanied the drawing he reproduced only the words inscribed on the +Fairies' Dolmen." + +"How do you account for the resemblance between the crucified woman and +myself?" + +"I never saw the original, which Maguennoc gave to M. d'Hergemont and +which your father kept jealously in his room. But M. d'Hergemont +maintained that the resemblance was there. In any case, he accentuated +it in his drawing, in spite of himself, remembering all that you had +suffered . . . and through his fault, he said." + +"Perhaps," murmured Véronique, "he was also thinking of the other +prophecy that was once made to Vorski: 'You will perish by the hand of a +friend and your wife will be crucified.' So I suppose the strange +coincidence struck him . . . and even made him write the initials of my +maiden name, 'V. d'H.', at the top." And she added, "And all this +happened in accordance with the wording of the inscription . . . ." + +They were both silent. How could they do other than think of that +inscription, of the words written ages ago on the pages of the missal +and on the stone of the dolmen? If destiny had as yet provided only +twenty-seven victims for the thirty coffins of Sarek, were the last +three not there, ready to complete the sacrifice, all three imprisoned, +all three captive and in the power of the sacrificial murderers? And if, +at the top of the knoll, near the Grand Oak, there were as yet but three +crosses, would the fourth not soon be prepared, to receive a fourth +victim? + +"François is a very long time," said Véronique, presently. + +She went to the edge and looked over. The ladder had not moved and was +still out of reach. + +"The others will soon be coming to my door," said Stéphane. "I am +surprised that they haven't been yet." + +But they did not wish to confess their mutual anxiety; and Véronique put +a further question, in a calm voice: + +"And the treasure? The God-Stone?" + +"That riddle is hardly less obscure," said Stéphane, "and also depends +entirely on the last line of the inscription: 'The God-Stone which gives +life or death.' What is this God-Stone? Tradition says that it is a +miraculous stone; and, according to M. d'Hergemont, this belief dates +back to the remotest periods. People at Sarek have always had faith in +the existence of a stone capable of working wonders. In the middle ages +they used to bring puny and deformed children and lay them on the stone +for days and nights together, after which the children got up strong and +healthy. Barren women resorted to this remedy with good results, as did +old men, wounded men and all sorts of degenerates. Only it came about +that the place of pilgrimage underwent changes, the stone, still +according to tradition, having been moved and even, according to some, +having disappeared. In the eighteenth century, people venerated the +Fairies' Dolmen and used still sometimes to expose scrofulous children +there." + +"But," said Véronique, "the stone also had harmful properties, for it +gave death as well as life?" + +"Yes, if you touched it without the knowledge of those whose business it +was to guard it and keep it sacred. But in this respect the mystery +becomes still more complicated, for there is the question also of a +precious stone, a sort of fantastic gem which shoots out flames, burns +those who wear it and makes them suffer the tortures of the damned." + +"That's what happened to Maguennoc, by Honorine's account," said +Véronique. + +"Yes," replied Stéphane, "but here we are entering upon the present. So +far I have been speaking of the fabled past, the two legends, the +prophecy and the God-Stone. Maguennoc's adventure opens up the period of +the present day, which for that matter is hardly less obscure than the +ancient period. What happened to Maguennoc? We shall probably never +know. He had been keeping in the background for a week, gloomy and doing +no work, when suddenly he burst into M. d'Hergemont's study roaring, +'I've touched it! I'm done for! I've touched it! . . . I took it in my +hand . . . . It burnt me like fire, but I wanted to keep it . . . . Oh, +it's been gnawing into my bones for days! It's hell, it's hell!' And he +showed us the palm of his hand. It was all burnt, as though eaten up +with cancer. We tried to dress it for him, but he seemed quite mad and +kept rambling on, 'I'm the first victim . . . . the fire will go to my +heart . . . . And after me the others' turn will come . . . .' That same +evening, he cut off his hand with a hatchet. And a week later, after +infecting the whole island with terror, he went away." + +"Where did he go to?" + +"To the village of Le Faouet, on a pilgrimage to the Chapel of St. +Barbe, near the place where you found his dead body." + +"Who killed him, do you think?" + +"Undoubtedly one of the creatures who used to correspond by means of +signs written along the road, one of the creatures who live hidden in +the cells and who are pursuing some purpose which I don't understand." + +"Those who attacked you and François, therefore?" + +"Yes; and immediately afterwards, having stolen and put on our clothes, +played the parts of François and myself." + +"With what object?" + +"To enter the Priory more easily and then, if their attempt failed, to +balk enquiry." + +"But haven't you seen them since they have kept you here?" + +"I have seen only a woman, or rather caught a glimpse of her. She comes +at night. She brings me food and drink, unties my hands, loosens the +fastenings round my legs a little and comes back two hours after." + +"Has she spoken to you?" + +"Once only, on the first night, in a low voice, to tell me that, if I +called out or uttered a sound or tried to escape, François would pay the +penalty." + +"But, when they attacked you, couldn't you then make out . . . ?" + +"No, I saw no more than François did." + +"And the attack was quite unexpected?" + +"Yes, quite. M. d'Hergemont had that morning received two important +letters on the subject of the investigation which he was making into all +these facts. One of the letters, written by an old Breton nobleman +well-known for his royalist leanings, was accompanied by a curious +document which he had found among his great-grandfather's papers, a plan +of some underground cells which the Chouans used to occupy in Sarek. It +was evidently the same Druid dwellings of which the legends tell us. The +plan showed the entrance on the Black Heath and marked two stories, each +ending in a torture-chamber. François and I went out exploring together; +and we were attacked on our way back." + +"And you have made no discovery since?" + +"No, none at all." + +"But François spoke of a rescue which he was expecting, some one who had +promised his assistance." + +"Oh, a piece of boyish nonsense, an idea of François', which, as it +happened, was connected with the second letter which M. d'Hergemont +received that morning!" + +"And what was it about?" + +Stéphane did not reply at once. Something made him think that they were +being spied on through the door. But, on going to the wicket, he saw no +one in the passage outside. + +"Ah," he said, "if we are to be rescued, the sooner it happens the +better. _They_ may come at any moment now." + +"Is any help really possible?" asked Véronique. + +"Well," Stéphane answered, "we must not attach too much importance to +it, but it's rather curious all the same. You know, Sarek has often been +visited by officers or inspectors with a view to exploring the rocks and +beaches around the island, which were quite capable of concealing a +submarine base. Last time, the special delegate sent from Paris, a +wounded officer, Captain Patrice Belval,[2] became friendly with M. +d'Hergemont, who told him the legend of Sarek and the apprehension which +we were beginning to feel in spite of everything; it was the day after +Maguennoc went away. The story interested Captain Belval so much that he +promised to speak of it to one of his friends in Paris, a Spanish or +Portuguese nobleman, Don Luis Perenna,[2] an extraordinary person, it +would seem, capable of solving the most complicated mysteries and of +succeeding in the most reckless enterprises. A few days after Captain +Belval's departure, M. d'Hergemont received from Don Luis Perenna the +letter of which I spoke to you and of which he read us only the +beginning. 'Sir,' it said, 'I look upon the Maguennoc incident as more +than a little serious; and I beg you, at the least fresh alarm, to +telegraph to Patrice Belval. If I can rely upon certain indications, you +are standing on the brink of an abyss. But, even if you were at the +bottom of that abyss, you would have nothing to fear, if only I hear +from you in time. From that moment, I make myself responsible, whatever +happens, even though everything may seem lost and though everything may +be lost. As for the riddle of the God-Stone, it is simply childish and I +am astonished that, with the very ample data which you gave Belval, it +should for an instant be regarded as impossible of explanation. I will +tell you in a few words what has puzzled so many generations of mankind +. . . .'" + +[Footnote 2: See _The Golden Triangle_, by Maurice Leblanc.] + +"Well?" said Véronique, eager to know more. + +"As I said, M. d'Hergemont did not tell us the end of the letter. He +read it in front of us, saying, with an air of amazement, 'Can that be +it? . . . Why, of course, of course it is . . . . How wonderful!' And, +when we asked him, he said, 'I'll tell you all about it this evening, +when you come back from the Black Heath. Meanwhile you may like to know +that this most extraordinary man--it's the only word for him--discloses +to me, without more ado or further particulars, the secret of the +God-Stone and the exact spot where it is to be found. And he does it so +logically as to leave no room for doubt.'" + +"And in the evening?" + +"In the evening, François and I were carried off and M. d'Hergemont was +murdered." + +Véronique paused to think: + +"I should not be surprised," she said, "if they wanted to steal that +important letter from him. For, after all, the theft of the God-Stone +seems to me the only motive that can explain all the machinations of +which we are the victims." + +"I think so too: but M. d'Hergemont, on Don Luis Perenna's +recommendation, tore up the letter before our eyes." + +"So, after all, Don Luis Perenna has not been informed?" + +"No." + +"Yet François . . ." + +"François does not know of his grandfather's death and does not suspect +that M. d'Hergemont never heard of our disappearance and therefore never +sent a message to Don Luis Perenna. If he had done so, Don Luis, to +François' mind, must be on his way. Besides, François has another +reason for expecting something . . . ." + +"A serious reason?" + +"No. François is still very much of a child. He has read a lot of books +of adventure, which have worked upon his imagination. Now Captain Belval +told him such fantastic stories about his friend Perenna and painted +Perenna in such strange colours that François firmly believes Perenna to +be none other than Arsène Lupin. Hence his absolute confidence and his +certainty that, in case of danger, the miraculous intervention will take +place at the very minute when it becomes necessary." + +Véronique could not help smiling: + +"He is a child, of course; but children sometimes have intuitions which +we have to take into account. Besides, it keeps up his courage and his +spirits. How could he have endured this ordeal, at his age, if he had +not had that hope?" + +Her anguish returned. In a very low voice, she said: + +"No matter where the rescue comes from, so long as it comes in time and +so long as my son is not the victim of those dreadful creatures!" + +They were silent for a long time. The enemy, present, though invisible, +oppressed them with his formidable weight. He was everywhere; he was +master of the island, master of the subterranean dwellings, master of +the heaths and woods, master of the sea around them, master of the +dolmens and the coffins. He linked together the monstrous ages of the +past and the no less monstrous hours of the present. He was continuing +history according to the ancient rites and striking blows which had +been foretold a thousand times. + +"But why? With what object? What does it all mean?" asked Véronique, in +a disheartened tone. "What connection can there be between the people of +to-day and those of long ago? What is the explanation of the work +resumed by such barbarous methods?" + +And, after a further pause, she said, for in her heart of hearts, behind +every question and reply and every insoluble problem, the obsession +never ceased to torment her: + +"Ah, if François were here! If we were all three fighting together! What +has happened to him? What keeps him in his cell? Some obstacle which he +did not foresee?" + +It was Stéphane's turn to comfort her: + +"An obstacle? Why should you suppose so? There is no obstacle. But it's +a long job . . . ." + +"Yes, yes, you are right; a long, difficult job. Oh, I'm sure that he +won't lose heart! He has such high spirits! And such confidence! 'A +mother and son who have been brought together cannot be parted again,' +he said. 'They may still persecute us, but separate us, never! We shall +win in the end.' He was speaking truly, wasn't he, Stéphane? I've not +found my son again, have I, only to lose him? No, no, it would be too +unjust and it would be impossible . . ." + +Stéphane looked at her, surprised to hear her interrupt herself. +Véronique was listening to something. + +"What is it?" asked Stéphane. + +"I hear sounds," she said. + +He also listened: + +"Yes, yes, you're right." + +"Perhaps it's François," she said. "Perhaps it's up there." + +She moved to rise. He held her back: + +"No, it's the sound of footsteps in the passage." + +"In that case . . . in that case . . . ?" said Véronique. + +They exchanged distraught glances, forming no decision, not knowing what +to do. + +The sound came nearer. The enemy could not be suspecting anything, for +the steps were those of one who is not afraid of being heard. + +Stéphane said, slowly: + +"They must not see me standing up. I will go back to my place. You must +fasten me again as best you can." + +They remained hesitating, as though cherishing the absurd hope that the +danger would pass of its own accord. Then, suddenly, releasing herself +from the sort of stupor that seemed to paralyse her, Véronique made up +her mind: + +"Quick! . . . Here they come! . . . Lie down!" + +He obeyed. In a few seconds, she had replaced the cords on and around +him as she had found them, but without tying them. + +"Turn your face to the rock," she said. "Hide your hands. Your hands +might betray you." + +"And you?" + +"I shall be all right." + +She stooped and stretched herself at full length against the door, in +which the spy-hole, barred with strips of iron, projected inwardly in +such a way as to hide her from sight. + +At the same moment, the enemy stopped outside. Notwithstanding the +thickness of the door, Véronique heard the rustle of a dress. + +And, above her, some one looked in. + +It was a terrible moment. The least indication would give the alarm. + +"Oh, why does she stay?" thought Véronique. "Is there anything to betray +my presence? My clothes? . . ." + +She thought that it was more likely Stéphane, whose attitude did not +appear natural and whose bonds did not wear their usual aspect. + +Suddenly there was a movement outside, followed by a whistle and a +second whistle. + +Then from the far end of the passage came another sound of steps, which +increased in the solemn silence and stopped, like the first, behind the +door. Words were spoken. Those outside seemed to be concerting measures. + +Véronique managed to reach her pocket. She took out her revolver and put +her finger on the trigger. If any one entered, she would stand up and +fire shot after shot, without hesitating. Would not the least hesitation +have meant François' death? + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE DEATH-CHAMBER + + +Véronique's estimate was correct, provided that the door opened outwards +and that her enemies were at once revealed to view. She therefore +examined the door and suddenly observed that, against all logical +expectation, it had a large strong bolt at the bottom. Should she make +use of it? + +She had no time to weigh the advantages or drawbacks of this plan. She +had heard a jingle of keys and, almost at the same time, the sound of a +key grating in the lock. + +Véronique received a very clear vision of what was likely to happen. +When the assailants burst in, she would be thrust aside, she would be +hampered in her movements, her aim would be inaccurate and her shots +would miss, whereupon _they_ would shut the door again and promptly +hurry off to François' cell. The thought of it made her lose her head; +and her action was instinctive and immediate. First, she pushed the bolt +at the foot of the door. Next, half rising, she slammed the iron shutter +over the wicket. A latch clicked. It was no longer possible either to +enter or to look in. + +Then at once she realized the absurdity of her action, which had not +opposed any obstacle to the menace of the enemy. Stéphane, leaping to +her side, said: + +"Good heavens, what have you done? Why, they saw that I was not moving +and they now know that I am not alone!" + +"Exactly," she answered, striving to defend herself. "They will try to +break down the door, which will give us the time we want." + +"The time we want for what?" + +"To make our escape." + +"Which way?" + +"François will call out to us. François will . . ." + +She did not complete her sentence. They now heard the sound of footsteps +moving swiftly down the passage. There was no doubt about it; the enemy, +without troubling about Stéphane, whose flight appeared impossible, was +making for the upper floor of cells. Moreover, might he not suppose that +the two friends were acting in agreement and that it was the boy who was +in Stéphane's cell and who had barred the door? + +Véronique therefore had precipitated events and given them a turn which +she had so many reasons to dread; and François, up above, would be +caught at the very moment when he was preparing to escape. + +She was utterly overwhelmed: + +"Why did I come here?" she muttered. "It would have been so simple to +wait! The two of us would have saved you to a certainty." + +One idea flashed through the confusion of her mind: had she not sought +to hasten Stéphane's release because of what she knew of this man's love +for her? And was it not an unworthy curiosity that had prompted her to +make the attempt? A horrible idea, which she at once rejected, saying: + +"No, I had to come. It is fate which is persecuting us." + +"Don't believe it," said Stéphane. "Everything will come right." + +"Too late!" said she, shaking her head. + +"Why? How do we know that François has not left his cell? You yourself +thought so just now . . . ." + +She did not reply. Her face became drawn and very pale. By virtue of her +sufferings she had acquired a kind of intuition of the evil that +threatened her. This evil now surrounded her on every hand. A second +series of ordeals was before her, more terrible than the first. + +"There's death all about us," she said. + +He tried to smile: + +"You are talking like the people of Sarek. You have the same fears . . ." + +"They were right to be afraid. And you yourself feel the horror of it +all." + +She rushed to the door, drew the bolt, tried to open it; but what could +she do against that massive, iron-clad door? + +Stéphane seized her by the arm: + +"One moment . . . . Listen . . . . It sounds as if . . ." + +"Yes," she said, "it's up there that they are knocking . . . above our +heads . . . in François' cell . . . ." + +"Not at all, not at all: listen . . . ." + +There was a long silence; and then blows were heard in the thickness of +the cliff. The sound came from below them. + +"The same blows that I heard this morning," said Stéphane, in dismay. +"The same attempt of which I spoke to you . . . . Ah, I understand! +. . ." + +"What? What do you mean?" + +The blows were repeated, at regular intervals, and then ceased, to be +followed by a dull, continuous sound, pierced by shriller creakings and +sudden cracks, like the straining of machinery newly started, or of one +of those capstans which are used for hoisting boats up a beach. + +Véronique listened, desperately expectant of what was coming, trying to +guess, seeking to find some clue in Stéphane's eyes. He stood in front +of her, looking at her as a man, in the hour of danger, looks at the +woman he loves. + +And suddenly she staggered and had to press her hand against the wall. +It was as though the cave and indeed the whole cliff were bodily moving +from its place. + +"Oh," she murmured, "is it I who am trembling like this? Is it from fear +that I am shaking from head to foot?" + +Seizing Stéphane's hands, she said: + +"Tell me! I want to know! . . ." + +He did not answer. There was no fear in his eyes bedewed with tears, +there was nothing but immense love and unbounded despair. He was +thinking only of her. + +Besides, was it necessary for him to explain what was happening? Did not +the reality itself become more and more apparent as the seconds passed? +A strange reality indeed, having no connection with commonplace facts, a +reality quite beyond anything that the imagination might invent in the +domain of evil, a strange reality which Véronique, who was beginning to +grasp its indication, still refused to believe. + +Acting like a trap-door, but like a trap-door working the reverse way, +the square of enormous joists which was set in the middle of the cave +rose, pivoting on the fixed axis by which it was hinged parallel with +the cliff. The almost imperceptible movement was that of an enormous lid +opening; and the thing already formed a sort of spring-board reaching +from the edge to the back of the cave, a spring-board with as yet a very +slight slope, on which it was easy enough to keep one's balance. + +At the first moment, Véronique thought that the enemy's object was to +crush them between the implacable floor and the granite of the ceiling. +But, almost immediately afterwards, she understood that the hateful +mechanism, by standing erect like a draw-bridge when hoisted up, was +intended to hurl them over the precipice. And it would carry out that +intention inexorably. The result was fatal and inevitable. Whatever they +might try, whatever efforts they might make to hold on, a minute would +come when the floor of that draw-bridge would be absolutely vertical, +forming an integral part of the perpendicular cliff. + +"It's horrible, it's horrible," she muttered. + +Their hands were still clasped. Stéphane was weeping silent tears. + +Presently she moaned: + +"There's nothing to be done, is there?" + +"Nothing," he replied. + +"Still, there is room beyond that wooden floor. The cave is round. We +might . . ." + +"The space is too small. If we tried to stand between the sides of the +square and the wall, we should be crushed to death. That has all been +planned. I have often thought about it." + +"Then . . . ?" + +"We must wait." + +"For what? For whom?" + +"For François." + +"Oh, François!" she said, with a sob. "Perhaps he too is doomed . . . . +Or perhaps he is looking for us and will fall into some trap. In any +case, I shall not see him . . . . And he will know nothing . . . . And +he will not even have seen his mother before dying . . . ." + +She pressed Stéphane's hands and said: + +"Stéphane, if one of us escapes death--and I hope it may be you . . ." + +"It will be you," he said, in a tone of conviction. "I am even surprised +that the enemy should condemn you to the same torture as myself. But no +doubt he doesn't know that it's you who are here with me." + +"It surprises me too!" said Véronique. "A different torture is set aside +for me. But what does it matter, if I am not to see my son again! . . . +Stéphane, I can safely leave him in your charge, can't I? I know all +that you have already done for him." + +The floor continued to rise very slowly, with an uneven vibration and +sudden jerks. The slope became more accentuated. A few minutes more and +they would no longer be able to speak freely and quietly. + +Stéphane replied: + +"If I survive, I swear to fulfil my task to the end. I swear it in +memory . . ." + +"In memory of me," she said, in a firm voice, "in memory of the +Véronique whom you knew . . . and loved." + +He looked at her passionately: + +"So you know?" + +"Yes; and I tell you frankly, I have read your diary. I know your love +for me . . . and I accept it." She gave a sad smile. "That poor love +which you offered to the woman who was absent . . . and which you are +now offering to the woman who is about to die." + +"No, no," he said, eagerly, "don't believe that . . . . Salvation may be +near at hand . . . . I feel it. My love does not belong to the past but +to the future." + +He stooped to put his lips to her hands. + +"Kiss me," she said, offering him her forehead. + +Each of them had been obliged to place one foot on the brink of the +precipice, on the straight edge of granite which ran parallel with the +fourth side of the spring-board. + +They kissed gravely. + +"Hold me firmly," said Véronique. + +She leant back as far as she could, raising her head, and called in a +muffled voice: + +"François . . . . François . . . ." + +But there was no one at the upper opening, from which the ladder was +still hanging by one of its hooks, well out of reach. + +Véronique bent over the sea. At this spot, the swell of the cliff did +not project as much as elsewhere; and she saw, in between the +foam-topped reefs, a little pool of still water, very calm and so deep +that she could not see the bottom. She thought that death would be +gentler there than on the sharp-pointed rocks and, yielding to a sudden +longing to have done with it all and to avoid a lingering agony, she +said to Stéphane: + +"Why wait for the end? Better die than suffer this torture." + +"No, no!" he exclaimed, horrified at the thought that Véronique might +disappear from his sight. + +"Then you are still hoping?" + +"Until the last second, since it's your life that's at stake." + +"I have no longer any hope." + +Nor was he borne up by hope; but he would have given anything to lull +Véronique's sufferings and to bear the whole weight of the supreme +ordeal himself. + +The floor continued to rise. The vibration had ceased and the slope +became much more marked, already reaching the bottom of the wicket, half +way up the door. Then there was a sound like a sudden stoppage of +machinery, followed by a violent jolt, and the whole wicket was covered. +It was becoming impossible for them to stand erect. + +They lay down on the slanting floor, bracing their feet against the +granite edge. + +Two more jerks occurred, each time pushing the upper end still higher. +The top of the inner wall was reached; and the enormous mechanism moved +slowly forward, along the ceiling, towards the opening of the cave. They +could see very plainly that it would fit this opening exactly and close +it hermetically, like a draw-bridge. The rock had been hewn in such a +way that the deadly task might be accomplished without leaving any +loophole for chance. + +They did not utter a word. With hands tight-clasped, they resigned +themselves to the inevitable. Their death was assuming the aspect of an +event decreed by destiny. The machine had been constructed far back in +the centuries and had no doubt been reconstructed, repaired and put in +order at a more recent date; and during those centuries, worked by +invisible executioners, it had caused the death of culprits, of guilty +men and innocent, of men of Armorica, Gaul, France or foreign lands. +Prisoners of war, sacrilegious monks, persecuted peasants, renegade +Chouans and soldiers of the Revolution; one by one the monster had +hurled them over the cliff. + +To-day it was their turn. + +They had not even the bitter solace of rage and hatred. Whom were they +to hate? They were dying in the deepest obscurity, with no hostile face +emerging from that implacable night. They were dying in the +accomplishment of a task unknown to themselves, to make up a total, so +to speak, and for the fulfilment of absurd prophecies, of imbecile +intentions, such as the orders given by the barbarian gods and +formulated by fanatical priests. They were--it was a thing unheard +of--the victims of some expiatory sacrifice, of some holocaust offered +to the divinities of a blood-thirsty creed! + +The wall stood behind them. In a few more minutes it would be +perpendicular. The end was approaching. + +Time after time Stéphane had to hold Véronique back. An increasing +terror distracted her mind. She yearned to fling herself down. + +"Please, please," she stammered, "do let me . . . . I am suffering more +than I can bear." + +Had she not found her son again, she would have retained her +self-control to the end. But the thought of François was unsettling her. +The boy must also be a prisoner, they must be torturing him too and +immolating him, like his mother, on the altars of the execrable gods. + +"No, no, he will come," Stéphane declared. "You will be saved . . . . I +will have it so . . . . I know it." + +She replied, wildly: + +"He is imprisoned as we are . . . . They are burning him with torches, +driving arrows into him, tearing his flesh . . . . Oh, my poor little +son! . . ." + +"He will come, dear, he told you he would. Nothing can separate a mother +and son who have been brought together again." + +"We have found each other in death; we shall be united in death. I wish +it might be at once! I don't want him to suffer!" + +The agony was too great. With an effort she released her hands from +Stéphane's and made a movement to fling herself down. But she +immediately threw herself back against the draw-bridge, with a cry of +amazement which was echoed by Stéphane. + +Something had passed before their eyes and disappeared again. It came +from the left. + +"The ladder!" exclaimed Stéphane. "It's the ladder, isn't it?" + +"Yes, it's François," said Véronique, catching her breath with joy and +hope. "He is saved. He is coming to rescue us." + +At that moment, the wall of torment was almost upright, vibrating +implacably beneath their shoulders. The cave no longer existed behind +them. The depths had already claimed them; at most they were clinging to +a narrow ledge. + +Véronique leant outwards again. The ladder swung back and then became +stationary, fixed by its two hooks. + +Above them, at the opening in the cliff, was a boy's face; and the boy +was smiling and making gestures: + +"Mother, mother . . . quick!" + +The call was eager and urgent. The two arms were outstretched towards +the pair below. Véronique moaned: + +"Oh, it's you, it's you, my darling!" + +"Quick, mother, I'm holding the ladder! . . . Quick! . . . It's quite +safe!" + +"I'm coming, darling, I'm coming." + +She had seized the nearest upright. This time, with Stéphane's +assistance, she had no difficulty in placing her foot on the bottom +rung. But she said: + +"And you, Stéphane? You're coming with me, aren't you?" + +"I have plenty of time," he said. "Hurry." + +"No, you must promise." + +"I swear. Hurry." + +She climbed four rungs and stopped: + +"Are you coming, Stéphane?" + +He had already turned towards the cliff and slipped his left hand into a +narrow fissure which remained between the draw-bridge and the rock. His +right hand reached the ladder and he was able to set foot on the lowest +rung. He too was saved. + +With what delight Véronique covered the rest of the distance! What +mattered the void below her, now that her son was there, waiting for her +to clasp him to her breast at last! + +"Here I am, here I am," she said. "Here I am, my darling." + +She swiftly put her head and shoulders in the window. He pulled her +through; and she climbed over the ledge. At last she was with her son. + +They flung themselves into each other's arms: + +"Oh, mother, mother, is it really true? Mother!" + +But she had no sooner closed her arms about him than she drew back a +little, she did not know why. An inexplicable discomfort checked her +first outburst. + +"Come here," she said, dragging him to the light of the window. "Come +and let me look at you." + +The boy did as she wished. She examined him for two or three seconds, no +longer, and suddenly, giving a start of terror, ejaculated: + +"Then it's you? It's you, the murderer?" + +Oh, horror! She was once more looking on the face of the monster who had +killed her father and Honorine before her eyes! + +"So you know me?" he chuckled. + +Véronique realised her mistake from the boy's very tone. This was not +François but the other, the one who had played his devilish part in the +clothes which François usually wore. + +He gave another chuckle: + +"Ah, you're beginning to see things as they are, ma'am! You know me now, +don't you?" + +The hateful face contracted, became wicked and cruel, animated by the +vilest expression. + +"Vorski! Vorski!" stammered Véronique. "It's Vorski I recognise in you." + +He burst out laughing: + +"Why not? Do you think I'm going to disown my father as you did?" + +"Vorski's son! His son!" Véronique repeated. + +"Lord bless me, yes, his son: why shouldn't I be? Surely the good fellow +had the right to have two sons! Me first and dear François next!" + +"Vorski's son!" Véronique exclaimed once more. + +"And one of the best, I tell you, ma'am, a worthy son of his father and +brought up on the highest principles. I've shown you as much already, +haven't I? But it's not finished, we're only at the beginning . . . . +Here, would you like me to give you a fresh proof? Just take a squint at +that stick-in-the-mud of a tutor! . . . No, but look how things go when +I take a hand in them." + +He sprang to the window. Stéphane's head appeared. The boy picked up a +stone and struck with all his might, throwing him backwards. + +Véronique, who at the first moment had hesitated, not realising the +danger, now rushed and seized the boy's arm. It was too late. The head +vanished. The hooks of the ladder slipped off the ledge. There was a +loud cry, followed by the sound of a body falling into the water below. + +Véronique ran to the window. The ladder was floating on the part of the +little pool which she was able to see, lying motionless in its frame of +rocks. There was nothing to point to the place where Stéphane had +fallen, not an eddy, not a ripple. + +She called out: + +"Stéphane! Stéphane! . . ." + +No reply, nothing but the great silence of space in which the winds are +still and the sea asleep. + +"You villain, what have you done?" she cried. + +"Don't take on, missus," he said. "Master Stéphane brought up your kid +to be a duffer. Come it's a laughing matter, it is, really. Give us a +kiss, won't you, daddy's missus? But, I say, what a face you're pulling! +Surely you don't hate me as much as all that?" + +He went up to her, with his arms outstretched. Véronique swiftly covered +him with her revolver: + +"Be off, be off, or I'll kill you as I would a mad dog! Be off!" + +The boy's face became more inhuman than ever. He fell back step by step, +snarling: + +"Oh, I'll make you pay for this, my pretty lady! . . . What do you mean +by it? I come up to give you a kiss . . . I'm full of kindly feelings +. . . and you want to shoot me! You shall pay for it in blood . . . in +nice red flowing blood . . . blood . . . blood . . . ." + +He seemed to love the sound of the word. He repeated it time after time, +then once more gave a burst of evil laughter and fled down the tunnel +which led to the Priory, shouting: + +"The blood of your son, Mother Véronique! . . . The blood of your +darling François!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE ESCAPE + + +Shuddering, uncertain how to act next, Véronique listened till she no +longer heard the sound of his footsteps. What should she do? The murder +of Stéphane had for a moment turned her thoughts from François; but she +now once more fell a prey to anguish. What had become of her son? Should +she go to him at the Priory and defend him against the dangers that +threatened him? + +"Come, come," she said, "I'm losing my head . . . . Let me think things +out . . . . A few hours ago, François was speaking to me through the +wall of his prison . . . for it was certainly he then, it was certainly +François who yesterday took my hand and covered it with his kisses +. . . . A mother cannot be deceived; and I was quivering with love and +tenderness . . . . But since . . . since this morning has he not left +his prison?" + +She stopped to think and then said, slowly: + +"That's it . . . that's what happened . . . . Stéphane and I were +discovered below, on the floor underneath. The alarm was given at once. +The monster, Vorski's son, had gone up expressly to watch François. He +found the cell empty and, seeing the opening which had been made, +crawled out here. Yes, that's it . . . . If not, by what way did he +come? . . . When he got here, it occurred to him to run to the window, +knowing that it overlooked the sea and suspecting that François had +chosen it to make his escape. He at once saw the hooks of the ladder. +Then, on leaning over, he saw me, knew who I was and called out to me +. . . . And now . . . now he is on his way to the Priory, where he is +bound to meet François . . . ." + +Nevertheless Véronique did not stir. She had an instinct that the danger +lay not at the Priory but here, by the cells. And she wondered whether +François had really succeeded in escaping and whether, before his task +was done, he had not been surprised by the other and attacked by him. + +It was a horrible doubt! She stooped quickly and, perceiving that the +hole had been widened, tried to pass through it herself. But the outlet, +at most large enough for a child, was too narrow for her; and her +shoulders became fixed. She persisted in the attempt, however, tearing +her bodice and bruising her skin against the rock, and at last, by dint +of patience and wriggling, succeeded in slipping through. + +The cell was empty. But the door was open on the passages facing her; +and Véronique had an impression--merely an impression, for the window +admitted only a faint light--that some one was just leaving the cell +through the open door. And from this confused impression of something +that she had not absolutely seen she retained the certainty that it was +a woman who was hiding there, in the passage, a woman surprised by her +unexpected entrance. + +"It's their accomplice," thought Véronique. "She came up with the boy +who killed Stéphane, and she has no doubt taken François away . . . . +Perhaps François is even there still, quite near me, while she's +watching me . . . ." + +Meanwhile Véronique's eyes were growing accustomed to the semidarkness +and she distinctly saw a woman's hand upon the door, which opened +inwardly. The hand was slowly pulling. + +"Why doesn't she shut it at once," Véronique wondered, "since she +obviously wants to put a barrier between us?" + +Véronique received her answer when she heard a pebble grating under the +door and interfering with its movement. If the pebble were not there, +the door would be closed. Without hesitating, Véronique went up, took +hold of a great iron handle and pulled it towards her. The hand +disappeared, but the opposition continued. There was evidently a handle +on the other side as well. + +Suddenly she heard a whistle. The woman was summoning assistance. And +almost at the same time, in the passage, at some distance from the +woman, there was a cry: + +"Mother! Mother!" + +Ah, with what deep emotion Véronique heard that cry! Her son, her real +son was calling to her, her son, still a captive but alive! Oh, the +superhuman delight of it! + +"I'm here, darling!" + +"Quick, mother! I'm tied up; and the whistle is their signal . . . +they'll be coming." + +"I'm here . . . . I shall save you before they come!" + +She had no doubt of the result. It seemed to her as though her strength +knew no limits and as though nothing could resist the exasperated +tension of her whole being. + +Her adversary was in fact weakening and giving ground by inches. The +opening became wider; and suddenly the contest was over. Véronique +walked through. + +The woman had already fled down the passage and was dragging the boy by +a rope in order to make him walk despite the cords with which he was +bound. It was a vain attempt and she abandoned it forthwith. Véronique +was close to her, with her revolver in her hand. + +The woman let go the boy and stood up in the light from the open cells. +She was dressed in white serge, with a knotted girdle round her waist. +Her arms were half bare. Her face was still young, but faded, thin and +wrinkled. Her hair was fair, interspersed with strands of white. Her +eyes gleamed with a feverish hatred. + +The two women looked at each other without a word, like two adversaries +who have met before and are about to fight again. Véronique almost +smiled, with a smile of mingled triumph and defiance. In the end she +said: + +"If you dare to lay a finger on my child, I'll kill you. Go! Be off!" + +The woman was not frightened. She seemed to be reflecting and to be +listening in the expectation of assistance. None come. Then she lowered +her eyes to François and made a movement as though to seize upon her +prey again. + +"Don't touch him!" Véronique exclaimed, violently. "Don't touch him, or +I fire!" + +The woman shrugged her shoulders and said, in measured accents: + +"No threats, please! If I had wanted to kill that child of yours, I +should have done so by now. But his hour has not come; and it is not by +my hand that he is to die." + +Véronique, trembling all over, could not help asking: + +"By whose hand is he to die?" + +"By my son's: you know . . . the one you've seen." + +"Is he your son, the murderer, the monster?" + +"He's the son of . . ." + +"Silence! Silence!" Véronique commanded. She understood that the woman +had been Vorski's mistress and feared that she would make some +disclosure in François' presence. "Silence: that name is not to be +spoken." + +"It will be when it has to be," said the woman. "Ah, I've suffered +enough through you, Véronique: it's your turn now; and you're only at +the beginning of it!" + +"Go!" cried Véronique, pointing her revolver. + +"Once more, no threats, please." + +"Go, or I fire! I swear it on the head of my son." + +The woman retreated, betraying a certain anxiety in spite of herself. +But she was seized with a fresh access of rage. Impotently she raised +her clenched fists and shouted, in a raucous, broken voice: + +"I will be revenged . . . You shall see. Véronique . . . . The cross--do +you understand?--the cross is ready . . . . You are the fourth . . . . +What, oh, what a revenge!" + +She shook her gnarled, bony fists. And she continued: + +"Oh, how I hate you! Fifteen years of hatred! But the cross will avenge +me . . . . I shall string you up on it myself . . . . The cross is ready +. . . you'll see . . . the cross is ready for you! . . ." + +She walked away slowly, holding herself erect under the threat of the +revolver. + +"Don't kill her, mother, will you?" whispered François, suspecting the +contest in his mother's mind. + +Véronique seemed to wake from a dream: + +"No, no," she replied, "don't be afraid . . . . And yet perhaps I ought +to . . ." + +"Oh, please let her be, mother, and let us go away." + +She lifted him in her arms, even before the woman was out of sight, +pressed him to her and carried him to the cell as though he weighed no +more than a little child. + +"Mother, mother," he said. + +"Yes, darling, your own mother; and no one shall take you from me again, +that I swear to you." + +Without troubling about the wounds inflicted by the stone she slipped, +this time almost at the first attempt, through the gap made by François, +drew him after her and then, but not before, released him from his +bonds. + +"There is no danger here," she said, "at least for the moment, because +they can hardly get at us except by the cell and I shall be able to +defend the entrance." + +Mother and son exchanged the fondest of embraces. There was now no +barrier to part their lips and their arms. They could see each other, +could gaze into each other's eyes. + +"How handsome you are, my darling!" said Véronique. + +She saw no resemblance between him and the boy murderer and was +astonished that Honorine could have taken one for the other. And she +felt as if she would never weary of admiring the breeding, the frankness +and the sweetness which she read in his face. + +"And you, mother," he said, "do you think that I ever pictured a mother +as beautiful as you? No, not even in my dreams, when you seemed as +lovely as a fairy. And yet Stéphane often used to tell me . . ." + +She interrupted him: + +"We must hurry, dearest, and take refuge from their pursuit. We must +go." + +"Yes," he said, "and above all we must leave Sarek. I have invented a +plan of escape which is bound to succeed. But, first of all, Stéphane: +what has become of him? I heard the sound of which I spoke to you +underneath my cell and I fear . . ." + +She dragged him along by the hand, without answering his question: + +"I have many things to tell you, darling, painful things which I must no +longer keep from you. But presently will do . . . . For the moment we +must take refuge in the Priory. That woman will go in search of help and +come after us." + +"But she was not alone, mother, when she entered my cell suddenly and +caught me in the act of digging at the wall. There was some one with +her." + +"A boy, wasn't it? A boy of your own size?" + +"I could hardly see. He and the woman fell upon me, bound me and carried +me into the passage. Then the woman left me for a moment and he went +back to the cell. He therefore knows about this tunnel by now and about +the exit in the Priory grounds." + +"Yes, I know. But we shall easily get the better of him; and we'll block +up the exit." + +"But there remains the bridge which joins the two islands," François +objected. + +"No," she said, "I burnt it down and the Priory is absolutely cut off." + +They were walking very quickly, Véronique pressing her pace, François a +little anxious at the words spoken by his mother. + +"Yes, yes," he said, "I see that there is a good deal which I don't know +and which you have kept from me, mother, in order not to frighten me. +For instance, when you burnt down the bridge . . . . It was with the +petrol set aside for the purpose, wasn't it, and as arranged with +Maguennoc in case of danger? So you were threatened too; and the first +attack was made on you, mother? . . . And then there was something that +woman said with such a hateful look on her face! . . . And then . . . +and then, above all, what has become of Stéphane? They were whispering +about him just now in my cell . . . . All this worries me . . . . Then +again I don't see the ladder which you brought . . . ." + +"Please, dearest, don't let us wait a moment. The woman will have found +assistance . . . ." + +The boy stopped short: + +"Mother." + +"What? Do you hear anything?" + +"Some one walking." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Some one coming this way." + +"Oh," she said, in a hollow voice, "it's the murderer coming back from +the Priory!" + +She felt her revolver and prepared herself for anything that might +happen. But suddenly she pushed François towards a dark corner on her +left, formed by the entry to one of those tunnels, probably blocked, +which she had noticed when she came. + +"Get in there," she said. "We shall be all right here: he will not see +us." + +The sound approached. + +"Stand well back," she said, "and don't stir." + +The boy whispered: + +"What's that in your hand? A revolver? Mother, you're not going to +fire?" + +"I ought to, I ought to," said Véronique. "He's such a monster! . . . +It's as with his mother . . . I ought to have . . . we shall perhaps +regret it." And she added, almost unconsciously, "He killed your +grandfather." + +"Oh, mother, mother!" + +She supported him, to prevent his falling, and amid the silence she +heard the boy sobbing on her breast and stammering: + +"Never mind . . . don't fire, mother . . . ." + +"Here he comes, darling, here he comes; look at him." + +The other passed. He was walking slowly, a little bent, listening for +the least sound. He appeared to Véronique to be the exact same size as +her son; and this time, when she looked at him with more attention, she +was not so much surprised that Honorine and M. d'Hergemont had been +taken in, for there were really some points of resemblance, which would +have been accentuated by the fact that he was wearing the red cap stolen +from François. + +He walked on. + +"Do you know him?" asked Véronique. + +"No, mother." + +"Are you sure that you never saw him?" + +"Sure." + +"And it was he who fell upon you, with the woman, in your cell?" + +"I haven't a doubt of it, mother. He even hit me in the face, for no +reason, with absolute hatred." + +"Oh," she said, "this is all incomprehensible! When shall we escape this +awful nightmare?" + +"Quick, mother, the road's clear. Let's make the most of it." + +On returning to the light, she saw that he was very pale and felt his +hand in hers like a lump of ice. Nevertheless he looked up at her with a +smile of happiness. + +They set out again; and soon, after passing the strip of cliff that +joined the two islands and climbing the staircases, they emerged in the +open air, to the right of Maguennoc's garden. The daylight was beginning +to wane. + +"We are saved," said Véronique. + +"Yes," replied the boy, "but only on condition that they cannot reach us +by the same road. We shall have to bar it, therefore." + +"How?" + +"Wait for me here; I'll go and fetch some tools at the Priory." + +"Oh, don't let us leave each other, François!" + +"You can come with me, mother." + +"And suppose the enemy arrives in the meantime? No, we must defend this +outlet." + +"Then help me, mother." + +A rapid inspection showed them that one of the two stones which formed a +roof above the entrance was not very firmly rooted in its place. They +found no difficulty in first shifting and then clearing it. The stone +fell across the staircase and was at once covered by an avalanche of +earth and pebbles which made the passage, if not impracticable, at least +very hard to manage. + +"All the more so," said François, "as we shall stay here until we are +able to carry out my plan. And be easy, mother; it's a sound scheme and +we have nearly managed it." + +For that matter, they recognized above all, that rest was essential. +They were both of them worn out. + +"Lie down, mother . . . look, just here: there's a bed of moss under +this overhanging rock which makes a regular nest. You'll be as cosy as a +queen there and sheltered from the cold." + +"Oh, my darling, my darling!" murmured Véronique, overcome with +happiness. + +It was now the time for explanations; and Véronique did not hesitate to +give them. The boy's grief at hearing of the death of all those whom he +had known would be mitigated by the great joy which he felt at +recovering his mother. She therefore spoke without reserve, cradling him +in her lap, wiping away his tears, feeling plainly that she was enough +to make up for all the lost affections and friendships. He was +particularly afflicted by Stéphane's death. + +"But is it quite certain?" he asked. "For, after all, there is nothing +to tell us that he is drowned. Stéphane is a perfect swimmer; and so +. . . Yes, yes, mother, we must not despair . . . on the contrary +. . . . Look, here's a friend who always comes at the worst times, to +declare that everything is not lost." + +All's Well came trotting along. The sight of his master did not appear +to surprise him. Nothing unduly surprised All's Well. Events, to his +mind, always followed one another in a natural order which did not +disturb either his habits or his occupations. Tears alone seemed to him +worthy of special attention. And Véronique and François were not crying. + +"You see, mother? All's Well agrees with me; nothing is lost . . . . +But, upon my word, All's Well, you're a sharp little fellow! What would +you have said, eh, if we'd left the island without you?" + +Véronique looked at her son: + +"Left the island?" + +"Certainly: and the sooner the better. That's my plan. What do you say +to it?" + +"But how are we to get away?" + +"In a boat." + +"Is there one here?" + +"Yes, mine." + +"Where?" + +"Close by, at Sarek Point." + +"But how are we to get down? The cliff is perpendicular." + +"She's at the very place where the cliff is steepest, a place known as +the Postern. The name puzzled Stéphane and myself. A postern suggests an +entrance, a gate. Well, we ended by learning that, in the middle ages, +at the time of the monks, the little isle on which the Priory stands was +surrounded by ramparts. It was therefore to be presumed that there was a +postern here which commanded an outlet on the sea. And in fact, after +hunting about with Maguennoc, we discovered, on the flat top of the +cliff, a sort of gully, a sandy depression reinforced at intervals by +regular walls made of big building-stones. A path winds down the middle, +with steps and windows on the side of the sea, and leads to a little +bay. That is the Postern outlet. We repaired it: and my boat is hanging +at the foot of the cliff." + +Véronique's features underwent a transformation: + +"Then we're safe now!" + +"There's no doubt of that." + +"And the enemy can't get there?" + +"How could he?" + +"He has the motor-boat at his disposal." + +"He has never been there, because he doesn't know of the bay nor of the +way down to it either: you can't see them from the open sea. Besides, +they are protected by a thousand sharp-pointed rocks." + +"And what's to prevent us from leaving at once?" + +"The darkness, mother. I'm a good mariner and accustomed to navigate +all the channels that lead away from Sarek, but I should not be at all +sure of not striking some reef or other. No, we must wait for daylight." + +"It seems so long!" + +"A few hours' patience, mother. And we are together, you and I! At break +of dawn, we'll take the boat and begin by hugging the foot of the cliff +till we are underneath the cells. Then we'll pick up Stéphane, who of +course will be waiting for us on some strip of beach, and we'll all be +off, won't we, All's Well? We'll land at Pont-l'Abbé at twelve o'clock +or so. That's my plan." + +Véronique could not contain her delight and admiration. She was +astonished to find so young a boy giving proofs of such self-possession. + +"It's splendid, darling, and you're right in everything. Luck is +decidedly coming our way." + +The evening passed without incidents. An alarm, however, a noise under +the rubbish which blocked the underground passage and a ray of light +trickling through a slit obliged them to mount guard until the minute of +their departure. But it did not affect their spirits. + +"Why, of course I'm easy in my mind," said François. "From the moment +when I found you again, I felt that it was for good. Besides, if the +worst came to the worst, have we not a last hope left? Stéphane spoke to +you about it, I expect. And it makes you laugh, my confidence in a +rescuer whom I have never seen . . . . Well, I tell you, mother, if I +were to see a dagger about to strike me, I should be certain, absolutely +certain, mind you, that a hand would come and ward off the blow." + +"Alas," she said, "that providential hand did not prevent all the +misfortunes of which I told you!" + +"It will keep off those which threaten my mother," declared the boy. + +"How? This unknown friend has not been warned." + +"He will come all the same. He doesn't need to be warned to know how +great the danger is. He will come. And, mother, promise me one thing: +whatever happens, you must have confidence." + +"I will have confidence, darling, I promise you." + +"And you will be right," he said, laughing, "for I shall be the leader. +And what a leader, eh, mother? Why, yesterday evening I foresaw that, to +carry the enterprise through successfully and so that my mother should +be neither cold nor hungry, in case we were not able to take the boat +this afternoon, we must have food and rugs! Well, they will be of use to +us to-night, seeing that for prudence's sake we mustn't abandon our post +here and sleep at the Priory. Where did you put the parcel, mother?" + +They ate gaily and with a good appetite. Then François wrapped his +mother up and tucked her in: and they both fell asleep, lying close +together, happy and unafraid. + +When the keen air of the morning woke Véronique, a belt of rosy light +streaked the sky. François was sleeping the peaceful sleep of a child +that feels itself protected and is untroubled by dreams. For a long time +she just sat gazing at him without wearying: and she was still looking +at him when the sun was high above the horizon. + +"To work, mother," he said, after he had opened his eyes and given her a +kiss. "No one in the tunnel? No. Then we have plenty of time to go on +board." + +They took the rugs and provisions and, with brisk steps, went towards +the descent leading to the Postern, at the extreme end of the island. +Beyond this point the rocks were heaped up in formidable confusion: and +the sea, though calm, lapped against them noisily. + +"I hope your boat's there still!" said Véronique. + +"Lean over a little, mother. You can see her down there, hanging in that +crevice. We have only to work the pulley to get her afloat. Oh, it's all +very well thought out, mother darling! We have nothing to fear . . . . +Only . . . only . . ." + +He had interrupted himself and was thinking. + +"What? What is it?" asked Véronique. + +"Oh, nothing! A slight delay." + +"But . . ." + +He began to laugh: + +"Really, for the leader of an expedition, it's rather humiliating, I +admit. Just fancy, I've forgotten one thing: the oars. They are at the +Priory." + +"But this is terrible!" cried Véronique. + +"Why? I'll run to the Priory and I shall be back in ten minutes." + +All Véronique's apprehensions returned: + +"And suppose they make their way out of the tunnel meanwhile?" + +"Come, come, mother," he laughed, "you promised to have confidence. To +get out of the tunnel would take them an hour's hard work; and we +should hear them. Besides, what's the use of talking, mother? I'll be +back at once." + +He ran off. + +"François! François!" + +He did not reply. + +"Oh," she thought, once more assailed by forebodings. "I had sworn not +to leave him for a second!" + +She followed him at a distance and stopped on a hillock between the +Fairies' Dolmen and the Calvary of the Flowers. From here she could see +the entrance to the tunnel and also saw her son jogging along the grass. + +He first went into the basement of the Priory. But the oars seemed not +to be there, for he came out almost at once and went to the main door, +which he opened and disappeared from sight. + +"One minute ought to be plenty for him," said Véronique to herself. "The +oars must be in the hall . . . or at any rate on the ground-floor +. . . . Say two minutes, at the outside." + +She counted the seconds while watching the entrance to the tunnel. + +But three minutes, four minutes, five minutes passed: and the front-door +did not open again. + +All Véronique's confidence vanished. She thought that it was mad of her +not to have gone with her son and that she ought never to have submitted +to a child's will. Without troubling about the tunnel or the dangers +from that side, she began to walk towards the Priory. But she had the +horrible feeling which people sometimes experience in dreams, when +their legs seem paralysed and when they are unable to move, while the +enemy advances to attack them. + +And suddenly, on reaching the Dolmen, she beheld a sight the meaning of +which was immediately clear to her. The ground at the foot of the oaks +round the right-hand part of the semi-circle was littered with lately +cut branches, which still bore their green leaves. + +She raised her eyes and stood stupefied and dismayed. + +One oak alone had been stripped. And on the huge trunk, bare to a height +of twelve or fifteen feet, there was a paper, transfixed by an arrow and +bearing the inscription, "V. d'H." + +"The fourth cross," Véronique faltered, "the cross marked with my name!" + +She supposed that, as her father was dead, the initials of her maiden +name must have been written by one of her enemies, the chief of them, no +doubt; and for the first time, under the influence of recent events, +remembering the woman and the boy who were persecuting her, she +involuntarily attributed a definite set of features to that enemy. + +It was a fleeting impression, an improbable theory, of which she was not +even conscious. She was overwhelmed by something much more terrible. She +suddenly understood that the monsters, those creatures of the heath and +the cells, the accomplices of the woman and the boy, must have been +there, since the cross was prepared. No doubt they had built a +foot-bridge and thrown it over the chasm to take the place of the bridge +to which she had set fire. They were masters of the Priory. And +François was once more in their hands! + +Then she rushed straight along, collecting all her strength. She in her +turn ran over the turf, dotted with ruins, that sloped towards the front +of the house. + +"François! François! François!" + +She called his name in a piercing voice. She announced her coming with +loud cries. Thus did she reach the Priory. + +One half of the door stood ajar. She pushed it and darted into the hall, +crying: + +"François! François!" + +The call rang from floor to attic and throughout the house, but remained +unanswered: + +"François! François!" + +She went upstairs, opening doors at random, running into her son's room, +into Stéphane's, into Honorine's. She found nobody. + +"François! François! . . . Don't you hear me? Are they hurting you? +. . . Oh, François, do answer!" + +She went back to the landing. Opposite her was M. d'Hergemont's study. +She flung herself upon the door and at once recoiled, as though stricken +by a vision from hell. + +A man was standing there, with arms crossed and apparently waiting for +her. And it was the man whom she had pictured for an instant when +thinking of the woman and the boy. It was the third monster! + +She said, simply, but in a voice filled with inexpressible horror: + +"Vorski! . . . Vorski! . . ." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SCOURGE OF GOD + + +Vorski! Vorski! The unspeakable creature, the thought of whom filled her +with shame and horror, the monstrous Vorski, was not dead! The murder of +the spy by one of his colleagues, his burial in the cemetery at +Fontainebleau; all this was a fable, a delusion! The only real fact was +that Vorski was alive! + +Of all the visions that could have haunted Véronique's brain, there was +none so abominable as the sight before her; Vorski standing erect, with +his arms crossed and his head up, alive! Vorski alive! + +She would have accepted anything with her usual courage, but not this. +She had felt strong enough to face and defy no matter what enemy, but +not this one. Vorski stood for ignominious disgrace, for insatiable +wickedness, for boundless ferocity, for method mingled with madness in +crime. + +And this man loved her. + +She suddenly blushed. Vorski was staring with greedy eyes at the bare +flesh of her shoulders and arms, which showed through her tattered +bodice, and looking upon this bare flesh as upon a prey which nothing +could snatch from him. Nevertheless Véronique did not budge. She had no +covering within reach. She pulled herself together under the insult of +the man's desire and defied him with such a glance that he was +embarrassed and for a moment turned away his eyes. + +Then she cried, with an uncontrollable outburst of feeling: + +"My son! Where's François? I want to see him." + +"_Our_ son is sacred, madame," he replied. "He has nothing to fear from +his father." + +"I want to see him." + +He lifted his hand as one taking an oath: + +"You shall see him, I swear." + +"Dead, perhaps!" she said, in a hollow voice. + +"As much alive as you and I, madame." + +There was a fresh pause. Vorski was obviously seeking his words and +preparing the speech with which the implacable conflict between them was +to open. + +He was a man of athletic stature, with a powerful frame, legs slightly +bowed, an enormous neck swollen by great bundles of muscles and a head +unduly small, with fair hair plastered down and parted in the middle. +That in him which at one time produced an impression of brute strength, +combined with a certain distinction, had become with age the massive and +vulgar aspect of a professional wrestler posturing on the hustings at a +fair. The disquieting charm which once attracted the women had vanished; +and all that remained was a harsh and cruel expression of which he tried +to correct the hardness by means of an impassive smile. + +He unfolded his arms, drew up a chair and, bowing to Véronique, said: + +"Our conversation, madame, will be long and at times painful. Won't you +sit down?" + +He waited for a moment and, receiving no reply, without allowing himself +to be disconcerted, continued: + +"Perhaps you would rather first take some refreshment at the sideboard. +Would you care for a biscuit and a thimbleful of old claret or a glass +of champagne?" + +He affected an exaggerated politeness, the essentially Teutonic +politeness of the semibarbarians who are anxious to prove that they are +familiar with all the niceties of civilization and that they have been +initiated into every refinement of courtesy, even towards a woman whom +the right of conquest would permit them to treat more cavalierly. This +was one of the points of detail which in the past had most vividly +enlightened Véronique as to her husband's probable origin. + +She shrugged her shoulders and remained silent. + +"Very well," he said, "but you must then authorize me to stand, as +behooves a man of breeding who prides himself on possessing a certain +amount of _savoir faire_. Also pray excuse me for appearing in your +presence in this more than careless attire. Internment-camps and the +caves of Sarek are hardly places in which it is easy to renew one's +wardrobe." + +He was in fact wearing a pair of old patched trousers and a torn +red-flannel waistcoat. But over these he had donned a white linen robe +which was half-closed by a knotted girdle. It was a carefully studied +costume; and he accentuated its eccentricity by adopting theatrical +attitudes and an air of satisfied negligence. + +Pleased with his preamble, he began to walk up and down, with his hands +behind his back, like a man who is in no hurry and who is taking time +for reflection in very serious circumstances. Then he stopped and, in a +leisurely tone: + +"I think, madame, that we shall gain time in the end by devoting a few +indispensable minutes to a brief account of our past life together. +Don't you agree?" + +Véronique did not reply. He therefore began, in the same deliberate +tone: + +"In the days when you loved me . . ." + +She made a gesture of revolt. He insisted: + +"Nevertheless, Véronique . . ." + +"Oh," she said, in an accent of disgust, "I forbid you! . . . That name +from your lips! . . . I will not allow it . . . ." + +He smiled and continued, in a tone of condescension: + +"Don't be annoyed with me, madame. Whatever formula I employ, you may be +assured of my respect. I therefore resume my remarks. In the days when +you loved me, I was, I must admit, a heartless libertine, a debauchee, +not perhaps without a certain style and charm, for I always made the +most of my advantages, but possessing none of the qualities of a married +man. These qualities I should easily have acquired under your influence, +for I loved you to distraction. You had about you a purity that +enraptured me, a charm and a simplicity which I have never met with in +any woman. A little patience on your part, an effort of kindness would +have been enough to transform me. Unfortunately, from the very first +moment, after a rather melancholy engagement, during which you thought +of nothing but your father's grief and anger, from the first moment of +our marriage there was a complete and irretrievable lack of harmony +between us. You had accepted in spite of yourself the bridegroom who had +thrust himself upon you. You entertained for your husband no feeling +save hatred and repulsion. These are things which a man like Vorski does +not forgive. So many women and among them some of the proudest had given +me proof of my perfect delicacy that I had no cause to reproach myself. +That the little middle-class person that you were chose to be offended +was not my business. Vorski is one of those who obey their instincts and +their passions. Those instincts and passions failed to meet with your +approval. That, madame, was your affair; it was purely a matter of +taste. I was free; I resumed my own life. Only . . ." + +He interrupted himself for a few seconds and then went on: + +"Only, I loved you. And, when, a year later, certain events followed +close upon one another, when the loss of your son drove you into a +convent, I was left with my love unassuaged, burning and torturing me. +What my existence was you can guess for yourself; a series of orgies and +violent adventures in which I vainly strove to forget you, followed by +sudden fits of hope, clues which were suggested to me, in the pursuit of +which I flung myself headlong, only to relapse into everlasting +discouragement and loneliness. That was how I discovered the whereabouts +of your father and your son, that was how I came to know their retreat +here, to watch them, to spy upon them, either personally or with the aid +of people who were entirely devoted to me. In this way I was hoping to +reach yourself, the sole object of my efforts and the ruling motive of +all my actions, when war was declared. A week later, having failed in an +attempt to cross the frontier, I was imprisoned in an internment-camp." + +He stopped. His face became still harder; and he growled: + +"Oh, the hell that I went through there! Vorski! Vorski, the son of a +king, mixed up with all the waiters and pickpockets of the Fatherland! +Vorski a prisoner, scoffed at and loathed by all! Vorski unwashed and +eaten up with vermin! My God, how I suffered! . . . But let us pass on. +What I did, to escape from death, I was entitled to do. If some one else +was stabbed in my stead, if some one else was buried in my name in a +corner of France, I do not regret it. The choice lay between him and +myself; I made my choice. And it was perhaps not only my persistent love +of life that inspired my action; it was also--and this above all is a +new thing--an unexpected dawn which broke in the darkness and which was +already dazzling me with its glory. But this is my secret. We will speak +of it later, if you force me to. For the moment . . ." + +In the face of all this rhetoric delivered with the emphasis of an actor +rejoicing in his eloquence and applauding his own periods, Véronique had +retained her impassive attitude. Not one of those lying declarations was +able to touch her. She seemed to be thinking of other things. + +He went up to her and, to compel her attention, continued, in a more +aggressive tone: + +"You do not appear to suspect, madame, that my words are extremely +serious. They are, however, and they will become even more so. But, +before approaching more formidable matters and in the hope of avoiding +them altogether, I should like to make an appeal, not to your spirit of +conciliation, for there is no conciliation possible with you, but to +your reason, to your sense of reality. After all, you cannot be ignorant +of your present position, of the position of your son . . . ." + +She was not listening, he was absolutely convinced of it. Doubtless +absorbed by the thought of her son, she read not the least meaning into +the words that reached her ears. Nevertheless, irritated and unable to +conceal his impatience, he continued: + +"My offer is a simple one; and I hope and trust that you will not reject +it. In François' name and because of my feelings of humanity and +compassion, I ask you to link the present to the past of which I have +sketched the main features. From the social point of view, the bond that +unites us has never been shattered. You are still in name and in the +eyes of the law . . ." + +He ceased, stared at Véronique and then, clapping his hand violently on +her shoulder, shouted: + +"Listen, you baggage, can't you! It's Vorski speaking!" + +Véronique lost her balance, saved herself by catching at the back of a +chair and once more stood erect before her adversary, with her arms +folded and her eyes full of scorn. + +This time Vorski again succeeded in controlling himself. He had acted +under impulse and against his will. His voice retained an imperious and +malevolent intonation: + +"I repeat that the past still exists. Whether you like it or not, +madame, you are Vorski's wife. And it is because of this undeniable +fact that I am asking you, if you please, to consider yourself so +to-day. Let us understand each other; if I do not aim at obtaining your +love or even your friendship, I will not accept either that we should +return to our former hostile relations. I do not want the scornful and +distant wife that you have been. I want . . . I want a woman . . . a +woman who will submit herself . . . who will be the devoted, attentive, +faithful companion . . ." + +"The slave," murmured Véronique. + +"Yes," he exclaimed, "the slave; you have said it. I don't shrink from +words any more than I do from deeds. The slave; and why not? A slave +understands her duty, which is blindly to obey, bound hand and foot, +_perinde ac cadaver_; does the part appeal to you? Will you belong to me +body and soul? As for your soul, I don't care a fig about that. What I +want . . . what I want . . . you know well enough, don't you? What I +want is what I have never had. Your husband? Ha, ha, have I ever been +your husband? Look back into my life as I will, amid all my seething +emotions and delights, I do not find a single memory to remind me that +there was ever between us anything but the pitiless struggle of two +enemies. When I look at you, I see a stranger, a stranger in the past as +in the present. Well, since my luck has turned, since I once more have +you in my clutches, it shall not be so in the future. It shall not be so +to-morrow, nor even to-night, Véronique. I am the master; you must +accept the inevitable. Do you accept?" + +He did not wait for her answer and, raising his voice still higher, +roared: + +"Do you accept? No subterfuges or false promises. Do you accept? If so, +go on your knees, make the sign of the cross and say, in a firm voice, +'I accept. I will be a consenting wife. I will submit to all your orders +and to all your whims. You are the master.'" + +She shrugged her shoulders and made no reply. Vorski gave a start. The +veins in his forehead swelled up. However, he still contained himself: + +"Very well. For that matter, I was expecting this. But the consequences +of your refusal will be so serious for you that I propose to make one +last attempt. Perhaps, after all, your refusal is addressed to the +fugitive that I am, to the poor beggar that I seem to be; and perhaps +the truth will alter your ideas. That truth is dazzling and wonderful. +As I told you, an unforeseen dawn has broken through my darkness; and +Vorski, son of a king, is bathed in radiant light." + +He had a trick of speaking of himself in the third person which +Véronique knew of old and which was the sign of his insupportable +vanity. She also observed and recognized in his eyes a peculiar gleam +which was always there at moments of exaltation, a gleam which was +obviously due to his drinking habits but in which she seemed to see +besides a sign of temporary aberration. Was he not indeed a sort of +madman and had his madness not increased as the years passed? + +He continued, and this time Véronique listened. + +"I had therefore left here, at the time when the war broke out, a person +who is attached to me and who continued the work of watching your father +which I had begun. An accident revealed to us the existence of the +caves dug under the heath and also one of the entrances to the caves. It +was in this safe retreat that I took refuge after my last escape; and it +was here that I learnt, through some intercepted letters, of your +father's investigations into the secret of Sarek and the discoveries +which he had made. You can understand how my vigilance was redoubled! +Particularly because I found in all this story, as it became more and +more clear to me, the strangest coincidences and an evident connection +with certain details in my own life. Presently doubt was no longer +possible. Fate had sent me here to accomplish a task which I alone was +able to fulfil . . . and more, a task in which I alone had the right to +assist. Do you understand what I mean? Long centuries ago, Vorski was +predestined. Vorski was the man appointed by fate, Vorski's name was +written in the book of time. Vorski had the necessary qualities, the +indispensable means, the requisite titles . . . . I was ready, I set to +work without delay, conforming ruthlessly to the decrees of destiny. +There was no hesitation as to the road to be followed to the end; the +beacon was lighted. I therefore followed the path marked out for me. +Vorski has now only to gather the reward of his efforts. Vorski has only +to put out his hand. Within reach of his hand fortune, glory, unlimited +power. In a few hours, Vorski, son of a king, will be king of the world. +It is this kingdom that he offers you." + +He was becoming more and more declamatory, more and more of the emphatic +and pompous play-actor. + +He bent towards Véronique: + +"Will you be a queen, an empress, and soar above other women even as +Vorski will dominate other men? Queen by right of gold and power even as +you are already queen by right of beauty? Will you? . . . Vorski's +slave, but mistress of all those over whom Vorski holds sway? Will you? +. . . Understand me clearly; it is not a question of your making a +single decision; you have to choose between two. There is, mark you, the +alternative to your refusal. Either the kingdom which I am offering, or +else . . ." + +He paused and then, in a grating tone, completed his sentence: + +"Or else the cross!" + +Véronique shuddered. The dreadful word, the dreadful thing appeared once +more. And she now knew the name of the unknown executioner! + +"The cross!" he repeated, with an atrocious smile of content. "It is for +you to choose. On the one hand all the joys and honours of life. On the +other hand, death by the most barbarous torture. Choose. There is +nothing between the two alternatives. You must select one or the other. +And observe that there is no unnecessary cruelty on my part, no vain +ostentation of authority. I am only the instrument. The order comes from +a higher power than mine, it comes from destiny. For the divine will to +be accomplished, Véronique d'Hergemont must die and die on the cross. +This is explicitly stated. There is no remedy against fate. There is no +remedy unless one is Vorski and, like Vorski, is capable of every +audacity, of every form of cunning. If Vorski was able, in the forest of +Fontainebleau, to substitute a sham Vorski for the real one, if Vorski +thus succeeded in escaping the fate which condemned him, from his +childhood, to die by the knife of a friend, he can certainly discover +some stratagem by which the divine will is accomplished, while the woman +he loves is left alive. But in that case she will have to submit. I +offer safety to my bride or death to my foe. Which are you, my foe or my +bride? Which do you choose? Life by my side, with all the joys and +honours of life . . . or death?" + +"Death," Véronique replied, simply. + +He made a threatening gesture: + +"It is more than death. It is torture. Which do you choose?" + +"Torture." + +He insisted, malevolently: + +"But you are not alone! Pause to reflect! There is your son. When you +are gone, he will remain. In dying, you leave an orphan behind you. +Worse than that; in dying, you bequeath him to me. I am his father. I +possess full rights. Which do you choose?" + +"Death," she said, once more. + +He became incensed: + +"Death for you, very well. But suppose it means death for him? Suppose I +bring him here, before you, your François, and put the knife to his +throat and ask you for the last time, what will your answer be?" + +Véronique closed her eyes. Never before had she suffered so intensely, +and Vorski had certainly found the vulnerable spot. Nevertheless she +murmured: + +"I wish to die." + +Vorski flew into a rage, and, resorting straightway to insults, +throwing politeness and courtesy to the winds, he shouted: + +"Oh, the hussy, how she must hate me! Anything, anything, she accepts +anything, even the death of her beloved son, rather than yield to me! A +mother killing her son! For that's what it is; you're killing your son, +so as not to belong to me. You are depriving him of his life, so as not +to sacrifice yours to me. Oh, what hatred! No, no, it is impossible. I +don't believe in such hatred. Hatred has its limits. A mother like you! +No, no, there's something else . . . some love-affair, perhaps? No, no, +Véronique's not in love . . . What then? My pity, a weakness on my part? +Oh, how little you know me! Vorski show pity! Vorski show weakness! Why, +you've seen me at work! Did I flinch in the performance of my terrible +mission? Was Sarek not devastated as it was written? Were the boats not +sunk and the people not drowned? Were the sisters Archignat not nailed +to the ancient oak-trees? I, I flinch! Listen, when I was a child, with +these two hands of mine I wrung the necks of dogs and birds, with these +two hands I flayed goats alive and plucked the live chickens in the +poultry-yard. Pity indeed! Do you know what my mother called me? Attila! +And, when she was mystically inspired and read the future in these hands +of mine or on the tarot-cards, 'Attila Vorski,' that great seer would +say, 'you shall be the instrument of Providence. You shall be the sharp +edge of the blade, the point of the dagger, the bullet in the rifle, the +noose in the rope. Scourge of God! Scourge of God, your name is written +at full length in the books of time! It blazes among the stars that +shone at your birth. Scourge of God! Scourge of God!' And you, you hope +that my eyes will be wet with tears? Nonsense! Does the hangman weep? It +is the weak who weep, those who fear lest they be punished, lest their +crimes be turned against themselves. But I, I! Our ancestors feared but +one thing, that the sky should fall upon their heads. What have _I_ to +fear? I am God's accomplice! He has chosen me among all men. It is God +that has inspired me, the God of the fatherland, the old German God, for +whom good and evil do not count where the greatness of his sons is at +stake. The spirit of evil is within me. I love evil, I thirst after +evil. So you shall die, Véronique, and I shall laugh when I see you +suffering on the cross!" + +He was already laughing. He walked with great strides, stamping noisily +on the floor. He lifted his arms to the ceiling; and Véronique, +quivering with anguish, saw the red frenzy in his bloodshot eyes. + +He took a few more steps and then came up to her and, in a restrained +voice, snarling with menace: + +"On your knees, Véronique, and beseech my love! It alone can save you. +Vorski knows neither pity nor fear. But he loves you; and his love will +stop at nothing. Take advantage of it, Véronique. Appeal to the past. +Become the child that you once were; and perhaps one day I shall drag +myself at your feet. Véronique, do not repel me; a man like me is not to +be repelled. One who loves as I love you, Véronique, as I love you, is +not to be defied." + +She suppressed a cry. She felt his hated hands on her bare arms. She +tried to release herself; but he, much stronger than she, did not let +go and continued, in a panting voice: + +"Do not repel me . . . it is absurd . . . it is madness . . . . You must +know that I am capable of anything . . . Well? . . . The cross is +horrible . . . . To see your son dying before your eyes; is that what +you want? . . . Accept the inevitable. Vorski will save you. Vorski will +give you the most beautiful life . . . . Oh, how you hate me! But no +matter: I accept your hatred, I love your hatred, I love your disdainful +mouth . . . . I love it more than if it offered itself of its own accord +. . . ." + +He ceased speaking. An implacable struggle took place between them. +Véronique's arms vainly resisted his closer and closer grip. Her +strength was failing her; she felt helpless, doomed to defeat. Her knees +gave way beneath her. Opposite her and quite close, Vorski's eyes seemed +filled with blood; and she was breathing the monster's breath. + +Then, in her terror, she bit him with all her might; and, profiting by a +second of discomfiture, she released herself with one great effort, +leapt back, drew her revolver, and fired once and again. + +The two bullets whistled past Vorski's ears and sent fragments flying +from the wall behind him. She had fired too quickly, at random. + +"Oh, the jade!" he roared. "She nearly did for me." + +In a second he had his arms round her body and, with an irresistible +effort, bent her backwards, turned her round and laid her on a sofa. +Then he took a cord from his pocket and bound her firmly and brutally. + +There was a moment's respite and silence. Vorski wiped the perspiration +from his forehead, filled himself a tumbler of wine and drank it down at +a gulp. + +"That's better," he said, placing his foot on his victim, "and confess +that this is best all round. Each one in his place, my beauty; you +trussed like a fowl and I treading on you at my pleasure. Aha, we're no +longer enjoying ourselves so much! We're beginning to understand that +it's a serious matter. Ah, you needn't be afraid, you baggage: Vorski's +not the man to take advantage of a woman! No, no, that would be to play +with fire and to burn with a longing which this time would kill me. I'm +not such a fool as that. How should I forget you afterwards? One thing +only can make me forget and give me my peace of mind; your death. And, +since we understand each other on that subject, all's well. For it's +settled, isn't it; you want to die?" + +"Yes," she said, as firmly as before. + +"And you want your son to die?" + +"Yes," she said. + +He rubbed his hands: + +"Excellent! We are agreed; and the time is past for words that mean +nothing. The real words remain to be spoken, those which count; for you +admit that, so far, all that I have said is mere verbiage, what? Just as +all the first part of the adventure, all that you saw happening at +Sarek, is only child's play. The real tragedy is beginning, since you +are involved in it body and soul; and that's the most terrifying part, +my pretty one. Your beautiful eyes have wept, but it is tears of blood +that are wanted, you poor darling! But what would you have? Once again, +Vorski is not cruel. He obeys a higher power; and destiny is against +you. Your tears? Nonsense! You've got to shed a thousand times as many +as another. Your death? Fudge! You've got to die a thousand deaths +before you die for good. Your poor heart must bleed as never woman's and +mother's poor heart bled before. Are you ready, Véronique? You shall +hear really cruel words, to be followed perhaps by words more cruel +still. Oh, fate is not spoiling you, my pretty one! . . ." + +He poured himself out a second glass of wine and emptied it in the same +gluttonous fashion; then he sat down beside her and, stooping, said, +almost in her ear: + +"Listen, dearest, I have a confession to make to you. I was already +married when I met you. Oh, don't be upset! There are greater +catastrophes for a wife and greater crimes for a husband than bigamy. +Well, by my first wife I had a son . . . whom I think you know; you +exchanged a few amicable remarks with him in the passage of the cells +. . . . Between ourselves, he's a regular bad lot, that excellent +Raynold, a rascal of the worst, in whom I enjoy the pride of +discovering, raised to their highest degree, some of my best instincts +and some of my chief qualities. He is a second edition to myself, but he +already outstrips me and now and then alarms me. Whew, what a devil! At +his age, a little over fifteen, I was an angel compared with him. Now it +so happens that this fine fellow has to take the field against my other +son, against our dear François. Yes, such is the whim of destiny, which, +once again, gives orders and of which, once again, I am the +clear-sighted and subtle interpreter. Of course it is not a question of +a protracted and daily struggle. On the contrary, something short, +violent and decisive: a duel, for instance. That's it, a duel; you +understand, a serious duel. Not a turn with the fists, ending in a few +bruises; no, what you call a duel to the death, because one of the two +adversaries must be left, on the ground, because there must be a victor +and a victim, in short, a living combatant and a dead one." + +Véronique had turned her head a little and she saw that he was smiling. +Never before had she so plainly perceived the madness of that man, who +smiled at the thought of a mortal contest between two children both of +whom were his sons. The whole thing was so extravagant that Véronique, +so to speak, did not suffer. It was all outside the limits of suffering. + +"There is something better, Véronique," he said, gloating over every +syllable. "There's something better. Yes, destiny has devised a +refinement which I dislike, but to which, as a faithful servant, I have +to give effect. It has devised that you should be present at the duel. +Capital; you, François' mother, must see him fight. And, upon my word, I +wonder whether that apparent malevolence is not a mercy in disguise. Let +us say that you owe it to me, shall we, and that I myself am granting +you this unexpected, I will even say, this unjust favour? For, when all +is said, though Raynold is more powerful and experienced than François +and though, logically, François ought to be beaten, how it must add to +his courage and strength to know that he is fighting before his mother's +eyes! He will feel like a knight errant who stakes all his pride on +winning. He will be a son whose victory will save his mother . . . at +least, so he will think. Really the advantage is too great; and you can +thank me, Véronique, if this duel, as I am sure it will, does not--and I +am sure that it will not--make your heart beat a little faster . . . . +Unless . . . unless I carry out the infernal programme to the end +. . . . Ah, in that case, you poor little thing! . . ." + +He gripped her once more and, lifting her to her feet in front of him, +pressing his face against hers, he said, in a sudden fit of rage: + +"So you won't give in?" + +"No, no!" she cried. + +"You will never give in?" + +"Never! Never! Never!" she repeated, with increasing vehemence. + +"You hate me more than everything?" + +"I hate you more than I love my son." + +"You lie, you lie!" he snarled. "You lie! Nothing comes above your son!" + +"Yes, my hatred for you." + +All Véronique's passion of revolt, all the detestation which she had +succeeded in restraining now burst forth; and, indifferent to what might +come of it, she flung the words of hatred full in his face: + +"I hate you! I hate you! I would have my son die before my eyes, I would +witness his agony, anything rather than the horror of your sight and +presence. I hate you! You killed my father! You are an unclean murderer, +a halfwitted, savage idiot, a criminal lunatic! I hate you!" + +He lifted her with an effort, carried her to the window and threw her on +the ground, spluttering: + +"On your knees! On your knees! The punishment is beginning. You would +scoff at me, you hussy, would you? Well, you shall see!" + +He forced her to her knees and then, pushing her against the lower wall +and opening the window, he fastened her head to the rail of the balcony +by means of a cord round her neck and under her arms. He ended by +gagging her with a scarf: + +"And now look!" he cried. "The curtain's going up! Boy François doing +his exercises! . . . Oh, you hate me, do you? Oh, you would rather have +hell than a kiss from Vorski? Well, my darling, you shall have hell; and +I'm arranging a little performance for you, one of my own composing and +a highly original one at that! . . . Also, I may tell you, it's too late +now to change your mind. The thing's irrevocable. You may beg and +entreat for mercy as much as you like; it's too late! The duel, followed +by the cross; that's the programme. Say your prayers, Véronique, and +call on Heaven. Shout for assistance if it amuses you . . . . Listen, I +know that your brat is expecting a rescuer, a professor of clap-trap, a +Don Quixote of adventure. Let him come! Vorski will give him the +reception he deserves! The more the merrier! We shall see some fun! +. . . And, if the very gods join in the game and take up your defence, I +shan't care! It's no longer their business, it's my business. It's no +longer a question of Sarek and the treasure and the great secret and all +the humbug of the God-Stone! It's a question of yourself! You have spat +in Vorski's face and Vorski is taking his revenge. He is taking his +revenge! It is the glorious hour. What exquisite joy! . . . To do evil +as others do good, lavishly and profusely! To do evil! To kill, +torture, break, ruin and destroy! . . . Oh, the fierce delight of being +a Vorski!" + +He stamped across the room, striking the floor at each step and hustling +the furniture. His haggard eyes roamed in all directions. He would have +liked to begin his work of destruction at once, strangling some victim, +giving work to his greedy fingers, executing the incoherent orders of +his insane imagination. + +Suddenly, he drew a revolver and, brutishly, stupidly, fired bullets +into the mirrors, the pictures, the window-panes. + +And, still gesticulating, still capering about, an ominous and sinister +figure, he opened the door, bellowing: + +"Vorski's having his revenge! Vorski's having his revenge!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE ASCENT OF GOLGOTHA + + +Twenty or thirty minutes elapsed. Véronique was still alone. The cords +cut into her flesh; and the rails of the balcony bruised her forehead. +The gag choked her. Her knees, bent in two and doubled up beneath her, +carried the whole weight of her body. It was an intolerable position, an +unceasing torture . . . . Still, though she suffered, she was not very +clearly aware of it. She was unconscious of her physical suffering; and +she had already undergone such mental suffering that this supreme ordeal +did not awaken her drowsing senses. + +She hardly thought. Sometimes she said to herself that she was about to +die; and she already felt the repose of the after-life, as one +sometimes, amidst a storm, feels in advance the wide peace of the +harbour. Hideous things were sure to happen between the present moment +and the conclusion which would set her free; but her brain refused to +dwell on them; and her son's fate in particular elicited only momentary +thoughts, which were immediately dispersed. + +At heart, as there was nothing to enlighten her as to her frame of mind, +she was hoping for a miracle. Would the miracle occur in Vorski? +Incapable of generosity though he was, would not the monster hesitate +none the less in the presence of an utterly unnecessary crime? A father +does not kill his son, or at least the act must be brought about by +imperative reasons; and Vorski had no such reasons to allege against a +mere child whom he did not know and whom he could not hate except with +an artificial hatred. + +Her torpor was lulled by this hope of a miracle. All the sounds which +reechoed through the house, sounds of discussions, sounds of hurrying +footsteps, seemed to her to indicate not so much the preparations for +the events foretold as the sign of interruptions which would ruin all +Vorski's plans. Had not her dear François said that nothing could any +longer separate them from each other and that, at the moment when +everything might seem lost and even when everything would be really +lost, they must keep their faith intact? + +"My François," she repeated, "my darling François, you shall not die +. . . we shall see each other again . . . you promised me!" + +Out of doors, a blue sky, flecked with a few menacing clouds, hung +outspread above the tall oaks. In front of her, beyond that same window +at which her father had appeared to her, in the middle of the grass +which she had crossed with Honorine on the day of her arrival, a site +had been recently cleared and covered with sand, like an arena. Was it +here that her son was to fight? She received the sudden intuition that +it must be; and her heart contracted. + +"François," she said, "François, have no fear . . . . I shall save you +. . . . Oh, forgive me, François darling, forgive me! . . . All this is +a punishment for the wrong I once did . . . . It is the atonement +. . . . The son is atoning for the mother . . . . Forgive me, forgive +me! . . ." + +At that moment a door opened on the ground-floor and voices ascended +from the doorstep. She recognized Vorski's voice among them. + +"So it's understood," he said. "We shall each go our own way; you two on +the left, I on the right. You'll take this kid with you, I'll take the +other and we'll meet in the lists. You'll be the seconds, so to speak, +of yours and I'll be the second of mine, so that all the rules will be +observed." + +Véronique shut her eyes, for she did not wish to see her son, who would +no doubt be maltreated, led out to fight like a slave. She could hear +the creaking of two sets of footsteps following the two circular paths. +Vorski was laughing and speechifying. + +The groups turned and advanced in opposite directions. + +"Don't come any nearer," Vorski ordered. "Let the two adversaries take +their places. Halt, both of you. Good. And not a word, do you hear? If +either of you speaks, I shall cut him down without mercy. Are you ready? +Begin!" + +So the terrible thing was commencing. In accordance with Vorski's will, +the duel was about to take place before the mother, the son was about to +fight before her face. How could she do other than look? She opened her +eyes. + +She at once saw the two come to grips and hold each other off. But she +did not at once understand what she saw, or at least she failed to +understand its exact meaning. She saw the two boys, it was true; but +which of them was François and which was Raynold? + +"Oh," she stammered, "it's horrible! . . . And yet . . . no, I must be +mistaken . . . . It's not possible . . ." + +She was not mistaken. The two boys were dressed alike, in the same +velvet knickerbockers, the same white-flannel shirts, the same leather +belts. But each had his head wrapped in a red-silk scarf, with two holes +for the eyes, as in a highwayman's mask. + +Which was François? Which was Raynold? + +Now she remembered Vorski's inexplicable threat. This was what he meant +by the programme drawn up by himself, this was to what he alluded when +he spoke of a little play of his composing. Not only was the son +fighting before the mother, but she did not know which was her son. + +It was an infernal refinement of cruelty; Vorski himself had said so. No +agony could add to Véronique's agony. + +The miracle which she had hoped for lay chiefly in herself and in the +love which she bore her son. Because her son was fighting before her +eyes, she felt certain that her son could not die. She would protect him +against the blows and against the ruses of the foe. She would make the +dagger swerve, she would ward off death from the head which she adored. +She would inspire her boy with dauntless energy, with the will to +attack, with indefatigable strength, with the spirit that foretells and +seizes the propitious moment. But now that both of them were veiled, on +which was she to exercise her good influence, for which to pray, against +which to rebel? + +She knew nothing. There was no clue to enlighten her. One of them was +taller, slimmer and lither in his movements. Was this François? The +other was more thick-set, stronger and stouter in appearance. Was this +Raynold? She could not tell. Nothing but a glimpse of a face, or even a +fleeting expression, could have revealed the truth to her. But how was +she to pierce the impenetrable mask? + +And the fight continued, more terrible for her than if she had seen her +son with his face uncovered. + +"Bravo!" cried Vorski, applauding an attack. + +He seemed to be following the duel like a connoisseur, with the +affectation of impartiality displayed by a good judge of fighting who +above all things wants the best man to win. And yet it was one of his +sons that he had condemned to death. + +Facing her stood the two accomplices, both of them men with brutal +faces, pointed skulls and big noses with spectacles. One of them was +extremely thin; the other was also thin, but with a swollen paunch like +a leather bottle. These two did not applaud and remained indifferent, or +perhaps even hostile, to the sight before them. + +"Capital!" cried Vorski, approvingly. "Well parried! Oh, you're a couple +of sturdy fellows and I'm wondering to whom to award the palm." + +He pranced around the adversaries, urging them on in a hoarse voice in +which Véronique, remembering certain scenes in the past, seemed to +recognize the effects of drink. Nevertheless the poor thing made an +effort to stretch out her bound hands towards him; and she moaned under +her gag: + +"Mercy! Mercy! I can't bear it. Have pity!" + +It was impossible for her martyrdom to last. Her heart was beating so +violently that it shook her from head to foot; and she was on the point +of fainting when an incident occurred that gave her fresh life. One of +the boys, after a fairly stubborn tussle, had jumped back and was +swiftly bandaging his right wrist, from which a few drops of blood were +trickling. Véronique seemed to remember seeing in her son's hand the +small blue-and-white handkerchief which the boy was using. + +She was immediately and irresistibly convinced. The boy--it was the more +slender and agile of the two--had more grace than the other, more +distinction, greater elegance of movement. + +"It's François," she murmured. "Yes, yes, it's he . . . . It's you, +isn't it, my darling? I recognize you now . . . . The other is common +and heavy . . . . It's you, my darling! . . . Oh, my François, my +dearest François!" + +In fact, though both were fighting with equal fierceness, this one +displayed less savage fury and blind rage in his efforts. It was as +though he were trying not so much to kill his adversary as to wound him +and as though his attacks were directed rather to preserving himself +from the death that lay in wait for him. Véronique felt alarmed and +stammered, as though he could hear her: + +"Don't spare him, my darling! He's a monster, too! . . . Oh, dear, if +you're generous, you're lost! . . . François, François, mind what you're +doing!" + +The blade of the dagger had flashed over the head of the one whom she +called her son; and she had cried out, under her gag, to warn him. +François having avoided the blow, she felt persuaded that her cry had +reached his ears; and she continued instinctively to put him on his +guard and advise him: + +"Take a rest . . . . Get your breath . . . . Whatever you do, keep your +eyes on him . . . . He's getting ready to do something . . . . He's +going to rush at you . . . . Here he comes! Oh, my darling, another inch +and he would have stabbed you in the neck! . . . Be careful, darling, +he's treacherous . . . there's no trick too mean for him to play +. . . ." + +But the unhappy mother felt, however reluctant she might yet be to admit +it, that the one whom she called her son was beginning to lose strength. +Certain signs proclaimed a reduced power of resistance, while the other, +on the contrary, was gaining in eagerness and vigour. François retreated +until he reached the edge of the arena. + +"Hi, you, boy!" grinned Vorski. "You're not thinking of running away, +are you? Keep your nerve, damn it! Show some pluck! Remember the +conditions!" + +The boy rushed forward with renewed zest; and it was the other's turn to +fall back. Vorski clapped his hands, while Véronique murmured: + +"It's for me that he's risking his life. The monster must have told him, +'Your mother's fate depends on you. If you win, she's saved.' And he has +sworn to win. He knows that I am watching him. He guesses that I am +here. He hears me. Bless you, my darling!" + +It was the last phase of the duel. Véronique trembled all over, +exhausted by her emotion and by the too violent alternation of hope and +anguish. Once again her son lost ground and once again he leapt +forward. But, in the final struggle that followed, he lost his balance +and fell on his back, with his right arm caught under his body. + +His adversary at once stooped, pressed his knee on the other's chest and +raised his arm. The dagger gleamed in the air. + +"Help! Help!" Véronique gasped, choking under her gag. + +She flattened her breast against the wall, without thinking of the cords +which tortured her. Her forehead was bleeding, cut by the sharp corner +of the rail, and she felt that she was about to die of the death of her +son. Vorski had approached and stood without moving, with a merciless +look on his face. + +Twenty seconds, thirty seconds passed. With his outstretched left hand, +François checked his adversary's attempt. But the victorious arm sank +lower and lower, the dagger descended, the point was only an inch or two +from the neck. + +Vorski stooped. Just then, he was behind Raynold, so that neither +Raynold nor François could see him; and he was watching most +attentively, as though intending to intervene at some given moment. But +in whose favor would he intervene? Was it his plan to save François? + +Véronique no longer breathed; her eyes were enormously dilated; she hung +between life and death. + +The point of the dagger touched the neck and must have pricked the +flesh, but only very slightly, for it was still held back by François' +resistance. + +Vorski bent lower. He stood over the fighters and did not take his eyes +from the deadly point. Suddenly he took a pen-knife from his pocket, +opened it and waited. A few more seconds elapsed. The dagger continued +to descend. Then quickly he gashed Raynold's shoulder with the blade of +his knife. + +The boy uttered a cry of pain. His grip at once became relaxed; and, at +the same time, François, set free, his right arm released, half rose, +resumed the offensive and, without seeing Vorski or understanding what +had happened, in an instinctive impulse of his whole being escaped from +death and revolting against his adversary, struck him full in the face. +Raynold in his turn fell like a log. + +All this had certainly lasted no longer than ten seconds. But the +incident was so unexpected and took Véronique so greatly aback that, not +realizing, not knowing that she ought to rejoice, believing rather that +she was mistaken and that the real François was dead, murdered by +Vorski, the poor thing sank into a huddled heap and lost consciousness. + + * * * * * + +A long, long time elapsed. Then, gradually, Véronique became aware of +certain sensations. She heard the clock strike four; and she said: + +"It's two hours since François died. For it was he who died." + +She had not a doubt that the duel had ended in this way. Vorski would +never have allowed François to be the victor and his other son to be +killed. And so it was against her own child that she had sent up wishes +and for the monster that she had prayed! + +"François is dead," she repeated. "Vorski has killed him." + +The door opened and she heard Vorski's voice. He entered, with an +unsteady gait: + +"A thousand pardons, dear lady, but I think Vorski must have fallen +asleep. It's your father's fault, Véronique! He had hidden away in his +cellar some confounded Saumur which Conrad and Otto discovered and which +has fuddled me a bit! But don't cry; we shall make up for lost time +. . . . Besides everything must be settled by midnight. So . . ." + +He had come nearer; and he now exclaimed: + +"What! Did that rascal of a Vorski leave you tied up? What a brute that +Vorski is! And how uncomfortable you must be! . . . Hang it all, how +pale you are! I say, look here, you're not dead, are you? That would be +a nasty trick to play us!" + +He took Véronique's hand, which she promptly snatched away. + +"Capital! We still loathe our little Vorski! Then that's all right and +there's plenty of reserve strength. You'll hold out to the end, +Véronique." + +He listened: + +"What is it? Who's calling me? Is it you, Otto? Come up . . . . Well, +Otto, what news? I've been asleep, you know. That damned Saumur wine! +. . ." + +Otto, one of the two accomplices, entered the room at a run. He was the +one whose paunch bulged so oddly. + +"What news?" he exclaimed. "Why, this: I've seen some one on the +island!" + +Vorski began to laugh: + +"You're drunk, Otto. That damned Saumur wine . . ." + +"I'm not drunk. I saw . . . and so did Conrad . . ." + +"Oho," said Vorski, more seriously, "if Conrad was with you! Well, what +did you see?" + +"A white figure, which hid when we came along." + +"Where?" + +"Between the village and the heath, in a little wood of chestnut trees." + +"On the other side of the island then?" + +"Yes." + +"All right. We'll take our precautions." + +"How? There may be several of them." + +"I don't care if there are ten of them; it would make no difference. +Where's Conrad?" + +"By the foot-bridge which we put in the place of the bridge that was +burnt down. He's keeping watch from there." + +"Conrad is a clever one. When the bridge was burnt, we were kept on the +other side; if the foot-bridge is burnt, it'll produce the same +hindrance. Véronique, I really believe they're coming to rescue you. +It's the miracle you expected, the assistance you hoped for. But it's +too late, my beauty." + +He untied the bonds that fastened her to the balcony, carried her to the +sofa and loosened the gag slightly: + +"Sleep, my wench," he said. "Get what rest you can. You're only half-way +to Golgotha yet; and the last bit of the ascent will be the hardest." + +He went away jesting; and Véronique heard the two men exchange a few +sentences which proved to her that Otto and Conrad were only supers who +knew nothing of the business in hand: + +"Who's this wretched woman whom you're persecuting?" asked Otto. + +"That doesn't concern you." + +"Still, Conrad and I would like to know something about it." + +"Lord, why?" + +"Oh, just because!" + +"Conrad and you are a pair of fools," replied Vorski. "When I took you +into my service and helped you to escape with me, I told you all I could +of my plans. You accepted my conditions. It was your look-out. You've +got to see this thing through now." + +"And if we don't?" + +"If you don't, beware of the consequences. I don't like shirkers +. . . ." + +More hours passed. Nothing, it seemed to Véronique, could any longer +save her from the end for which she craved with all her heart. She no +longer hoped for the intervention of which Otto had spoken. In reality +she was not thinking at all. Her son was dead; and she had no other wish +than to join him without delay, even at the cost of the most dreadful +suffering. What did that suffering matter to her? There are limits to +the strength of those who are tortured; and she was so near to reaching +those limits that her agony would not last long. + +She began to pray. Once more the memory of the past forced itself on her +mind; and the fault which she had committed seemed to her the cause of +all the misfortunes heaped upon her. + +And, while praying, exhausted, harassed, in a state of nervous +extenuation which left her indifferent to anything that might happen, +she fell asleep. + +Vorski's return did not even rouse her. He had to shake her: + +"The hour is at hand, my girl. Say your prayers." + +He spoke low, so that his assistants might not hear what he said; and, +whispering in her ear, he told her things of long ago, insignificant +trifles which he dribbled out in a thick tone. At last he called out: + +"It's still too light, Otto. Go and see what you can find in the larder, +will you? I'm hungry." + +They sat down to table, but Vorski stood up again at once: + +"Don't look at me, my girl. Your eyes worry me. What do you expect? My +conscience doesn't worry me when I'm alone, but it gets worked up when a +fine pair of eyes like yours go right through me. Lower your lids, my +pretty one." + +He bound Véronique's eyes with a handkerchief which he knotted behind +her head. But this did not satisfy him; and he unhooked a muslin curtain +from the window, wrapped her whole head in it and wound it round her +neck. Then he sat down again to eat and drink. + +The three of them hardly spoke and said not a word of their trip across +the island, nor of the duel of the afternoon. In any case, these were +details which did not interest Véronique and which, even if she had paid +attention to them, would not have aroused her. Everything had become +indifferent to her. The words reached her ears but assumed no definite +meaning. She thought of nothing but dying. + +When it was dark, Vorski gave the signal for departure. + +"Then you're still determined?" asked Otto, in a voice betraying a +certain hostility. + +"More so than ever. What's your reason for asking?" + +"Nothing . . . . But, all the same . . ." + +"All the same what?" + +"Well, I may as well out with it, we only half like the job." + +"You don't mean to say so! And you only discover it now, my man, after +stringing up the sisters Archignat and treating it as a lark!" + +"I was drunk that day. You made us drink." + +"Well, get boozed if you want to, old cock. Here, take the +brandy-bottle. Fill your flask and shut up . . . . Conrad, is the +stretcher ready?" + +He turned to his victim: + +"A polite attention for you, my dear . . . . Two old stilts of your +brat's, fastened together with straps . . . . It's very practical and +comfortable." + +At half-past eight, the grim procession set out, with Vorski at the +head, carrying a lantern. The accomplices followed with the litter. + +The clouds which had been threatening all the afternoon had now gathered +and were rolling, thick and black, over the island. The night was +falling swiftly. A stormy wind was blowing and made the candle flicker +in the lantern. + +"Brrrr!" muttered Vorski. "Dismal work! A regular Golgotha evening." + +He swerved and grunted at the sight of a little black shape bounding +along by his side: + +"What's that? Look. It's a dog, isn't it?" + +"It's the boy's mongrel," said Otto. + +"Oh, of course, the famous All's Well! The brute's come in the nick of +time. Everything's going jolly well! Just wait a bit, you mangy beast!" + +He aimed a kick at the dog. All's Well avoided it and keeping out of +reach, continued to accompany the procession, giving a muffled bark at +intervals. + +It was a rough ascent; and every moment one of the three men, leaving +the invisible path that skirted the grass in front of the house and led +to the open space by the Fairies' Dolmen, tripped in the brambles or in +the runners of ivy. + +"Halt!" Vorski commanded. "Stop and take breath, my lads. Otto, hand us +your flask. My heart's turning upside down." + +He took a long pull: + +"Your turn, Otto . . . . What, don't you want to? What's the matter with +you?" + +"I'm thinking that there are people on the island who are looking for +us." + +"Let them look!" + +"And suppose they come by boat and climb that path in the cliffs which +the woman and the boy were trying to escape by this morning, the path we +found?" + +"What we have to fear is an attack by land, not by sea. Well, the +foot-bridge is burnt. There's no means of communication." + +"Unless they find the entrance to the cells, on the Black Heath, and +follow the tunnel to this place." + +"Have they found the entrance?" + +"I don't know." + +"Well, granting that they do find it, haven't we just blocked the exit +on this side, broken down the staircase, thrown everything topsy-turvy? +To clear it will take them half a day and more. Whereas at midnight the +thing'll be done and by daybreak we shall be far away from Sarek." + +"It'll be done, it'll be done; that is to say, we shall have one more +murder on our conscience. But . . ." + +"But what?" + +"What about the treasure?" + +"Ah, the treasure! You've got it out at last! Well, make your mind easy: +your shares of it are as good as in your pockets." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"Rather! Do you imagine that I'm staying here and doing all this dirty +work for fun?" + +They resumed their progress. After a quarter of an hour, a few drops of +rain began to fall. There was a clap of thunder. The storm still +appeared to be some distance away. + +They had difficulty in completing the rough ascent: and Vorski had to +help his companions. + +"At last!" he said. "We're there. Otto, hand me the flask. That's it. +Thanks." + +They had laid their victim at the foot of the oak which had had its +lower branches removed. A flash of light revealed the inscription, +"V. d'H." Vorski picked up a rope, which had been left there in +readiness, and set a ladder against the trunk of the tree: + +"We'll do as we did with the sisters Archignat," he said. "I'll pass the +cord over the big branch which we left intact. That will serve as a +pulley." + +He interrupted himself and jumped to one side. Something extraordinary +had just happened. + +"What's that?" he whispered. "What was it? Did you hear that whistling +sound?" + +"Yes," said Conrad, "it grazed my ear. One would have said it was a +bullet." + +"You're mad." + +"I heard it too," said Otto, "and it seems to me that it hit the tree." + +"What tree?" + +"The oak, of course! It was as though somebody had fired at us." + +"There was no report." + +"A stone, then; a stone that must have hit the oak." + +"We'll soon see," said Vorski. + +He turned his lantern and at once let fly an oath: + +"Damn it! Look, there, under the lettering." + +They looked. An arrow was fixed at the spot to which he pointed. Its +feathered end was still quivering. + +"An arrow!" gasped Conrad. "How is it possible? An arrow!" + +And Otto spluttered: + +"We're done for! It's us they were aiming at!" + +"The man who took aim at us can't be far off," Vorski observed. "Keep +your eyes open. We'll have a look." + +He swung the light in a circle which penetrated the surrounding +darkness. + +"Stop," said Conrad, eagerly. "A little more to the right. Do you see?" + +"Yes, yes, I see." + +Thirty yards from where they stood, in the direction of the Calvary of +the Flowers, just beyond the blasted oak, they saw something white, a +figure which was trying, at least so it seemed, to hide behind a clump +of bushes. + +"Not a word, not a movement," Vorski ordered. "Do nothing to let him +think that we've discovered him. Conrad, come with me. You, Otto, stay +here, with your revolver in your hand, and keep a good watch. If they +try to come near and to release her ladyship, fire two shots and we'll +run back at once. Is that understood?" + +"Quite." + +Vorski bent over Véronique and loosened the veil slightly. Her eyes and +mouth were still concealed by their bandages. She was breathing with +difficulty; the pulse was weak and slow. + +"We have time," he muttered, "but we must hurry if we want her to die +according to plan. In any case she doesn't seem to be in pain. She has +lost all consciousness." + +He put down the lantern and then softly, followed by his assistant, +stole towards the white figure, both of them choosing the places where +the shadow was densest. + +But he soon became aware, on the one hand, that the figure, which had +seemed stationary, was moving as he himself moved forward, so that the +space between them remained the same, and, on the other hand, that it +was escorted by a small black figure frisking by its side. + +"It's that filthy mongrel!" growled Vorski. + +He quickened his pace: the distance did not decrease. He ran: the figure +in front of him ran likewise. And the strangest part of it was that they +heard no sound of leaves disturbed or of ground trampled by the +mysterious person running ahead of them. + +"Damn it!" swore Vorski. "He's laughing at us. Suppose we fired at him, +Conrad?" + +"He's too far. The bullets wouldn't reach him." + +"All the same, we're not going to . . ." + +The unknown individual led them to the end of the island and then down +to the entrance of the tunnel, passed close to the Priory, skirted the +west cliff and reached the foot-bridge, some of the planks of which were +still smouldering. Then he branched off, passed back by the other side +of the house and went up the grassy slope. + +From time to time the dog barked gaily. + +Vorski could not control his rage. However hard he tried, he was unable +to gain an inch of ground: and the pursuit had lasted fifteen minutes. +He ended by vituperating the enemy: + +"Stop, can't you? Show yourself a man! . . . What are you trying to do? +Lead us into a trap? What for? . . . Is it her ladyship you're trying to +save? It's not worth while, in the state she's in. Oh, you damned, smart +bounder, if I could only get hold of you!" + +Suddenly Conrad seized him by the skirt of his robe. + +"What is it, Conrad?" + +"Look. He seems to be stopping." + +As Conrad suggested, the white figure for the first time was becoming +more and more clearly visible in the darkness and they were able to +distinguish, through the leaves of a thicket, its present attitude, with +the arms slightly opened, the back bowed, the legs bent and apparently +crossed on the ground. + +"He must have fallen," said Conrad. + +Vorski, after running forward, shouted: + +"Am I to shoot, you scum? I've got the drop on you. Hands up, or I +fire." + +Nothing stirred. + +"It's your own look-out! If you show fight, you're a dead man. I shall +count three and fire." + +He walked to twenty yards of the figure and counted, with outstretched +arm: + +"One . . . two . . . . Are you ready, Conrad? Fire!" + +The two bullets were discharged at the same time. + +There was a cry of distress. The figure seemed to collapse. The two men +rushed forward: + +"Ah, now you've got it, you rascal! I'll show you the stuff that +Vorski's made of! You've given me a pretty run, you oaf! Well, your +account's settled!" + +After the first few steps, he slackened his speed, for fear of a +surprise. The figure did not move; and Vorski, on coming close, saw that +it had the limp and misshapen look of a dead man, of a corpse. Nothing +remained but to fall upon it. This was what Vorski did, laughing and +jesting: + +"A good bag, Conrad! Let's pick up the game." + +But he was greatly surprised, on picking up the game, to feel in his +hands nothing but an almost impalpable quarry, consisting, to tell the +truth, of just a white robe, with no one inside it, the owner of the +robe having taken flight in good time, after hooking it to the thorns of +a thicket. As for the dog, he had disappeared. + +"Damn and blast it!" roared Vorski. "He's cheated us, the ruffian! But +why, hang it, why?" + +Venting his rage in the stupid fashion that was his habit, he was +stamping on the piece of stuff, when a thought struck him: + +"Why? Because, damn it, as I said just now, it's a trap: a trap to get +us away from her ladyship while his friends went for Otto! Oh, what an +ass I've been!" + +He started to go back in the dark and, as soon as he was able to see the +dolmen, he called out: + +"Otto! Otto!" + +"Halt! Who goes there?" answered Otto, in a scared voice. + +"It's me . . . . Damn you, don't fire!" + +"Who's there? You?" + +"Yes, yes, you fool." + +"But the two shots?" + +"Nothing . . . . A mistake . . . . We'll tell you about it . . . ." + +He was now close to the oak and, at once, taking up the lantern, turned +its rays upon his victim. She had not moved and lay stretched at the +foot of the tree, with her head wrapped in the veil. + +"Ah!" he said. "I breathe again! Hang it, how frightened I was!" + +"Frightened of what?" + +"Of their taking her from us, of course!" + +"Well, wasn't I here?" + +"Oh, you! You've got no more pluck than a louse . . . and, if they had +gone for you . . ." + +"I should have fired, at any rate. You'd have heard the signal." + +"May be. Well, did nothing happen?" + +"Nothing at all." + +"Her ladyship didn't carry on too much?" + +"She did at first. She moaned and groaned under her hood, until I lost +all patience." + +"And then?" + +"Oh, then! It didn't last long: I stunned her with a good blow of my +fist." + +"You brute!" exclaimed Vorski. "If you've killed her, you're a dead +man." + +He plumped down and glued his ear to his unfortunate victim's breast. + +"No," he said, presently, "her heart is still beating. But that may not +last long. To work, lads. It must all be over in ten minutes." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +"ELOI, ELOI, LAMA SABACHTHANI!" + + +The preparations were soon made; and Vorski himself took an active part +in them. Resting the ladder against the trunk of the tree, he passed one +end of the rope round his victim and the other over one of the upper +branches. Then, standing on the bottom rung, he instructed his +accomplices: + +"Here, all you've got to do now is to pull. Get her on her feet first +and one of you keep her from falling." + +He waited a moment. But Otto and Conrad were whispering to each other; +and he exclaimed: + +"Look here, hurry up, will you? . . . Remember I'm making a pretty easy +target, if they took it into their heads to send a bullet or an arrow at +me. Are you ready?" + +The two assistants did not reply. + +"Well, this is a bit thick! What's the matter with you? Otto! Conrad!" + +He leapt to the ground and shook them: + +"You're a pair of nice ones, you are! At this rate, we should still be +at it to-morrow morning . . . and the whole thing will miscarry . . . . +Answer me, Otto, can't you?" He turned the light full on Otto's face. +"Look here, what's all this about? Are you wriggling out of it? If so, +you'd better say so! And you, Conrad? Are you both going on strike?" + +Otto wagged his head: + +"On strike . . . that's saying a lot. But Conrad and I would like a word +or two of explanation?" + +"Explanation? What about, you pudding-head? About the lady we're +executing? About either of the two brats? It's no use taking that line, +my man. I said to you, when I first mentioned the business, 'Will you go +to work blindfold? There'll be a tough job and plenty of bloodshed. But +there's big money at the end of it.'" + +"That's the whole question," said Otto. + +"Say what you mean, you jackass!" + +"It's for you to say and repeat the terms of our agreement. What are +they?" + +"You know as well as I do." + +"Exactly, it's to remind you of them that I'm asking you to repeat +them." + +"I remember them exactly. I get the treasure; and out of the treasure I +pay you two hundred thousand francs between the two of you." + +"That's so and it's not quite so. We'll come back to that. Let's begin +by talking of this famous treasure. Here have we been grinding away for +weeks, wallowing in blood, living in a nightmare of every sort of crime +. . . and not a thing in sight!" + +Vorski shrugged his shoulders: + +"You're getting denser and denser, my poor Otto! You know there were +certain things to be done first. They're all done, except one. In a few +minutes, this will be finished too and the treasure will be ours!" + +"How do we know?" + +"Do you think I'd have done all that I have done, if I wasn't sure of +the result . . . as sure as I am that I'm alive? Everything has happened +in a certain given order. It was all predetermined. The last thing will +come at the hour foretold and will open the gate for me." + +"The gate of hell," sneered Otto, "as I heard Maguennoc call it." + +"Call it by that name or another, it opens on the treasure which I shall +have won." + +"Very well," said Otto, impressed by Vorski's tone of conviction, "very +well. I'm willing to believe you're right. But what's to tell us that we +shall have our share?" + +"You shall have your share for the simple reason that the possession of +the treasure will provide me with such indescribable wealth that I'm not +likely to risk having trouble with you two fellows for the sake of a +couple of hundred thousand francs." + +"So we have your word?" + +"Of course." + +"Your word that all the clauses of our agreement shall be respected." + +"Of course. What are you driving at?" + +"This, that you've begun to trick us in the meanest way by breaking one +of the clauses of the agreement." + +"What's that? What are you talking about? Do you realize whom you're +speaking to?" + +"I'm speaking to you, Vorski." + +Vorski laid violent hands on his accomplice: + +"What's this? You dare to insult me? To call me by my name, me, me?" + +"What of it, seeing that you've robbed me of what's mine by rights?" + +Vorski controlled himself and, in a voice trembling with anger: + +"Say what you have to say and be careful, my man, for you're playing a +dangerous game. Speak out." + +"It's this," said Otto. "Apart from the treasure, apart from the two +hundred thousand francs, it was arranged between us--you held up your +hand and took your oath on it--that any loose cash found by either of us +in the course of the business would be divided in equal shares: half for +you, half for Conrad and myself. Is that so?" + +"That's so." + +"Then pay up," said Otto, holding out his hand. + +"Pay up what? I haven't found anything." + +"That's a lie. While we were settling the sisters Archignat, you +discovered on one of them, tucked away in her bodice, the hoard which we +couldn't find in their house." + +"Well, that's a likely story!" said Vorski, in a tone which betrayed his +embarrassment. + +"It's absolutely the truth." + +"Prove it." + +"Just fish out that little parcel, tied up with string, which you've got +pinned inside your shirt, just there," said Otto, touching Vorski's +chest with his finger. "Fish it out and let's have a look at those fifty +thousand-franc notes." + +Vorski made no reply. He was dazed, like a man who does not understand +what is happening to him and who is trying to guess how his adversary +procured a weapon against him. + +"Do you admit it?" asked Otto. + +"Why not?" he rejoined. "I meant to square up later, in the lump." + +"Square up now. We'd rather have it that way." + +"And suppose I refuse?" + +"You won't refuse." + +"Suppose I do?" + +"In that case, look out for yourself!" + +"I have nothing to fear. There's only two of you." + +"There's three of us, at least." + +"Where's the third?" + +"The third is a gentleman who seems cleverer than most, from what Conrad +tells me: brrr! . . . The one who fooled you just now, the one with the +arrow and the white robe!" + +"You propose to call him?" + +"Rather!" + +Vorski felt that the game was not equal. The two assistants were +standing on either side of him and pressing him hard. He had to yield: + +"Here, you thief! Here, you robber!" he shouted, taking out the parcel +and unfolding the notes. + +"It's not worth while counting," said Otto, snatching the bundle from +him unawares. + +"Hi! . . ." + +"We'll do it this way: half for Conrad, half for me." + +"Oh, you blackguard! Oh, you double-dyed thief! I'll make you pay for +this. I don't care a button about the money. But to rob me as though +you'd decoyed me into a wood, so to speak! I shouldn't like to be in +your skin, my lad!" + +He continued to insult the other and then, suddenly, burst into a laugh, +a forced, malicious laugh: + +"After all, Otto, upon my word, well played! But where and how did you +come to know it? You'll tell me that, won't you? . . . Meanwhile, we've +not a minute to lose. We're agreed all round, aren't we? And you'll get +on with the work?" + +"Willingly, since you're taking the thing so well," said Otto. And he +added, obsequiously, "After all . . . you have a style about you, sir! +You're a fine gentleman, you are!" + +"And you, you're a varlet whom I pay. You've had your money, so hurry +up. The business is urgent." + + * * * * * + +The "business," as the frightful creatures called it, was soon done. +Climbing on his ladder, Vorski repeated his orders, which were executed +in docile fashion by Conrad and Otto. + +They raised the victim to her feet and then, keeping her upright, hauled +at the rope. Vorski seized the poor woman and, as her knees were bent, +violently forced them straight. Thus flattened against the trunk of the +tree, with her skirt tightened round her legs, her arms hanging to right +and left at no great distance from her body, she was bound round the +waist and under the arms. + +She seemed not to have recovered from her blow and uttered no sound of +complaint. Vorski tried to speak a few words, but spluttered them, +incapable of utterance. Then he tried to raise her head, but abandoned +the attempt, lacking the courage to touch her who was about to die: and +the head dropped low on the breast. + +He at once got down and stammered: + +"The brandy, Otto. Have you the flask? Oh, damn it, what a beastly +business!" + +"There's time yet," Conrad suggested. + +Vorski took a few sips and cried: + +"Time . . . for what? To let her off? Listen to me, Conrad. Rather than +let her off, I'd sooner . . . yes, I'd sooner die in her stead. Give up +my task? Ah, you don't know what my task or what my object is! Besides +. . ." + +He drank some more: + +"It's excellent brandy, but, to settle my heart, I'd rather have rum. +Have you any, Conrad?" + +"A drain at the bottom of a flask." + +"Hand it over." + +They had screened the lantern lest they should be seen; and they sat +close up to the tree, determined to keep silence. But this fresh drink +went to their heads. Vorski began to hold forth very excitedly: + +"You've no need of any explanations. The woman who's dying up there, +it's no use your knowing her name. It's enough if you know that she's +the fourth of the women who were to die on the cross and was specially +appointed by fate. But there's one thing I can say to you, now that +Vorski's triumph is about to shine forth before your eyes. In fact I +take a certain pride in telling you, for, while all that's happened so +far has depended on me and my will, the thing that's going to happen +directly depends on the mightiest of will, wills working for Vorski!" + +He repeated several times, as though smacking his lips over the name: + +"For Vorski . . . For Vorski!" + +And he stood up, impelled by the exuberance of his thoughts to walk up +and down and wave his arms: + +"Vorski, son of a king, Vorski, the elect of destiny, prepare yourself! +Your time has come! Either you are the lowest of adventurers and the +guiltiest of all the great criminals dyed in the blood of their +fellow-men, or else you are really the inspired prophet whom the gods +crown with glory. A superman or a highwayman: that is fate's decree. The +last heart-beats of the sacred victim sacrificed to the gods are marking +the supreme seconds. Listen to them, you two!" + +Climbing the ladder, he tried to hear those poor beats of an exhausted +heart. But the head, drooping to the left, prevented him from putting +his ear to the breast; and he dared not touch it. The silence was broken +only by a hoarse and irregular breath. + +He said, in a low whisper: + +"Véronique, do you hear me? Véronique . . . . Véronique . . . ." + +After a moment's hesitation: + +"I want you to know it . . . yes, I myself am terrified at what I'm +doing. But it's fate . . . . You remember the prophecy? 'Your wife shall +die on the cross.' Why, your very name, Véronique, demands it! . . . +Remember St. Veronica wiping Christ's face with a handkerchief and the +Saviour's sacred image remaining on the handkerchief . . . . Véronique, +you can hear me, surely? Véronique . . ." + +He ran down hurriedly, snatched the flask of rum from Conrad's hands and +emptied it at a draught. + +He was now seized with a sort of delirium which made him rave for a few +moments in a language which his accomplices did not understand. Then he +began to challenge the invisible enemy, to challenge the gods, to hurl +forth imprecations and blasphemies: + +"Vorski is the mightiest of all men, Vorski governs fate. The elements +and the mysterious powers of nature are compelled to obey him. +Everything will fall out as he has determined; and the great secret will +be declared to him in the mystic forms and according to the rules of the +Kabala. Vorski is awaited as the prophet. Vorski will be welcomed with +cries of joy and ecstasy; and one whom I know not, one whom I can only +half see, will come to meet him with palms and benedictions. Let the +unknown make ready! Let him arise from the darkness and ascend from +hell! Here stands Vorski. To the sound of bells, to the singing of +alleluias, let the fateful sign be revealed upon the face of the +heavens, while the earth opens and sends forth whirling flames!" + +He fell silent, as though he had descried in the air the signs which he +foretold. The hopeless death-rattle of the dying woman sounded from +overhead. The storm growled in the distance; and the black clouds were +rent by lightning. All nature seemed to be responding to the ruffian's +appeal. + +His grandiloquent speech and his play-acting made a great impression on +the two accomplices. + +"He frightens me," Otto muttered. + +"It's the rum," Conrad replied. "But all the same he's foretelling +terrible things." + +"Things which prowl round us," shouted Vorski, whose ears noticed the +least sound, "things which make part of the present moment and have been +bequeathed to us by the pageant of the centuries. It's like a +prodigious childbirth. And I tell the two of you, you will be the amazed +witnesses of these things! Otto and Conrad, be prepared as I am: the +earth will shake; and, at the very spot where Vorski is to win the +God-Stone, a column of fire will rise up to the sky." + +"He doesn't know what he's saying," mumbled Conrad. + +"And there he is on the ladder again," whispered Otto. "It'll serve him +right if he gets an arrow through him." + +But Vorski's exaltation knew no bounds. The end was at hand. Extenuated +by pain, the victim was in her death-agony. + +Beginning very low, so as to be heard by none save her, but raising his +voice gradually, Vorski said: + +"Véronique . . . . Véronique . . . . You are fulfilling your mission +. . . . You are nearing the top of the ascent . . . . All honour to you! +You deserve a share in my triumph . . . . All honour to you! Listen! You +hear it already, don't you? The artillery of the heavens is drawing +near. My enemies are vanquished; you can no longer hope for rescue! Here +is the last beat of your heart . . . . Here is your last cry: '_Eloi, +Eloi, lama sabachthani?_ My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?'" + +He screamed with laughter, like a man laughing at the most riotous +adventure. Then came silence. The roars of thunder ceased. Vorski bent +forward and suddenly, from the top of the ladder, shouted: + +"_Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani!_ The gods have forsaken her. Death has +done its work. The last of the four women is dead. Véronique is dead!" + +He was silent once again and then roared twice over: + +"Véronique is dead! Véronique is dead!" + +Once again there was a great, deep silence. + +And all of a sudden the earth shook, not with a vibration produced by +the thunder, but with a deep inner convulsion, which came from the very +bowels of the earth and was repeated several times, like a noise +reechoing through the woods and hills. + +And almost at the same time, close by, at the other end of the +semicircle of oaks, a fountain of fire shot forth and rose to the sky, +in a whirl of smoke in which flared red, yellow and violet flames. + +Vorski did not speak a word. His companions stood aghast. One of them +stammered: + +"It's the old rotten oak, the one which has already been struck by +lightning." + +Though the fire had disappeared almost instantly, the three men retained +the fantastic vision of the old oak, all aglow, vomiting flames and +smoke of many colours. + +"This is the entrance leading to the God-Stone," said Vorski, solemnly. +"Destiny has spoken, as I said it would: and it has spoken at the +bidding of me who was once its servant and who am now its master." + +He advanced, carrying the lantern. They were surprised to see that the +tree showed no trace of fire and that the mass of dry leaves, held as in +a bowl where a few lower branches were outspread, had not caught fire. + +"Yet another miracle," said Vorski. "It is all an inconceivable +miracle." + +"What are we going to do?" asked Conrad. + +"Go in by the entrance revealed to us . . . . Take the ladder, Conrad, +and feel with your hand in that heap of leaves. The tree is hollow and +we shall soon see . . ." + +"A tree can be as hollow as you please," said Otto, "but there are +always roots to it; and I can hardly believe in a passage through the +roots." + +"I repeat, we shall see. Move the leaves, Conrad, clear them away." + +"No, I won't," said Conrad, bluntly. + +"What do you mean, you won't? Why not?" + +"Have you forgotten Maguennoc? Have you forgotten that he tried to touch +the God-Stone and had to cut his hand off?" + +"But this isn't the God-Stone!" Vorski snarled. + +"How do you know? Maguennoc was always speaking of the gate of hell. +Isn't this what he meant when he talked like that?" + +Vorski shrugged his shoulders: + +"And you, Otto, are you afraid too?" + +Otto did not reply: and Vorski himself did not seem eager to risk the +attempt, for he ended by saying: + +"After all, there's no hurry. Let's wait till daylight comes. We will +cut down the tree with an axe: and that will show us better than +anything how things stand and how to go to work." + +They agreed accordingly. But, as the signal had been seen by others +besides themselves and as they must not allow themselves to be +forestalled, they resolved to sit down opposite the tree, under the +shelter offered by the huge table of the Fairies' Dolmen. + +"Otto," said Vorski, "go to the Priory, fetch us something to drink and +also bring an axe, some ropes and anything else that we're likely to +want." + +The rain was beginning to pour in torrents. They settled themselves +under the dolmen and each in turn kept watch while the other slept. + +Nothing happened during the night. The storm was very violent. They +could hear the waves roaring. Then gradually everything grew quiet. + +At daybreak they attacked the oak-tree, which they soon overthrew by +pulling upon the ropes. + +They now saw that, inside the tree itself, amid the rubbish and the dry +rot, a sort of trench had been dug, which extended through the mass of +sand and stones packed about the roots. + +They cleared the ground with a pick-axe. Some steps at once came into +sight: there was a sudden drop of earth: and they saw a staircase which +followed a perpendicular wall and led down into the darkness. They threw +the light of their lantern before them. A cavern opened beneath their +feet. + +Vorski was the first to venture down. The others followed him +cautiously. + +The steps, which at first consisted of earthen stairs reinforced by +flints, were presently hewn out of the rock. The cave which they entered +was in no way peculiar and seemed rather to be a vestibule. It +communicated, in fact, with a sort of crypt, which had a vaulted ceiling +and walls of rough masonry of unmortared stones. + +All around, like shapeless statues, stood twelve small menhirs, each of +which was surmounted by a horse's skull. Vorski touched one of these +skulls; it crumbled into dust. + +"No one has been to this crypt," he said, "for twenty centuries. We are +the first men to tread the floor of it, the first to behold the traces +of the past which it contains." + +He added, with increasing emphasis: + +"It is the mortuary-chamber of a great chieftain. They used to bury his +favourite horses with him . . . and his weapons too. Look, here are axes +. . . and a flint knife; and we also find the remains of certain funeral +rites, as this piece of charcoal shows and, over there, those charred +bones . . . ." + +His voice was husky with emotion. He muttered: "I am the first to enter +here. I was expected. A whole world awakens at my coming." + +Conrad interrupted him: + +"There are other doorways, another passage; and there's a sort of light +showing in the distance." + +A narrow corridor brought them to a second chamber, through which they +reached yet a third. The three crypts were exactly alike, with the same +masonry, the same upright stones, the same horses' skulls. + +"The tombs of three great chieftains," said Vorski. "They evidently lead +to the tomb of a king; and the chieftains must have been the king's +guards, after being his companions during his lifetime. No doubt it's +the next crypt." + +He hesitated to go farther, not from fear, but from excessive excitement +and a sense of inflamed vanity which he was enjoying to the full: + +"I am on the verge of knowledge," he declaimed, in dramatic tones. +"Vorski is approaching the goal and has only to put out his hand to be +regally rewarded for his labours and his struggles. The God-Stone is +there. For ages and ages men have sought to fathom the secret of the +island and not one has succeeded. Vorski came and the God-Stone is his. +So let it show itself to me and give me the promised power. There is +nothing between it and Vorski, nothing but my will. And I declare my +will! The prophet has risen out of the night. He is here. If there be, +in this kingdom of the dead, a shade whose duty it is to lead me to the +divine stone and place the golden crown upon my head, let that shade +arise! Here stands Vorski." + +He went in. + +The fourth room was much larger and shaped like a dome with a slightly +flattened summit. In the middle of the flattened part was a round hole, +no wider than the hole left by a very small flue; and from it there fell +a shaft of half-veiled light which formed a very plainly-defined disk on +the floor. + +The centre of this disk was occupied by a little block of stones set +together. And on this block, as though purposely displayed, lay a metal +rod. + +In other respects, this crypt did not differ from the first three. Like +them it was adorned with menhirs and horses' heads, like them it +contained traces of sacrifices. + +Vorski did not take his eyes off the metal rod. Strange to say, the +metal gleamed as though no dust had ever covered it. He put out his +hand. + +"No, no," said Conrad, quickly. + +"Why not?" + +"It may be the one Maguennoc touched and burnt his hand with." + +"You're mad." + +"Still . . ." + +"Oh, I'm not afraid of anything!" Vorski declared taking hold of the +rod. + +It was a leaden sceptre, very clumsily made, but nevertheless revealing +a certain artistic intention. Round the handle was a snake, here +encrusted in the lead, there standing out in relief. Its huge, +disproportionate head formed the pommel and was studded with silver +nails and little green pebbles transparent as emeralds. + +"Is it the God-Stone?" Vorski muttered. + +He handled the thing and examined it all over with respectful awe; and +he soon observed that the pommel shifted almost loose. He fingered it, +turned it to the left, to the right, until at length it gave a click and +the snake's head became unfastened. + +There was a space inside, containing a stone, a tiny, pale-red stone, +with yellow streaks that looked like veins of gold. + +"It's the God-Stone, it's the God-Stone!" said Vorski, greatly agitated. + +"Don't touch it!" Conrad repeated, filled with alarm. + +"What burnt Maguennoc will not burn me," replied Vorski, solemnly. + +And, in bravado, swelling with pride and delight, he kept the mysterious +stone in the hollow of his hand, which he clenched with all his +strength: + +"Let it burn me! I will let it! Let it sear my flesh! I shall be glad if +it will!" + +Conrad made a sign to him and put his finger to his lips. + +"What's the matter?" asked Vorski. "Do you hear anything?" + +"Yes," said the other. + +"So do I," said Otto. + +What they heard was a rhythmical, measured sound, which rose and fell +and made a sort of irregular music. + +"Why, it's close by!" mumbled Vorski. "It sounds as if it were in the +room." + +It was in the room, as they soon learnt for certain; and there was no +doubt that the sound was very like a snore. + +Conrad, who had ventured on this suggestion, was the first to laugh at +it; but Vorski said: + +"Upon my word, I'm inclined to think you're right. It _is_ a snore +. . . . There must be some one here then?" + +"It comes from over there," said Otto, "from that corner in the dark." + +The light did not extend beyond the menhirs. Behind each of them opened +a small, shadowy chapel. Vorski turned his lantern into one of these and +at once uttered a cry of amazement: + +"Some one . . . yes . . . there is some one . . . . Look . . . ." + +The two accomplices came forward. On a heap of rubble, piled up in an +angle of the wall, a man lay sleeping, an old man with a white beard and +long white hair. A thousand wrinkles furrowed the skin of his face and +hands. There were blue rings round his closed eyelids. At least a +century must have passed over his head. + +He was dressed in a patched and torn linen robe, which came down to his +feet. Round his neck and hanging over his chest was a string of those +sacred beads which the Gauls called serpents' eggs and which are +actually sea-eggs or sea-urchins. Within reach of his hand was a +handsome jadeite axe, covered with illegible symbols. On the ground, in +a row, lay sharp-edged flints, some large, flat rings, two ear-drops of +green jasper and two necklaces of fluted blue enamel. + +The old man went on snoring. + +Vorski muttered: + +"The miracle continues . . . . It's a priest . . . a priest like those +of the olden time . . . of the time of the Druids." + +"And then?" asked Otto. + +"Why, then he's waiting for me!" + +Conrad expressed his brutal opinion: + +"I suggest we break his head with his axe." + +But Vorski flew into a rage: + +"If you touch a single hair of his head, you're a dead man!" + +"Still . . ." + +"Still what?" + +"He may be an enemy . . . he may be the one whom we were pursuing last +night . . . . Remember . . . the white robe." + +"You're the biggest fool I ever met! Do you think that, at his age, he +could have kept us on the run like that?" + +He bent over and took the old man gently by the arm, saying: + +"Wake up! . . . It's I!" + +There was no answer. The man did not wake up. + +Vorski insisted. + +The man moved on his bed of stones, mumbled a few words and went to +sleep again. + +Vorski, growing a little impatient, renewed his attempts, but more +vigorously, and raised his voice: + +"I say, what about it? We can't hang about all day, you know. Come on!" + +He shook the old man more roughly. The man made a movement of +irritation, pushed away his importunate visitor, clung to sleep a few +seconds longer and, in the end, turned round wearily and, in an angry +voice, growled: + +"Oh, rats!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE ANCIENT DRUID + + +The three accomplices, who were perfectly acquainted with all the +niceties of the French language and familiar with every slang phrase, +did not for a moment mistake the true sense of that unexpected +exclamation. They were astounded. + +Vorski put the question to Conrad and Otto. + +"Eh? What does he say?" + +"What you heard . . . . That's right," said Otto. + +Vorski ended by making a fresh attack on the shoulder of the stranger, +who turned on his couch, stretched himself, yawned, seemed to fall +asleep again, and, suddenly admitting himself defeated, half sat up and +shouted: + +"When you've quite finished, please! Can't a man have a quiet snooze +these days, in this beastly hole?" + +A ray of light blinded his eyes: and he spluttered, in alarm: + +"What is it? What do you want with me?" + +Vorski put down his lantern on a projection in the wall; and the face +now stood clearly revealed. The old man, who had continued to vent his +ill temper in incoherent complaints, looked at his visitor, became +gradually calmer, even assumed an amiable and almost smiling expression +and, holding out his hand, exclaimed: + +"Well, I never! Why, it's you, Vorski! How are you, old bean?" + +Vorski gave a start. That the old man should know him and call him by +his name did not astonish him immensely, since he had the half-mystic +conviction that he was expected as a prophet might be. But to a prophet, +to a missionary clad in light and glory, entering the presence of a +stranger crowned with the double majesty of age and sacerdotal rank, it +was painful to be hailed by the name of "old bean!" + +Hesitating, ill at ease, not knowing with whom he was dealing, he asked: + +"Who are you? What are you here for? How did you get here?" + +And, when the other stared at him with a look of surprise, he repeated, +in a louder voice: + +"Answer me, can't you? Who are you?" + +"Who am I?" replied the old man, in a husky and bleating voice. "Who am +I? By Teutatès, god of the Gauls, is it you who ask me that question? +Then you don't know me? Come, try and remember . . . . Good old +Ségenax--eh, do you get me now--Velléda's father, good old Ségenax, the +law-giver venerated by the Rhedons of whom Chateaubriand speaks in the +first volume of his _Martyrs_? . . . Ah, I see your memory's reviving!" + +"What are you gassing about!" cried Vorski. + +"I'm not gassing. I'm explaining my presence here and the regrettable +events which brought me here long ago. Disgusted by the scandalous +behaviour of Velléda, who had gone wrong with that dismal blighter +Eudorus, I became what we should call a Trappist nowadays, that is to +say, I passed a brilliant exam, as a bachelor of Druid laws. Since that +time, in consequence of a few sprees--oh, nothing to speak of: three or +four jaunts to Paris, where I was attracted by Mabille and afterwards by +the Moulin Rouge--I was obliged to accept the little berth which I fill +here, a cushy job, as you see: guardian of the God-Stone, a shirker's +job, what!" + +Vorski's amazement and uneasiness increased at each word. He consulted +his companions. + +"Break his head," Conrad repeated. "That's what I say: and I stick to +it." + +"And you, Otto?" + +"I think we ought to be on our guard." + +"Of course we must be on our guard." + +But the old Druid caught the word. Leaning on a staff, he helped himself +up and exclaimed: + +"What's the meaning of this? Be on your guard . . . against me! That's +really a bit thick! Treat me as a fake! Why, haven't you seen my axe, +with the pattern of the swastika? The swastika, the leading cabalistic +symbol, eh, what? . . . And this? What do you call this?" He lifted his +string of beads. "What do you call it? Horse-chestnuts? You've got some +cheek, you have, to give a name like that to serpents' eggs, 'eggs which +they form out of slaver and the froth of their bodies mingled and which +they cast into the air, hissing the while.' It's Pliny's own words I'm +quoting! You're not going to treat Pliny also as a fake, I hope! . . . +You're a pretty customer! Putting yourself on your guard against me, +when I have all my degrees as an ancient Druid, all my diplomas, all my +patents, all my certificates signed by Pliny and Chateaubriand! The +cheek of you! . . . Upon my word, you won't find many ancient Druids of +my sort, genuine, of the period, with the bloom of age upon them and a +beard of centuries! I a fake, I, who boast every tradition and who +juggle with the customs of antiquity! . . . Shall I dance the ancient +Druid dance for you, as I did before Julius Caesar? Would you like me +to?" + +And, without waiting for a reply, the old man, flinging aside his staff, +began to cut the most extravagant capers and to execute the wildest of +jigs with perfectly astounding agility. And it was the most laughable +sight to see him jumping and twisting about, with his back bent, his +arms outstretched, his legs shooting to right and left from under his +robe, his beard following the evolutions of his frisking body, while the +bleating voice announced the successive changes in the performance: + +"The ancient Druids' dance, or Caesar's delight! Hi-tiddly, hi-tiddly, +hi-ti, hi! . . . The mistletoe dance, vulgarly known as the tickletoe! +. . . The serpents' egg waltz, music by Pliny! Hullo there! Begone, dull +care! . . . The Vorska, or the tango of the thirty coffins! . . . The +hymn of the Red Prophet! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Glory be to the +prophet!" + +He continued his furious jig a little longer and then suddenly halted +before Vorski and, in a solemn tone, said: + +"Enough of this prattle! Let us talk seriously, I am commissioned to +hand you the God-Stone. Now that you are here, are you ready to take +delivery of the goods?" + +The three accomplices were absolutely flabbergasted. Vorski did not know +what to do, was unable to make out who the infernal fellow was: + +"Oh, shut up!" he shouted, angrily. "What do you want? What's your +object?" + +"What do you mean, my object? I've just told you; to hand you the +God-Stone!" + +"But by what right? In what capacity?" + +The ancient Druid nodded his head: + +"Yes, I see what you're after. Things are not happening in the least as +you thought they would. Of course, you came here feeling jolly spry, +glad and proud of the work you had done. Just think; furnishings for +thirty coffins, four women crucified, shipwrecks, hands steeped in +blood, murders galore. Those things are no small beer; and you were +expecting an imposing reception, with an official ceremony, solemn pomp +and state, antique choirs, processions of bards and minstrels, human +sacrifices and what not; the whole Gallic bag of tricks! Instead of +which, a poor beggar of a Druid, snoozing in a corner, who just simply +offers you the goods. What a come down, my lords! Can't be helped, +Vorski; we do what we can and every man acts according to the means at +his disposal. I'm not a millionaire, you know; and I've already advanced +you, in addition to the washing of a few white robes, some thirty francs +forty for Bengal lights, fountains of fire and a nocturnal earthquake." + +Vorski started, suddenly understanding and beside himself with rage: + +"What! So it was . . ." + +"Of course it was me! Who did you think it was? St. Augustine? Unless +you believed in an intervention of the gods and supposed that they took +the trouble last night to send an archangel to the island, arrayed in a +white robe, to lead you to the hollow oak! . . . Really, you're asking +too much!" + +Vorski clenched his fists. So the man in white whom he had pursued the +night before was no other than this impostor! + +"Oh," he growled, "I'm not fond of having my leg pulled!" + +"Having your leg pulled!" cried the old man. "You've got a cheek, old +chap! Who hunted me like a wild beast, till I was quite out of breath? +And who drove bullets through my best Sunday robe? I never knew such a +fellow! It'll teach me to put my back into a job again!" + +"That'll do!" roared Vorski. "That'll do. Once more and for the last +time . . . what do you want with me?" + +"I'm sick of telling you. I am commissioned to hand you the God-Stone." + +"Commissioned by whom?" + +"Oh, hanged if I know! I've always been brought up to believe that some +day a prince of Almain would appear at Sarek, one Vorski, who would slay +his thirty victims and to whom I was to make an agreed signal when his +thirtieth victim had breathed her last. Therefore, as I'm a slave to +orders, I got together my little parcel, bought two Bengal lights at +three francs seventy-five apiece at a hardware shop in Brest, _plus_ a +few choice crackers, and, at the appointed hour, took up my perch in my +observatory, taper in hand, all ready for work. When you started +howling, in the top of the tree, 'She's dead! She's dead!' I thought +that was the right moment, set fire to the lights and with my crackers +shook the bowels of the earth. There! Now you know all about it." + +Vorski stepped forward, with his fists raised to strike. That torrent of +words, that imperturbable composure, that calm, bantering voice put him +beside himself. + +"Another word and I'll knock you down!" he cried. "I've had enough of +it." + +"Is your name Vorski?" + +"Yes; and then?" + +"Are you a prince of Almain?" + +"Yes, yes; and then?" + +"Have you slain your thirty victims?" + +"Yes, yes, yes!" + +"Well, then you're my man. I have a God-Stone to hand you and I mean to +hand it you, come what may. That's the sort of hairpin I am. You've got +to pocket it, your miracle-stone." + +"But I don't care a hang for the God-Stone!" roared Vorski, stamping his +foot. "And I don't care a hang for you! I want nobody. The God-Stone! +Why, I've got it, it's mine. I've got it on me." + +"Let's have a look." + +"What do you call that?" said Vorski, taking from his pocket the little +stone disk which he had found in the pommel of the sceptre. + +"That?" asked the old man, with an air of surprise. "Where did you get +that from?" + +"From the pommel of this sceptre, when I unfastened it." + +"And what do you call it?" + +"It's a piece of the God-Stone." + +"You're mad." + +"Then what do you say it is?" + +"That's a trouser-button." + +"A what?" + +"A trouser-button." + +"How do you make that out?" + +"A trouser-button with the shaft broken off, a button of the sort which +the niggers in the Sahara wear. I've a whole set of them." + +"Prove it, damn you!" + +"I put it there." + +"What for?" + +"To take the place of the precious stone which Maguennoc sneaked, the +one which burnt him and obliged him to cut off his hand." + +Vorski was silent. He was nonplussed. He had no notion what to do next +or how to behave towards this strange adversary. + +The ancient Druid went up to him and, gently, in a fatherly voice: + +"No, my lad," he said, "you can't do without me, you see. I alone hold +the key of the safe and the secret of the casket. Why do you hesitate?" + +"I don't know you." + +"You baby! If I were suggesting something indelicate and incompatible +with your honour, I could understand your scruples. But my offer is one +of those which can't offend the nicest conscience. Well, is it a +bargain? No? Not yet? But, by Teutatès, what more do you want, you +unbelieving Vorski? A miracle perhaps? Lord, why didn't you say so +before? Miracles, forsooth: I turn 'em out thirteen to the dozen. I work +a little miracle before breakfast every morning. Just think, a Druid! +Miracles? Why, I've got my shop full of 'em! I can't find room to sit +down for them. Where will you try first? Resurrection department? +Hair-restoring department? Revelation of the future department? You can +choose where you like. Look here, at what time did your thirtieth victim +breathe her last?" + +"How should I know?" + +"Eleven fifty-two. Your excitement was so great that it stopped your +watch. Look and see." + +It was ridiculous. The shock produced by excitement has no effect on the +watch of the man who experiences the excitement. Nevertheless, Vorski +involuntarily took out his watch: it marked eight minutes to twelve. He +tried to wind it up: it was broken. + +The ancient Druid, without giving him time to recover his breath and +reply, went on: + +"That staggers you, eh? And yet there's nothing simpler for a Druid who +knows his business. A Druid sees the invisible. He does more: he makes +anyone else see it if he wants to. Vorski, would you like to see +something that doesn't exist? What's your name? I'm not speaking of your +name Vorski, but of your real name, your governor's name." + +"Silence on that subject!" Vorski commanded. "It's a secret I've +revealed to nobody." + +"Then why do you write it down?" + +"I've never written it down." + +"Vorski, your father's name is written in red pencil on the fourteenth +page of the little note-book you carry on you. Look and see." + +Acting mechanically, like an automaton whose movements are controlled +by an alien will, Vorski took from his inside pocket a case containing a +small note-book. He turned the pages till he came to the fourteenth, +when he muttered, with indescribable dismay: + +"Impossible! Who wrote this? And you know what's written here?" + +"Do you want me to prove it to you?" + +"Once more, silence! I forbid you . . ." + +"As you please, old chap! All that I do is meant for your edification. +And it's no trouble to me! Once I start working miracles, I simply can't +stop. Here's another funny little trick. You carry a locket hanging from +a silver chain round your shirt, don't you?" + +"Yes," said Vorski, his eyes blazing with fever. + +"The locket consists of a frame, without the photograph which used to be +set in it." + +"Yes, yes, a portrait of . . ." + +"Of your mother, I know: and you lost it." + +"Yes, I lost it last year." + +"You mean you _think_ you've lost the portrait." + +"Nonsense, the locket is empty." + +"You _think_ the locket's empty. It's not. Look and see." + +Still moving mechanically, with his eyes starting from his head, Vorski +unfastened the button of his shirt and pulled out the chain. The locket +appeared. There was the portrait of a woman in a round gold frame. + +"It's she, it's she," he muttered, completely taken aback. + +"Quite sure?" + +"Yes." + +"Then what do you say to it all, eh? There's no fake about it, no +deception. The ancient Druid's a smart chap and you're coming with him, +aren't you?" + +"Yes." + +Vorski was beaten. The man had subjugated him. His superstitious +instincts, his inherited belief in the mysterious powers, his restless +and unbalanced nature, all imposed absolute submission on him. His +suspicion persisted, but did not prevent him from obeying. + +"Is it far?" he asked. + +"Next door, in the great hall." + +Otto and Conrad had been the astounded witnesses of this dialogue. +Conrad tried to protest. But Vorski silenced him: + +"If you're afraid, go away. Besides," he added, with an affectation of +assurance, "besides, we shall walk with our revolvers ready. At the +slightest alarm, fire." + +"Fire on me?" chuckled the ancient Druid. + +"Fire on any enemy, no matter who it may be." + +"Well, you go first, Vorski . . . . What, won't you?" + +He had brought them to the very end of the crypt, in the darkest shadow, +where the lantern showed them a recess hollowed at the foot of the wall +and plunging into the rocks in a downward direction. + +Vorski hesitated and then entered. He had to crawl on his hands and +knees in this narrow, winding passage, from which he emerged, a minute +later, on the threshold of a large hall. + +The others joined him. + +"The hall of the God-Stone," the ancient Druid declared, solemnly. + +It was lofty and imposing, similar in shape and size to the broad walk +under which it lay. The same number of upright stones, which seemed to +be the columns of an immense temple, stood in the same place and formed +the same rows as the menhirs on the walk overhead: stones hewn in the +same uncouth way, with no regard for art or symmetry. The floor was +composed of huge irregular flagstones, intersected with a network of +gutters and covered with round patches of dazzling light, falling from +above at some distance one from the other. + +In the centre, under Maguennoc's garden, rose a platform of unmortared +stones, fourteen or fifteen feet high, with sides about twenty yards +long. On the top was a dolmen with two sturdy supports and a long, oval +granite table. + +"Is that it?" asked Vorski, in a husky voice. + +Without giving a direct answer, the ancient Druid said: + +"What do you think of it? They were dabs at building, those ancestors of +ours! And what ingenuity they displayed! What precautions against prying +eyes and profane enquiries! Do you know where the light comes from? For +we are in the bowels of the island and there are no windows opening on +to the sky. The light comes from the upper menhirs. They are pierced +from the top to bottom with a channel which widens as it goes down and +which sheds floods of light below. In the middle of the day, when the +sun is shining, it's like fairyland. You, who are an artist, would shout +with admiration." + +"Then that's _it_?" Vorski repeated. + +"At any rate, it's a sacred stone," declared the ancient Druid, +impassively, "since it used to overlook the place of the underground +sacrifices, which were the most important of all. But there is another +one underneath, which is protected by the dolmen and which you can't see +from here; and that is the one on which the selected victims were +offered up. The blood used to flow from the platform and along all these +gutters to the cliffs and down to the sea." + +Vorski muttered, more and more excited: + +"Then that's it? If so, let's go on." + +"No need to stir," said the old man, with exasperating coolness. "It's +not that one either. There's a third; and to see that one you have only +to lift your head a little." + +"Where? Are you sure?" + +"Of course! Take a good look . . . above the upper table, yes, in the +very vault which forms the ceiling and which is like a mosaic made of +great flagstones . . . . You can twig it from here, can't you? A +flagstone forming a separate oblong, long and narrow like the lower +table and shaped like it . . . . They might be two sisters . . . . But +there's only one good one, stamped with the trademark . . . ." + +Vorski was disappointed. He had expected a more elaborate introduction +to a more mysterious hiding-place. + +"Is that the God-Stone?" he asked. "Why, it has nothing particular about +it." + +"From a distance, no; but wait till you see it close by. There are +coloured veins in it, glittering lodes, a special grain: in short, the +God-Stone. Besides, it's remarkable not so much for its substance as for +its miraculous properties." + +"What are the miracles in question?" asked Vorski. + +"It gives life and death, as you know, and it gives a lot of other +things." + +"What sort of things?" + +"Oh, hang it, you're asking me too much! I don't know anything about +it." + +"How do you mean, you don't know?" + +The ancient Druid leant over and, in a confidential tone: + +"Listen, Vorski," he said, "I confess that I have been boasting a bit +and that my function, though of the greatest importance--keeper of the +God-Stone, you know, a first-class berth--is limited by a power which in +a manner of speaking is higher than my own." + +"What power?" + +"Velléda's." + +Vorski eyed him with renewed uneasiness: + +"Velléda?" + +"Yes, or at least the woman whom I call Velléda, the last of the +Druidesses: I don't know her real name." + +"Where is she?" + +"Here." + +"Here?" + +"Yes, on the sacrificial stone. She's asleep." + +"What, she's asleep?" + +"She's been sleeping for centuries, since all time. I've never seen her +other than sleeping: a chaste and peaceful slumber. Like the Sleeping +Beauty, Velléda is waiting for him whom the gods have appointed to +awake her; and that is . . ." + +"Who?" + +"You, Vorski, you." + +Vorski knitted his brows. What was the meaning of this improbable story +and what was his impenetrable interlocutor driving at? + +The ancient Druid continued: + +"That seems to ruffle you! Come, there's no reason, just because your +hands are red with blood and because you have thirty coffins on your +mind, why you shouldn't have the right to act as Prince Charming. You're +too modest, my young friend. Look here, Velléda is marvellously +beautiful: I tell you, hers is a superhuman beauty. Ah, my fine fellow, +you're getting excited! What? Not yet?" + +Vorski hesitated. Really he was feeling the danger increase around him +and rise like a swelling wave that is about to break. But the old man +would not leave him alone: + +"One last word, Vorski; and I'm speaking low so that your friends shan't +hear me. When you wrapped your mother in her shroud, you left on her +fore-finger, in obedience to her formal wish, a ring which she had +always worn, a magic ring made of a large turquoise surrounded by a +circle of smaller turquoises set in gold. Am I right?" + +"Yes," gasped Vorski, taken aback, "yes, you're right: but I was alone +and it is a secret which nobody knew." + +"Vorski, if that ring is on Velléda's finger, will you trust me and will +you believe that your mother, in her grave, appointed Velléda to +receive you, that she herself might hand you the miraculous stone?" + +Vorski was already walking towards the tumulus. He quickly climbed the +first few steps. His head passed the level of the platform. + +"Oh," he said, staggering back, "the ring . . . the ring is on her +finger!" + +Between the two supports of the dolmen, stretched on the sacrificial +table and clad in a spotless gown that came down to her feet, lay the +Druidess. Her body and face were turned the other way; and a veil +hanging over her forehead hid her hair. Almost bare, her shapely arm lay +along the table. On the forefinger was a turquoise ring. + +"Is that your mother's ring all right?" asked the ancient Druid. + +"Yes, there's no doubt about it." + +Vorski had hurried across the space between himself and the dolmen and, +stooping, almost kneeling, was examining the turquoises. + +"The number is complete," he whispered. "One of them is cracked. Another +is half covered by the gold setting which has worked down over it." + +"You needn't be so cautious," said the old man. "She won't hear you; and +your voice can't wake her. What you had better do is to stand up and +pass your hand lightly over her forehead. That is the magic caress which +will rouse her from her slumber." + +Vorski stood up. Nevertheless he hesitated to approach the woman, who +inspired him with ungovernable fear and respect. + +"Don't come any nearer, you two," said the ancient Druid, addressing +Otto and Conrad. "When Velléda's eyes open, they must rest on no one +but Vorski and behold no other sight. Well, Vorski, are you afraid?" + +"No, I'm not afraid." + +"Only you're not feeling comfortable. It's easier to murder people than +to bring them to life, what? Come, show yourself a man! Put aside her +veil and touch her forehead. The God-Stone is within your reach. Act and +you will be the master of the world." + +Vorski acted. Standing against the sacrificial altar, he looked down +upon the Druidess. He bent over the motionless bust. The white gown rose +and fell to the regular rhythm of the breathing. With an undecided hand +he drew back the veil and then stooped lower, so that his other hand +might touch the uncovered forehead. + +But at that moment his action remained, so to speak, suspended and he +stood without moving, like a man who does not understand but is vainly +trying to understand. + +"Well, what's up, old chap?" exclaimed the Druid. "You look petrified. +Another squabble? Something gone wrong? Must I come and help you?" + +Vorski did not answer. He was staring wildly, with an expression of +stupefaction and affright which gradually changed into one of mad +terror. Drops of perspiration trickled over his face. His haggard eyes +seemed to be gazing upon the most horrible vision. + +The old man burst out laughing: + +"Lord love us, how ugly you are! I hope the last of the Druidesses won't +raise her divine eyelids and see that hideous mug of yours! Sleep, +Velléda, sleep your pure and dreamless sleep." + +Vorski stood muttering between his teeth incoherent words which conveyed +the menace of an increasing anger. The truth became partly revealed to +him in a series of flashes. A word rose to his lips which he refused to +utter, as though, in uttering it, he feared lest he should give life to +a being who was no more, to that woman who was dead, yes, dead though +she lay breathing before him: she could not but be dead, because he had +killed her. However, in the end and in spite of himself, he spoke; and +every syllable cost him intolerable suffering: + +"Véronique . . . . Véronique . . . ." + +"So you think she's like her?" chuckled the ancient Druid. "Upon my +word, may be you are right: there is a sort of family resemblance +. . . . I dare say, if you hadn't crucified the other with your own +hands and if you hadn't yourself received her last breath, you would be +ready to swear that the two women are one and the same person . . . and +that Véronique d'Hergemont is alive and that she's not even wounded +. . . not even a scar . . . not so much as the mark of the cords round +her wrists . . . . But just look, Vorski, what a peaceful face, what +comforting serenity! Upon my word, I'm beginning to believe that you +made a mistake and that it was another woman you crucified! Just think a +bit! . . . Hullo, you're going to go for me now! Come to my rescue, O +Teutatès! The prophet wants to have my blood!" + +Vorski had drawn himself up and was now facing the ancient Druid. His +features, fashioned for hatred and fury, had surely never expressed +more of either than at this moment. The ancient Druid was not merely the +man who for an hour had been toying with him as with a child. He was the +man who had performed the most extraordinary feat and who suddenly +appeared to him as the most ruthless and dangerous foe. A man like that +must be got rid of on the spot, since the opportunity presented itself. + +"I'm done!" said the old man. "He's going to eat me up! Crikey, what an +ogre! . . . Help! Murder! Help! . . . Oh, look at his iron fingers! He's +going to strangle me! . . . Unless he uses a dagger . . . or a rope +. . . . No, a revolver! I prefer that, it's neater . . . . Fire away, +Alexis. Two of the seven bullets have already made holes in my best +Sunday robe. That leaves five. Fire away, Alexis." + +Each word aggravated Vorski's fury. He was eager to get the work over +and he shouted: + +"Otto . . . Conrad . . . are you ready?" + +He raised his arm. The two assistants likewise took aim. Four paces in +front of them stood the old man, laughingly pleading for mercy: + +"Please, kind gentlemen, have pity on a poor beggar . . . . I won't do +it again . . . . I'll be a good boy . . . . Kind gentlemen, please +. . . ." + +Vorski repeated: + +"Otto . . . Conrad . . . attention! . . . I'm counting three: one . . . +two . . . three . . . fire!" + +The three shots rang out together. The Druid whirled round with one leg +in the air, then drew himself up straight, opposite his adversaries, and +cried, in a tragic voice: + +"A hit, a palpable hit! Shot through the body! Dead, for a ducat! . . . +The ancient Druid's _kaput_! . . . A tragic development! Oh, the poor +old Druid, who was so fond of his joke!" + +"Fire!" roared Vorski. "Shoot, can't you, you idiots? Fire!" + +"Fire! Fire!" repeated the Druid. "Bang! Bang! A bull's eye! . . . Two! +. . . Three bull's eyes! . . . Your shot, Conrad: bang! . . . Yours, +Otto: bang!" + +The shots rattled and echoed through the great resounding hall. The +bewildered and furious accomplices were gesticulating before their +target, while the invulnerable old man danced and kicked, now almost +squatting on his heels, now leaping up with astounding agility: + +"Lord, what fun one can have in a cave! And what a fool you are, Vorski, +my own! You blooming old prophet! . . . What a mug! But, I say, however +could you take it all in? The Bengal lights! The crackers! And the +trouser-button! And your old mother's ring! . . . You silly juggins! +What a spoof!" + +Vorski stopped. He realized that the three revolvers had been made +harmless, but how? By what unprecedented marvel? What was at the bottom +of all this fantastic adventure? Who was that demon standing in front of +him? + +He flung away his useless weapon and looked at the old man. Was he +thinking of seizing him in his arms and crushing the life out of him? He +also looked at the woman and seemed ready to fall upon her. But he +obviously no longer felt equal to facing those two strange creatures, +who appeared to him to be remote from the world and from actuality. + +Then, quickly, he turned on his heel and, calling to his accomplices, +made for the crypts, followed by the ancient Druid's jeers: + +"Look at that now! He's slinging his hook! And the God-Stone, what about +it? What do you want me to do with it? . . . I say, isn't he showing a +clean pair of heels! . . . Hi! Are your trousers on fire? Yoicks, +tally-ho, tally-ho! Proph--et Proph--et! . . ." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE HALL OF THE UNDERGROUND SACRIFICES + + +Vorski had never known fear and he was perhaps not yielding to an actual +sense of fear in taking to flight now. But he no longer knew what he was +doing. His bewildered brain was filled with a whirl of contradictory and +incoherent ideas in which the intuition of an irretrievable and to some +extent supernatural defeat held the first place. + +Believing as he did in witchcraft and wonders, he had an impression that +Vorski, the man of destiny, had fallen from his mission and been +replaced by another chosen favourite of destiny. There were two +miraculous forces opposed to each other, one emanating from him, Vorski, +the other from the ancient Druid; and the second was absorbing the +first. Véronique's resurrection, the ancient Druid's personality, the +speeches, the jokes, the leaps and bounds, the actions, the +invulnerability of that spring-heeled individual, all this seemed to him +magical and fabulous; and it created, in these caves of the barbaric +ages, a peculiar atmosphere which stifled and demoralized him. + +He was eager to return to the surface of the earth. He wanted to breathe +and see. And what he wanted above all to see was the tree stripped of +its branches to which he had tied Véronique and on which Véronique had +expired. + +"For she _is_ dead," he snarled, as he crawled through the narrow +passage which communicated with the third and largest of the crypts. +"She _is_ dead. I know what death means. I have often held it in my +hands and I make no mistakes. Then how did that demon manage to bring +her to life again?" + +He stopped abruptly near the block on which he had picked up the +sceptre: + +"Unless . . ." he said. + +Conrad, following him, cried: + +"Hurry up, instead of chattering." + +Vorski allowed himself to be pulled along; but, as he went, he +continued: + +"Shall I tell you what I think, Conrad? Well, the woman he showed us, +the one asleep, wasn't that one at all. Was she even alive? Oh, the old +wizard is capable of anything! He'll have modelled a figure, a wax doll, +and given it her likeness." + +"You're mad. Get on!" + +"I'm not mad. That woman was not alive. The one who died on the tree is +properly dead. And you'll find her again up there, I warrant you. +Miracles, yes, but not such a miracle as that!" + +Having left their lantern behind them, the three accomplices kept +bumping against the wall and the upright stones. Their footsteps echoed +from vault to vault. Conrad never ceased grumbling: + +"I warned you . . . . We ought to have broken his head." + +Otto, out of breath with walking, said nothing. + +Thus, groping their way, they reached the lobby which preceded the +entrance-crypt; and they were not a little surprised to find that this +first hall was dark, though the passage which they had dug in the upper +part, under the roots of the dead oak, ought to have given a certain +amount of light. + +"That's funny," said Conrad. + +"Pooh!" said Otto. "We've only got to find the ladder hooked to the +wall. Here, I have it . . . here's a step . . . and the next . . . ." + +He climbed the rungs, but was pulled up almost at once: + +"Can't get any farther . . . . It's as if there had been a fall of +earth." + +"Impossible!" Vorski protested. "However, wait a bit, I was forgetting: +I have my pocket-lighter." + +He struck a light; and the same cry of anger escaped all three of them: +the whole of the top of the staircase and half the room was buried under +a heap of stones and sand, with the trunk of the dead oak fallen in the +middle. Not a chance of escape remained. + +Vorski gave way to a fit of despair and collapsed on the stairs: + +"We're tricked. It's that old brute who has played us this trick . . . +which shows that he's not alone." + +He bewailed his fate, raving, lacking the strength to continue the +unequal struggle. But Conrad grew angry: + +"I say, Vorski, this isn't like you, you know." + +"There's nothing to be done against that fellow." + +"Nothing to be done! In the first place, there's this, as I've told you +twenty times: wring his neck. Oh, why did I restrain myself?" + +"You couldn't even have laid a hand on him. Did any of our bullets touch +him?" + +"Our bullets . . . our bullets," muttered Conrad. "All this strikes me +as mighty queer. Hand me your lighter. I have another revolver, which +comes from the Priory: and I loaded it myself yesterday morning. I'll +soon see." + +He examined the weapon and was not long in discovering that the seven +cartridges which he had put in the cylinder had been replaced by seven +cartridges from which the bullets had been extracted and which could +therefore fire nothing except blank shots. + +"That explains it," he said, "and your ancient Druid is no more of a +wizard than I am. If our revolvers had been really loaded, we'd have +shot him down like a dog." + +But the explanation only increased Vorski's alarm: + +"And how did he unload them? At what moment did he manage to take our +revolvers from our pockets and put them back after drawing the charges? +I did not leave go of mine for an instant." + +"No more did I," Conrad admitted. + +"And I defy any one to touch it without my knowing. So what then? +Doesn't it prove that that demon has a special power? After all, we must +look at things as they are. He's a man who possesses secrets of his own +. . . and who has means at his disposal, means which . . ." + +Conrad shrugged his shoulders: + +"Vorski, this business has shattered you. You were within reach of the +goal and yet you let go at the first obstacle. You're turned into a +dish-cloth. Well, I don't bow my head like you. Tricked? Why so? If he +comes after us, there are three of us." + +"He won't come. He'll leave us here shut up in a burrow with no way out +of it." + +"Then, if he doesn't come, I'll go back there, I will! I've got my +knife; that's enough for me." + +"You're wrong, Conrad." + +"How am I wrong? I'm a match for any man, especially for that old +blighter; and he's only got a sleeping woman to help him." + +"Conrad, he's not a man and she's not a woman. Be careful." + +"I'm careful and I'm going." + +"You're going, you're going; but what's your plan?" + +"I've no plan. Or rather, if I have, it's to out that beggar." + +"All the same, mind what you're doing. Don't go for him bull-headed; try +to take him by surprise." + +"Well, of course!" said Conrad, moving away. "I'm not ass enough to risk +his attacks. Be easy, I've got the bounder!" + +Conrad's daring comforted Vorski. + +"After all," he said, when his accomplice was gone, "he's right. If that +old Druid didn't come after us, it's because he's got other ideas in his +head. He certainly doesn't expect us to return on the offensive; and +Conrad can very well take him by surprise. What do you say, Otto?" + +Otto shared his opinion: + +"He has only to bide his time," he replied. + +Fifteen minutes passed. Vorski gradually recovered his assurance. He had +yielded to the reaction, after an excess of hope followed by +disappointment too great for him to bear and also because of the +weariness and depression produced by his drinking-bout. But the fighting +spirit stimulated him once more; and he was anxious to have done with +his adversary. + +"I shouldn't be surprised," he said, "if Conrad had finished him off by +now." + +By this time he had acquired an exaggerated confidence which proved his +unbalanced state of mind; and he wanted to go back again at once. + +"Come along, Otto, it's the last trip. An old beggar to get rid of; and +the thing's done. You've got your dagger? Besides, it won't be wanted. +My two hands will do the trick." + +"And suppose that blasted Druid has friends?" + +"We'll see." + +He once more went towards the crypts, moving cautiously and watching the +opening of the passages which led from one to the other. No sound +reached their ears. The light in the third crypt showed them the way. + +"Conrad must have succeeded," Vorski observed. "If not, he would have +shirked the fight and come back to us." + +Otto agreed. + +"It's a good sign, of course, that we don't see him. The ancient Druid +must have had a bad time of it. Conrad is a scorcher." + +They entered the third crypt. Things were in the places where they had +left them: the sceptre on the block and the pommel, which Vorski had +unfastened, a little way off, on the ground. But, when he cast his eyes +towards the shadowy recess where the ancient Druid was sleeping when +they first arrived, he was astounded to see the old fellow, not exactly +at the same place, but between the recess and the exit to the passage. + +"Hang it, what's he doing?" he stammered, at once upset by that +unexpected presence. "One would think he was asleep!" + +The ancient Druid, in fact, appeared to be asleep. Only, why on earth +was he sleeping in that attitude, flat on his stomach, with his arms +stretched out on either side and his face to the floor? No man on his +guard, or at least aware that he was in some sort of danger, would +expose himself in this way to the enemy's attack. Moreover--Vorski's +eyes were gradually growing accustomed to the half-darkness of the end +crypt--moreover the white robe was marked with stains which looked red, +which undoubtedly were red. What did it mean? + +Otto said, in a low voice: + +"He's lying in a queer attitude." + +Vorski was thinking the same thing and put it more plainly: + +"Yes, the attitude of a corpse." + +"The attitude of a corpse," Otto agreed. "That's it, exactly." + +Vorski presently fell back a step: + +"Oh," he exclaimed, "can it be?" + +"What?" asked the other. + +"Between the two shoulders . . . . Look." + +"Well?" + +"The knife." + +"What knife?" + +"Conrad's," Vorski declared. "Conrad's dagger. I recognise it. Driven in +between the shoulders." And he added, with a shudder, "That's where the +red stains come from . . . . It's blood . . . blood flowing from the +wound." + +"In that case," Otto remarked, "he is dead?" + +"He's dead, yes, the ancient Druid is dead . . . . Conrad must have +surprised him and killed him . . . . The ancient Druid is dead." + +Vorski remained undecided for a while, ready to fall upon the lifeless +body and to stab it in his turn. But he dared no more touch it now that +it was dead than when it was alive; and all that he had the courage to +do was to run and wrench the dagger from the wound. + +"Ah," he cried, "you scoundrel, you've got what you deserve! And Conrad +is a champion. I shan't forget you, Conrad, be sure of that." + +"Where can Conrad be?" + +"In the hall of the God-Stone. Ah, Otto, I'm itching to get back to the +woman whom the ancient Druid put there and to settle her hash too!" + +"Then you believe that she's a live woman?" chuckled Otto. + +"And very much alive at that . . . like the ancient Druid! That wizard +was only a fake, with a few tricks of his own, perhaps, but no real +power. There's the proof!" + +"A fake, if you like," the accomplice objected. "But, all the same, he +showed you by his signals the way to enter these caves. Now what was his +object in that? And what was he doing here? Did he really know the +secret of the God-Stone, the way to get possession of it and exactly +where it is?" + +"You're right. It's all so many riddles," said Vorski, who preferred not +to examine the details of the adventure too closely. "But it's so many +riddles which'll answer themselves and which I'm not troubling about for +the moment, because it's no longer that creepy individual who's putting +them to me." + +For the third time they went through the narrow communicating passage. +Vorski entered the great hall like a conqueror, with his head high and a +confident glance. There was no longer any obstacle, no longer any enemy +to overcome. Whether the God-Stone was suspended between the stones of +the ceiling, or whether the God-Stone was elsewhere, he was sure to +discover it. There remained the mysterious woman who looked like +Véronique, but who could not be Véronique and whose real identity he was +about to unmask. + +"Always presuming that she's still there," he muttered. "And I very much +suspect that she's gone. She played her part in the ancient Druid's +obscure schemes: and the ancient Druid, thinking me out of the way +. . ." + +He stepped forward and climbed a few steps. + +The woman was there. She was there, lying on the lower table of the +dolmen, shrouded in veils as before. The arm no longer hung towards the +ground. There was only the hand emerging from the veils. The turquoise +ring was on the finger. + +"She hasn't moved," said Otto. "She's still asleep." + +"Perhaps she is asleep," said Vorski. "I'll watch her. Leave me alone." + +He went nearer. He still had Conrad's dagger in his hand: and perhaps it +was this that suggested killing to him, for his eyes fell upon the +weapon and it was not till then that he seemed to realise that he was +carrying it and that he might make use of it. + +He was not more than three paces from the woman, when he perceived that +the wrist which was uncovered was all bruised and as it were mottled +with black patches, which evidently came from the cords with which she +had been bound. Now the ancient Druid had remarked, an hour ago, that +the wrists showed no signs of a bruise! + +This detail confounded him anew, first, because it proved to him that +this was really the woman whom he had crucified, who had been taken down +and who was now before his eyes and, secondly, because he was suddenly +reentering the domain of miracles; and Véronique's arm appeared to him, +alternately, under two different aspects, as the arm of a living, +uninjured woman and as the arm of a lifeless, tortured victim. + +His trembling hand clutched the dagger, clinging to it, in a manner of +speaking, as the only instrument of salvation. Once more in his confused +brain the idea arose of striking, not to kill, because the woman must be +dead, but of striking the invisible enemy who persisted in thwarting him +and of conjuring all the evil spells at one blow. + +He raised his arm. He chose the spot. His face assumed an expression of +extreme savagery, lit up with the joy of murder. And suddenly he swooped +down, striking, like a madman, at random, ten times, twenty times, with +a frenzied unbridling of all his instincts. + +"Take that and die!" he spluttered. "Another! . . . Die! . . . And let's +have an end of this . . . . You are the evil genius that's been +resisting me . . . and now I'm killing you . . . . Die and leave me +free! . . . Die so that I shall be the only master!" + +He stopped to take breath. He was exhausted. And while his haggard eyes +stared blindly at the horrible spectacle of the lacerated corpse, he +received the strange impression that a shadow was placing itself between +him and the sunlight which came through the opening overhead. + +"Do you know what you remind me of?" said a voice. + +He was dumbfounded. The voice was not Otto's voice. And the voice +continued, while he stood with his head lowered and stupidly holding his +dagger planted in the dead woman's body: + +"Do you know what you remind me of, Vorski? You remind me of the bulls +of my country. Let me tell you that I am a Spaniard and a great +frequenter of the bull-ring. Well, when our bulls have gored some poor +old cab-horse that is only fit for the knacker's yard, they go back to +the body, from time to time, turn it over, gore it again, keep on +killing it and killing it. You're like them, Vorski. You're seeing red. +In order to defend yourself against the living enemy, you fall +desperately on the enemy who is no longer alive; and it is death itself +that you are trying to kill. What a silly beast you're making of +yourself!" + +Vorski raised his head. A man was standing in front of him, leaning +against one of the uprights of the dolmen. The man was of the average +height, with a slender, well-built figure, and seemed to be still young, +notwithstanding his hair, which was turning grey at the temples. He wore +a blue-serge jacket with brass buttons and a yachting-cap with a black +peak. + +"Don't trouble to rack your brains," he said. "You don't know me. Let me +introduce myself: Don Luis Perenna, grandee of Spain, a noble of many +countries and Prince of Sarek. Yes, don't be surprised: I've taken the +title of Prince of Sarek, having a certain right to it." + +Vorski looked at him without understanding. The man continued: + +"You don't seem very familiar with the Spanish nobility. Still, just +test your memory: I am the gentleman who was to come to the rescue of +the d'Hergemont family and the people of Sarek, the one whom your son +François was expecting with such simple faith . . . . Well, are you +there? . . . Look, your companion, the trusty Otto, he seems to +remember! . . . But perhaps my other name will convey more to you? It is +well and favourably known. Lupin . . . . Arsène Lupin . . . ." + +Vorski watched him with increasing terror and with a misgiving which +became more accentuated at each word and movement of this new adversary. +Though he recognized neither the man nor the man's voice, he felt +himself dominated by a will of which he had already felt the power and +lashed by the same sort of implacable irony. But was it possible? + +"Everything is possible," Don Luis Perenna went on, "including even what +you think. But I repeat, what a silly beast you're making of yourself! +Here are you playing the bold highwayman, the dashing adventurer; and +you're frightened the moment you set eyes on one of your crimes! As long +as it was just a matter of happy-go-lucky killing, you went straight +ahead. But the first little jolt throws you off the track. Vorski kills; +but whom has he killed? He has no idea. Is Véronique d'Hergemont dead or +alive? Is she fastened to the oak on which you crucified her? Or is she +lying here, on the sacrificial table? Did you kill her up there or down +here? You can't tell. You never even thought, before you stabbed, of +looking to see what you were stabbing. The great thing for you is to +slash away with all your might, to intoxicate yourself with the sight +and smell of blood and to turn live flesh into a hideous pulp. But look, +can't you, you idiot? When a man kills, he's not afraid of killing and +he doesn't hide the face of his victim. Look, you idiot!" + +He himself stopped over the corpse and unwrapped the veil around the +head. + +Vorski had closed his eyes. Kneeling, with his chest pressed against the +dead woman's legs, he remained without moving and kept his eyes +obstinately shut. + +"Are you there now?" chuckled Don Luis. "If you daren't look, it's +because you've guessed or because you're on the point of guessing, you +wretch: am I right? Your idiot brain is working it out: am I right? +There were two women in the Isle of Sarek and two only, Véronique and +the other . . . the other whose name was Elfride, I understand: am I +right? Elfride and Véronique, your two wives, one the mother of +Raynold, the other the mother of François. So, if it's not François' +mother whom you tied on the cross and whom you've just stabbed, then +it's Raynold's mother. If the woman lying here, with her wrists bruised +by the torture, is not Véronique, then she's Elfride. There's no mistake +possible: Elfride, your wife and your accomplice; Elfride, your willing +and subservient tool. And you know it so well that you would rather take +my word for it than risk a glance and see the livid face of that dead +woman, of your obedient accomplice tortured by yourself. You miserable +poltroon!" + +Vorski had hidden his head in his folded arms. He was not weeping. +Vorski could not weep. Nevertheless, his shoulders were jerking +convulsively; and his whole attitude expressed the wildest despair. + +This lasted for some time. Then the shaking of the shoulders ceased. +Still Vorski did not stir. + +"Upon my word, you move me to pity, you poor old buffer!" said Don Luis. +"Were you so fond of your Elfride as all that? She had become a habit, +what? A mascot? Well, what can I say? People as a rule aren't such fools +as you! They know what they're doing. They look before they leap! Hang +it all, they stop to think! Whereas you go floundering about in crime +like a new-born babe struggling in the water! No wonder you sink and go +to the bottom . . . . The ancient Druid, for instance: is he dead or +alive? Did Conrad stick a dagger into his back, or was I playing the +part of that diabolical personage? In short, are there an ancient Druid +and a Spanish grandee, or are the two individuals one and the same? +This is all a sealed book to you, my poor fellow. And yet you'll want an +explanation. Shall I help you?" + +If Vorski had acted without thinking, it was easy to see, when he raised +his head, that on this occasion he had taken time to reflect; that he +knew very well the desperate resolve which circumstances called upon him +to take. He was certainly ready for an explanation, as Don Luis +suggested, but he wanted it dagger in hand, with the implacable +intention of using it. Slowly, with his eyes fixed on Don Luis and +without concealing his purpose, he had freed his weapon and was rising +to his feet. + +"Take care," said Don Luis. "Your knife is faked as your revolver was. +It's made of tin-foil." + +Useless pleasantry! Nothing could either hasten or delay the methodical +impulse which urged Vorski to the supreme contest. He walked round the +sacred table and took up his stand in front of Don Luis. + +"You're sure it's you who have been thwarting all my plans these last +few days?" + +"The last twenty-four hours, no longer. I arrived at Sarek twenty-four +hours ago." + +"And you're determined to go on to the end?" + +"Yes; and farther still, if possible." + +"Why? And in what capacity?" + +"As a sportsman; and because you fill me with disgust." + +"So there's no arrangement to be made?" + +"No." + +"Would you refuse to go shares with me?" + +"Ah, now you're talking!" + +"You can have half, if you like." + +"I'd rather have the lot." + +"Meaning that the God-Stone . . ." + +"The God-Stone belongs to me." + +Further speech was idle. An adversary of that quality has to be made +away with; if not, he makes away with you. Vorski had to choose between +the two endings; there was not a third. + +Don Luis remained impassive, leaning against the pillar. Vorski towered +a head above him: and at the same time Vorski had the profound +impression that he was equally Don Luis' superior in every other +respect, in strength, muscular power and weight. In these conditions, +there was no need to hesitate. Moreover, it seemed out of the question +that Don Luis could even attempt to defend himself or to evade the blow +before the dagger fell. His parry was bound to come late unless he moved +at once. And he did not move. Vorski therefore struck his blow with all +certainty, as one strikes a quarry that is doomed beforehand. + +And yet--it all happened so quickly and so inexplicably that he could +not tell what occurred to bring about his defeat--and yet, three or four +seconds later, he was lying on the ground, disarmed, defeated, with his +two legs feeling as though they had been broken with a stick and his +right arm hanging limp and paining him till he cried out. + +Don Luis did not even trouble to bind him. With one foot on the big, +helpless body, half-bending over his adversary, he said: + +"For the moment, no speeches. I'm keeping one in reserve for you. It'll +strike you as a bit long, but it'll show you that I understand the whole +business from start to finish, that is to say, much better than you do. +There's one doubtful point: and you're going to clear it up. Where's +your son François d'Hergemont?" + +Receiving no reply, he repeated: + +"Where's François d'Hergemont?" + +Vorski no doubt considered that chance had placed an unexpected trump in +his hands and that the game was perhaps not absolutely lost, for he +maintained an obstinate silence. + +"You refuse to answer?" asked Don Luis. "One . . . two . . . three +times: do you refuse? . . . Very well!" + +He gave a low whistle. + +Four men appeared from a corner of the hall, four men with swarthy +faces, resembling Moors. Like Don Luis, they wore jackets and sailor's +caps with shiny peaks. + +A fifth person arrived almost immediately afterwards, a wounded French +officer, who had lost his right leg and wore a wooden leg in its place. + +"Ah, is that you, Patrice?" said Don Luis. + +He introduced him formally: + +"Captain Patrice Belval, my greatest friend; Mr. Vorski, a Hun." + +Then he asked: + +"No news, captain? You haven't found François?" + +"No." + +"We shall have found him in an hour and then we'll be off. Are all our +men on board?" + +"Yes." + +"Everything all right there?" + +"Quite." + +He turned to the three Moors: + +"Pick up the Hun," he ordered, "and carry him up to the dolmen outside. +You needn't bind him: he couldn't move a limb if he tried. Oh, one +minute!" + +He leant over Vorski's ear: + +"Before you start, have a good look at the God-Stone, between the flags +in the ceiling. The ancient Druid wasn't lying to you. It _is_ the +miraculous stone which people have been seeking for centuries . . . and +which I discovered from a distance . . . by correspondence. Say good-bye +to it, Vorski! You will never see it again, if indeed you are ever to +see anything in this world." + +He made a sign with his hand. + +The four Moors briskly took up Vorski and carried him to the back of the +hall, on the side opposite the communicating passage. + +Turning to Otto, who had stood throughout this scene without moving: + +"I see that you're a reasonable fellow, Otto, and that you understand +the position. You won't get up to any tricks?" + +"No." + +"Then we shan't touch you. You can come along without fear." + +He slipped his arm through Belval's and the two walked away, talking. + +They left the hall of the God-Stone through a series of three crypts, +each of which was on a higher level than the one before. The last of +them also led to a vestibule. At the far side of the vestibule, a ladder +stood against a lightly-built wall in which an opening had been newly +made. Through this they emerged into the open air, in the middle of a +steep path, cut into steps, which wound about as it climbed upwards in +the rock and which brought them to that part of the cliff to which +François had taken Véronique on the previous morning. It was the Postern +path. From above they saw, hanging from two iron davits, the boat in +which Véronique and her son had intended to take flight. Not far away, +in a little bay, was the long, tapering outline of a submarine. + +Turning their backs to the sea, Don Luis and Patrice Belval continued on +their way towards the semicircle of oaks and stopped near the Fairies' +Dolmen, where the Moors were waiting for them. They had set Vorski down +at the foot of the tree on which his last victim had died. Nothing +remained on the tree to bear witness to the abominable torture except +the inscription, "V. d'H." + +"Not too tired, Vorski?" asked Don Luis. "Legs feeling better?" + +Vorski gave a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders. + +"Yes, I know," said Don Luis. "You're pinning your faith to your last +card. Still, I would have you know that I also hold a few trumps and +that I have a rather artistic way of playing them. The tree behind you +should be more than enough to tell you so. Would you like another +instance? While you're getting muddled with all your murders and are no +longer sure of the number of your victims, I bring them to life again. +Look at that man coming from the Priory. Do you see him? He's wearing a +blue reefer with brass buttons, like myself. He's one of your dead men, +isn't he? You locked him up in one of the torture-chambers, intending +to cast him into the sea; and it was your sweet cherub of a Raynold who +hurled him down before Véronique's eyes. Do you remember? Stéphane +Maroux his name was. He's dead, isn't he? No, not a bit of it! A wave of +my magic wand; and he's alive again. Here he is. I take him by the hand. +I speak to him." + +Going up to the newcomer, he shook hands with him and said: + +"You see, Stéphane? I told you that it would be all over at twelve +o'clock precisely and that we should meet at the dolmen. Well, it is +twelve o'clock precisely." + +Stéphane seemed in excellent health. He showed not a sign of a wound. +Vorski looked at him in dismay and stammered: + +"The tutor . . . . Stéphane Maroux . . . ." + +"The man himself," said Don Luis. "What did you expect? Here again you +behaved like an idiot. The adorable Raynold and you throw a man into the +sea and don't even think of leaning over to see what becomes of him. I +pick him up . . . . And don't be too badly staggered, old chap. It's +only the beginning; and I have a few more tricks in my bag. Remember, +I'm a pupil of the ancient Druid's! . . . Well, Stéphane, where do we +stand? What's the result of your search?" + +"Nothing." + +"François?" + +"Not to be found." + +"And All's Well? Did you send him on his master's tracks, as we +arranged?" + +"Yes, but he simply took me down the Postern path to François' boat." + +"There's no hiding-place on that side?" + +"Not one." + +Don Luis was silent and began to pace up and down before the dolmen. He +seemed to be hesitating at the last moment, before beginning the series +of actions upon which he had resolved. At last, addressing Vorski, he +said: + +"I have no time to waste. I must leave the island in two hours. What's +your price for setting François free at once?" + +"François fought a duel with Raynold," Vorski replied, "and was beaten." + +"You lie. François won." + +"How do you know? Did you see them fight?" + +"No, or I should have interfered. But I know who was the victor." + +"No one knows except myself. They were masked." + +"Then, if François is dead, it's all up with you." + +Vorski took time to think. The argument allowed of no debate. He put a +question in his turn: + +"Well, what do you offer me?" + +"Your liberty." + +"And with it?" + +"Nothing." + +"Yes, the God-Stone." + +"_Never!_" + +Don Luis shouted the word, accompanying it with a vehement gesture of +the hand, and he explained: + +"Never! Your liberty, yes, if the worst comes to the worst and because I +know you and know that, denuded of all resources, you will simply go and +get yourself hanged somewhere else. But the God-Stone would spell +safety, wealth, the power to do evil . . ." + +"That's exactly why I want it," said Vorski; "and, by telling me what +it's worth, you make me all the more difficult in the matter of +François." + +"I shall find François all right. It's only a question of patience; and +I shall stay two or three days longer, if necessary." + +"You will not find him; and, if you do, it will be too late." + +"Why?" + +"Because he has had nothing to eat since yesterday." + +This was said coldly and maliciously. There was a silence; and Don Luis +retorted: + +"In that case, speak, if you don't want him to die." + +"What do I care? Anything rather than fail in my task and stop midway +when I've got so far. The end is within sight: those who get in my way +must look out for themselves." + +"You lie. You won't let that boy die." + +"I let the other die right enough!" + +Patrice and Stéphane made a movement of horror, while Don Luis laughed +frankly: + +"Capital! There's no hypocrisy about you. Plain and convincing +arguments. By Jingo, how beautiful to see a Hun laying bare his soul! +What a glorious mixture of vanity and cruelty, of cynicism and +mysticism! A Hun has always a mission to fulfil, even when he's +satisfied with plundering and murdering. Well, you're better than a Hun: +you're a Superhun!" + +And he added, still laughing: + +"So I propose to treat you as Superhun. Once more, will you tell me +where François is?" + +"No." + +"All right." + +He turned to the four Moors and said, very calmly: + +"Go ahead, lads." + +It was a matter of a second. With really extraordinary precision of +gesture and as though the act had been separated into a certain number +of movements, learnt and rehearsed beforehand like a military drill, +they picked up Vorski, fastened him to the rope which hung to the tree, +hoisted him up without paying attention to his cries, his threats or his +shouts and bound him firmly, as he had bound his victim. + +"Howl away, old chap," said Don Luis, serenely, "howl as much as you +like! You can only wake the sisters Archignat and the others in the +thirty coffins! Howl away, my lad! But, good Lord, how ugly you are! +What a face!" + +He took a few steps back, to appreciate the sight better: + +"Excellent! You look very well there; it couldn't be better. Even the +inscription fits: 'V. d'H.,' Vorski de Hohenzollern! For I presume that, +as the son of a king, you are allied to that noble house. And now, +Vorski, all you have to do is to lend me an attentive ear: I'm going to +make you the little speech I promised you." + +Vorski was wriggling on the tree and trying to burst his bonds. But, +since every effort merely served to increase his suffering, he kept +still and, to vent his fury, began to swear and blaspheme most hideously +and to inveigh against Don Luis: + +"Robber! Murderer! It's you that are the murderer, it's you that are +condemning François to death! François was wounded by his brother; it's +a bad wound and may be poisoned . . . ." + +Stéphane and Patrice pleaded with Don Luis. Stéphane expressed his +alarm: + +"You can never tell," he said. "With a monster like that, anything is +possible. And suppose the boy's ill?" + +"It's bunkum and blackmail!" Don Luis declared. "The boy's quite well." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Well enough, in any case, to wait an hour. In an hour the Superhun will +have spoken. He won't hold out any longer. Hanging loosens the tongue." + +"And suppose he doesn't hold out at all?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Suppose he himself expires, from too violent an effort, heart-failure, +a clot of blood to the head?" + +"Well?" + +"Well, his death would destroy the only hope we have of learning where +François is hidden, his death would be François' undoing!" + +But Don Luis was inflexible: + +"He won't die!" he cried. "Vorski's sort doesn't die of a stroke! No, +no, he'll talk, he'll talk within an hour. Just time enough to deliver +my lecture." + +Patrice Belval began to laugh in spite of himself: + +"Have you a lecture to deliver?" + +"Rather! And such a lecture!" exclaimed Don Luis. "The whole adventure +of the God-Stone! An historical treatise, a comprehensive view extending +from prehistoric times to the thirty murders committed by the Superhun! +By Jove, it's not every day that one has the opportunity of reading a +paper like that; and I wouldn't miss it for a kingdom! Mount the +platform, Don Luis, and fire away with your speech!" + +He took his stand opposite Vorski: + +"You lucky dog, you! You're in the front seats and you won't lose a +word. I expect you're glad, eh, to have a little light thrown upon your +darkness? We've been floundering about so long that it's time we had a +definite lead. I assure you I'm beginning not to know where I am. Just +think, a riddle which has lasted for centuries and centuries and which +you've merely muddled still further." + +"Thief! Robber!" snarled Vorski. + +"Insults? Why? If you're not comfortable, let's talk about François." + +"Never! He shall die." + +"Not at all, you'll talk. I give you leave to interrupt me. When you +want me to stop, all you've got to do is to whistle a tune: '_En +r'venant de la r'vue_,' or _Tipperary_. I'll at once send to see; and, +if you've told the truth, we'll leave you here quietly, Otto will untie +you and you can be off in François' boat. Is it agreed?" + +He turned to Stéphane and Patrice Belval: + +"Sit down, my friends," he said, "for it will take rather long. But, if +I am to be eloquent, I need an audience . . . and an audience who will +also act as judges." + +"We're only two," said Patrice. + +"You're three." + +"With whom?" + +"Here's your third." + +It was All's Well. He came trotting along, without hurrying more than +usual. He frisked round Stéphane, wagged his tail to Don Luis, as though +to say, "I know you: you and I are pals," and squatted on his +hind-quarters, with the air of one who does not wish to disturb people. + +"That's right, All's Well!" cried Don Luis. "You also want to hear all +about the adventure. Your curiosity does you honour; and I won't +disappoint you." + +Don Luis appeared to be delighted. He had an audience, a full bench of +judges. Vorski was writhing on his tree. It was an exquisite moment. + +He cut a sort of caper which must have reminded Vorski of the ancient +Druid's pirouettes and, drawing himself up, bowed, imitated a lecturer +taking a sip of water from a tumbler, rested his hands on an imaginary +table and at last began, in a deliberate voice: + +"Ladies and Gentlemen: + +"On the twenty-fifth of July, in the year seven hundred and thirty-two +B. C. . . ." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE HALL OF THE KINGS OF BOHEMIA + + +Don Luis interrupted himself after delivering his opening sentence and +stood enjoying the effect produced. Captain Belval, who knew his friend, +was laughing heartily. Stéphane continued to look anxious. All's Well +had not budged. + +Don Luis continued: + +"Let me begin by confessing, ladies and gentlemen, that my object in +fixing my date so precisely was to some extent to stagger you. In +reality I could not tell you within a few centuries the exact date of +the scene which I shall have the honour of describing to you. But what I +can guarantee is that it is laid in that country of Europe which to-day +we call Bohemia and at the spot where the little industrial town of +Joachimsthal now stands. That, I hope, is fairly circumstantial. Well, +on the morning of the day when my story begins, there was great +excitement among one of those Celtic tribes which had settled a century +or two earlier between the banks of the Danube and the sources of the +Elbe, amidst the Hyrcanian forests. The warriors, assisted by their +wives, were striking their tents, collecting the sacred axes, the bows +and arrows, gathering up the pottery, the bronze and tin implements, +loading the horses and the oxen. + +"The chiefs were here, there and everywhere, attending to the smallest +details. There was neither tumult nor disorder. They started early in +the direction of a tributary of the Elbe, the Eger, which they reached +towards the end of the day. Here boats were waiting, guarded by a +hundred of the picked warriors who had been sent ahead. One of these +boats was conspicuous for its size and the richness of its decoration. A +long yellow cloth was stretched from side to side. The chief of chiefs, +the King, if you prefer, climbed on the stern thwart and made a speech +which I will spare you, because I do not wish to shorten my own, but +which may be summed up as follows: the tribe was emigrating to escape +the cupidity of the neighbouring populations. It is always sad to leave +the places where one has dwelt. But it made no difference to the men of +the tribe, because they were carrying with them their most valuable +possession, the sacred inheritance of their ancestors, the divinity that +protected them and made them formidable and great among the greatest, in +short, the stone that covered the tomb of their kings. + +"And the chief of chiefs, with a solemn gesture, drew the yellow cloth +and revealed a block of granite in the shape of a slab about two yards +by one, granular in appearance and dark in colour, with a few glittering +scales gleaming in its substance. + +"There was a single shout raised by the crowd of men and women; and all, +with outstretched arms, fell flat on their faces in the dust. + +"Then the chief of chiefs took up a metal sceptre with a jewelled +handle, which lay on the block of granite, brandished it on high and +spoke: + +"'The all-powerful staff shall not leave my hand until the miraculous +stone is in a place of safety. The all-powerful staff is born of the +miraculous stone. It also contains the fire of heaven, which gives life +or death. While the miraculous stone was the tomb of my forefathers, the +all-powerful staff never left their hands on days of disaster or of +victory. May the fire of heaven lead us! May the Sun-god light our way!' + +"He spoke: and the whole tribe set out upon its journey." + +Don Luis struck an attitude and repeated, in a self-satisfied tone: + +"He spoke: and the whole tribe set out upon its journey." + +Patrice Belval was greatly amused; and Stéphane, infected by his +hilarity, began to feel more cheerful. But Don Luis now addressed his +remarks to them: + +"There's nothing to laugh at! All this is very serious. It's not a story +for children who believe in conjuring tricks and sleight of hand, but a +real history, all the details of which will, as you shall see, give rise +to precise, natural and, in a sense, scientific explanations. Yes, +ladies and gentlemen, scientific: I am not afraid of the word. We are +here on scientific ground; and Vorski himself will regret his cynical +merriment." + +Don Luis took a second sip of water and continued: + +"For weeks and months the tribe followed the course of the Elbe; and one +evening, on the stroke of half-past nine, reached the sea-board, in the +country which afterwards became the country of the Frisians. It +remained there for weeks and months, without finding the requisite +security. It therefore determined upon a fresh exodus. + +"This time it was a naval exodus. Thirty boats put out to sea--observe +this number thirty, which was that of the families composing the +tribe--and for weeks and months they wandered from shore to shore, +settling first in Scandinavia, next among the Saxons, driven off, +putting to sea again and continuing their voyage. And I assure you it +was really a strange, moving, impressive sight to see this vagrant tribe +dragging in its wake the tombstone of its kings and seeking a safe, +inaccessible and final refuge in which to conceal its idol, protect it +from the attack of its enemies, celebrate its worship and employ it to +consolidate the tribal power. + +"The last stage was Ireland; and it was here that, one day, after they +had dwelt in the green isle for half a century or perhaps a century, +after their manners had acquired a certain softening by contact with +nations which were already less barbarous, the grandson or +great-grandson of the great chief, himself a great chief, received one +of the emissaries whom he maintained in the neighbouring countries. This +one came from the continent. He had discovered the miraculous refuge. It +was an almost unapproachable island, protected by thirty rocks and +having thirty granite monuments to guard it. + +"Thirty! The fateful number! It was an obvious summons and command from +the mysterious deities. The thirty galleys were launched once more and +the expedition set forth. + +"It succeeded. They took the island by assault. The natives they simply +exterminated. The tribe settled down; and the tombstone of the Kings of +Bohemia was installed . . . in the very place which it occupies to-day +and which I showed to our friend Vorski. Here I must interpolate a few +historical data of the greatest significance. I will be brief." + +Adopting a professorial tone, Don Luis explained: + +"The island of Sarek, like all France and all the western part of +Europe, had been inhabited for thousands of years by a race known as the +Liguri, the direct descendants of the cave-dwellers part of whose +manners and customs they had retained. They were mighty builders, those +Liguri, who, in the neolithic period, perhaps under the influence of the +great civilizations of the east, had erected their huge blocks of +granite and built their colossal funeral chambers. + +"It was here that our tribe found and made great use of a system of +caves and natural crypts adapted by the patient hand of man and of a +cluster of enormous monuments which struck the mystic and superstitious +imagination of the Celts. + +"We find therefore that, after the first or wandering phase, there +begins for the God-Stone a period of rest and worship which we will call +the Druidical period. It lasted for a thousand or fifteen hundred years. +The tribe became mingled with the neighbouring tribes and probably lived +under the protection of some Breton king. But, little by little, the +ascendancy had passed from the chiefs to the priests; and these priests, +that is to say, the Druids, assumed an authority which increased in the +course of the generations that followed. + +"They owed this authority, beyond all doubt, to the miraculous stone. +True, they were the priests of a religion accepted by all and also the +instructors of Gallic childhood (it seems certain, incidentally, that +the cells under the Black Heath were those of a Druid convent, or rather +a sort of university); true, in obedience to the practices of the time, +they presided over human sacrifices and ordained the gathering of the +mistletoe, the vervain and all the magic herbs; but, before all, in the +island of Sarek, they were the guardians and the possessors of the stone +which gave life or death. Placed above the hall of the underground +sacrifices, it was at that time undoubtedly visible in the open air; and +I have every reason to believe that the Fairies' Dolmen, which we now +see here, then stood in the place known as the Calvary of the Flowers +and sheltered the God-Stone. It was there that ailing and crippled +persons and sickly children were laid to recover their health and +strength. It was on the sacred slab that barren women became fruitful, +on the sacred slab that old men felt their energies revive. + +"In my eyes it dominates the whole of the legendary and fabled past of +Brittany. It is the radiating centre of all the superstitions, all the +beliefs, all the fears and hopes of the country. By virtue of the stone +or of the magic sceptre which the archdruid wielded and with which he +burnt men's flesh or healed their sores at will, we see the beautiful +tales of romance springing spontaneously into being, tales of the +knights of the Round Table, tales of Merlin the wizard. The stone is at +the bottom of every mystery, at the heart of every symbol. It is +darkness and light in one, the great riddle and the great explanation." + +Don Luis uttered these last words with a certain exaltation. He smiled: + +"Don't let yourself be carried away, Vorski. We'll keep our enthusiasm +for the narrative of your crimes. For the moment, we are at the climax +of the Druidical period, a period which lasted far beyond the Druids +through long centuries during which, after the Druids had gone, the +miraculous stone was exploited by the sorcerers and soothsayers. And +thus we come gradually to the third period, the religious period, that +is to say, actually to the progressive decline of all that constituted +the glory of Sarek: pilgrimages, commemorative festivals and so forth. + +"The Church in fact was unable to put up with that crude fetish-worship. +As soon as she was strong enough, she was bound to fight against the +block of granite which attracted so many believers and perpetuated so +hateful a religion. The fight was an unequal one; and the past +succumbed. The dolmen was moved to where we stand, the slab of the kings +of Bohemia was buried under a layer of earth and a Calvary rose at the +very spot where the sacrilegious miracles were once wrought. + +"And, over and above that, there was the great oblivion! + +"Let me explain. The practices were forgotten. The rites were forgotten +and all that constituted the history of a vanished cult. But the +God-Stone was not forgotten. Men no longer knew where it was. In time +they even no longer knew what it was. But they never ceased to speak of +and believe in the existence of something which they called the +God-Stone. From mouth to mouth, from generation to generation, they +handed down on to one another fabulous and terrible stories, which +became farther and farther removed from reality, which formed a more and +more vague and, for that matter, a more and more frightful legend, but +which kept alive in their imaginations the recollection of the God-Stone +and, above all, its name. + +"This persistence of an idea in men's memories, this survival of a fact +in the annals of a country had the logical result that, from time to +time, some enquiring person would try to reconstruct the prodigious +truth. Two of these enquiring persons, Brother Thomas, a member of the +Benedictine Order, who lived in the middle of the fifteenth century, and +the man Maguennoc, in our own time, played an important part. Brother +Thomas was a poet and an illuminator about whom we possess not many +details, a very bad poet, to judge by his verses, but as an illuminator +ingenuous and not devoid of talent. He left a sort of missal in which he +related his life at Sarek Abbey and drew the thirty dolmens of the +island, the whole accompanied by instances, religious quotations and +predictions after the manner of Nostradamus. It was this missal, +discovered by Maguennoc aforesaid, that contained the famous page with +the crucified women and the prophecy relating to Sarek; it was this +missal that I myself found and consulted last night in Maguennoc's +bedroom. + +"He was an odd person, this Maguennoc, a belated descendant of the +sorcerers of old; and I strongly suspect him of playing the ghost on +more than one occasion. You may be sure that the white-robed, +white-bearded Druid whom people declared that they had seen on the sixth +day of the moon, gathering the mistletoe, was none other than Maguennoc. +He too knew all about the good old recipes, the healing herbs, the way +to work up the soil so as to make it yield enormous flowers. One thing +is certain, that he explored the mortuary crypts and the hall of the +sacrifices, that it was he who purloined the magic stone contained in +the knob of the sceptre and that he used to enter these crypts by the +opening through which we have just come, in the middle of the Postern +path, of which he was obliged each time to replace the screen of stones +and pebbles. It was he also who gave M. d'Hergemont the page from the +missal. Whether he confided the result of his last explorations to him +and how much exactly M. d'Hergemont knew does not matter now. Another +figure looms into sight, one who is henceforth the embodiment of the +whole affair and claims all our attention, an emissary dispatched by +fate to solve the riddle of the centuries, to carry out the orders of +the mysterious powers and to pocket the God-Stone. I am speaking of +Vorski." + +Don Luis swallowed his third glass of water and, beckoning to the +accomplice, said: + +"Otto, you had better give him a drink, if he's thirsty. Are you +thirsty, Vorski?" + +Vorski on his tree seemed exhausted, incapable of further effort or +resistance. Stéphane and Patrice once more intervened on his behalf, +fearing an immediate consummation. + +"Not at all, not at all!" cried Don Luis. "He's all right and he'll hold +out until I've finished my speech, if it were only because he wants to +know. You're tremendously interested, aren't you, Vorski?" + +"Robber! Murderer!" spluttered the wretched man. + +"Splendid! So you still refuse to tell us where François is hidden?" + +"Murderer! Highwayman!" + +"Then stay where you are, old chap. As you please. There's nothing +better for the health than a little suffering. Besides, you have caused +so much suffering to others, you dirty scum!" + +Don Luis uttered these words harshly and in accents of anger which one +would hardly have expected from a man who had already beheld so many +crimes and battled with so many criminals. But then this last one was +out of all proportion. + +Don Luis continued: + +"About thirty-five years ago, a very beautiful woman, who came from +Bohemia but who was of Hungarian descent, visited the watering-places +that swarm around the Bavarian lakes and soon achieved a great +reputation as a fortune-teller palmist, seer and medium. She attracted +the attention of King Louis II, Wagner's friend, the man who built +Bayreuth, the crowned mad-man famed for his extravagant fancies. The +intimacy between the king and the clairvoyant lasted for some years. It +was a violent, restless intimacy, interrupted by the frequent whims of +the king; and it ended tragically on the mysterious evening when Louis +of Bavaria threw himself out of his boat into the Starnbergersee. Was it +really, as the official version stated, suicide following on a fit of +madness? Or was it a case of murder, as some have held? Why suicide? +Why murder? These are questions that have never been answered. But one +fact remains: the Bohemian woman was in the boat with Louis II and next +day was escorted to the frontier and expelled from the country after her +money and jewellery had been taken from her. + +"She brought back with her from this adventure a young monster, four +years old, Alex Vorski by name, which young monster lived with his +mother near the village of Joachimsthal in Bohemia. Here, in course of +time, she instructed him in all the practices of hypnotic suggestion, +extralucidity and trickery. Endowed with a character of unexampled +violence but a very weak intellect, a prey to hallucinations and +nightmares, believing in spells, in predictions, in dreams, in occult +powers, he took legends for history and falsehoods for reality. One of +the numerous legends of the mountains in particular had impressed his +imagination: it was the one that describes the fabulous power of a stone +which, in the dim recesses of the past, was carried away by evil genii +and which was one day to be brought back by the son of a king. The +peasants still show the cavity left by the stone in the side of a hill. + +"'The king's son is yourself,' his mother used to say. 'And, if you find +the missing stone, you will escape the dagger that threatens you and +will yourself become a king.' + +"This ridiculous prophecy and another, no less fantastic, in which the +Bohemian woman announced that her son's wife would perish on the cross +and that he himself would die by the hand of a friend, were among those +which exercised the most direct influence on Vorski when the fateful +hour struck. And I will go straight on to this fateful hour, without +saying any more of what our conversations of yesterday and last night +revealed to the three of us or of what we have been able to reconstruct. +There is no reason to repeat in full the story which you, Stéphane, told +Véronique d'Hergemont in your cell. There is no need to inform you, +Patrice, you, Vorski, or you, All's Well, of events with which you are +familiar, such as your marriage, Vorski, or rather your two marriages, +first with Elfride and next with Véronique d'Hergemont, the kidnapping +of François by his grandfather, the disappearance of Véronique, the +searches which you set on foot to find her, your conduct at the outbreak +of the war and your life in the internment-camps. These are mere trifles +besides the events which are on the point of taking place. We have +cleared up the history of the God-Stone. It is the modern adventure, +which you, Vorski, have woven around the God-Stone, that we are now +about to unravel. + +"In the beginning it appears like this: Vorski is imprisoned in an +internment-camp near Pontivy in Brittany. He no longer calls himself +Vorski, but Lauterbach. Fifteen months before, after a first escape and +at the moment when the court martial was about to sentence him to death +as a spy, he escaped again, spent some time in the Forest of +Fontainebleau, there found one of his former servants, a man called +Lauterbach, a German like himself and like himself an escaped prisoner, +killed him, dressed the body in his clothes and made the face up in such +a way as to give him the appearance of his murderer, Vorski. The +military police were taken in and had the sham Vorski buried at +Fontainebleau. As for the real Vorski, he had the bad luck to be +arrested once more, under his new name of Lauterbach, and to be interned +in the camp at Pontivy. + +"So much for Vorski. On the other hand, Elfride, his first wife, the +formidable accomplice in all his crimes and herself a German--I have +some particulars about her and their past life in common which are of no +importance and need not be mentioned here--Elfride, I was saying, his +accomplice, was hidden with their son Raynold in the cells of Sarek. He +had left her there to spy on M. d'Hergemont and through him to ascertain +Véronique d'Hergemont's whereabouts. The reasons which prompted the +wretched woman's actions I do not know. It may have been blind devotion, +fear of Vorski, an instinctive love of evil-doing, hatred of the rival +who supplanted her. It doesn't matter. She has suffered the most +terrible punishment. Let us speak only of the part she played, without +seeking to understand how she had the courage to live for three years +underground, never going out except at night, stealing food for herself +and her son and patiently awaiting the day when she could serve and save +her lord and master. + +"I am also ignorant of the series of events that enabled her to take +action, nor do I know how Vorski and Elfride managed to communicate. But +what I know most positively is that Vorski's escape was long and +carefully prepared by his first wife. Every detail arranged. Every +precaution was taken. On the fourteenth of September of last year, +Vorski escaped, taking with him the two accomplices with whom he had +made friends during his captivity and whom he had, so to speak, +enrolled: the Otto and Conrad whom you know of. + +"It was an easy journey. At every cross-roads, an arrow, accompanied by +a number, one of a series, and surmounted by the initials 'V. d'H.,' +which initials were evidently selected by Vorski, pointed out the road +which he was to follow. At intervals, in a deserted cabin, some +provisions were hidden under a stone or in a truss of hay. The way led +through Guémené, Le Faouet and Rosporden and ended on the beach at +Beg-Meil. + +"Here Elfride and Raynold came by night to fetch the three fugitives in +Honorine's motor-boat and to land them near the Druid cells under the +Black Heath. They clambered up. Their lodgings were ready for them and, +as you have seen, were fairly comfortable. The winter passed; and +Vorski's plan, which as yet was very vague, became more precisely +outlined from day to day. + +"Strange to say, at the time of his first visit to Sarek, before the +war, he had not heard of the secret of the island. It was Elfride who +told him the legend of the God-Stone in the letters which she wrote to +him at Pontivy. You can imagine the effect produced by this revelation +on a man like Vorski. The God-Stone was bound to be the miraculous stone +wrested from the soil of his native land, the stone which was to be +discovered by the son of a king and which, from that time onward, would +give him power and royalty. Everything that he learnt later confirmed +his conviction. But the great fact that dominates his subterranean life +at Sarek was the discovery of Brother Thomas' prophecy in the course of +the last month. Fragments of this prophecy were lingering on every hand, +which he was able to pick up by listening to the conversations of the +fisherfolk in the evenings, lurking under the windows of the cottages or +on the roofs of the barns. Within mortal memory, the people of Sarek +have always feared some terrible events, connected with the discovery +and the disappearance of the invisible stone. There was likewise always +a question of wrecks and of women crucified. Besides, Vorski was +acquainted with the inscription on the Fairies' Dolmen, about the thirty +victims destined for the thirty coffins, the martyrdom of the four +women, the God-Stone which gives life or death. What a number of +disturbing coincidences for a mind as weak as his! + +"But the prophecy itself, found by Maguennoc in the illuminated missal, +constitutes the essential factor of the whole story. Remember that +Maguennoc had torn out the famous page and that M. d'Hergemont, who was +fond of drawing, had copied it several times and had unconsciously given +to the principal woman the features of his daughter Véronique. Vorski +became aware of the existence of the original and of one of the copies +when he saw Maguennoc one night looking at them by the light of his +lamp. Immediately, in the darkness, he contrived somehow to pencil in +his note-book the fifteen lines of this precious document. He now knew +and understood everything. He was dazzled by a blinding light. All the +scattered elements were gathered into a whole, forming a compact and +solid truth. There was no doubt possible: the prophecy concerned _him_! +And it was _his_ mission to realize it! + +"This, I repeat, is the essence of the whole matter. From that moment, +Vorski's path was lighted by a beacon. He held in his hand Ariadne's +clue of thread. The prophecy represented to him an unimpeachable text. +It was one of the Tables of the Law. It was the Bible. And yet think of +the stupidity, of the unspeakable silliness of those fifteen lines +scribbled at a venture, with no other motive than rhyme! Not a phrase +showing a sign of inspiration! Not a spark, not a gleam! Not a trace of +the sacred madness that uplifted the Delphian pythoness or provoked the +delirious visions of a Jeremiah or an Ezekiel! Nothing! Syllables, +rhymes! Nothing! Less than nothing! But quite enough to enlighten the +gentle Vorski and to make him burn with all the enthusiasm of a +neophyte! + +"Stéphane, Patrice, listen to the prophecy of Brother Thomas. The +Superhun wrote it down on ten different pages of his note-book, so that +he might wear it ten times next to his skin and engrave it in the very +substance of his being. Here's one of the pages. Stéphane, Patrice, +listen! Listen, O faithful Otto! And you yourself, Vorski, for the last +time listen to the doggerel of Brother Thomas! Listen as I read! + + "In Sarek's isle, in year fourteen and three, + There will be shipwrecks, terrors, grief and crimes, + Death-chambers, arrows, poison there will be + And woe, four women crucified on tree! + For thirty coffins victims thirty times. + + "Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain. + The father then, coming forth of Almain, + A cruel prince, obeying destiny, + By thousand deaths and lingering agony, + His wedded wife one night of June hath slain. + + "Fire and loud noise will issue from the earth + In secrecy where the great treasure lies + And man again will on the stone set eyes + Once stolen from wild men in byegone days + O'er the sea; the God-Stone which gives life or death." + +Don Luis Perenna had begun to read in emphatic tones, bringing out the +imbecility of the words and the triteness of the rhythm. He ended in a +hollow voice, without resonance, which died away in an anguished +silence. The whole adventure appeared in all its horror. + +He continued: + +"You understand how the facts are linked together, don't you Stéphane, +you who were one of the victims and who knew or know the others? So do +you, Patrice, don't you? In the fifteenth century, a poor monk, with a +disordered imagination and a brain haunted by infernal visions, +expresses his dreams in a prophecy which we will describe as bogus, +which rests on no serious data, which consists of details depending on +the exigencies of the rhyme or rhythm and which certainly, both in the +poet's mind and from the standpoint of originality, possesses no more +value than if the poet had drawn the words at random out of a bag. The +story of the God-Stone, the legends and traditions, none of all this +provides him with the least element of prophecy. The worthy man evolved +the prophecy from his own consciousness, not intending any harm and +simply to add a text of some sort to the margin of the devilish drawing +which he had so painstakingly illuminated. And he is so pleased with it +that he takes the trouble to take a pointed implement and engrave a few +lines of it on one of the stones of the Fairies' Dolmen. + +"Well, four or five centuries later, the prophetic page falls into the +hands of a Superhun, a criminal lunatic, a madman eaten up with vanity. +What does the Superhun see in it? A diverting puerile fantasy? A +meaningless caprice? Not a bit of it! He regards it as a document of the +highest interest, one of those documents which the most Superhunnish of +his fellowcountrymen love to pore over, with this difference, that the +document to his mind possesses a miraculous origin. He looks upon it as +the Old and New Testament, the Scriptures which explain and expound the +Sarek law, the very gospel of the God-Stone. And this gospel designates +him, Vorski, him, the Superhun, as the Messiah appointed to execute the +decrees of Providence. + +"To Vorski, there is no possibility of mistake. No doubt he enjoys the +business, because it is a matter of stealing wealth and power. But this +question occupies a secondary position. He is above all obeying the +mystic impulse of a race which believes itself to be marked out by +destiny and which flatters itself that it is always fulfilling missions, +a mission of regeneration as well as a mission of pillage, arson and +murder. And Vorski reads his mission set out in full in Brother Thomas' +prophecy. Brother Thomas says explicitly what has to be done and names +him, Vorski, in the plainest terms, as the man of destiny. Is he not a +king's son, in other words a 'prince of Almain?' Does he not come from +the country where the stone was stolen from the 'wild men o'er the sea?' +Has he not also a wife who is doomed, in the seer's prophecies, to the +torture of the cross? Has he not two sons, one gentle and gracious as +Abel, and the other wicked and uncontrolled as Cain? + +"These proofs are enough for him. He now has his mobilization-papers, +his marching-orders in his pocket. The gods have indicated the objective +upon which he is to march; and he marches. True, there are a few living +people in his path. So much the better; it is all part of the programme. +For it is after all these living people have been killed and, moreover, +killed in the manner announced by Brother Thomas that the task will be +done, the God-Stone released and Vorski, the instrument of destiny, +crowned king. Therefore, let's turn up our sleeves, take our trusty +butcher's knife in hand, and get to work! Vorski will translate Brother +Thomas' nightmare into real life!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"CRUEL PRINCE, OBEYING DESTINY" + + +Don Luis once more addressed himself to Vorski: + +"We're agreed, aren't we, Kamerad? All that I'm saying exactly expresses +the truth?" + +Vorski had closed his eyes, his head was drooping, and the veins on his +temple were immoderately swollen. To prevent any interference by +Stéphane, Don Luis exclaimed: + +"You will speak, my fine fellow! Ah, the pain is beginning to grow +serious, is it? The brain is giving way? . . . Remember, just one +whistle, a bar or two of _Tipperary_ and I interrupt my speech . . . . +You won't? You're not ripe yet? So much the worse for you! . . . And +you, Stéphane, have no fear for François. I answer for everything. But +no pity for this monster, please! No, no and again no! Don't forget that +he prepared and contrived everything of his own free will! Don't forget +. . . But I'm getting angry. What's the use?" + +Don Luis unfolded the page of the note-book on which Vorski had written +down the prophecy and, holding it under his eyes, continued: + +"What remains to be said is not so important, once the general +explanation is accepted. Nevertheless, we must go into detail to some +slight extent, show the mechanism of the affair imagined and built up +by Vorski and lastly come to the part played by our attractive ancient +Druid . . . . So we are now in the month of June. This is the season +fixed for the execution of the thirty victims. It was evidently +appointed by Brother Thomas because the rhythm of his verse called for a +month in one syllable, just as the year fourteen and three was selected +because three rhymes with be and tree and just as Brother Thomas decided +upon the number of thirty victims because thirty is the number of the +Sarek reefs and coffins. But Vorski takes it as a definite command. +Thirty victims are needed in June '17. They will be provided. They will +be provided on condition that the twenty-nine inhabitants of Sarek--we +shall see presently that Vorski has his thirtieth victim handy--consent +to stay on the island and await their destruction. Well, Vorski suddenly +hears of the departure of Honorine and Maguennoc. Honorine will come +back in time. But how about Maguennoc? Vorski does not hesitate: he +sends Elfride and Conrad on his tracks, with instructions to kill him +and to wait. He hesitates the less because he believes, from certain +words which he has overheard, that Maguennoc has taken with him the +precious stone, the miraculous gem which must not be touched but which +must be left in its leaden sheath (this is the actual phrase used by +Maguennoc)! + +"Elfride and Conrad therefore set out. One morning, at an inn, Elfride +mixes poison with the coffee which Maguennoc is drinking (the prophecy +has stated that there will be poison). Maguennoc continues his journey. +But in an hour or two he is seized with intolerable pain and dies, +almost immediately, on the bank by the road-side. Elfride and Conrad +come up and go through his pockets. They find nothing, no gem, no +precious stone. Vorski's hopes have not been realized. All the same, the +corpse is there. What are they to do with it? For the time being, they +fling it into a half-demolished hut, which Vorski and his accomplices +had visited some months before. Here Véronique d'Hergemont discovers the +body . . . and an hour later fails to find it there. Elfride and Conrad, +keeping watch close at hand, have taken it away and hidden it, still for +the time being, in the cellars of a little empty country-house. + +"There's one victim accounted for. We may observe, in passing, that +Maguennoc's predictions relating to the order in which the thirty +victims are to be executed--beginning with himself--have no basis. The +prophecy doesn't mention such a thing. In any case, Vorski goes to work +at random. At Sarek he carries off François and Stéphane Maroux and +then, both as a measure of precaution and in order to cross the island +without attracting attention and to enter the Priory more easily, he +dresses himself in Stéphane's clothes, while Raynold puts on François'. +The job before them is an easy one. The only people in the house are an +old man, M. d'Hergemont, and a woman, Marie Le Goff. As soon as these +are got rid of, the rooms and Maguennoc's in particular will be +searched. Vorski, as yet unaware of the result of Elfride's expedition, +would not be surprised if Maguennoc had left the miraculous jewel at the +Priory. + +"The first to fall is the cook, Marie Le Goff, whom Vorski takes by the +throat and stabs with a knife. But it so happens that the ruffian's +face gets covered with blood; and, seized with one of those fits of +cowardice to which he is subject, he runs away, after loosing Raynold +upon M. d'Hergemont. + +"The fight between the boy and the old man is a long one. It is +continued through the house and, by a tragic chance, ends before +Véronique d'Hergemont's eyes. M. d'Hergemont is killed. Honorine arrives +at the same moment. She drops, making the fourth victim. + +"Matters now begin to go quickly. Panic sets in during the night. The +people of Sarek, frightened out of their wits, seeing that Maguennoc's +predictions are being fulfilled and that the hour of the disaster which +has so long threatened their island is about to strike, make up their +minds to go. This is what Vorski and his son are waiting for. Taking up +their position in the motor-boat which they have stolen, they rush after +the runaways and the abominable hunt begins, the great disaster foretold +by Brother Thomas: + +"'There will be shipwrecks, terrors, grief and crimes.' + +"Honorine, who witnesses the scene and whose brain is already greatly +upset, goes mad and throws herself from the cliff. + +"Thereupon we have a lull of a few days, during which Véronique +d'Hergemont explores the Priory and the island without being disturbed. +As a matter of fact, after their successful hunt, leaving only Otto, who +spends his time drinking in the cells, the father and son have gone off +in the boat to fetch Elfride and Conrad and to bring back Maguennoc's +body and fling it in the water within sight of Sarek, since Maguennoc +of necessity has one of the thirty coffins earmarked for his reception. + +"At that moment, that is when he returns to Sarek, Vorski's bag numbers +twenty-four victims. Stéphane and François are prisoners, guarded by +Otto. The rest consists of four women reserved for crucifixion, +including the three sisters Archignat, all locked up in their +wash-house. It is their turn next. Véronique d'Hergemont tries to +release them, but it is too late. Waylaid by the band, shot at by +Raynold, who is an expert archer, the sisters Archignat are wounded by +arrows (for arrows, see the prophecy) and fall into the enemy's hands. +That same evening they are strung up on the three oaks, after Vorski has +first relieved them of the fifty thousand-franc notes which they carried +concealed on their persons. Total: twenty-nine victims. Who will be the +thirtieth? Who will be the fourth woman?" + +Don Luis paused and continued: + +"As to this, the prophecy speaks very plainly in two places, each of +which complements the other: + +"'Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain.' + +"And, a few lines lower down: + +"'His wedded wife one night in June hath slain.' + +"Vorski, from the moment when he became aware of this document, had +interpreted the two lines in his own fashion. Being, in fact, unable at +that time to dispose of Véronique, for whom he has vainly been hunting +all over France, he temporizes with the decrees of destiny. The fourth +woman to be tortured shall be a wife, but she shall be his first wife, +Elfride. And this will not be absolutely contrary to the prophecy, +which, if need be, can apply to the mother of Cain just as well as to +the mother of Abel. And observe that the other prophecy, that which was +communicated to him by word of mouth in the old days, also failed to +specify the woman who was to die: + +"'Vorski's wife shall perish on the cross.' + +"Which wife? Elfride. + +"So his dear, devoted accomplice is to perish. It's terrible for Vorski; +it breaks his heart. But the god Moloch must be obeyed; and, considering +that Vorski, to accomplish his task, decided to sacrifice his son +Raynold, it would be inexcusable if he refused to sacrifice his wife +Elfride. So all will be well. + +"But, suddenly, a dramatic incident occurs. While pursuing the sisters +Archignat, he sees and recognizes Véronique d'Hergemont! + +"A man like Vorski could not fail to behold in this yet another favour +vouchsafed by the powers above. The woman whom he has never forgotten is +sent to him at the very moment when she is to take her place in the +great adventure. She is given to him as a miraculous victim which he can +destroy . . . or conquer. What a prospect! And how the heavens brighten +with unexpected light! Vorski loses his head. He becomes more and more +convinced that he is the Messiah, the chosen one, the apostle, +missionary, the man who is 'obeying destiny.' He is linked up with the +line of the high-priests, the guardians of the God-Stone. He is a Druid, +an arch-druid; and, as such, on the night when Véronique d'Hergemont +burns the bridge, on the sixth night after the moon, he goes and cuts +the sacred mistletoe with a golden sickle! + +"And the siege of the Priory begins. I will not linger over this. +Véronique d'Hergemont has told you the whole story, Stéphane, and we +know her sufferings, the part played by the delightful All's Well, the +discovery of the underground passage and the cells, the fight for +François, the fight for you, Stéphane, whom Vorski imprisoned in one of +the torture-cells called 'death-chambers' in the prophecy. Here you are +surprised with Madame d'Hergemont. The young monster, Raynold, hurls you +into the sea. François and his mother escape. Unfortunately, Vorski and +his band succeed in reaching the Priory. François is captured. His +mother joins him. And then . . . and then the most tragic scenes ensue, +scenes upon which I will not enlarge: the interview between Vorski and +Véronique d'Hergemont, the duel between the two brothers, between Cain +and Abel, before Véronique d'Hergemont's very eyes. For the prophecy +insists upon it: + +"'Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain.' + +"And the prophecy likewise demands that she shall suffer beyond +expression and that Vorski shall be subtle in doing evil. 'A cruel +prince,' he puts marks on the two combatants; and, when Abel is on the +point of being defeated, he himself wounds Cain so that Cain may be +killed. + +"The monster is mad. He's mad and drunk. The climax is close at hand. He +drinks and drinks; for Véronique d'Hergemont's martyrdom is to take +place that evening: + + "'By thousand deaths and lingering agony, + His wedded wife one night of June hath slain.' + +"The thousand deaths Véronique has already undergone; and the agony will +be lingering. The hour comes. Supper, funeral procession, preparations, +the setting up of the ladder, the binding of the victim and then . . . +and then the ancient Druid!" + +Don Luis gave a hearty laugh as he uttered the last words: + +"Here, upon my word, things begin to get amusing! From this moment +onward, tragedy goes hand in hand with comedy, the gruesome with the +burlesque. Oh, that ancient Druid, what a caution! To you, Stéphane, and +you, Patrice, who were behind the scenes, the story is devoid of +interest. But to you, Vorski, what exciting revelations! . . . I say, +Otto, just put the ladder against the trunk of the tree, so that your +employer can rest his feet on the top rung. Is that easier for you, +Vorski? Mark you, my little attention does not come from any ridiculous +feeling of pity. Oh, dear, no! But I'm afraid that you might go phut; +and besides I want you to be in a comfortable position to listen to the +ancient Druid's confession." + +He had another burst of laughter. There was no doubt about it: the +ancient Druid was a great source of entertainment to Don Luis. + +"The ancient Druid's arrival," he said, "introduces order and reason +into the adventure. What was loose and vague becomes more compact. +Incoherent crime turns into logical punishment. We have no longer blind +obedience to Brother Thomas' doggerel, but the submission to common +sense, the rigorous method of a man who knows what he wants and who has +no time to lose. Really, the ancient Druid deserves all our admiration. + +"The ancient Druid, whom we may call either Don Luis Perenna or Arsène +Lupin--you suspect that, don't you?--knew very little of the story when +the periscope of his submarine, the _Crystal Stopper_, emerged in sight +of the coast of Sarek at mid-day yesterday." + +"Very little?" Stéphane Maroux cried, in spite of himself. + +"One might say, nothing," Don Luis declared. + +"What! All those facts about Vorski's past, all those precise details +about what he did at Sarek, about his plans and the part played by +Elfride and the poisoning of Maguennoc?" + +"I learnt all that here, yesterday," said Don Luis. + +"But from whom? We never left one another?" + +"Believe me when I say that the ancient Druid, when he landed yesterday +on the coast of Sarek, knew nothing at all. But the ancient Druid lays +claim to be at least as great a favourite of the gods as you are, +Vorski. And in fact he at once had the luck to see, on a lonely little +beach, our friend Stéphane, who himself had had the luck to fall into a +pretty deep pool of water and thus to escape the fate which you and your +son had prepared for him. Rescue-work, conversation. In half an hour, +the ancient Druid had the facts. Forthwith, investigations. He ended by +reaching the cells, where he found in yours, Vorski, a white robe which +he needed for his own use and a scrap of paper with a copy of the +prophecy written by yourself. Excellent. The ancient Druid knows the +enemy's plans. + +"He begins by following the tunnel down which François and his mother +fled, but is unable to pass because of the subsidence which has been +produced. He retraces his steps and comes out on the Black Heath. +Exploration of the island. Meeting with Otto and Conrad. The enemy burns +the foot-bridge. It is six o'clock in the evening. Query: how to get to +the Priory? Stéphane suggests, by the Postern path. The ancient Druid +returns to the _Crystal Stopper_. They circumnavigate the island under +the direction of Stéphane, who knows all the channels--and besides, my +dear Vorski, the _Crystal Stopper_ is a very docile submarine. She can +slip in anywhere; the ancient Druid had her built to his own +designs--and at last they land at the spot where François' boat is +hanging. Here, meeting with All's Well, who is sleeping under the boat, +the ancient Druid introduces himself. Immediate display of sympathy. +They make a start. But, half-way up the ascent, All's Well branches off. +At this place the wall is the cliff is, so to speak, patched with +movable blocks of stone. In the middle of these stones is an opening, an +opening made by Maguennoc, as the ancient Druid discovered later, in +order to enter the hall of sacrifices and the mortuary crypts. Thus, the +ancient Druid finds himself in the thick of the plot, master above +ground and below. Only, it is eight o'clock in the evening. + +"As regards François, there is no immediate anxiety. The prophecy says, +'Abel kills Cain.' But Véronique d'Hergemont was to perish 'one night of +June.' Had she undergone the horrible martyrdom? Was it too late to +rescue her?" + +Don Luis turned to Stéphane: + +"You remember, Stéphane, the agony through which you and the ancient +Druid passed and your relief at discovering the tree prepared with the +inscription, 'V. d'H.' The tree has no victim on it yet. Véronique will +be saved; and in fact we hear a sound of voices coming from the Priory. +It is the grim procession. It slowly climbs the grassy slope amid the +thickening darkness. The lantern is waved. A halt is called. Vorski +spouts and holds forth. The last scene is at hand. Soon we shall rush to +the assault and Véronique will be delivered. + +"But here an incident occurs which will amuse you, Vorski. Yes, we make +a strange discovery, my friends and I: we find a woman prowling round +the dolmen, who hides as we come up. We seize her. Stéphane recognizes +her by the light of an electric torch. Do you know who it was, Vorski? I +give you a hundred guesses. Elfride! Yes, Elfride, your accomplice, the +one whom you meant to crucify at first! Curious, wasn't it? In an +extreme state of excitement, half crazy, she tells us that she consented +to the duel between the two boys on your promise that her son would be +the victor and kill Véronique's son. But you had locked her up, in the +morning; and, in the evening, when she succeeded in making her escape, +it was Raynold's dead body that she found. She has now come to be +present at the torture of the rival whom she detests and then to avenge +herself on you and kill you, my poor old chap. + +"A capital idea! The ancient Druid approves; and, while you go up to the +dolmen and Stéphane keeps an eye on you, he continues to question +Elfride. But, lo and behold, Vorski, at the sound of your voice, the +jade begins to kick! She veers round unexpectedly. Her master's voice +stimulates her to an unparalleled display of ardour. She wants to see +you, to warn you of your danger, to save you; and suddenly she makes a +rush at the ancient Druid with a dagger in her hand. The ancient Druid +is obliged, in self-defence, to knock her down, half-stunning her; and +the sight of this moribund woman at once suggests to him a means of +turning the incident to good account. The wretched creature is tied up +in the twinkling of an eye. The ancient Druid intends you yourself to +punish her, Vorski, and make her undergo the fate which you had reserved +for her before. So he slips his robe on Stéphane, gives him his +instructions, shoots an arrow in your direction the moment you come up +and, while you go running in pursuit of a white robe, does a +conjuring-trick and substitutes Elfride for Véronique, the first wife +for the second. How? That's my business. All you need know is that the +trick was played and succeeded to perfection!" Don Luis stopped to draw +breath. One would really have thought, from his familiar and +confidential tone, that he was telling Vorski an amusing story, a good +joke, which Vorski ought to be the first to laugh at. + +"That's not all," he continued. "Patrice Belval and some of my +Moors--you may as well know that we have eighteen of them on board--have +been working in the underground rooms. There's no getting away from the +prophecy. The moment the wife has expired + + "'Fire and loud noise will issue from the earth. + In secrecy where the great treasure lies.' + +"Of course, Brother Thomas never knew where the great treasure lay, nor +did any one else. But the ancient Druid has guessed; and he wants Vorski +to receive his signal and to drop ready-roasted into his mouth. For this +he needs an outlet issuing near the Fairies' Dolmen. Captain Belval +looks for one and finds it. They clear an old stairway. They clear the +inside of the dead tree. They take from the submarine some +dynamite-cartridges and signal-rockets and place them in position. And, +when you, Vorski, from your perch, start proclaiming like a herald, +'She's dead! The fourth woman has died upon the cross!' bang, bang, +bang! Thunder, flame, uproar, the whole bag of tricks. That does it: you +are more and more the darling of the gods, the pet of destiny; and you +burn with the noble longing to fling yourself down the chimney and +gobble up the God-Stone. Next day, therefore, after sleeping off your +brandy and your rum, you start to work again, smiling. You killed your +thirty victims, according to the rites prescribed by Brother Thomas. You +have surmounted every obstacle. The prophecy is fulfilled. + + "'And man again will on the stone set eyes + Once stolen from wild men in bye-gone days + O'er sea: the God-stone which gives life or death.' + +"The ancient Druid has no choice but to give in and to hand you the key +of Paradise. But first, of course, a little interlude, a few capers and +wizard's tricks, just for a bit of fun. And then hey for the God-Stone +guarded by the Sleeping Beauty!" + +Don Luis nimbly cut a few of those capers of which he seemed so fond. +Then he said to Vorski: + +"Well, old chap, I have a vague impression that you've had enough of my +speech and that you would prefer to reveal François' hiding-place to me +at once, rather then stay here any longer. I'm awfully sorry, but you +really must learn how the matter stands with the Sleeping Beauty and the +unexpected presence of Véronique d'Hergemont. However, two minutes will +be sufficient. Pardon me." + +Dropping the character of the ancient Druid and speaking in his own +name, Don Luis continued: + +"What you want to know is why I took Véronique d'Hergemont to that place +after snatching her from your clutches. The answer is very simple. Where +would you have me take her? To the submarine? An absurd suggestion! The +sea was rough that night and Véronique needed rest. To the Priory? +Never! That would have been too far from the scene of operations and I +should have had no peace of mind. In reality there was only one place +sheltered from the storm and sheltered from attack; and that was the +hall of sacrifices. That was why I took her there and why she was +sleeping there, quietly, under the influence of a strong narcotic, when +you saw her. I confess that the pleasure of treating you to this +spectacle counted for something in my decision. And how splendidly I was +rewarded! Oh, if you could have seen the face you pulled! Such a ghastly +sight! Véronique raised from the dead! Véronique brought back to life! +So horrible was the vision that you ran away helter-skelter. + +"But to cut a long story short: you find the exit blocked. Thereupon you +change your mind. Conrad returns to the offensive. He attacks me by +stealth while I am preparing to move Véronique d'Hergemont to the +submarine. Conrad receives a mortal blow from one of the Moors. Second +comic interlude. Conrad, dressed up in the ancient Druid's robe, is laid +on the floor in one of the crypts; and of course your first thought is +to leap on him and wreak your vengeance on him. And, when you see +Elfride's body, which has taken the place of Véronique d'Hergemont in +the sacred table, whoosh . . . you jump on that too and reduce the woman +whom you have already crucified to a bleeding pulp! Blunder upon +blunder! And the end of the whole story likewise strikes a comic note. +You are strung up on the pillory while I deliver straight at you a +speech which does for you and which proves that, if you have won the +God-Stone by virtue of your thirty coffins, I am taking possession of it +by my own intrinsic virtue. There's the whole adventure for you, my dear +Vorski. Except for a few secondary incidents, or some others, of greater +importance, which there is no need for you to know, you know as much as +I do. You've been quite comfortable and have had lots of time to think. +So I am confidently expecting your answer about François. Come, out with +your little song: + + "'It's a long, long way to Tipperary. + It's a long way to go . . . .' + +"Well? Are you feeling in a chatty mood?" + +Don Luis had climbed a few rungs. Stéphane and Patrice had come near and +were anxiously listening. It was evident that Vorski meant to speak. + +He had opened his eyes and was staring at Don Luis with a look of +mingled hatred and fear. This extraordinary man must have appeared to +him as one of those persons against whom it is absolutely useless to +fight and to whom it is equally useless to appeal for compassion. Don +Luis represented the conqueror; and, in the presence of one stronger +than yourself, there is nothing for it but to yield in all humility. +Besides, Vorski was incapable of further resistance. The torture was +becoming intolerable. + +He spoke a few words in an unintelligible voice. + +"A little louder, please," said Don Luis. "I can't hear. Where's +François?" + +He climbed the ladder. Vorski stammered: + +"Shall I be free?" + +"On my word of honour. We shall all leave this place, except Otto, who +will release you." + +"At once?" + +"At once." + +"Then . . ." + +"Then what?" + +"Well, François is alive." + +"You mutton-head. I know that. But where is he?" + +"Tied into the boat." + +"The one hanging at the foot of the cliff?" + +"Yes." + +Don Luis struck his forehead with his hand: + +"Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! . . . Don't mind: I'm speaking of myself. Yes, I +ought to have guessed that! Why, All's Well was sleeping under the boat, +peacefully, like a good dog sleeping beside his master! Why, when we +sent All's Well on François' trail, he led Stéphane straight to the +boat. It's true enough, there are times when the cleverest of us behave +like simpletons! But you, Vorski, did you know that there was a way down +there and a boat?" + +"I knew it since yesterday." + +"And, you artful dog, you intended to skedaddle in her?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, Vorski, you shall skedaddle in her, with Otto. I'll leave her for +you. Stéphane!" + +But Stéphane Maroux was already running towards the cliff, escorted by +All's Well. + +"Release him, Stéphane," cried Don Luis. + +And he added, addressing the Moors: + +"Help him, you others. And get the submarine under way. We shall sail in +ten minutes." + +He turned to Vorski: + +"Good-bye, my dear chap . . . . Oh, just one more word! Every +well-regulated adventure contains a love-story. Ours appears to be +without one, for I should never dare to allude to the feelings that +urged you towards the sainted woman who bore your name. And yet I must +tell you of a very pure and noble affection. Did you notice the +eagerness with which Stéphane flew to François' assistance? Obviously he +loves his young pupil, but he loves the mother still more. And, since +everything that pleases Véronique d'Hergemont is bound to please you, I +wish to admit that he is not indifferent to her, that his wonderful love +has touched her heart, that it was with real joy that she saw him +restored to her this morning and that this will all end in a wedding +. . . as soon as she's a widow, of course. You follow me, don't you? The +only obstacle to their happiness is yourself. Therefore, as you are a +perfect little gentleman, you will not like to . . . But I need not go +on. I rely on your good manners to die as soon as you can. Good-bye, old +fellow, I won't offer you my hand, but my heart's with you. Otto, in ten +minutes, unless you hear to the contrary, release your employer. You'll +find the boat at the bottom of the cliff. Good luck, my friends!" + +It was finished. The battle between Don Luis and Vorski was ended: and +the issue had not been in doubt for a single instant. From the first +minute, one of the two adversaries had so consistently dominated the +other, that the latter, in spite of all his daring and his training as a +criminal, had been nothing more than a grotesque, absurd, disjointed +puppet in his opponent's hands. After succeeding in the entire execution +of his plan, after attaining and surpassing his object, he, the master +of events, in the moment of victory, found himself suddenly strung up on +the tree of torture; and there he remained, gasping and captive like an +insect pinned to a strip of cork. + +Without troubling any further about his victims, Don Luis went off with +Patrice Belval, who could not help saying to him: + +"All the same, you're letting those vile scoundrels down very lightly!" + +"Pooh, it won't be long before they get themselves nabbed elsewhere," +said Don Luis, chuckling. "What do you expect them to do?" + +"Well, first of all, to take the God-Stone." + +"Out of the question! It would need twenty men to do that, with a +scaffolding and machinery. I myself am giving up the idea for the +present. I shall come back after the war." + +"But, look here, Don Luis, what is this miraculous stone?" + +"Ah, now you're asking something!" said Don Luis, without making further +reply. + +They set out; and Don Luis, rubbing his hands, said: + +"I worked the thing well. It's not much over twenty-four hours since we +landed at Sarek. And the riddle had lasted twenty-four centuries. One +century an hour. My congratulations, Lupin." + +"I should be glad to offer you mine, Don Luis," said Patrice Belval, +"but they are not worth as much as those of an expert like yourself." + +When they reached the sands of the little beach, François' boat had +already been lowered and was empty. Farther away, on the right, the +_Crystal Stopper_ was floating on the calm sea. François came running up +to them, stopped a few yards from Don Luis and looked at him with +wide-open eyes: + +"I say," he murmured, "then it's you? It's you I was expecting?" + +"Faith," said Don Luis, laughing. "I don't know if you were expecting me +. . . but I'm sure it's me!" + +"You . . . you . . . Don Luis Perenna! . . . That is to say . . ." + +"Hush, no other names! Perenna's enough for me . . . . Besides, we won't +talk about me, if you don't mind. I was just a chance, a gentleman who +happened to drop in at the right moment. Whereas you . . . by Jove, +youngster, but you've done jolly well! . . . So you spent the night in +the boat?" + +"Yes, under the tarpaulin, lashed to the bottom and tightly gagged." + +"Uncomfortable?" + +"Not at all. I hadn't been there ten minutes when All's Well appeared. +So . . ." + +"But the man, the scoundrel: what had he threatened to do to you?" + +"Nothing. After the duel, while the others were attending to my +opponent, he brought me down here, pretending that he was going to take +me to mother and put us both on board the boat. Then, when we got to the +boat, he laid hold of me without a word." + +"Do you know the man? Do you know his name?" + +"I know nothing about him. All I can say is that he was persecuting us, +mother and me." + +"For reasons which I shall explain to you, François. In any case, you +have nothing to fear from him now." + +"Oh, but you haven't killed him?" + +"No, but I have put it out of his power to do any more harm. This will +all be explained to you; but I think that, for the moment, the most +urgent thing is that we should go to your mother." + +"Stéphane told me that she was resting over there, in the submarine, and +that you had saved her too. Does she expect me?" + +"Yes; we had a talk last night, she and I, and I promised to find you. I +felt that she trusted me. All the same, Stéphane, you had better go +ahead and prepare her." + +The _Crystal Stopper_ lay at the end of a reef of rocks which formed a +sort of natural jetty. Some ten or twelve Moors were running to and fro. +Two had drawn apart and were whispering together. Two of them were +holding a gangway which Don Luis and François crossed a minute later. + +In one of the cabins, arranged as a drawing-room, Véronique lay +stretched on a couch. Her pale face bore the marks of the unspeakable +suffering which she had undergone. She seemed very weak, very weary. But +her eyes, full of tears, were bright with happiness. + +François rushed into her arms. She burst into sobs, without speaking a +word. + +Opposite them, All's Well, seated on his haunches, beat the air with his +fore-paws and looked at them, with his head a little on one side: + +"Mother," said François, "Don Luis is here." + +She took Don Luis' hand and pressed a long kiss upon it, while François +murmured: + +"You saved mother . . . . You saved us both . . . ." + +Don Luis interrupted him: + +"Will you give me pleasure, François? Well, don't thank me. If you +really want to thank somebody, there, thank your friend All's Well. He +does not look as if he had played a very important part in the piece. +And yet, compared with the scoundrel who persecuted you, he was the good +genius, always discreet, intelligent, modest and silent." + +"So are you!" + +"Oh, I am neither modest nor silent; and that's why I admire All's Well. +Here, All's Well, come along with me and, for goodness' sake, stop +sitting up! You might have to do it all night, for they will be shedding +tears together for hours, the mother and son . . . ." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE GOD-STONE + + +The _Crystal Stopper_ was running on the surface of the water. Don Luis +sat talking, with Stéphane, Patrice and All's Well, who were gathered +round him: + +"What a swine that Vorski is!" he said. "I've seen that breed of monster +before, but never one of his calibre." + +"Then, in that case . . ." Patrice Belval objected. + +"In that case?" echoed Don Luis. + +"I repeat what I've said already. You hold a monster in your hands and +you let him go free! To say nothing of its being highly immoral, think +of all the harm that he can do, that he inevitably will do! It's a heavy +responsibility to take upon yourself, that of the crimes which he will +still commit." + +"Do you think so too, Stéphane?" asked Don Luis. + +"I'm not quite sure what I think," replied Stéphane, "because, to save +François, I was prepared to make any concession. But, all the same +. . ." + +"All the same, you would rather have had another solution?" + +"Frankly, yes. So long as that man is alive and free, Madame d'Hergemont +and her son will have everything to fear from him." + +"But what other solution was there? I promised him his liberty in return +for François' immediate safety. Ought I to have promised him only his +life and handed him over to the police?" + +"Perhaps," said Captain Belval. + +"Very well. But, in that case, the police would institute enquiries, and +by discovering the fellow's real identity bring back to life the husband +of Véronique d'Hergemont and the father of François. Is that what you +want?" + +"No, no!" cried Stéphane, eagerly. + +"No, indeed," confessed Patrice Belval, a little uneasily. "No, that +solution is no better; but what astonishes me is that you, Don Luis, did +not hit upon the right one, the one which would have satisfied us all." + +"There was only one solution," Don Luis Perenna said, plainly. "There +was only one." + +"Which was that?" + +"Death." + +There was a pause. Then Don Luis resumed: + +"My friends, I did not form you into a court simply as a joke; and you +must not think that your parts as judges are played because the trial +seems to you to be over. It is still going on; and the court has not +risen. That is why I want you to answer me honestly: do you consider +that Vorski deserves to die?" + +"Yes," declared Patrice. + +And Stéphane approved: + +"Yes, beyond a doubt." + +"My friends," Don Luis continued, "your verdict is not sufficiently +solemn. I beseech you to utter it formally and conscientiously, as +though you were in the presence of the culprit. I ask you once more: +what penalty did Vorski deserve?" + +They raised their hands and, one after the other, answered: + +"Death." + +Don Luis whistled. One of the Moors ran up. + +"Two pairs of binoculars, Hadji." + +The man brought the glasses and Don Luis handed them to Stéphane and +Patrice: + +"We are only a mile from Sarek," he said. "Look towards the point: the +boat should have started." + +"Yes," said Patrice, presently. + +"Do you see her, Stéphane?" + +"Yes, only . . ." + +"Only what?" + +"There's only one passenger." + +"Yes," said Patrice, "only one passenger." + +They put down their binoculars and one of them said: + +"Only one has got away: Vorski evidently. He must have killed Otto, his +accomplice." + +"Unless Otto, his accomplice, has killed him," chuckled Don Luis. + +"What makes you say that?" + +"Why, remember the prophecy made to Vorski in his youth: 'Your wife will +die on the cross and you will be killed by a friend.'" + +"I doubt if a prediction is enough." + +"I have other proofs, though." + +"What proofs?" + +"They, my friends, form part of the last problem we shall have to +elucidate together. For instance, what is your idea of the manner in +which I substituted Elfride Vorski for Madame d'Hergemont?" + +Stéphane shook his head: + +"I confess that I never understood." + +"And yet it's so simple! When a gentleman in a drawing-room, in a white +tie and a tail-coat, performs conjuring-tricks or guesses your thoughts, +you say to yourself, don't you, that there must be some artifice beneath +it all, the assistance of a confederate? Well, you need seek no farther +where I'm concerned." + +"What, you had a confederate?" + +"Yes, certainly." + +"But who was he?" + +"Otto." + +"Otto? But you never left us! You never spoke to him, surely?" + +"How could I have succeeded without his help? In reality, I had two +confederates in this business, Elfride and Otto, both of whom betrayed +Vorski, either out of revenge or out of greed. While you, Stéphane, were +luring Vorski past the Fairies' Dolmen, I accosted Otto. We soon struck +a bargain, at the cost of a few bank-notes and in return for a promise +that he would come out of the adventure safe and sound. Moreover I +informed him that Vorski had pouched the sisters Archignat's fifty +thousand francs." + +"How did you know that?" asked Stéphane. + +"Through my confederate number one, through Elfride, whom I continued to +question in a whisper while you were looking out for Vorski's coming and +who also, in a few brief words, told me what she knew of Vorski's +past." + +"When all is said, you only saw Otto that once." + +"Two hours later, after Elfride's death and after the fireworks in the +hollow oak, we had a second interview, under the Fairies' Dolmen. Vorski +was asleep, stupefied with drink, and Otto was mounting guard. You can +imagine that I seized the opportunity to obtain particulars of the +business and to complete my information about Vorski with the details +which Otto for two years had been secretly collecting about a chief whom +he detested. Then he unloaded Vorski's and Conrad's revolvers, or rather +he removed the bullets, while leaving the cartridges. Then he handed me +Vorski's watch and note-book, as well as an empty locket and a +photograph of Vorski's mother which Otto had stolen from him some months +before, things which helped me next day to play the wizard with the +aforesaid Vorski in the crypt where he found me. That is how Otto and I +collaborated." + +"Very well," said Patrice, "but still you didn't ask him to kill +Vorski?" + +"Certainly not." + +"In that case, how are we to know that . . ." + +"Do you think that Vorski did not end by discovering our collaboration, +which is one of the obvious causes of his defeat? And do you imagine +that Master Otto did not foresee this contingency? You may be sure that +there was no doubt of this: Vorski, once unfastened from his tree, would +have made away with his accomplice, both from motives of revenge and in +order to recover the sisters Archignat's fifty thousand francs. Otto got +the start of him. Vorski was there, helpless, lifeless, an easy prey. He +struck him a blow. I will go farther and say that Otto, who is a +coward, did not even strike him a blow. He will simply have left Vorski +on his tree. And so the punishment is complete. Are you appeased now, my +friends? Is your craving for justice satisfied?" + +Patrice and Stéphane were silent, impressed by the terrible vision which +Don Luis was conjuring up before their eyes. + +"There," he said, laughing, "I was right not to make you pronounce +sentence over there, when we were standing at the foot of the oak, with +the live man in front of us! I can see that my two judges might have +flinched a little at that moment. And so would my third judge, eh, All's +Well, you sensitive, tearful fellow? And I am like you, my friends. We +are not people who condemn and execute. But, all the same, think of what +Vorski was, think of his thirty murders and his refinements of cruelty +and congratulate me on having, in the last resort, chosen blind destiny +as his judge and the loathsome Otto as his responsible executioner. The +will of the gods be done!" + +The Sarek coast was making a thinner line on the horizon. It disappeared +in the mist in which sea and sky were merged. + +The three men were silent. All three were thinking of the isle of the +dead, laid waste by one man's madness, the isle of the dead where soon +some visitor would find the inexplicable traces of the tragedy, the +entrances to the tunnels, the cells with their "death-chambers," the +hall of the God-Stone, the mortuary crypts, Elfride's body, Conrad's +body, the skeletons of the sisters Archignat and, right at the end of +the island, near the Fairies' Dolmen, where the prophecy of the thirty +coffins and the four crosses was written for all to read, Vorski's great +body, lonely and pitiable, mangled by the ravens and owls. + + * * * * * + +A villa near Arcachon, in the pretty village of Les Moulleaux, whose +pine-trees run down to the shores of the gulf. + +Véronique is sitting in the garden. A week's rest and happiness have +restored the colour to her comely face and assuaged all evil memories. +She is looking with a smile at her son, who, standing a little way off, +is listening to and questioning Don Luis Perenna. She also looks at +Stéphane; and their eyes meet gently. + +It is easy to see that the affection in which they both hold the boy is +a link which unites them closely and which is strengthened by their +secret thoughts and their unuttered feelings. Not once has Stéphane +recalled the avowals which he made in the cell, under the Black Heath; +but Véronique has not forgotten them; and the profound gratitude which +she feels for the man who brought up her son is mingled with a special +emotion and an agitation of which she unconsciously savours the charm. + +That day, Don Luis, who, on the evening when the _Crystal Stopper_ +brought them all to the Villa des Moulleaux, had taken the train for +Paris, arrived unexpectedly at lunch-time, accompanied by Patrice +Belval; and during the hour that they have been sitting in their +rocking-chairs in the garden, the boy, his face all pink with +excitement, has never ceased to question his rescuer: + +"And what did you do next? . . . But how did you know? . . . And what +put you on the track of that?" + +"My darling," says Véronique, "aren't you afraid of boring Don Luis?" + +"No, madame," replies Don Luis, rising, going up to Véronique and +speaking in such a way that the boy cannot hear, "no, François is not +boring me; and in fact I like answering his questions. But I confess +that he perplexes me a little and that I am afraid of saying something +awkward. Tell me, how much exactly does he know of the whole story?" + +"As much as I know myself, except Vorski's name, of course." + +"But does he know the part which Vorski played?" + +"Yes, but with certain differences. He thinks that Vorski is an escaped +prisoner who picked up the legend of Sarek and, in order to get hold of +the God-Stone, proceeded to carry out the prophecy touching it. I have +kept some of the lines of the prophecy from François." + +"And the part played by Elfride? Her hatred for you? The threats she +made you?" + +"Madwoman's talk, I told François, of which I myself did not understand +the meaning." + +Don Luis smiled: + +"The explanation is a little arbitrary; and I have a notion that +François quite well understands that certain parts of the tragedy remain +and must remain obscure to him. The great thing, don't you think, is +that he should not know that Vorski was his father?" + +"He does not know and he never will." + +"And then--and this is what I was coming to--what name will he bear +himself?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Whose son will he believe himself to be? For you know as well as I do +that the legal reality is this, that François Vorski died fifteen years +ago, drowned in a shipwreck, and his grandfather with him. And Vorski +died last year, stabbed by a fellow-prisoner. Neither of them is alive +in the eyes of the law. So . . ." + +Véronique nodded her head and smiled: + +"So I don't know. The position seems to me, as you say, incapable of +explanation. But everything will come out all right." + +"Why?" + +"Because you're here to do it." + +It was his turn to smile: + +"I can no longer take credit for the actions which I perform or the +steps which I take. Everything is arranging itself _a priori_. Then why +worry?" + +"Am I not right to?" + +"Yes," he said, gravely. "The woman who has suffered all that you have +must not be subjected to the least additional annoyance. And nothing +shall happen to her after this, I swear. So what I suggest to you is +this: long ago, you married against your father's wish a very distant +cousin, who died after leaving you a son, François. This son your +father, to be revenged upon you, kidnapped and brought to Sarek. At your +father's death, the name of d'Hergemont became extinct and there is +nothing to recall the events of your marriage." + +"But my name remains. Legally, in the official records, I am Véronique +d'Hergemont." + +"Your maiden name disappears under your married name." + +"You mean under that of Vorski." + +"No, because you did not marry that fellow Vorski, but one of your +cousins called . . ." + +"Called what?" + +"Jean Maroux. Here is a stamped certificate of your marriage to Jean +Maroux, a marriage mentioned in your official records, as this other +document shows." + +Véronique looked at Don Luis in amazement: + +"But why? Why that name?" + +"Why? So that your son may be neither d'Hergemont, which would have +recalled past events, nor Vorski, which would have recalled the name of +a traitor. Here is his birth-certificate, as François Maroux." + +She repeated, all blushing and confused: + +"But why did you choose just that name?" + +"It seemed easy for François. It's the name of Stéphane, with whom +François will go on living for some time. We can say that Stéphane was a +relation of your husband's; and this will explain the intimacy +generally. That is my plan. It presents, believe me, no possible danger. +When one is confronted by an inexplicable and painful position like +yours, one must needs employ special means and resort to drastic and, I +admit, very illegal measures. I did so without scruple, because I have +the good fortune to dispose of resources which are not within +everybody's reach. Do you approve of what I have done?" + +Véronique bent her head: + +"Yes," she said, "yes." + +He half-rose from his seat: + +"Besides," he added, "if there should be any drawbacks, the future will +no doubt take upon itself the burden of removing them. It would be +enough, for instance--there is no indiscretion, is there, in alluding to +the feelings which Stéphane entertains for François' mother?--it would +be enough if, one day or another, for reasons of common-sense, or +reasons of gratitude, François' mother were moved to accept the homage +of those feelings. How much simpler everything will be if François +already bears the name of Maroux! How much more easily the past will be +abolished, both for the outside world and for François, who will no +longer be able to pry into the secret of bygone events which there will +be nothing to recall to memory. It seemed to me that these were rather +weighty arguments. I am glad to see that you share my opinion." + +Don Luis bowed to Véronique and, without insisting any further, without +appearing to notice her confusion, turned to François and explained: + +"I'm at your orders now, young man. And, since you don't want to leave +anything unexplained, let's go back to the God-Stone and the scoundrel +who coveted its possession. Yes, the scoundrel," repeated Don Luis, +seeing no reason not to speak of Vorski with absolute frankness, "and +the most terrible scoundrel that I have ever met with, because he +believed in his mission; in short, a sick-brained man, a lunatic . . ." + +"Well, first of all," François observed, "what I don't understand is +that you waited all night to capture him, when he and his accomplices +were sleeping under the Fairies' Dolmen." + +"Well done, youngster," said Don Luis, laughing, "you have put your +finger on a weak point! If I had acted as you suggest, the tragedy would +have been finished twelve or fifteen hours earlier. But think, would you +have been released? Would the scoundrel have spoken and revealed your +hiding-place? I don't think so. To loosen his tongue I had to keep him +simmering. I had to make him dizzy, to drive him mad with apprehension +and anguish and to convince him by means of a mass of proofs, that he +was irretrievably defeated. Otherwise he would have held his tongue and +we might perhaps not have found you. . . . . Besides, at that time, my +plan was not very clear, I did not quite know how to wind up; and it was +not until much later that I thought not of submitting him to violent +torture--I am incapable of that--but of tying him to that tree on which +he wanted to let your mother die. So that, in my perplexity and +hesitation, I simply yielded, in the end, to the wish--the rather +puerile wish, I blush to confess--to carry out the prophecy to the end, +to see how the missionary would behave in the presence of the ancient +Druid, in short to amuse myself. After all, the adventure was so dark +and gloomy that a little fun seemed to me essential. And I laughed like +blazes. That was wrong. I admit it and I apologize." + +The boy was laughing too. Don Luis, who was holding him between his +knees, kissed him and asked: + +"Do you forgive me?" + +"Yes, on condition that you answer two more questions. The first is not +important." + +"Ask away." + +"It's about the ring. Where did you get that ring which you put first on +mother's finger and afterwards on Elfride's?" + +"I made it that same night, in a few minutes, out of an old wedding-ring +and some coloured stones." + +"But the scoundrel recognized it as having belonged to his mother." + +"He thought he recognized it; and he thought it because the ring was +like the other." + +"But how did you know that? And how did you learn the story?" + +"From himself." + +"You don't mean that?" + +"Certainly I do! From words that escaped him while he was sleeping under +the Fairies' Dolmen. A drunkard's nightmare. Bit by bit he told the +whole story of his mother. Elfride knew a good part of it besides. You +see how simple it is and how my luck stood by me!" + +"But the riddle of the God-Stone is not simple," François cried, "and +you deciphered it! People have been trying for centuries and you took a +few hours!" + +"No, a few minutes, François. It was enough for me to read the letter +which your grandfather wrote about it to Captain Belval. I sent your +grandfather by post all the explanations as to the position and the +marvellous nature of the God-Stone." + +"Well," cried the boy, "it's those explanations that I'm asking of you, +Don Luis. This is my last question, I promise you. What made people +believe in the power of the God-Stone? And what did that so-called power +consist of exactly?" + +Stéphane and Patrice drew up their chairs. Véronique sat up and +listened. They all understood that Don Luis had waited until they were +together before rending the veil of the mystery before their eyes. + +He began to laugh: + +"You mustn't hope for anything sensational," he said. "A mystery is +worth just as much as the darkness in which it is shrouded; and, as we +have begun by dispelling the darkness, nothing remains but the fact +itself in its naked reality. Nevertheless the facts in this case are +strange and the reality is not denuded of a certain grandeur." + +"It must needs be so," said Patrice Belval, "seeing that the reality +left so miraculous a legend in the isle of Sarek and even all over +Brittany." + +"Yes," said Don Luis, "and a legend so persistent that it influences us +to this day and that not one of you has escaped the obsession of the +miraculous." + +"What do you mean?" protested Patrice. "I don't believe in miracles." + +"No more do I," said the boy. + +"Yes, you do, you believe in them, you accept miracles as possible. If +not, you would long ago have seen the whole truth." + +"Why?" + +Don Luis picked a magnificent rose from a tree by his side and asked +François: + +"Is it possible for me to transform this rose, whose proportions, as it +is, are larger than those a rose often attains, into a flower double +the size and this rose-tree into a shrub twice as tall?" + +"Certainly not," said François. + +"Then why did you admit, why did you all admit that Maguennoc could +achieve that result, merely by digging up earth in certain parts of the +island, at certain fixed hours? That was a miracle; and you accepted it +without hesitation, unconsciously." + +Stéphane objected: + +"We accept what we saw with our eyes." + +"But you accepted it as a miracle, that is to say, as a phenomenon which +Maguennoc produced by special and, truth to tell, by supernatural means. +Whereas I, when I read this detail in M. d'Hergemont's letter, at +once--what shall I say?--caught on. I at once established the connection +between those monstrous blossoms and the name borne by the Calvary of +the flowers. And my conviction was immediate: 'No, Maguennoc is not a +wizard. He simply cleared a piece of uncultivated land around the +Calvary; and all he had to do, to produce abnormal flowers, was to bring +along a layer of mould. So the God-Stone is underneath; the God-Stone +which, in the middle-ages, produced the same abnormal flowers; the +God-Stone, which, in the days of the Druids, healed the sick and +strengthened children.'" + +"Therefore," said Patrice, "there is a miracle." + +"There is a miracle if we accept the supernatural explanation. There is +a natural phenomenon if we look for it and if we find the physical cause +capable of giving rise to the apparent miracle." + +"But those physical causes don't exist! They are not present." + +"They exist, because you have seen monstrous flowers." + +"Then there is a stone," asked Patrice, almost chaffingly, "which can +naturally give health and strength? And that stone is the God-Stone?" + +"There is not a particular, individual stone. But there are stones, +blocks of stone, rocks, hills and mountains of rock, which contain +mineral veins formed of various metals, oxides of uranium, silver, lead, +copper, nickel, cobalt and so on. And among these metals are some which +emit a special radiation, endowed with peculiar properties known as +radioactivity. These veins are veins of pitchblende which are found +hardly anywhere in Europe except in the north of Bohemia and which are +worked near the little town of Joachimsthal. And those radioactive +bodies are uranium, thorium, helium and chiefly, in the case which we +are considering . . ." + +"Radium," François interrupted. + +"You've said it, my boy: radium. Phenomena of radioactivity occur more +or less everywhere; and we may say that they are manifested throughout +nature, as in the healing action of thermal springs. But plainly +radioactive bodies like radium possess more definite properties. For +instance, there is no doubt that the rays and the emanation of radium +exercise a power over the life of plants, a power similar to that caused +by the passage of an electric current. In both cases, the stimulation of +the nutritive centres makes the elements required by the plant more easy +to assimilate and promotes its growth. In the same way, there is no +doubt that the radium rays are capable of exercising a physiological +action on living tissues, by producing more or less profound +modifications, destroying certain cells and contributing to develop +other cells and even to control their evolution. Radiotherapy claims to +have healed or improved numerous cases of rheumatism of the joints, +nervous troubles, ulceration, eczema, tumours and adhesive cicatrices. +In short radium is a really effective therapeutic agent." + +"So," said Stéphane, "you regard the God-Stone . . ." + +"I regard the God-Stone as a block of radiferous pitchblende originating +from the Joachimsthal lodes. I have long known the Bohemian legend which +speaks of a miraculous stone that was once removed from the side of a +hill; and, when I was travelling in Bohemia, I saw the hole left by the +stone. It corresponds pretty accurately with the dimensions of the +God-Stone." + +"But," Stéphane objected, "radium is contained in rocks only in the form +of infinitesimal particles. Remember that, after a mass of fourteen +hundred tons of rock have been duly mined and washed and treated, there +remains at the end of it all only a filtrate of some fifteen grains of +radium. And you attribute a miraculous power to the God-Stone, which +weighs two tons at most!" + +"But it evidently contains radium in appreciable quantities. Nature has +not pledged herself to be always niggardly and invariably to dilute the +radium. She was pleased to accumulate in the God-Stone a generous supply +which enabled it to produce the apparently extraordinary phenomena which +we know of . . . not forgetting that we have to allow for popular +exaggeration." + +Stéphane seemed to be yielding to conviction. Nevertheless he said: + +"One last point. Apart from the God-Stone, there was the little chip of +stone which Maguennoc found in the leaden sceptre, the prolonged touch +of which burnt his hand. According to you, this was a particle of +radium?" + +"Undoubtedly. And it is this perhaps that most clearly reveals the +presence and the power of radium in all this adventure. When Henri +Becquerel, the great physicist, kept a tube containing a salt of radium +in his waistcoat-pocket, his skin became covered in a few days with +suppurating ulcers. Curie repeated the experiment, with the same result. +Maguennoc's case was more serious, because he held the particle of +radium in his hand. A wound formed which had a cancerous appearance. +Scared by all that he knew and all that he himself had said about the +miraculous stone which burns like hell-fire and 'gives life or death,' +he chopped off his hand." + +"Very well," said Stéphane, "but where did that particle of pure radium +come from? It can't have been a chip of the God-Stone, because, once +again, however rich a mineral may be, radium is incorporated in it, not +in isolated grains, but in a soluble form, which has to be dissolved and +afterwards collected, by a series of mechanical operations, into a +solution rich enough to enable successive crystallizations and +concentrations to isolate the active product which the solution +contains. All this and a number of other later operations demand an +enormous plant, with workshops, laboratories, expert chemists, in short, +a very different state of civilization, you must admit, from the state +of barbarism in which our ancestors the Celts were immersed." + +Don Luis smiled and tapped the young man on the shoulder: + +"Hear, hear, Stéphane! I am glad to see that François' friend and tutor +has a far-seeing and logical mind. The objection is perfectly valid and +suggested itself to me at once. I might reply by putting forward some +quite legitimate theory, I might presume a natural means of isolating +radium and imagine that, in a geological fault occurring in the granite, +at the bottom of a big pocket containing radiferous ore, a fissure has +opened through which the waters of the river slowly trickle, carrying +with them infinitesimal quantities of radium; that the waters so charged +flow for a long time in a narrow channel, combine again, become +concentrated and, after centuries upon centuries, filter through in +little drops, which evaporate at once, and form at the point of +emergence a tiny stalactite, exceedingly rich in radium, the tip of +which is broken off one day by some Gallic warrior. But is there any +need to seek so far and to have recourse to hypotheses? Cannot we rely +on the unaided genius and the inexhaustible resources of nature? Does it +call for a more wonderful effort on her part to evolve by her own +methods a particle of pure radium than to make a cherry ripen or to make +this rose bloom . . . or to give life to our delightful All's Well? What +do you say, young François? Do we agree?" + +"We always agree," replied the boy. + +"So you don't unduly regret the miracle of the God-Stone?" + +"Why, the miracle still exists!" + +"You're right, François, it still exists and a hundred times more +beautiful and dazzling than before. Science does not kill miracles: it +purifies them and ennobles them. What was that crafty, capricious, +wicked, incomprehensible little power attached to the tip of a magic +wand and acting at random, according to the ignorant fancy of a +barbarian chief or Druid, what was it, I ask you, beside the beneficent, +logical, reliable and quite as miraculous power which we behold to-day +in a pinch of radium?" + +Don Luis suddenly interrupted himself and began to laugh: + +"Come, come, I'm allowing myself to be carried away and singing an ode +to science! Forgive me, madame," he added, rising and going up to +Véronique, "and tell me that I have not bored you too much with my +explanations. I haven't, have I? Not too much? Besides, it's finished +. . . or nearly finished. There is only one more point to make clear, +one decision to take." + +He sat down beside her: + +"It's this. Now that we have won the God-Stone, in other words, an +actual treasure, what are we going to do with it?" + +Véronique spoke with a heartfelt impulse: + +"Oh, as to that, don't let us speak of it! I don't want anything that +may come from Sarek, or anything that's found in the Priory. We will +work." + +"Still, the Priory belongs to you." + +"No, no, Véronique d'Hergemont no longer exists and the Priory no longer +belongs to any one. Let it all be put up to auction. I don't want +anything of that accursed past." + +"And how will you live?" + +"As I used to by my work. I am sure that François approves, don't you, +darling?" + +And, with an instinctive movement, turning to Stéphane, as though he had +a certain right to give his opinion, she added: + +"You too approve, don't you, dear Stéphane?" + +"Entirely," he said. + +She at once went on: + +"Besides, though I don't doubt my father's feelings of affection, I have +no proof of his wishes towards me." + +"I have the proofs," said Don Luis. + +"How?" + +"Patrice and I went back to Sarek. In a writing-desk in Maguennoc's +room, in a secret drawer, we found a sealed, but unaddressed envelope, +and opened it. It contained a bond worth ten thousand francs a year and +a sheet of paper which read as follows: + +"'After my death, Maguennoc will hand this bond to Stéphane Maroux, to +whom I confide the charge of my grandson, François. When François is +eighteen years of age, the bond will be his to do what he likes with. I +hope and trust, however, that he will seek his mother and find her and +that she will pray for my soul. I bless them both.' + +"Here is the bond," said Don Luis, "and here is the letter. It is dated +April of this year." + +Véronique was astounded. She looked at Don Luis and the thought occurred +to her that all this was perhaps merely a story invented by that strange +man to place her and her son beyond the reach of want. It was a passing +thought. When all was considered, it was a natural consequence. +Everything said, M. d'Hergemont's action was very reasonable; and, +foreseeing the difficulties that would crop up after his death, it was +only right that he should think of his grandson. She murmured: + +"I have not the right to refuse." + +"You have so much the less right," said Don Luis, "in that the +transaction excludes you altogether. Your father's wishes affect +François and Stéphane directly. So we are agreed. There remains the +God-Stone; and I repeat my question. What are we to do with it? To whom +does it belong?" + +"To you," said Véronique, definitely. + +"To me?" + +"Yes, to you. You discovered it and you have given it a real +signification." + +"I must remind you," said Don Luis, "that this block of stone possesses, +beyond a doubt, an incalculable value. However great the miracles +wrought by nature may be, it is only through a wonderful concourse of +circumstances that she was able to perform the miracle of collecting so +much precious matter in so small a volume. There are treasures and +treasures there." + +"So much the better," said Véronique, "you will be able to make a better +use of them than any one else." + +Don Luis thought for a moment and added: + +"You are quite right; and I confess that I prepared for this climax. +First, because my right to the God-Stone seemed to me to be proved by +adequate titles of ownership; and, next, because I have need of that +block of stone. Yes, upon my word, the tombstone of the Kings of Bohemia +has not exhausted its magic power; there are plenty of nations left on +whom that power might produce as great an effect as on our ancestors the +Gauls; and, as it happens, I am tackling a formidable undertaking in +which an assistance of this kind will be invaluable to me. In a few +years, when my task is completed, I will bring the God-Stone back to +France and present it to a national laboratory which I intend to found. +In this way science will purge any evil that the God-Stone may have done +and the horrible adventure of Sarek will be atoned for. Do you approve, +madame?" + +She gave him her hand: + +"With all my heart." + +There was a fairly long pause. Then Don Luis said: + +"Ah, yes, a horrible adventure, too terrible for words. I have had some +gruesome adventures in my life which have left painful memories behind +them. But this outdoes them all. It exceeds anything that is possible in +reality or human in suffering. It was so excessively logical as to +become illogical; and this because it was the act of a madman . . . and +also because it came to pass at a season of madness and bewilderment. It +was the war which facilitated the safe silent committal of an obscure +crime prepared and executed by a monster. In times of peace, monsters +have not the time to realize their stupid dreams. To-day, in that +solitary island, this particular monster found special, abnormal +conditions . . ." + +"Please don't let us talk about all this," murmured Véronique, in a +trembling voice. + +Don Luis kissed her hand and then took All's Well and lifted him in his +arms: + +"You're right. Don't let's talk about it, or else tears would come and +All's Well would be sad. Therefore, All's Well, my delightful All's +Well, let us talk no more of the dreadful adventure. But all the same +let us recall certain episodes which were beautiful and picturesque. For +instance, Maguennoc's garden with the gigantic flowers; you will +remember it as I shall, won't you, All's Well? And the legend of the +God-Stone, the idyll of the Celtic tribes wandering with the memorial +stone of their kings, the stone all vibrant with radium, emitting an +incessant bombardment of vivifying and miraculous atoms; all that, All's +Well, possesses a certain charm, doesn't it? Only, my most exquisite +All's Well, if I were a novelist and if it were my duty to tell the +story of Coffin Island, I should not trouble too much about the horrid +truth and I should give you a much more important part. I should do away +with the intervention of that phrase-mongering humbug of a Don Luis and +you would be the fearless and silent rescuer. You would fight the +abominable monster, you would thwart his machinations and, in the end, +you, with your marvellous instinct, would punish vice and make virtue +triumph. And it would be much better so, because none would be more +capable than you, my delightful All's Well, of demonstrating by a +thousand proofs, each more convincing than the other, that in this life +of ours all things come right and all's well." + + +THE END + + + + +Popular Copyright Novels + +_AT MODERATE PRICES_ + +Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of A. L. Burt Company's Popular +Copyright Fiction + +Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The. By Frank L. Packard. +Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle. +After House, The. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. +Ailsa Paige. By Robert W. Chambers. +Alton of Somasco. By Harold Bindloss. +Amateur Gentleman, The. By Jeffery Farnol. +Anna, the Adventuress. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +Anne's House of Dreams. By L. M. Montgomery. +Around Old Chester. By Margaret Deland. +Athalie. By Robert W. Chambers. +At the Mercy of Tiberius. By Augusta Evans Wilson. +Auction Block, The. By Rex Beach. +Aunt Jane of Kentucky. By Eliza C. 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By Arthur Somers Roche. +Reason Why, The. By Elinor Glyn. +Reclaimers, The. By Margaret Hill McCarter. +Red Mist, The. By Randall Parrish. +Red Pepper Burns. By Grace S. Richmond. +Red Pepper's Patients. By Grace S. Richmond. +Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary, The. By Anne Warner. +Restless Sex, The. By Robert W. Chambers. +Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu, The. By Sax Rohmer. +Return of Tarzan, The. By Edgar Rice Burroughs. +Riddle of Night, The. By Thomas W. Hanshew. +Rim of the Desert, The. By Ada Woodruff Anderson. +Rise of Roscoe Paine, The. By J. C. Lincoln. +Rising Tide, The. By Margaret Deland. +Rocks of Valpré, The. By Ethel M. Dell. +Rogue by Compulsion, A. By Victor Bridges. +Room Number 3. By Anna Katharine Green. +Rose in the Ring, The. By George Barr McCutcheon. +Rose of Old Harpeth, The. By Maria Thompson Daviess. +Round the Corner in Gay Street. By Grace S. Richmond. + +Second Choice. By Will N. Harben. +Second Violin, The. By Grace S. Richmond. +Secret History. By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. +Secret of the Reef, The. By Harold Bindloss. +Seven Darlings, The. By Gouverneur Morris. +Shavings. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Shepherd of the Hills, The. By Harold Bell Wright. +Sheriff of Dyke Hole, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Sherry. By George Barr McCutcheon. +Side of the Angels, The. By Basil King. +Silver Horde, The. By Rex Beach. +Sin That Was His, The. By Frank L. Packard. +Sixty-first Second, The. By Owen Johnson. +Soldier of the Legion, A. By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. +Son of His Father, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Son of Tarzan, The. By Edgar Rice Burroughs. +Source, The. By Clarence Buddington Kelland. +Speckled Bird, A. By Augusta Evans Wilson. +Spirit in Prison, A. By Robert Hichens. +Spirit of the Border, The. (New Edition.) By Zane Grey. +Spoilers, The. By Rex Beach. +Steele of the Royal Mounted. By James Oliver Curwood. +Still Jim. By Honoré Willsie. +Story of Foss River Ranch, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Story of Marco, The. By Eleanor H. Porter. +Strange Case of Cavendish, The. By Randall Parrish. +Strawberry Acres. By Grace S. Richmond. +Sudden Jim. By Clarence B. Kelland. + +Tales of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle. +Tarzan of the Apes. By Edgar R. Burroughs. +Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar. By Edgar Rice Burroughs. +Tempting of Tavernake, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +Tess of the D'Urbervilles. By Thos. Hardy. +Thankful's Inheritance. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +That Affair Next Door. By Anna Katharine Green. +That Printer of Udell's. By Harold Bell Wright. +Their Yesterdays. By Harold Bell Wright. +Thirteenth Commandment, The. By Rupert Hughes. +Three of Hearts, The. By Berta Ruck. +Three Strings, The. By Natalie Sumner Lincoln. +Threshold, The. By Marjorie Benton Cooke. +Throwback, The. By Alfred Henry Lewis. +Tish. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. +To M. L. G.; or, He Who Passed. Anon. +Trail of the Axe, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Trail to Yesterday, The. By Chas. A. Seltzer. +Treasure of Heaven, The. By Marie Corelli. +Triumph, The. By Will N. Harben. +T. Tembarom. By Frances Hodgson Burnett. +Turn of the Tide. By Author of "Pollyanna." +Twenty-fourth of June, The. By Grace S. Richmond. +Twins of Suffering Creek, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Two-Gun Man, The. By Chas. A. Seltzer. + +Uncle William. By Jeannette Lee. +Under Handicap. By Jackson Gregory. +Under the Country Sky. By Grace S. Richmond. +Unforgiving Offender, The. By John Reed Scott. +Unknown Mr. Kent, The. By Roy Norton. +Unpardonable Sin, The. By Major Rupert Hughes. +Up From Slavery. By Booker T. Washington. + +Valiants of Virginia, The. By Hallie Ermine Rives. +Valley of Fear, The. By Sir A. Conan Doyle. +Vanished Messenger, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +Vanguards of the Plains. By Margaret Hill McCarter. +Vashti. By Augusta Evans Wilson. +Virtuous Wives. By Owen Johnson. +Visioning, The. By Susan Glaspell. + +Waif-o'-the-Sea. By Cyrus Townsend Brady. +Wall of Men, A. By Margaret H. McCarter. +Watchers of the Plans, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Way Home, The. By Basil King. +Way of an Eagle, The. By E. M. Dell. +Way of the Strong, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Way of These Women, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +We Can't Have Everything. By Major Rupert Hughes. +Weavers, The. By Gilbert Parker. +When a Man's a Man. By Harold Bell Wright. +When Wilderness Was King. By Randall Parrish. +Where the Trail Divides. By Will Lillibridge. +Where There's a Will. By Mary R. Rinehart. +White Sister, The. By Marion Crawford. +Who Goes There? By Robert W. Chambers. +Why Not. By Margaret Widdemer. +Window at the White Cat, The. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. +Winds of Chance, The. By Rex Beach. +Wings of Youth, The. By Elizabeth Jordan. +Winning of Barbara Worth, The. By Harold Bell Wright. +Wire Devils, The. By Frank L. Packard. +Winning the Wilderness. By Margaret Hill McCarter. +Wishing Ring Man, The. By Margaret Widdemer. +With Juliet in England. By Grace S. Richmond. +Wolves of the Sea. By Randall Parrish. +Woman Gives, The. By Owen Johnson. +Woman Haters, The. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Woman in Question, The. By John Reed Scott. +Woman Thou Gavest Me, The. By Hall Caine. +Woodcarver of 'Lympus, The. By Mary E. Waller. +Wooing of Rosamond Fayre, The. By Berta Ruck. +World for Sale, The. By Gilbert Parker. + +Years for Rachel, The. By Berta Ruck. +Yellow Claw, The. By Sax Rohmer. +You Never Know Your Luck. By Gilbert Parker. + +Zeppelin's Passenger, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + +The following typographical errors present in the original edition +have been corrected. + +In Chapter I, "But the tree letters were visible" was changed to "But +the three letters were visible", and "though an ever-thickening mist" +was changed to "through an ever-thickening mist". + +In Chapter III, a missing period was added after "spluttered Honorine", +and "You musn't stay" was changed to "You mustn't stay". + +In Chapter IV, "Then . . . then. . . it's happening" was changed to +"Then . . . then . . . it's happening", and "slackened spend when she +was level" was changed to "slackened speed when she was level". + +In Chapter V, a quotation mark was added after "They: the people of +old.", and "that killed M. Antoine, Marie le Goff and the others" was +changed to "that killed M. Antoine, Marie Le Goff and the others". + +In Chapter VI, quotation marks were added before "Did you put them under +there?" and "and I am not a bit afraid", and after "Then what is it?". + +In Chapter VII, "one of the cells probably the last" was changed to "one +of the cells, probably the last", and a missing period was added after +"Yes, Madeleine Ferrand". + +In Chapter VIII, "Last night . . or rather this morning" was changed to +"Last night . . . or rather this morning", and "painted Perenna is such +strange colours" was changed to "painted Perenna in such strange +colours". + +In Chapter X, a quotation mark was removed before "Véronique received +her answer", "None come" was changed to "None came", a quotation mark +was added after "my boat is hanging at the foot of the cliff.", and +"We'll land at Pont-L'Abbé" was changed to "We'll land at Pont-l'Abbé". + +In Chapter XII, a quotation mark was removed after "Its feathered end +was still quivering." + +In Chapter XIV, "The other joined him" was changed to "The others joined +him", and a quotation mark was added after "At any rate, it's a sacred +stone". + +In Chapter XV, a quotation mark was added before "She is dead", +"yatching-cap" was changed to "yachting-cap", a comma was changed to a +period after "There's no hypocrisy about you", and "Is is agreed" was +changed to "Is it agreed". + +In Chapter XVI, "ascertain Véronique d'Hergemont's whereabout" was +changed to "ascertain Véronique d'Hergemont's whereabouts", and "The +worthy man envolved the prophecy from his own consciousness" was changed +to "The worthy man evolved the prophecy from his own consciousness". + +In Chapter XVII, "The ancient Druid, whom we may call either Don Luis +Perenna or Arséne Lupin" was changed to "The ancient Druid, whom we may +call either Don Luis Perenna or Arsène Lupin". + +In Chapter XVIII, a period was changed to a comma after "one after the +other", and quotation marks were added after "the boat should have +started" and "he chopped off his hand". + +In the advertisements, Bruce of the Circle A was changed to Bruce of +the Circle, A, in the entry for The Nameless Man "Nataile Sumner +Lincoln" was changed to "Natalie Sumner Lincoln", and in the entry for +The World for Sale "Gilbert-Parker" was changed to "Gilbert Parker". + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET OF SAREK*** + + +******* This file should be named 34939-8.txt or 34939-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/9/3/34939 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Secret of Sarek</p> +<p>Author: Maurice Leblanc</p> +<p>Release Date: January 13, 2011 [eBook #34939]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET OF SAREK***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Steven desJardins<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 395px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="395" height="600" alt="cover of The Secret of Sarek" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 392px;"> +<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="392" height="600" alt=""We're Done For! They Are Aiming At Us!"" title="" /> +</div> +<p class="caption">"We're Done For! They Are Aiming At Us!"</p> + + + + +<h1 class="newchapter">THE SECRET<br /> +OF SAREK</h1> + +<p class="center bigtext"><span class="smcap">By</span> MAURICE LEBLANC</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Translated by</span><br /> +ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 175px;"> +<img src="images/logo.png" width="175" height="174" alt="decorative cross" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">FRONTISPIECE</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="bigtext">A. L. BURT COMPANY</span><br /> +<span style="word-spacing: 6em;">Publishers New</span> York</p> + +<p class="center smalltext">Published by arrangement with The Macaulay Company</p> + +<p class="center">Copyright, 1920<br /> +<span class="smcap">By</span> THE MACAULAY COMPANY</p> + +<p class="center">PRINTED IN U. S. A.</p> + + + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<h2><a name="FOREWORD" id="FOREWORD"></a><i>FOREWORD</i></h2> + + +<p><i>The war has led to so many upheavals that not many people now remember +the Hergemont scandal of seventeen years ago. Let us recall the details +in a few lines.</i></p> + +<p><i>One day in July 1902, M. Antoine d'Hergemont, the author of a series of +well-known studies on the megalithic monuments of Brittany, was walking +in the Bois with his daughter Véronique, when he was assaulted by four +men, receiving a blow in the face with a walking-stick which felled him +to the ground.</i></p> + +<p><i>After a short struggle and in spite of his desperate efforts, +Véronique, the beautiful Véronique, as she was called by her friends, +was dragged away and bundled into a motor-car which the spectators of +this very brief scene saw making off in the direction of Saint-Cloud.</i></p> + +<p><i>It was a plain case of kidnapping. The truth became known next morning. +Count Alexis Vorski, a young Polish nobleman of dubious reputation but +of some social prominence and, by his own account, of royal blood, was +in love with Véronique d'Hergemont and Véronique with him. Repelled and +more than once insulted by the father, he had planned the incident +entirely without Véronique's knowledge or complicity.</i></p> + +<p><i>Antoine d'Hergemont, who, as certain published letters showed, was a +man of violent and morose disposition and who, thanks to his capricious +temper, his ferocious egoism and his sordid avarice, had made his +daughter exceedingly unhappy, swore openly that he would take the most +ruthless revenge.</i></p> + +<p><i>He gave his consent to the wedding, which took place two months later, +at Nice. But in the following year a series of sensational events +transpired. Keeping his word and cherishing his hatred, M. d'Hergemont +in his turn kidnapped the child born of the Vorski marriage and set sail +in a small yacht which he had bought not long before.</i></p> + +<p><i>The sea was rough. The yacht foundered within sight of the Italian +coast. The four sailors who formed the crew were picked up by a +fishing-boat. According to their evidence M. d'Hergemont and the child +had disappeared amid the waves.</i></p> + +<p><i>When Véronique received the proof of their death, she entered a +Carmelite convent.</i></p> + +<p><i>These are the facts which, fourteen years later, were to lead to the +most frightful and extraordinary adventure, a perfectly authentic +adventure, though certain details, at first sight, assume a more or less +fabulous aspect. But the war has complicated existence to such an extent +that events which happen outside it, such as those related in the +following narrative, borrow something abnormal, illogical and at times +miraculous from the greater tragedy. It needs all the dazzling light of +truth to restore to those events the character of a reality which, when +all is said, is simple enough.</i></p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table class="figcenter" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum smalltext">CHAPTER</td> +<td class="chapname smalltext"> </td> +<td class="chappage smalltext">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">I</td> +<td class="chapname">The Deserted Cabin</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">II</td> +<td class="chapname">On the Edge of the Atlantic</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">25</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">III</td> +<td class="chapname">Vorski's Son</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">43</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">IV</td> +<td class="chapname">The Poor People of Sarek</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">V</td> +<td class="chapname">"Four Women Crucified"</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">87</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">VI</td> +<td class="chapname">All's Well</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">113</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">VII</td> +<td class="chapname">François and Stéphane</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">133</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">VIII</td> +<td class="chapname">Anguish</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">149</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">IX</td> +<td class="chapname">The Death-Chamber</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">167</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">X</td> +<td class="chapname">The Escape</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XI</td> +<td class="chapname">The Scourge of God</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">200</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XII</td> +<td class="chapname">The Ascent of Golgotha</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">221</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XIII</td> +<td class="chapname">"Eloi, Eloi, Lama Sabachthani!"</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XIV</td> +<td class="chapname">The Ancient Druid</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">262</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XV</td> +<td class="chapname">The Hall of the Underground Sacrifices</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">283</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XVI</td> +<td class="chapname">The Hall of the Kings of Bohemia</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">309</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XVII</td> +<td class="chapname">"Cruel Prince, Obeying Destiny"</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">328</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XVIII</td> +<td class="chapname">The God-Stone</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">349</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="THE_SECRET_OF_SAREK" id="THE_SECRET_OF_SAREK"></a>THE SECRET OF SAREK</h2> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE DESERTED CABIN</span></h2> + + +<p>Into the picturesque village of Le Faouet, situated in the very heart of +Brittany, there drove one morning in the month of May a lady whose +spreading grey cloak and the thick veil that covered her face failed to +hide her remarkable beauty and perfect grace of figure.</p> + +<p>The lady took a hurried lunch at the principal inn. Then, at about +half-past eleven, she begged the proprietor to look after her bag for +her, asked for a few particulars about the neighbourhood and walked +through the village into the open country.</p> + +<p>The road almost immediately branched into two, of which one led to +Quimper and the other to Quimperlé. Selecting the latter, she went down +into the hollow of a valley, climbed up again and saw on her right, at +the corner of another road, a sign-post bearing the inscription, +"Locriff, 3 kilometers."</p> + +<p>"This is the place," she said to herself.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, after casting a glance around her, she was surprised not +to find what she was looking for and wondered whether she had +misunderstood her instructions.</p> + +<p>There was no one near her nor any one within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> sight, as far as the eye +could reach over the Breton country-side, with its tree-lined meadows +and undulating hills. Not far from the village, rising amid the budding +greenery of spring, a small country house lifted its grey front, with +the shutters to all the windows closed. At twelve o'clock, the +angelus-bells pealed through the air and were followed by complete peace +and silence.</p> + +<p>Véronique sat down on the short grass of a bank, took a letter from her +pocket and smoothed out the many sheets, one by one.</p> + +<p>The first page was headed:</p> + +<p class="center">"DUTREILLIS' AGENCY.</p> + +<p class="semicenter"><i>"Consulting Rooms.</i></p> +<p class="semicenter"><i>"Private Enquiries.</i></p> +<p class="semicenter"><i>"Absolute Discretion Guaranteed."</i></p> + +<p>Next came an address:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>"Madame Véronique,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>"Dressmaker,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>"BESANÇON."</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And the letter ran:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"MADAM,</p> + +<p>"You will hardly believe the pleasure which it gave me +to fulfill the two commissions which you were good +enough to entrust to me in your last favour. I have +never forgotten the conditions under which I was able, +fourteen years ago, to give you my practical +assistance at a time when your life was saddened by +painful events. It was I who succeeded in obtaining +all the facts relating to the death of your honoured +father, M. Antoine d'Hergemont, and of your beloved +son François. This was my first triumph in a career +which was to afford so many other brilliant +victories.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>"It was I also, you will remember, who, at your +request and seeing how essential it was to save you +from your husband's hatred and, if I may add, his +love, took the necessary steps to secure your +admission to the Carmelite convent. Lastly, it was I +who, when your retreat to the convent had shown you +that a life of religion did not agree with your +temperament, arranged for you a modest occupation as a +dressmaker at Besançon, far from the towns where the +years of your childhood and the months of your +marriage had been spent. You had the inclination and +the need to work in order to live and to escape your +thoughts. You were bound to succeed; and you +succeeded.</p> + +<p>"And now let me come to the fact, to the two facts in +hand.</p> + +<p>"To begin with your first question: what has become, +amid the whirlwind of war, of your husband, Alexis +Vorski, a Pole by birth, according to his papers, and +the son of a king, according to his own statement? I +will be brief. After being suspected at the +commencement of the war and imprisoned in an +internment-camp near Carpentras, Vorski managed to +escape, went to Switzerland, returned to France and +was re-arrested, accused of spying and convicted of +being a German. At the moment when it seemed +inevitable that he would be sentenced to death, he +escaped for the second time, disappeared in the Forest +of Fontainebleau and in the end was stabbed by some +person unknown.</p> + +<p>"I am telling you the story quite crudely, Madam, well +knowing your contempt for this person, who had +deceived you abominably, and knowing also that you +have learnt most of these facts from the newspapers, +though you have not been able to verify their absolute +genuineness.</p> + +<p>"Well, the proofs exist. I have seen them. There is no +doubt left. Alexis Vorski lies buried at +Fontainebleau.</p> + +<p>"Permit me, in passing, Madam, to remark upon the +strangeness of this death. You will remember the +curious prophecy about Vorski which you mentioned to +me. Vorski, whose undoubted intelligence and +exceptional energy were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> spoilt by an insincere and +superstitious mind, readily preyed upon by +hallucinations and terrors, had been greatly impressed +by the prediction which overhung his life and which he +had heard from the lips of several people who +specialize in the occult sciences:</p> + +<p>"'Vorski, son of a king, you will die by the hand of a +friend and your wife will be crucified!'</p> + +<p>"I smile, Madam, as I write the last word. Crucified! +Crucifixion is a torture which is pretty well out of +fashion; and I am easy as regards yourself. But what +do you think of the dagger-stroke which Vorski +received in accordance with the mysterious orders of +destiny?</p> + +<p>"But enough of reflections. I now come . . ."</p></div> + +<p>Véronique dropped the letter for a moment into her lap. M. Dutreillis' +pretentious phrasing and familiar pleasantries wounded her fastidious +reserve. Also she was obsessed by the tragic image of Alexis Vorski. A +shiver of anguish passed through her at the hideous memory of that man. +She mastered herself, however, and read on:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I now come to my other commission, Madam, in your +eyes the more important of the two, because all the +rest belongs to the past.</p> + +<p>"Let us state the facts precisely. Three weeks ago, on +one of those rare occasions when you consented to +break through the praiseworthy monotony of your +existence, on a Thursday evening when you took your +assistants to a cinema-theatre, you were struck by a +really incomprehensible detail. The principal film, +entitled 'A Breton Legend,' represented a scene which +occurred, in the course of a pilgrimage, outside a +little deserted road-side hut which had nothing to do +with the action. The hut was obviously there by +accident. But something really extraordinary attracted +your attention. On the tarred boards of the old door +were three letters, drawn by hand: 'V. d'H.,' and +those three letters were precisely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> your signature +before you were married, the initials with which you +used to sign your intimate letters and which you have +not used once during the last fourteen years! +Véronique d'Hergemont! There was no mistake possible. +Two capitals separated by the small 'd' and the +apostrophe. And, what is more, the bar of the letter +'H.', carried back under the three letters, served as +a flourish, exactly as it used to do with you!</p> + +<p>"It was the stupefaction due to this surprising +coincidence that decided you, Madam, to invoke my +assistance. It was yours without the asking. And you +knew, without any telling, that it would be effective.</p> + +<p>"As you anticipated, Madam, I have succeeded. And here +again I will be brief.</p> + +<p>"What you must do, Madam, is to take the night express +from Paris which brings you the next morning to +Quimperlé. From there, drive to Le Faouet. If you have +time, before or after your luncheon, pay a visit to +the very interesting Chapel of St. Barbe, which stands +perched on the most fantastic site and which gave rise +to the 'Breton Legend' film. Then go along the Quimper +road on foot. At the end of the first ascent, a little +way short of the parish-road which leads to Locriff, +you will find, in a semicircle surrounded by trees, +the deserted hut with the inscription. It has nothing +remarkable about it. The inside is empty. It has not +even a floor. A rotten plank serves as a bench. The +roof consists of a worm-eaten framework, which admits +the rain. Once more, there is no doubt that it was +sheer accident that placed it within the range of the +cinematograph. I will end by adding that the 'Breton +Legend' film was taken in September last, which means +that the inscription is at least eight months old.</p> + +<p>"That is all, Madam. My two commissions are completed. +I am too modest to describe to you the efforts and the +ingenious means which I employed in order to +accomplish them in so short a time, but for which you +will certainly think the sum of five hundred francs, +which is all that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> I propose to charge you for the +work done, almost ridiculous.</p> + +<p style="padding-left: 4em; text-indent: -3em;">"I beg to remain,<br /> +"Madam, &c."</p></div> + +<p>Véronique folded up the letter and sat for a few minutes turning over +the impressions which it aroused in her, painful impressions, like all +those revived by the horrible days of her marriage. One in particular +had survived and was still as powerful as at the time when she tried to +escape it by taking refuge in the gloom of a convent. It was the +impression, in fact the certainty, that all her misfortunes, the death +of her father and the death of her son, were due to the fault which she +had committed in loving Vorski. True, she had fought against the man's +love and had not decided to marry him until she was obliged to, in +despair and to save M. d'Hergemont from Vorski's vengeance. +Nevertheless, she had loved that man. Nevertheless, at first, she had +turned pale under his glance: and this, which now seemed to her an +unpardonable example of weakness, had left her with a remorse which time +had failed to weaken.</p> + +<p>"There," she said, "enough of dreaming. I have not come here to shed +tears."</p> + +<p>The craving for information which had brought her from her retreat at +Besançon restored her vigour; and she rose resolved to act.</p> + +<p>"A little way short of the parish-road which leads to Locriff . . . a +semicircle surrounded by trees," said Dutreillis' letter. She had +therefore passed the place. She quickly retraced her steps and at once +perceived, on the right, the clump of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> trees which had hidden the cabin +from her eyes. She went nearer and saw it.</p> + +<p>It was a sort of shepherd's or road-labourer's hut, which was crumbling +and falling to pieces under the action of the weather. Véronique went up +to it and perceived that the inscription, worn by the rain and sun, was +much less clear than on the film. But the three letters were visible, as +was the flourish; and she even distinguished, underneath, something +which M. Dutreillis had not observed, a drawing of an arrow and a +number, the number 9.</p> + +<p>Her emotion increased. Though no attempt had been made to imitate the +actual form of her signature, it certainly was her signature as a girl. +And who could have affixed it there, on a deserted cabin, in this +Brittany where she had never been before?</p> + +<p>Véronique no longer had a friend in the world. Thanks to a succession of +circumstances, the whole of her past girlhood had, so to speak, +disappeared with the death of those whom she had known and loved. Then +how was it possible for the recollection of her signature to survive +apart from her and those who were dead and gone? And, above all, why was +the inscription here, at this spot? What did it mean?</p> + +<p>Véronique walked round the cabin. There was no other mark visible there +or on the surrounding trees. She remembered that M. Dutreillis had +opened the door and had seen nothing inside. Nevertheless she determined +to make certain that he was not mistaken.</p> + +<p>The door was closed with a mere wooden latch, which moved on a screw. +She lifted it; and, strange to say, she had to make an effort, not a +phy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>sical so much as a moral effort, an effort of will, to pull the door +towards her. It seemed to her that this little act was about to usher +her into a world of facts and events which she unconsciously dreaded.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "what's preventing me?"</p> + +<p>She gave a sharp pull.</p> + +<p>A cry of horror escaped her. There was a man's dead body in the cabin. +And, at the moment, at the exact second when she saw the body, she +became aware of a peculiar characteristic: one of the dead man's hands +was missing.</p> + +<p>It was an old man, with a long, grey, fan-shaped beard and long white +hair falling about his neck. The blackened lips and a certain colour of +the swollen skin suggested to Véronique that he might have been +poisoned, for no trace of an injury showed on his body, except the arm, +which had been severed clean above the wrist, apparently some days +before. His clothes were those of a Breton peasant, clean, but very +threadbare. The corpse was seated on the ground, with the head resting +against the bench and the legs drawn up.</p> + +<p>These were all things which Véronique noted in a sort of unconsciousness +and which were rather to reappear in her memory at a later date, for, at +the moment, she stood there all trembling, with her eyes staring before +her, and stammering:</p> + +<p>"A dead body! . . . A dead body! . . ."</p> + +<p>Suddenly she reflected that she was perhaps mistaken and that the man +was not dead. But, on touching his forehead, she shuddered at the +contact of his icy skin.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless this movement roused her from her torpor. She resolved to +act and, since there was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> no one in the immediate neighbourhood, to go +back to Le Faouet and inform the authorities. She first examined the +corpse for any clue which could tell her its identity.</p> + +<p>The pockets were empty. There were no marks on the clothes or linen. +But, when she shifted the body a little in order to make her search, it +came about that the head drooped forward, dragging with it the trunk, +which fell over the legs, thus uncovering the lower side of the bench.</p> + +<p>Under this bench, she perceived a roll consisting of a sheet of very +thin drawing-paper, crumpled, buckled and almost wrung into a twist. She +picked up the roll and unfolded it. But she had not finished doing so +before her hands began to tremble and she stammered:</p> + +<p>"Oh, God! . . . Oh, my God! . . ."</p> + +<p>She summoned all her energies to try and enforce upon herself the calm +needed to look with eyes that could see and a brain that could +understand.</p> + +<p>The most that she could do was to stand there for a few seconds. And +during those few seconds, through an ever-thickening mist that seemed to +shroud her eyes, she was able to make out a drawing in red, representing +four women crucified on four tree-trunks.</p> + +<p>And, in the foreground, the first woman, the central figure, with the +body stark under its clothing and the features distorted with the most +dreadful pain, but still recognizable, the crucified woman was herself! +Beyond the least doubt, it was she herself, Véronique d'Hergemont!</p> + +<p>Besides, above the head, the top of the post bore, after the ancient +custom, a scroll with a plainly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> legible inscription. And this was the +three initials, underlined with the flourish, of Véronique's maiden +name, "V. d'H.", Véronique d'Hergemont.</p> + +<p>A spasm ran through her from head to foot. She drew herself up, turned +on her heel and, reeling out of the cabin, fell on the grass in a dead +faint.</p> + +<hr class="thin" /> + +<p>Véronique was a tall, energetic, healthy woman, with a wonderfully +balanced mind; and hitherto no trial had been able to affect her fine +moral sanity or her splendid physical harmony. It needed exceptional and +unforeseen circumstances such as these, added to the fatigue of two +nights spent in railway-travelling, to produce this disorder in her +nerves and will.</p> + +<p>It did not last more than two or three minutes, at the end of which her +mind once more became lucid and courageous. She stood up, went back to +the cabin, picked up the sheet of drawing-paper and, certainly with +unspeakable anguish, but this time with eyes that saw and a brain that +understood, looked at it.</p> + +<p>She first examined the details, those which seemed insignificant, or +whose significance at least escaped her. On the left was a narrow column +of fifteen lines, not written, but composed of letters of no definite +formation, the down-strokes of which were all of the same length, the +object being evidently merely to fill up. However, in various places, a +few words were visible. And Véronique read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Four women crucified."</p></div> + +<p>Lower down:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>"Thirty coffins."</p></div> + +<p>And the bottom line of all ran:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The God-Stone which gives life or death."</p></div> + +<p>The whole of this column was surrounded by a frame consisting of two +perfectly straight lines, one ruled in black, the other in red ink; and +there was also, likewise in red, above it, a sketch of two sickles +fastened together with a sprig of mistletoe under the outline of a +coffin.</p> + +<p>The right-hand side, by far the more important, was filled with the +drawing, a drawing in red chalk, which gave the whole sheet, with its +adjacent column of explanations, the appearance of a page, or rather of +a copy of a page, from some large, ancient illuminated book, in which +the subjects were treated rather in the primitive style, with a complete +ignorance of the rules of drawing.</p> + +<p>And it represented four crucified women. Three of them showed in +diminishing perspective against the horizon. They wore Breton costumes +and their heads were surmounted by caps which were likewise Breton but +of a special fashion that pointed to local usage and consisted chiefly +of a large black bow, the two wings of which stood out as in the bows of +the Alsatian women. And in the middle of the page was the dreadful thing +from which Véronique could not take her terrified eyes. It was the +principal cross, the trunk of a tree stripped of its lower branches, +with the woman's two arms stretched to right and left of it.</p> + +<p>The hands and feet were not nailed but were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> fastened by cords which +were wound as far as the shoulders and the upper part of the tied legs. +Instead of the Breton costume, the woman wore a sort of winding-sheet +which fell to the ground and lengthened the slender outline of a body +emaciated by suffering.</p> + +<p>The expression on the face was harrowing, an expression of resigned +martyrdom and melancholy grace. And it was certainly Véronique's face, +especially as it looked when she was twenty years of age and as +Véronique remembered seeing it at those gloomy hours when a woman gazes +in a mirror at her hopeless eyes and her overflowing tears.</p> + +<p>And about the head was the very same wave of her thick hair, flowing to +the waist in symmetrical curves:</p> + +<p>And above it the inscription, "V. d'H."</p> + +<p>Véronique long stayed thinking, questioning the past and gazing into the +darkness in order to link the actual facts with the memory of her youth. +But her mind remained without a glimmer of light. Of the words which she +had read, of the drawing which she had seen, nothing whatever assumed +the least meaning for her or seemed susceptible of the least +explanation.</p> + +<p>She examined the sheet of paper again and again. Then, slowly, still +pondering on it, she tore it into tiny pieces and threw them to the +wind. When the last scrap had been carried away, her decision was taken. +She pushed back the man's body, closed the door and walked quickly +towards the village, in order to ensure that the incident should have +the legal conclusion which was fitting for the moment.</p> + +<p>But, when she returned an hour later with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> mayor of Le Faouet, the +rural constable and a whole group of sightseers attracted by her +statements, the cabin was empty. The corpse had disappeared.</p> + +<p>And all this was so strange, Véronique felt so plainly that, in the +disordered condition of her ideas, it was impossible for her to answer +the questions put to her, or to dispel the suspicions and doubts which +these people might and must entertain of the truth of her evidence, the +cause of her presence and even her very sanity, that she forthwith +ceased to make any effort or struggle. The inn-keeper was there. She +asked him which was the nearest village that she would reach by +following the road and if, by so doing, she would come to a +railway-station which would enable her to return to Paris. She retained +the names of Scaër and Rosporden, ordered a carriage to bring her bag +and overtake her on the road and set off, protected against any ill +feeling by her great air of elegance and by her grave beauty.</p> + +<p>She set off, so to speak, at random. The road was long, miles and miles +long. But such was her haste to have done with these incomprehensible +events and to recover her tranquillity and to forget what had happened +that she walked with great strides, quite oblivious of the fact that +this wearisome exertion was superfluous, since she had a carriage +following her.</p> + +<p>She went up hill and down dale and hardly thought at all, refusing to +seek the solution of all the riddles that were put to her. It was the +past which was reascending to the surface of her life; and she was +horribly afraid of that past, which extended from her abduction by +Vorski to the death of her father<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> and her child. She wanted to think of +nothing but the simple, humble life which she had contrived to lead at +Besançon. There were no sorrows there, no dreams, no memories; and she +did not doubt but that, amid the little daily habits which enfolded her +in the modest house of her choice, she would forget the deserted cabin, +the mutilated body of the man and the dreadful drawing with its +mysterious inscription.</p> + +<p>But, a little while before she came to the big market-town of Scaër, as +she heard the bell of a horse trotting behind her, she saw, at the +junction of the road that led to Rosporden, a broken wall, one of the +remnants of a half-ruined house.</p> + +<p>And on this broken wall, above an arrow and the number 10, she again +read the fateful inscription, "V. d'H."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /> +<span class="smalltext">ON THE EDGE OF THE ATLANTIC</span></h2> + + +<p>Véronique's state of mind underwent a sudden alteration. Even as she had +fled resolutely from the threat of danger that seemed to loom up before +her from the evil past, so she was now determined to pursue to the end +the dread road which was opening before her.</p> + +<p>This change was due to a tiny gleam which flashed abruptly through the +darkness. She suddenly realized the fact, a simple matter enough, that +the arrow denoted a direction and that the number 10 must be the tenth +of a series of numbers which marked a course leading from one fixed +point to another.</p> + +<p>Was it a sign set up by one person with the object of guiding the steps +of another? It mattered little. The main thing was that there was here a +clue capable of leading Véronique to the discovery of the problem which +interested her: by what prodigy did the initials of her maiden name +reappear amid this tangle of tragic circumstances?</p> + +<p>The carriage sent from Le Faouet overtook her. She stepped in and told +the driver to go very slowly to Rosporden.</p> + +<p>She arrived in time for dinner; and her anticipations had not misled +her. Twice she saw her signa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>ture, each time before a division in the +road, accompanied by the numbers 11 and 12.</p> + +<p>Véronique slept at Rosporden and resumed her investigations on the +following morning.</p> + +<p>The number 12, which she found on the wall of a church-yard, sent her +along the road to Concarneau, which she had almost reached before she +saw any further inscriptions. She fancied that she must have been +mistaken, retraced her steps and wasted a whole day in useless +searching.</p> + +<p>It was not until the next day that the number 13, very nearly +obliterated, directed her towards Fouesnant. Then she abandoned this +direction, to follow, still in obedience to the signs, some +country-roads in which she once more lost her way.</p> + +<p>At last, four days after leaving Le Faouet, she found herself facing the +Atlantic, on the great beach of Beg-Meil.</p> + +<p>She spent two nights in the village without gathering the least reply to +the discreet questions which she put to the inhabitants. At last, one +morning, after wandering among the half-buried groups of rocks which +intersect the beach and upon the low cliffs, covered with trees and +copses, which hem it in, she discovered, between two oaks stripped of +their bark, a shelter built of earth and branches which must at one time +have been used by custom-house officers. A small menhir stood at the +entrance. The menhir bore the inscription, followed by the number 17. No +arrow. A full stop underneath; and that was all.</p> + +<p>In the shelter were three broken bottles and some empty meat-tins.</p> + +<p>"This was the goal," thought Véronique.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> "Some one has been having a +meal here. Food stored in advance, perhaps."</p> + +<p>Just then she noticed that, at no great distance, by the edge of a +little bay which curved like a shell amid the neighbouring rocks, a boat +was swinging to and fro, a motor-boat. And she heard voices coming from +the village, a man's voice and a woman's.</p> + +<p>From the place where she stood, all that she could see at first was an +elderly man carrying in his arms half-a-dozen bags of provisions, potted +meats and dried vegetables. He put them on the ground and said:</p> + +<p>"Well, had a pleasant journey, M'ame Honorine?"</p> + +<p>"Fine!"</p> + +<p>"And where have you been?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Paris . . . a week of it . . . running errands for my master."</p> + +<p>"Glad to be back?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I am."</p> + +<p>"And you see, M'ame Honorine, you find your boat just where she was. I +came to have a look at her every day. This morning I took away her +tarpaulin. Does she run as well as ever?"</p> + +<p>"First-rate."</p> + +<p>"Besides, you're a master pilot, you are. Who'd have thought, M'ame +Honorine, that you'd be doing a job like this?"</p> + +<p>"It's the war. All the young men in our island are gone and the old ones +are fishing. Besides, there's no longer a fortnightly steamboat service, +as there used to be. So I go the errands."</p> + +<p>"What about petrol?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>"We've plenty to go on with. No fear of that."</p> + +<p>"Well, good-bye for the present, M'ame Honorine. Shall I help you put +the things on board?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you trouble; you're in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"Well, good-bye for the present," the old fellow repeated. "Till next +time, M'ame Honorine. I'll have the parcels ready for you."</p> + +<p>He went away, but, when he had gone a little distance, called out:</p> + +<p>"All the same, mind the jagged reefs round that blessed island of yours! +I tell you, it's got a nasty name! It's not called Coffin Island, the +island of the thirty coffins, for nothing! Good luck to you, M'ame +Honorine!"</p> + +<p>He disappeared behind a rock.</p> + +<p>Véronique had shuddered. The thirty coffins! The very words which she +had read in the margin of that horrible drawing!</p> + +<p>She leant forward. The woman had come a few steps nearer the boat and, +after putting down some more provisions which she had been carrying, +turned round.</p> + +<p>Véronique now saw her full-face. She wore a Breton costume; and her +head-dress was crowned by two black wings.</p> + +<p>"Oh," stammered Véronique, "that head-dress in the drawing . . . the +head-dress of the three crucified women!"</p> + +<p>The Breton woman looked about forty. Her strong face, tanned by the sun +and the cold, was bony and rough-hewn but lit up by a pair of large, +dark, intelligent, gentle eyes. A heavy gold chain hung down upon her +breast. Her velvet bodice fitted her closely.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>She was humming in a very low voice as she took up her parcels and +loaded the boat, which made her kneel on a big stone against which the +boat was moored. When she had done, she looked at the horizon, which was +covered with black clouds. She did not seem anxious about them, however, +and, loosing the painter, continued her song, but in a louder voice, +which enabled Véronique to hear the words. It was a slow melody, a +children's lullaby; and she sang it with a smile which revealed a set of +fine, white teeth.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"And the mother said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rocking her child a-bed:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0a">'Weep not. If you do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Virgin Mary weeps with you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Babes that laugh and sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles to the Blessed Virgin bring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fold your hands this way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to sweet Mary pray.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She did not complete the song. Véronique was standing before her, with +her face drawn and very pale.</p> + +<p>Taken aback, the other asked:</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>Véronique, in a trembling voice, replied:</p> + +<p>"That song! Who taught it you? Where do you get it from? . . . It's a +song my mother used to sing, a song of her own country, Savoy . . . . +And I have never heard it since . . . since she died . . . . So I want +. . . I should like . . ."</p> + +<p>She stopped. The Breton woman looked at her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> in silence, with an air of +stupefaction, as though she too were on the point of asking questions. +But Véronique repeated:</p> + +<p>"Who taught it you?"</p> + +<p>"Some one over there," the woman called Honorine answered, at last.</p> + +<p>"Over there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, some one on my island."</p> + +<p>Véronique said, with a sort of dread:</p> + +<p>"Coffin Island?"</p> + +<p>"That's just a name they call it by. It's really the Isle of Sarek."</p> + +<p>They still stood looking at each other, with a look in which a certain +doubt was mingled with a great need of speech and understanding. And at +the same time they both felt that they were not enemies.</p> + +<p>Véronique was the first to continue:</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, but, you see, there are things which are so puzzling . . ."</p> + +<p>The Breton woman nodded her head in approval and Véronique continued:</p> + +<p>"So puzzling and so disconcerting! . . . For instance, do you know why +I'm here? I must tell you. Perhaps you alone can explain . . . It's like +this: an accident—quite a small accident, but really it all began with +that—brought me to Brittany for the first time and showed me, on the +door of an old, deserted, road-side cabin, the initials which I used to +sign when I was a girl, a signature which I have not used for fourteen +or fifteen years. As I went on, I discovered the same inscription many +times repeated, with each time a different consecutive number. That was +how I came here, to the beach at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> Beg-Meil and to this part of the +beach, which appeared to be the end of a journey foreseen and arranged +by . . . I don't know whom."</p> + +<p>"Is your signature here?" asked Honorine, eagerly. "Where?"</p> + +<p>"On that stone, above us, at the entrance to the shelter."</p> + +<p>"I can't see from here. What are the letters?"</p> + +<p>"V. d'H."</p> + +<p>The Breton woman suppressed a movement. Her bony face betrayed profound +emotion, and, hardly opening her lips, she murmured:</p> + +<p>"Véronique . . . Véronique d'Hergemont."</p> + +<p>"Ah," exclaimed the younger woman, "so you know my name, you know my +name!"</p> + +<p>Honorine took Véronique's two hands and held them in her own. Her +weather-beaten face lit up with a smile. And her eyes grew moist with +tears as she repeated:</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle Véronique! . . . Madame Véronique! . . . So it's you, +Véronique! . . . O Heaven, is it possible! The Blessed Virgin Mary be +praised!"</p> + +<p>Véronique felt utterly confounded and kept on saying:</p> + +<p>"You know my name . . . you know who I am . . . . Then you can explain +all this riddle to me?"</p> + +<p>After a long pause, Honorine replied:</p> + +<p>"I can explain nothing. I don't understand either. But we can try to +find out together . . . . Tell me, what was the name of that Breton +village?"</p> + +<p>"Le Faouet."</p> + +<p>"Le Faouet. I know. And where was the deserted cabin?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>"A mile and a quarter away."</p> + +<p>"Did you look in?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and that was the most terrible thing of all. Inside the cabin was +. . ."</p> + +<p>"What was in the cabin?"</p> + +<p>"First of all, the dead body of a man, an old man, dressed in the local +costume, with long white hair and a grey beard . . . . Oh, I shall never +forget that dead man! . . . He must have been murdered, poisoned, I +don't know what . . . ."</p> + +<p>Honorine listened greedily, but the murder seemed to give her no clue +and she merely asked:</p> + +<p>"Who was it? Did they have an inquest?"</p> + +<p>"When I came back with the people from Le Faouet, the corpse had +disappeared."</p> + +<p>"Disappeared? But who had removed it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"So that you know nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Except that, the first time, I found in the cabin a drawing +. . . a drawing which I tore up; but its memory haunts me like a +nightmare that keeps on recurring. I can't get it out of my mind . . . . +Listen, it was a roll of paper on which some one had evidently copied an +old picture and it represented . . . Oh, a dreadful, dreadful thing, +four women crucified! And one of the women was myself, with my name +. . . . And the others wore a head-dress like yours."</p> + +<p>Honorine had squeezed her hands with incredible violence:</p> + +<p>"What's that you say?" she cried. "What's that you say? Four women +crucified?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and there was something about thirty coffins, consequently about +your island."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>The Breton woman put her hands over Véronique's lips to silence them:</p> + +<p>"Hush! Hush! Oh, you mustn't speak of all that! No, no, you mustn't +. . . . You see, there are devilish things . . . which it's a sacrilege +to talk about . . . . We must be silent about that . . . . Later on, +we'll see . . . another year, perhaps . . . . Later on . . . . Later on +. . . ."</p> + +<p>She seemed shaken by terror, as by a gale which scourges the trees and +overwhelms all living things. And suddenly she fell on her knees upon +the rock and muttered a long prayer, bent in two, with her hands before +her face, so completely absorbed that Véronique asked her no more +questions.</p> + +<p>At last she rose and, presently, said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, this is all terrifying, but I don't see that it makes our duty any +different or that we can hesitate at all."</p> + +<p>And, addressing Véronique, she said, gravely:</p> + +<p>"You must come over there with me."</p> + +<p>"Over there, to your island?" replied Véronique, without concealing her +reluctance.</p> + +<p>Honorine again took her hands and continued, still in that same, rather +solemn tone which appeared to Véronique to be full of secret and +unspoken thoughts:</p> + +<p>"Your name is truly Véronique d'Hergemont?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Who was your father?"</p> + +<p>"Antoine d'Hergemont."</p> + +<p>"You married a man called Vorski, who said he was a Pole?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Alexis Vorski."</p> + +<p>"You married him after there was a scandal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> about his running off with +you and after a quarrel between you and your father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You had a child by him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a son, François."</p> + +<p>"A son that you never knew, in a manner of speaking, because he was +kidnapped by your father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And you lost sight of the two after a shipwreck?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they are both dead."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?"</p> + +<p>It did not occur to Véronique to be astonished at this question, and she +replied:</p> + +<p>"My personal enquiries and the police enquiries were both based upon the +same indisputable evidence, that of the four sailors."</p> + +<p>"Who's to say they weren't telling lies?"</p> + +<p>"Why should they tell lies?" asked Véronique, in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Their evidence may have been bought; they may have been told what to +say."</p> + +<p>"By whom?"</p> + +<p>"By your father."</p> + +<p>"But what an idea! . . . Besides, my father was dead!"</p> + +<p>"I say once more: how do you know that?"</p> + +<p>This time Véronique appeared stupefied:</p> + +<p>"What are you hinting?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"One minute. Do you know the names of those four sailors?"</p> + +<p>"I did know them, but I don't remember them."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>"You don't remember that they were Breton names?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do. But I don't see that . . ."</p> + +<p>"If you never came to Brittany, your father often did, because of the +books he used to write. He used to stay in Brittany during your mother's +lifetime. That being so, he must have had relations with the men of the +country. Suppose that he had known the four sailors a long time, that +these men were devoted to him or bribed by him and that he engaged them +specially for that adventure. Suppose that they began by landing your +father and your son at some little Italian port and that then, being +four good swimmers, they scuttled and sank their yacht in view of the +coast. Just suppose it."</p> + +<p>"But the men are living!" cried Véronique, in growing excitement. "They +can be questioned."</p> + +<p>"Two of them are dead; they died a natural death a few years ago. The +third is an old man called Maguennoc; you will find him at Sarek. As for +the fourth, you may have seen him just now. He used the money which he +made out of that business to buy a grocer's shop at Beg-Meil."</p> + +<p>"Ah, we can speak to him at once!" cried Véronique, eagerly. "Let's go +and fetch him."</p> + +<p>"Why should we? I know more than he does."</p> + +<p>"You know? You know?"</p> + +<p>"I know everything that you don't. I can answer all your questions. Ask +me what you like."</p> + +<p>But Véronique dared not put the great question to her, the one which was +beginning to quiver in the darkness of her consciousness. She was afraid +of a truth which was perhaps not inconceivable, a truth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> of which she +seemed to catch a faint glimpse; and she stammered, in mournful accents:</p> + +<p>"I don't understand, I don't understand . . . . Why should my father +have behaved like that? Why should he wish himself and my poor child to +be thought dead?"</p> + +<p>"Your father had sworn to have his revenge."</p> + +<p>"On Vorski, yes; but surely not on me, his daughter? . . . . And such a +revenge!"</p> + +<p>"You loved your husband. Once you were in his power, instead of running +away from him, you consented to marry him. Besides, the insult was a +public one. And you know what your father was, with his violent, +vindictive temperament and his rather . . . his rather unbalanced +nature, to use his own expression."</p> + +<p>"But since then?"</p> + +<p>"Since then! Since then! He felt remorseful as he grew older, what with +his affection for the child . . . and he tried everywhere to find you. +The journeys I have taken, beginning with my journey to the Carmelites +at Chartres! But you had left long ago . . . and where for? Where were +you to be found?"</p> + +<p>"You could have advertised in the newspapers."</p> + +<p>"He did try advertising, once, very cautiously, because of the scandal. +There was a reply. Some one made an appointment and he kept it. Do you +know who came to meet him? Vorski, Vorski, who was looking for you too, +who still loved you . . . and hated you. Your father became frightened +and did not dare act openly."</p> + +<p>Véronique did not speak. She felt very faint and sat down on the stone, +with her head bowed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>Then she murmured:</p> + +<p>"You speak of my father as though he were still alive to-day."</p> + +<p>"He is."</p> + +<p>"And as though you saw him often."</p> + +<p>"Daily."</p> + +<p>"And on the other hand"—Véronique lowered her voice—"on the other hand +you do not say a word of my son. And that suggests a horrible thought: +perhaps he did not live? Perhaps he is dead since? Is that why you do +not mention him?"</p> + +<p>She raised her head with an effort. Honorine was smiling.</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, please," Véronique entreated, "tell me the truth! It is +terrible to hope more than one has a right to. Do tell me."</p> + +<p>Honorine put her arm round Véronique's neck:</p> + +<p>"Why, my poor, dear lady, would I have told you all this if my handsome +François had been dead?"</p> + +<p>"He is alive, he is alive?" cried Véronique, wildly.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course he is and in the best of health! Oh, he's a fine, sturdy +little chap, never fear, and so steady on his legs! And I have every +right to be proud of him, because it's I who brought him up, your little +François."</p> + +<p>She felt Véronique, who was leaning on her shoulder, give way to +emotions which were too much for her and which certainly contained as +much suffering as joy; and she said:</p> + +<p>"Cry, my dear lady, cry; it will do you good. It's a better sort of +crying than it was, eh? Cry, until you've forgotten all your old +troubles. I'm going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> back to the village. Have you a bag of any kind at +the inn? They know me there. I'll bring it back with me and we'll be +off."</p> + +<p>When the Breton woman returned, half an hour later, she saw Véronique +standing and beckoning to her to hurry and heard her calling:</p> + +<p>"Quick, quick! Heavens, what a time you've been! We have not a minute to +lose."</p> + +<p>Honorine, however, did not hasten her pace and did not reply. Her rugged +face was without a smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, are we going to start?" asked Véronique, running up to her. +"There's nothing to delay us, is there, no obstacle? What's the matter? +You seem quite changed."</p> + +<p>"No, no."</p> + +<p>"Then let's be quick."</p> + +<p>Honorine, with her assistance, put the bag and the provisions on board. +Then, suddenly standing in front of Véronique, she said:</p> + +<p>"You're quite sure, are you, that the woman on the cross, as she was +shown in the drawing, was yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely. Besides, there were my initials above the head."</p> + +<p>"That's a strange thing," muttered Honorine, "and it's enough to +frighten anybody."</p> + +<p>"Why should it be? It must have been someone who used to know me and who +amused himself by . . . It's merely a coincidence, a chance fancy +reviving the past."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's not the past that's worrying me! It's the future."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>"The future?"</p> + +<p>"Remember the prophecy."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, the prophecy made about you to Vorski."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you know?"</p> + +<p>"I know. And it is so horrible to think of that drawing and of other +much more dreadful things which you don't know of."</p> + +<p>Véronique burst out laughing:</p> + +<p>"What! Is that why you hesitate to take me with you, for, after all, +that's what we're concerned with?"</p> + +<p>"Don't laugh. People don't laugh when they see the flames of hell before +them."</p> + +<p>Honorine crossed herself, closing her eyes as she spoke. Then she +continued:</p> + +<p>"Of course . . . you scoff at me . . . you think I'm a superstitious +Breton woman, who believes in ghosts and jack-o'-lanterns. I don't say +you're altogether wrong. But there, there! There are some truths that +blind one. You can talk it over with Maguennoc, if you get on the right +side of him."</p> + +<p>"Maguennoc?"</p> + +<p>"One of the four sailors. He's an old friend of your boy's. He too +helped to bring him up. Maguennoc knows more about it than the most +learned men, more than your father. And yet . . ."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"And yet Maguennoc tried to tempt fate and to get past what men are +allowed to know."</p> + +<p>"What did he do?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>"He tried to touch with his hand—you understand, with his own hand: he +confessed it to me himself—the very heart of the mystery."</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Véronique, impressed in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>"Well, his hand was burnt by the flames. He showed me a hideous sore: I +saw it with my eyes, something like the sore of a cancer; and he +suffered to that degree . . ."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"That it forced him to take a hatchet in his left hand and cut off his +right hand himself."</p> + +<p>Véronique was dumbfounded. She remembered the corpse at Le Faouet and +she stammered:</p> + +<p>"His right hand? You say that Maguennoc cut off his right hand?"</p> + +<p>"With a hatchet, ten days ago, two days before I left . . . . I dressed +the wound myself . . . . Why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Because," said Véronique, in a husky voice, "because the dead man, the +old man whom I found in the deserted cabin and who afterwards +disappeared, had lately lost his right hand."</p> + +<p>Honorine gave a start. She still wore the sort of scared expression and +betrayed the emotional disturbance which contrasted with her usually +calm attitude. And she rapped out:</p> + +<p>"Are you sure? Yes, yes, you're right, it was he, Maguennoc . . . . He +had long white hair, hadn't he? And a spreading beard? . . . Oh, how +abominable!"</p> + +<p>She restrained herself and looked around her, frightened at having +spoken so loud. She once more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> made the sign of the cross and said, +slowly, almost under her breath:</p> + +<p>"He was the first of those who have got to die . . . he told me so +himself . . . and old Maguennoc had eyes that read the book of the +future as easily as the book of the past. He could see clearly where +another saw nothing at all. 'The first victim will be myself, Ma'me +Honorine. And, when the servant has gone, in a few days it will be the +master's turn.'"</p> + +<p>"And the master was . . . ?" asked Véronique, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>Honorine drew herself up and clenched her fists violently:</p> + +<p>"I'll defend him! I will!" she declared. "I'll save him! Your father +shall not be the second victim. No, no, I shall arrive in time! Let me +go!"</p> + +<p>"We are going together," said Véronique, firmly.</p> + +<p>"Please," said Honorine, in a voice of entreaty, "please don't be +persistent. Let me have my way. I'll bring your father and your son to +you this very evening, before dinner."</p> + +<p>"But why?"</p> + +<p>"The danger is too great, over there, for your father . . . and +especially for you. Remember the four crosses! It's over there that they +are waiting . . . . Oh, you mustn't go there! . . . The island is under +a curse."</p> + +<p>"And my son?"</p> + +<p>"You shall see him to-day, in a few hours."</p> + +<p>Véronique gave a short laugh:</p> + +<p>"In a few hours! Woman, you must be mad! Here am I, after mourning my +son for fourteen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> years, suddenly hearing that he's alive; and you ask +me to wait before I take him in my arms! Not one hour! I would rather +risk death a thousand times than put off that moment."</p> + +<p>Honorine looked at her and seemed to realize that Véronique's was one of +those resolves against which it is useless to fight, for she did not +insist. She crossed herself for the third time and said, simply:</p> + +<p>"God's will be done."</p> + +<p>They both took their seats among the parcels which encumbered the narrow +space. Honorine switched on the current, seized the tiller and skilfully +steered the boat through the rocks and sandbanks which rose level with +the water.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /> +<span class="smalltext">VORSKI'S SON</span></h2> + + +<p>Véronique smiled as she sat to starboard on a packing-case, with her +face turned towards Honorine. Her smile was anxious still and undefined, +full of reticence and flickering as a sunbeam that tries to pierce the +last clouds of the storm; but it was nevertheless a happy smile.</p> + +<p>And happiness seemed the right expression for that wonderful face, +stamped with dignity and with that particular modesty which gives to +some women, whether stricken by excessive misfortune or preserved by +love, the habit of gravity, combined with an absence of all feminine +affectation.</p> + +<p>Her black hair, touched with grey at the temples, was knotted very low +down on the neck. She had the dead-white complexion of a southerner and +very light blue eyes, of which the white seemed almost of the same +colour, pale as a winter sky. She was tall, with broad shoulders and a +well-shaped bust.</p> + +<p>Her musical and somewhat masculine voice became light and cheerful when +she spoke of the son whom she had found again. And Véronique could speak +of nothing else. In vain the Breton woman tried to speak of the problems +that harassed her and kept on interrupting Véronique:</p> + +<p>"Look here, there are two things which I cannot understand. Who laid the +trail with the clues that brought you from Le Faouet to the exact spot +where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> I always land? It almost makes one believe that someone had been +from Le Faouet to the Isle of Sarek. And, on the other hand, how did old +Maguennoc come to leave the island? Was it of his own free will? Or was +it his dead body that they carried? If so, how?"</p> + +<p>"Is it worth troubling about?" Véronique objected.</p> + +<p>"Certainly it is. Just think! Besides me, who once a fortnight go either +to Beg-Meil or Pont-l'Abbé in my motor-boat for provisions, there are +only two fishing-boats, which always go much higher up the coast, to +Audierne, where they sell their catch. Then how did Maguennoc get +across? Then again, did he commit suicide? But, if so, how did his body +disappear?"</p> + +<p>But Véronique protested:</p> + +<p>"Please don't! It doesn't matter for the moment. It'll all be cleared +up. Tell me about François. You were saying that he came to Sarek . . ."</p> + +<p>Honorine yielded to Véronique's entreaties:</p> + +<p>"He arrived in poor Maguennoc's arms, a few days after he was taken from +you. Maguennoc, who had been taught his lesson by your father, said that +a strange lady had entrusted him with the child; and he had it nursed by +his daughter, who has since died. I was away, in a situation with a +Paris family. When I came home again, François had grown into a fine +little fellow, running about the moors and cliffs. It was then that I +took service with your father, who had settled in Sarek. When +Maguennoc's daughter died, we took the child to live with us."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>"But under what name?"</p> + +<p>"François, just François. M. d'Hergemont was known as Monsieur Antoine. +François called him grandfather. No one ever made any remark upon it."</p> + +<p>"And his character?" asked Véronique, with some anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Oh, as far as that's concerned, he's a blessing!" replied Honorine. +"Nothing of his father about him . . . nor of his grandfather either, as +M. d'Hergemont himself admits. A gentle, lovable, most willing child. +Never a sign of anger; always good-tempered. That's what got over his +grandfather and made M. d'Hergemont come round to you again, because his +grandson reminded him so of the daughter he had cast off. 'He's the very +image of his mother,' he used to say. 'Véronique was gentle and +affectionate like him, with the same fond and coaxing ways.' And then he +began his search for you, with me to help him; for he had come to +confide in me."</p> + +<p>Véronique beamed with delight. Her son was like her! Her son was bright +and kind-hearted!</p> + +<p>"But does he know about me?" she said. "Does he know that I'm alive?"</p> + +<p>"I should think he did! M. d'Hergemont tried to keep it from him at +first. But I soon told him everything."</p> + +<p>"Everything?"</p> + +<p>"No. He believes that his father is dead and that, after the shipwreck +in which he, I mean François, and M. d'Hergemont disappeared, you became +a nun and have been lost sight of since. And he is so eager for news, +each time I come back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> from one of my trips! He too is so full of hope! +Oh, you can take my word for it, he adores his mother! And he's always +singing that song you heard just now, which his grandfather taught him."</p> + +<p>"My François, my own little François!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, he loves you! There's Mother Honorine. But you're mother, just +that. And he's in a great hurry to grow up and finish his schooling, so +that he may go and look for you."</p> + +<p>"His schooling? Does he have lessons?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, with his grandfather and, since two years ago, with such a nice +fellow that I brought back from Paris, Stéphane Maroux, a wounded +soldier covered with medals and restored to health after an internal +operation. François dotes on him."</p> + +<p>The boat was running quickly over the smooth sea, in which it ploughed a +furrow of silvery foam. The clouds had dispersed on the horizon. The +evening boded fair and calm.</p> + +<p>"More, tell me more!" said Véronique, listening greedily. "What does my +boy wear?"</p> + +<p>"Knickerbockers and short socks, with his calves bare; a thick flannel +shirt with gilt buttons; and a flat knitted cap, like his big friend, M. +Stéphane; only his is red and suits him to perfection."</p> + +<p>"Has he any friends besides M. Maroux?"</p> + +<p>"All the growing lads of the island, formerly. But with the exception of +three or four ship's boys, all the rest have left the island with their +mothers, now that their fathers are at the war, and are working on the +mainland, at Concarneau or Lorient, leaving the old people at Sarek by +themselves. We are not more than thirty on the island now."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>"Whom does he play with? Whom does he go about with?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, as for that, he has the best of companions!"</p> + +<p>"Really? Who is it?"</p> + +<p>"A little dog that Maguennoc gave him."</p> + +<p>"A dog?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and the funniest dog you ever saw: an ugly ridiculous-looking +thing, a cross between a poodle and a fox-terrier, but so comical and +amusing! Oh, there's no one like Master All's Well!"</p> + +<p>"All's Well?"</p> + +<p>"That's what François calls him; and you couldn't have a better name for +him. He always looks happy and glad to be alive. He's independent, too, +and he disappears for hours and even days at a time; but he's always +there when he's wanted, if you're feeling sad, or if things aren't going +as you might like them to. All's Well hates to see any one crying or +scolding or quarrelling. The moment you cry, or pretend to cry, he comes +and squats on his haunches in front of you, sits up, shuts one eye, +half-opens the other and looks so exactly as if he was laughing that you +begin to laugh yourself. 'That's right, old chap,' says François, +'you're quite right: all's well. There's nothing to take on about, is +there?' And, when you're consoled, All's Well just trots away. His task +is done."</p> + +<p>Véronique laughed and cried in one breath. Then she was silent for a +long time, feeling more and more gloomy and overcome by a despair which +overwhelmed all her gladness. She thought of all the happiness that she +had missed during the fourteen years of her childless motherhood, +wearing her mourning for a son who was alive. All the cares<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> that a +mother lavishes upon the little creature new-born into the world, all +the pride that she feels at seeing him grow and hearing him speak, all +that delights a mother and uplifts her and makes her heart overflow with +daily renewed affection: all this she had never known.</p> + +<p>"We are half-way across," said Honorine.</p> + +<p>They were running in sight of the Glenans Islands. On their right, the +headland of Penmarch, whose coast-line they were following at a distance +of fifteen miles, marked a darker line which was not always +differentiated from the horizon.</p> + +<p>And Véronique thought of her sad past, of her mother, whom she hardly +remembered, of her childhood spent with a selfish, disagreeable father, +of her marriage, ah, above all of her marriage! She recalled her first +meetings with Vorski, when she was only seventeen. How frightened she +had been from the very beginning of that strange and unusual man, whom +she dreaded while she submitted to his influence, as one does at that +age submit to the influence of anything mysterious and incomprehensible!</p> + +<p>Next came the hateful day of the abduction and the other days, more +hateful still, that followed, the weeks during which he had kept her +imprisoned, threatening her and dominating her with all his evil +strength, and the promise of marriage which he had forced from her, a +pledge against which all the girl's instincts and all her will revolted, +but to which it seemed to her that she was bound to agree after so great +a scandal and also because her father was giving his consent.</p> + +<p>Her brain rebelled against the memories of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> years of married life. +Never that! Not even in the worst hours, when the nightmares of the past +haunt one like spectres, never did she consent to revive, in the +innermost recesses of her mind, that degrading past, with its +mortifications, wounds and betrayals, and the disgraceful life led by +her husband, who, shamelessly, with cynical pride, gradually revealed +himself as the man he was, drinking, cheating at cards, robbing his boon +companions, a swindler and blackmailer, giving his wife the impression, +which she still retained and which made her shudder, of a sort of evil +genius, cruel and unbalanced.</p> + +<p>"Have done with dreams, Madame Véronique," said Honorine.</p> + +<p>"It's not so much dreams and memories as remorse," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Remorse, Madame Véronique? You, whose life has been one long +martyrdom?"</p> + +<p>"A martyrdom that was a punishment."</p> + +<p>"But all that is over and done with, Madame Véronique, seeing that you +are going to meet your son and your father again. Come, come, you must +think of nothing but being happy."</p> + +<p>"Happy? Can I be happy again?"</p> + +<p>"I should think so! You'll soon see! . . . Look, there's Sarek."</p> + +<p>Honorine took from a locker under her seat a large shell which she used +as a trumpet, after the manner of the mariners of old, and, putting her +lips to the mouthpiece and puffing out her cheeks, she blew a few +powerful notes, which filled the air with a sound not unlike the lowing +of an ox.</p> + +<p>Véronique gave her a questioning look.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>"It's him I'm calling," said Honorine.</p> + +<p>"François? You're calling François?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's the same every time I come back. He comes scrambling from the +top of the cliffs where we live and runs down to the jetty."</p> + +<p>"So I shall see him?" exclaimed Véronique, turning very pale.</p> + +<p>"You will see him. Fold your veil double, so that he may not know you +from your photographs. I'll speak to you as I would to a stranger who +has come to look at Sarek."</p> + +<p>They could see the island distinctly, but the foot of the cliffs was +hidden by a multitude of reefs.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, there's no lack of rocks! They swarm like a shoal of herring!" +cried Honorine, who had been obliged to switch off the motor and was +using two short paddles. "You know how calm the sea was just now. It's +never calm here."</p> + +<p>Thousands and thousands of little waves were dashing and clashing +against one another and waging an incessant and implacable war upon the +rocks. The boat seemed to be passing through the backwater of a torrent. +Nowhere was a strip of blue or green sea visible amid the bubbling foam. +There was nothing but white froth, whipped up by the indefatigable swirl +of the forces which desperately assailed the pointed teeth of the reefs.</p> + +<p>"And it's like that all round the island," said Honorine, "so much so +that you may say that Sarek isn't accessible except in a small boat. Ah, +the Huns could never have established a submarine base on our island! To +make quite sure and remove all doubts, some officers came over from +Lorient, two years ago, because of a few caves on the west, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> can +only be entered at low tide. It was waste of time. There was nothing +doing here. Just think, it's like a sprinkle of rocks all around; and +pointed rocks at that, which get at you treacherously from underneath. +And, though these are the most dangerous, perhaps it is the others that +are most to be feared, the big ones which you see and have got their +name and their history from all sorts of crimes and shipwrecks. Oh, as +to those! . . ."</p> + +<p>Her voice grew hollow. With a hesitating hand, which seemed afraid of +the half-completed gesture, she pointed to some reefs which stood up in +powerful masses of different shapes, crouching animals, crenellated +keeps, colossal needles, sphynx-heads, jagged pyramids, all in black +granite stained with red, as though soaked in blood.</p> + +<p>And she whispered:</p> + +<p>"Oh, as to those, they have been guarding the island for centuries and +centuries, but like wild beasts that only care for doing harm and +killing. They . . . they . . . no, it's better never to speak about them +or even think of them. They are the thirty wild beasts. Yes, thirty, +Madame Véronique, there are thirty of them . . . ."</p> + +<p>She made the sign of the cross and continued, more calmly:</p> + +<p>"There are thirty of them. Your father says that Sarek is called the +island of the thirty coffins because the people instinctively ended in +this case by confusing the two words <i>écueils</i> and <i>cercueils</i>.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> +Perhaps . . . . It's very likely . . . . But, all the same, they are +thirty real coffins, Madame Véronique; and, if we could open them, we +should be sure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> to find them full of bones and bones and bones. M. +d'Hergemont himself says that Sarek comes from the word Sarcophagus, +which, according to him, is the learned way of saying coffin. Besides, +there's more than that . . . ."</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> "Reefs" and "coffins."—<i>Translator's Note.</i></p></div> + +<p>Honorine broke off, as though she wanted to think of something else, +and, pointing to a reef of rocks, said:</p> + +<p>"Look, Madame Véronique, past that big one right in our way there, you +will see, through an opening, our little harbour and, on the quay, +François in his red cap."</p> + +<p>Véronique had been listening absent-mindedly to Honorine's explanations. +She leant her body farther out of the boat, in order to catch sight the +sooner of her son, while the Breton woman, once more a victim to her +obsession, continued, in spite of herself:</p> + +<p>"There's more than that. The Isle of Sarek—and that is why your father +came to live here—contains a collection of dolmens which have nothing +remarkable about them, but which are peculiar for one reason, that they +are all nearly alike. Well, how many of them do you think there are? +Thirty! Thirty, like the principal reefs. And those thirty are +distributed round the islands, on the cliffs, exactly opposite the +thirty reefs; and each of them bears the same name as the reef that +corresponds to it: Dol-er-H'roeck, Dol-Kerlitu and so on. What do you +say to that?"</p> + +<p>She had uttered these names in the same timid voice in which she spoke +of all these things, as if she feared to be heard by the things +themselves, to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> which she was attributing a formidable and sacred life.</p> + +<p>"What do you say to that, Madame Véronique? Oh, there's plenty of +mystery about it all; and, once more, it's better to hold one's tongue! +I'll tell you about it when we've left here, right away from the island, +and when your little François is in your arms, between your father and +you."</p> + +<p>Véronique sat silent, gazing into space at the spot to which Honorine +had pointed. With her back turned to her companion and her two hands +gripping the gunwale, she stared distractedly before her. It was there, +through that narrow opening, that she was to see her child, long lost +and now found; and she did not want to waste a single second after the +moment when she would be able to catch sight of him.</p> + +<p>They reached the rock. One of Honorine's paddles grazed its side. They +skirted and came to the end of it.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Véronique, sorrowfully, "he is not there!"</p> + +<p>"François not there? Impossible!" cried Honorine.</p> + +<p>She in her turn saw, three or four hundred yards in front of them, the +few big rocks on the beach which served as a jetty. Three women, a +little girl and some old seafaring men were waiting for the boat, but no +boy, no red cap.</p> + +<p>"That's strange," said Honorine, in a low voice. "It's the first time +that he's failed to answer my call."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he's ill?" Véronique suggested.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>"No, François is never ill."</p> + +<p>"What then?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"But aren't you afraid?" asked Véronique, who was already becoming +frightened.</p> + +<p>"For him, no . . . but for your father. Maguennoc said that I oughtn't +to leave him. It's he who is threatened."</p> + +<p>"But François is there to defend him; and so is M. Maroux, his tutor. +Come, answer me: what do you imagine?"</p> + +<p>After a moment's pause, Honorine shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"A pack of nonsense! I get absurd, yes, absurd things into my head. +Don't be angry with me. I can't help it: it's the Breton in me. Except +for a few years, I have spent all my life here, with legends and stories +in the very air I breathed. Don't let's talk about it."</p> + +<p>The Isle of Sarek appears in the shape of a long and undulating +table-land, covered with ancient trees and standing on cliffs of medium +height than which nothing more jagged could be imagined. It is as though +the island were surrounded by a reef of uneven, diversified lacework, +incessantly wrought upon by the rain, the wind, the sun, the snow, the +frost, the mist and all the water that falls from the sky or oozes from +the earth.</p> + +<p>The only accessible point is on the eastern side, at the bottom of a +depression where a few houses, mostly abandoned since the war, +constitute the village. A break in the cliffs opens here, protected by +the little jetty. The sea at this spot is perfectly calm.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>Two boats lay moored to the quay.</p> + +<p>Before landing, Honorine made a last effort:</p> + +<p>"We're there, Madame Véronique, as you see. Now is it really worth your +while to get out? Why not stay where you are? I'll bring your father and +your son to you in two hours' time and we'll have dinner at Beg-Meil or +at Pont-l'Abbé. Will that do?"</p> + +<p>Véronique rose to her feet and leapt on to the quay without replying. +Honorine joined her and insisted no longer:</p> + +<p>"Well, children, where's young François? Hasn't he come?"</p> + +<p>"He was here about twelve," said one of the women. "Only he didn't +expect you until to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"That's true enough . . . but still he must have heard me blow my horn. +However, we shall see."</p> + +<p>And, as the man helped her to unload the boat, she said:</p> + +<p>"I shan't want all this taken up to the Priory. Nor the bags either. +Unless . . . Look here, if I am not back by five o'clock, send a +youngster after me with the bags."</p> + +<p>"No, I'll come myself," said one of the seamen.</p> + +<p>"As you please, Corréjou. Oh, by the way, where's Maguennoc?"</p> + +<p>"Maguennoc's gone. I took him across to Pont-l'Abbé myself."</p> + +<p>"When was that, Corréjou?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the day after you went, Madame Honorine."</p> + +<p>"What was he going over for?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>"He told us he was going . . . I don't know where . . . . It had to do +with the hand he lost . . . . a pilgrimage . . . ."</p> + +<p>"A pilgrimage? To Le Faouet, perhaps? To St. Barbe's Chapel?"</p> + +<p>"That's it . . . that's it exactly: St. Barbe's Chapel, that's what he +said."</p> + +<p>Honorine asked no more. She could no longer doubt that Maguennoc was +dead. She moved away, accompanied by Véronique, who had lowered her +veil; and the two went along a rocky path, cut into steps, which ran +through the middle of an oak-wood towards the southernmost point of the +island.</p> + +<p>"After all," said Honorine, "I am not sure—and I may as well say +so—that M. d'Hergemont will consent to leave. He treats all my stories +as crotchets, though there's plenty of things that astonish even him +. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Does he live far from here?" asked Véronique.</p> + +<p>"It's forty minutes' walk. As you will see, it's almost another island, +joined to the first. The Benedictines built an abbey there."</p> + +<p>"But he's not alone there, is he, with François and M. Maroux?"</p> + +<p>"Before the war, there were two men besides. Lately, Maguennoc and I +used to do pretty well all the work, with the cook, Marie Le Goff."</p> + +<p>"She remained, of course, while you were away?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>They reached the top of the cliffs. The path, which followed the coast, +rose and fell in steep gradients. On every hand were old oaks with their +bunches of mistletoe, which showed among the as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> yet scanty leaves. The +sea, grey-green in the distance, girded the island with a white belt.</p> + +<p>Véronique continued:</p> + +<p>"What do you propose to do, Honorine?"</p> + +<p>"I shall go in by myself and speak to your father. Then I shall come +back and fetch you at the garden-gate; and in François' eyes you will +pass for a friend of his mother's. He will guess the truth gradually."</p> + +<p>"And you think that my father will give me a good welcome?"</p> + +<p>"He will receive you with open arms, Madame Véronique," cried the Breton +woman, "and we shall all be happy, provided . . . provided nothing has +happened . . . It's so funny that François doesn't run out to meet me! +He can see our boat from every part of the island . . . as far off as +the Glenans almost."</p> + +<p>She relapsed into what M. d'Hergemont called her crotchets; and they +pursued their road in silence. Véronique felt anxious and impatient.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Honorine made the sign of the cross:</p> + +<p>"You do as I'm doing, Madame Véronique," she said. "The monks have +consecrated the place, but there's lots of bad, unlucky things remaining +from the old days, especially in that wood, the wood of the Great Oak."</p> + +<p>The old days no doubt meant the period of the Druids and their human +sacrifices; and the two women were now entering a wood in which the +oaks, each standing in isolation on a mound of moss-grown stones, had a +look of ancient gods, each with his own altar, his mysterious cult and +his formidable power.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>Véronique, following Honorine's example, crossed herself and could not +help shuddering as she said:</p> + +<p>"How melancholy it is! There's not a flower on this desolate plateau."</p> + +<p>"They grow most wonderfully when one takes the trouble. You shall see +Maguennoc's, at the end of the island, to the right of the Fairies' +Dolmen . . . a place called the Calvary of the Flowers."</p> + +<p>"Are they lovely?"</p> + +<p>"Wonderful, I tell you. Only he goes himself to get the mould from +certain places. He prepares it. He works it up. He mixes it with some +special leaves of which he knows the effect." And she repeated, "You +shall see Maguennoc's flowers. There are no flowers like them in the +world. They are miraculous flowers . . . ."</p> + +<p>After skirting a hill, the road descended a sudden declivity. A huge +gash divided the island into two parts, the second of which now +appeared, standing a little higher, but very much more limited in +extent.</p> + +<p>"It's the Priory, that part," said Honorine.</p> + +<p>The same jagged cliffs surrounded the smaller islet with an even steeper +rampart, which itself was hollowed out underneath like the hoop of a +crown. And this rampart was joined to the main island by a strip of +cliff fifty yards long and hardly thicker than a castle-wall, with a +thin, tapering crest which looked as sharp as the edge of an axe.</p> + +<p>There was no thoroughfare possible along this ridge, inasmuch as it was +split in the middle with a wide fissure, for which reason the abutments +of a wooden bridge had been anchored to the two extremities. The bridge +started flat on the rock and subsequently spanned the intervening +crevice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>They crossed it separately, for it was not only very narrow but also +unstable, shaking under their feet and in the wind.</p> + +<p>"Look, over there, at the extreme point of the island," said Honorine, +"you can see a corner of the Priory."</p> + +<p>The path that led to it ran through fields planted with small fir-trees +arranged in quincunxes. Another path turned to the right and disappeared +from view in some dense thickets.</p> + +<p>Véronique kept her eyes upon the Priory, whose low-storied front was +lengthening gradually, when Honorine, after a few minutes, stopped +short, with her face towards the thickets on the right, and called out:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Stéphane!"</p> + +<p>"Whom are you calling?" asked Véronique. "M. Maroux?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, François' tutor. He was running towards the bridge: I caught sight +of him through a clearing . . . Monsieur Stéphane! . . . But why doesn't +he answer? Did you see a man running?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I declare it was he, with his white cap. At any rate, we can see the +bridge behind us. Let us wait for him to cross."</p> + +<p>"Why wait? If anything's the matter, if there's a danger of any kind, +it's at the Priory."</p> + +<p>"You're right. Let's hurry."</p> + +<p>They hastened their pace, overcome with forebodings; and then, for no +definite reason, broke into a run, so greatly did their fears increase +as they drew nearer to the reality.</p> + +<p>The islet grew narrower again, barred by a low<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> wall which marked the +boundaries of the Priory domain. At that moment, cries were heard, +coming from the house.</p> + +<p>Honorine exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"They're calling! Did you hear? A woman's cries! It's the cook! It's +Marie Le Goff! . . ."</p> + +<p>She made a dash for the gate and grasped the key, but inserted it so +awkwardly that she jammed the lock and was unable to open it.</p> + +<p>"Through the gap!" she ordered. "This way, on the right!"</p> + +<p>They rushed along, scrambled through the wall and crossed a wide grassy +space filled with ruins, in which the winding and ill-marked path +disappeared at every moment under trailing creepers and moss.</p> + +<p>"Here we are! Here we are!" shouted Honorine. "We're coming!"</p> + +<p>And she muttered:</p> + +<p>"The cries have stopped! It's dreadful! Oh, poor Marie Le Goff!"</p> + +<p>She grasped Véronique's arm:</p> + +<p>"Let's go round. The front of the house is on the other side. On this +side the doors are always locked and the window-shutters closed."</p> + +<p>But Véronique caught her foot in some roots, stumbled and fell to her +knees. When she stood up again, the Breton woman had left her and was +hurrying round the left wing. Unconsciously, Véronique, instead of +following her, made straight for the house, climbed the step and was +brought up short by the door, at which she knocked again and again.</p> + +<p>The idea of going round, as Honorine had done, seemed to her a waste of +time which nothing could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> ever make good. However, realising the +futility of her efforts, she was just deciding to go, when once more +cries sounded from inside the house and above her head.</p> + +<p>It was a man's voice, which Véronique seemed to recognize as her +father's. She fell back a few steps. Suddenly one of the windows on the +first floor opened and she saw M. d'Hergemont, his features distorted +with inexpressible terror, gasping:</p> + +<p>"Help! Help! Oh, the monster! Help!"</p> + +<p>"Father! Father!" cried Véronique, in despair. "It's I!"</p> + +<p>He lowered his head for an instant, appeared not to see his daughter and +made a quick attempt to climb over the balcony. But a shot rang out +behind him and one of the window-panes was blown into fragments.</p> + +<p>"Murderer, murderer!" he shouted, turning back into the room.</p> + +<p>Véronique, mad with fear and helplessness, looked around her. How could +she rescue her father? The wall was too high and offered nothing to +cling to. Suddenly, she saw a ladder, lying twenty yards away, beside +the wall of the house. With a prodigious effort of will and strength, +she managed to carry the ladder, heavy though it was, and to set it up +under the open window.</p> + +<p>At the most tragic moment in life, when the mind is no more than a +seething confusion, when the whole body is shaken by the tremor of +anguish, a certain logic continues to connect our ideas: and Véronique +wondered why she had not heard Honorine's voice and what could have +delayed her coming.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>She also thought of François. Where was François? Had he followed +Stéphane Maroux in his inexplicable flight? Had he gone in search of +assistance? And who was it that M. d'Hergemont had apostrophized as a +monster and a murderer?</p> + +<p>The ladder did not reach the window; and Véronique at once became aware +of the effort which would be necessary if she was to climb over the +balcony. Nevertheless she did not hesitate. They were fighting up there; +and the struggle was mingled with stifled shouts uttered by her father. +She went up the ladder. The most that she could do was to grasp the +bottom rail of the balcony. But a narrow ledge enabled her to hoist +herself on one knee, to put her head through and to witness the tragedy +that was being enacted in the room.</p> + +<p>At that moment, M. d'Hergemont had once more retreated to the window and +even a little beyond it, so that she almost saw him face to face. He +stood without moving, haggard-eyed and with his arms hanging in an +undecided posture, as though waiting for something terrible to happen. +He stammered:</p> + +<p>"Murderer! Murderer! . . . Is it really you? Oh, curse you! François! +François!"</p> + +<p>He was no doubt calling upon his grandson for help; and François no +doubt was also exposed to some attack, was perhaps wounded, was possibly +dead!</p> + +<p>Véronique summoned up all her strength and succeeded in setting foot on +the ledge.</p> + +<p>"Here I am! Here I am!" she meant to cry.</p> + +<p>But her voice died away in her throat. She had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> seen! She saw! Facing +her father, at a distance of five paces, against the opposite wall of +the room, stood some one pointing a revolver at M. d'Hergemont and +deliberately taking aim. And that some one was . . . oh, horror! +Véronique recognized the red cap of which Honorine had spoken, the +flannel shirt with the gilt buttons. And above all she beheld, in that +young face convulsed with hideous emotions, the very expression which +Vorski used to wear at times when his instincts, hatred and ferocity, +gained the upper hand.</p> + +<p>The boy did not see her. His eyes were fixed on the mark which he +proposed to hit; and he seemed to take a sort of savage joy in +postponing the fatal act.</p> + +<p>Véronique herself was silent. Words or cries could not possibly avert +the peril. What she had to do was to fling herself between her father +and her son. She clutched hold of the railings, clambered up and climbed +through the window.</p> + +<p>It was too late. The shot was fired. M. d'Hergemont fell with a groan of +pain.</p> + +<p>And, at the same time, at that very moment, while the boy still had his +arm outstretched and the old man was sinking into a huddled heap, a door +opened at the back. Honorine appeared; and the abominable sight struck +her, so to speak, full in the face.</p> + +<p>"François!" she screamed. "You! You!"</p> + +<p>The boy sprang at her. The woman tried to bar his way. There was not +even a struggle. The boy took a step back, quickly raised his weapon and +fired.</p> + +<p>Honorine's knees gave way beneath her and she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> fell across the +threshold. And, as he jumped over her body and fled, she kept on +repeating:</p> + +<p>"François . . . . François . . . . No, it's not true! . . . Oh, can it +be possible? . . . François . . . ."</p> + +<p>There was a burst of laughter outside. Yes, the boy had laughed. +Véronique heard that horrible, infernal laugh, so like Vorski's laugh; +and it all agonized her with the same anguish which used to sear her in +Vorski's days!</p> + +<p>She did not run after the murderer. She did not call out.</p> + +<p>A faint voice beside her was murmuring her name:</p> + +<p>"Véronique . . . . Véronique . . . ."</p> + +<p>M. d'Hergemont lay on the ground, staring at her with glassy eyes which +were already filled with death.</p> + +<p>She knelt down by his side; but, when she tried to unbutton his +waistcoat and his bloodstained shirt, in order to dress the wound of +which he was dying, he gently pushed her hand aside. She understood that +all aid was useless and that he wished to speak to her. She stooped +still lower.</p> + +<p>"Véronique . . . forgive . . . Véronique . . . ."</p> + +<p>It was the first utterance of his failing thoughts.</p> + +<p>She kissed him on the forehead and wept:</p> + +<p>"Hush, father . . . . Don't tire yourself . . . ."</p> + +<p>But he had something else to say; and his mouth vainly emitted syllables +which did not form words and to which she listened in despair. His life +was ebbing away. His mind was fading into the darkness. Véronique glued +her ear to the lips which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> exhausted themselves in a supreme effort and +she caught the words:</p> + +<p>"Beware . . . beware . . . the God-Stone . . . ."</p> + +<p>Suddenly he half raised himself. His eyes flashed as though lit by the +last flicker of an expiring flame. Véronique received the impression +that her father, as he looked at her, now understood nothing but the +full significance of her presence and foresaw all the dangers that +threatened her; and, speaking in a hoarse and terrified but quite +distinct voice, he said:</p> + +<p>"You mustn't stay . . . . It means death if you stay . . . . Escape this +island . . . . Go . . . Go . . . ."</p> + +<p>His head fell back. He stammered a few more words which Véronique was +just able to grasp:</p> + +<p>"Oh, the cross! . . . The four crosses of Sarek! . . . My daughter . . . +my daughter . . . crucified! . . ."</p> + +<p>And that was all.</p> + +<p>There was a great silence, a vast silence which Véronique felt weighing +upon her like a burden that grows heavier second after second.</p> + +<p>"You must escape from this island," a voice repeated. "Go, quickly. Your +father bade you, Madame Véronique."</p> + +<p>Honorine was beside her, livid in the face, with her two hands clasping +a napkin, rolled into a plug and red with blood, which she held to her +chest.</p> + +<p>"But I must look after you first!" cried Véronique. "Wait a moment +. . . . Let me see . . . ."</p> + +<p>"Later on . . . they'll attend to me presently," spluttered Honorine. +"Oh, the monster! . . . If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> I had only come in time! But the door below +was barricaded . . . ."</p> + +<p>"Do let me see to your wound," Véronique implored. "Lie down."</p> + +<p>"Presently . . . . First Marie Le Goff, the cook, at the top of the +staircase . . . . She's wounded too . . . mortally perhaps . . . . Go +and see."</p> + +<p>Véronique went out by the door at the back, the one through which her +son had made his escape. There was a large landing here. On the top +steps, curled into a heap, lay Marie Le Goff, with the death-rattle in +her throat.</p> + +<p>She died almost at once, without recovering consciousness, the third +victim of the incomprehensible tragedy. As foretold by old Maguennoc, M. +d'Hergemont had been the second victim.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE POOR PEOPLE OF SAREK</span></h2> + + +<p>Honorine's wound was deep but did not seem likely to prove fatal. When +Véronique had dressed it and moved Marie Le Goff's body to the room +filled with books and furnished like a study in which her father was +lying, she closed M. d'Hergemont's eyes, covered him with a sheet and +knelt down to pray. But the words of prayer would not come to her lips +and her mind was incapable of dwelling on a single thought. She felt +stunned by the repeated blows of misfortune. She sat down in a chair, +holding her head in her hands. Thus she remained for nearly an hour, +while Honorine slept a feverish sleep.</p> + +<p>With all her strength she rejected her son's image, even as she had +always rejected Vorski's. But the two images became mingled together, +whirling around her and dancing before her eyes like those lights which, +when we close our eyelids tightly, pass and pass again and multiply and +blend into one. And it was always one and the same face, cruel, +sardonic, hideously grinning.</p> + +<p>She did not suffer, as a mother suffers when mourning the loss of a son. +Her son had been dead these fourteen years; and the one who had come to +life again, the one for whom all the wells of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> maternal affection +were ready to gush forth, had suddenly become a stranger and even worse: +Vorski's son! How indeed could she have suffered?</p> + +<p>But ah, what a wound inflicted in the depths of her being! What an +upheaval, like those cataclysms which shake the whole of a peaceful +country-side! What a hellish spectacle! What a vision of madness and +horror! What an ironical jest, a jest of the most hideous destiny! Her +son killing her father at the moment when, after all these years of +separation and sorrow, she was on the point of embracing them both and +living with them in sweet and homely intimacy! Her son a murderer! Her +son dispensing death and terror broadcast! Her son levelling that +ruthless weapon, slaying with all his heart and soul and taking a +perverse delight in it!</p> + +<p>The motives which might explain these actions interested her not at all. +Why had her son done these things? Why had his tutor, Stéphane Maroux, +doubtless an accomplice, possibly an instigator, fled before the +tragedy? These were questions which she did not seek to solve. She +thought only of the frightful scene of carnage and death. And she asked +herself if death was not for her the only refuge and the only ending.</p> + +<p>"Madame Véronique," whispered Honorine.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Véronique, roused from her stupor.</p> + +<p>"Don't you hear?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"A ring at the bell below. They must be bringing your luggage."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>She sprang to her feet.</p> + +<p>"But what am I to say? How can I explain? . . . If I accuse that boy +. . ."</p> + +<p>"Not a word, please. Let me speak to them."</p> + +<p>"You're very weak, my poor Honorine."</p> + +<p>"No, no, I'm feeling better."</p> + +<p>Véronique went downstairs, crossed a broad entrance-hall paved with +black and white flags and drew the bolts of a great door.</p> + +<p>It was, as they expected, one of the sailors:</p> + +<p>"I knocked at the kitchen-door first," said the man. "Isn't Marie Le +Goff there? And Madame Honorine?"</p> + +<p>"Honorine is upstairs and would like to speak to you."</p> + +<p>The sailor looked at her, seemed impressed by this young woman, who +looked so pale and serious, and followed her without a word.</p> + +<p>Honorine was waiting on the first floor, standing in front of the open +door:</p> + +<p>"Ah, it's you, Corréjou? . . . Now listen to me . . . and no silly talk, +please."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, M'ame Honorine? Why, you're wounded! What is it?"</p> + +<p>She stepped aside from the doorway and, pointing to the two bodies under +their winding-sheets, said simply:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Antoine and Marie Le Goff . . . both of them murdered."</p> + +<p>The man's face became distorted. He stammered:</p> + +<p>"Murdered . . . you don't say so . . . . Why?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; we arrived after it happened."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>"But . . . young François? . . . Monsieur Stéphane? . . ."</p> + +<p>"Gone . . . . They must have been killed too."</p> + +<p>"But . . . but . . . Maguennoc?"</p> + +<p>"Maguennoc? Why do you speak of Maguennoc?"</p> + +<p>"I speak of Maguennoc, I speak of Maguennoc . . . because, if he's alive +. . . this is a very different business. Maguennoc always said that he +would be the first. Maguennoc only says things of which he's certain. +Maguennoc understands these things thoroughly."</p> + +<p>Honorine reflected and then said:</p> + +<p>"Maguennoc has been killed."</p> + +<p>This time Corréjou lost all his composure: and his features expressed +that sort of insane terror which Véronique had repeatedly observed in +Honorine. He made the sign of the cross and said, in a low whisper:</p> + +<p>"Then . . . then . . . it's happening, Ma'me Honorine? . . . Maguennoc +said it would . . . . Only the other day, in my boat, he was saying, 'It +won't be long now . . . . Everybody ought to get away.'"</p> + +<p>And suddenly the sailor turned on his heel and made for the staircase.</p> + +<p>"Stay where you are, Corréjou," said Honorine, in a voice of command.</p> + +<p>"We must get away. Maguennoc said so. Everybody has got to go."</p> + +<p>"Stay where you are," Honorine repeated.</p> + +<p>Corréjou stopped, undecidedly. And Honorine continued:</p> + +<p>"We are agreed. We must go. We shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> start to-morrow, towards the +evening. But first we must attend to Monsieur Antoine and to Marie Le +Goff. Look here, you go to the sisters Archignat and send them to keep +watch by the dead. They are bad women, but they are used to doing that. +Say that two of the three must come. Each of them shall have double the +ordinary fee."</p> + +<p>"And after that, Ma'me Honorine?"</p> + +<p>"You and all the old men will see to the coffins; and at daybreak we +will bury the bodies in consecrated ground, in the cemetery of the +chapel."</p> + +<p>"And after that, Ma'me Honorine?"</p> + +<p>"After that, you will be free and the others too. You can pack up and be +off."</p> + +<p>"But you, Ma'me Honorine?"</p> + +<p>"I have the boat. That's enough talking. Are we agreed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, we're agreed. It means one more night to spend here. But I suppose +that nothing fresh will happen between this and to-morrow? . . ."</p> + +<p>"Why no, why no . . . Go, Corréjou. Hurry. And above all don't tell the +others that Maguennoc is dead . . . or we shall never keep them here."</p> + +<p>"That's a promise, Ma'me Honorine."</p> + +<p>The man hastened away.</p> + +<p>An hour later, two of the sisters Archignat appeared, two skinny, +shrivelled old hags, looking like witches in their dirty, greasy caps +with the black-velvet bows. Honorine was taken to her own room on the +same floor, at the end of the left wing.</p> + +<p>And the vigil of the dead began.</p> + +<hr class="thin" /> + +<p>Véronique spent the first part of the night beside her father's body and +then went and sat with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> Honorine, whose condition seemed to grow worse. +She ended by dozing off and was wakened by the Breton woman, who said to +her, in one of those accesses of fever in which the brain still retains +a certain lucidity:</p> + +<p>"François must be hiding . . . and M. Stéphane too . . . The island has +safe hiding-places, which Maguennoc showed them. We shan't see them, +therefore; and no one will know anything about them."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Quite. So listen to me. To-morrow, when everybody has left Sarek and +when we two are alone, I shall blow the signal with my horn and he will +come here."</p> + +<p>Véronique was horrified:</p> + +<p>"But I don't want to see him!" she exclaimed, indignantly. "I loathe +him! . . . Like my father, I curse him! . . . Have you forgotten? He +killed my father, before our eyes! He killed Marie Le Goff! He tried to +kill you! . . . No, what I feel for him is hatred and disgust! The +monster!"</p> + +<p>The Breton woman took her hand, as she had formed a habit of doing, and +murmured:</p> + +<p>"Don't condemn him yet . . . . He did not know what he was doing."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? He didn't know? Why, I saw his eyes, Vorski's eyes!"</p> + +<p>"He did not know . . . he was mad."</p> + +<p>"Mad? Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Madame Véronique. I know the boy. He's the kindest creature on +earth. If he did all this, it was because he went mad suddenly . . . he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +and M. Stéphane. They must both be weeping in despair now."</p> + +<p>"It's impossible. I can't believe it."</p> + +<p>"You can't believe it because you know nothing of what is happening +. . . and of what is going to happen . . . . But, if you did know . . . +Oh, there are things . . . there are things!"</p> + +<p>Her voice was no longer audible. She was silent, but her eyes remained +wide open and her lips moved without uttering a sound.</p> + +<p>Nothing occurred until the morning. At five o'clock Véronique heard them +nailing down the coffins; and almost immediately afterwards the door of +the room in which she sat was opened and the sisters Archignat entered +like a whirlwind, both greatly excited.</p> + +<p>They had heard the truth from Corréjou, who, to give himself courage, +had taken a drop too much to drink and was talking at random:</p> + +<p>"Maguennoc is dead!" they screamed. "Maguennoc is dead and you never +told us! Give us our money, quick! We're going!"</p> + +<p>The moment they were paid, they ran away as fast as their legs would +carry them; and, an hour later, some other women, informed by them, came +hurrying to drag their men from their work. They all used the same +words:</p> + +<p>"We must go! We must get ready to start! . . . It'll be too late +afterwards. The two boats can take us all."</p> + +<p>Honorine had to intervene with all her authority and Véronique was +obliged to distribute money. And the funeral was hurriedly conducted. +Not far away was an old chapel, carefully restored by M.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> d'Hergemont, +where a priest came once a month from Pont-l'Abbé to say mass. Beside it +was the ancient cemetery of the abbots of Sarek. The two bodies were +buried here; and an old man, who in ordinary times acted as sacristan, +mumbled the blessing.</p> + +<p>All the people seemed smitten with madness. Their voices and movements +were spasmodic. They were obsessed with the fixed idea of leaving the +island and paid no attention to Véronique, who knelt a little way off, +praying and weeping.</p> + +<p>It was all over before eight o'clock. Men and women made their way down +across the island. Véronique, who felt as though she were living in a +nightmare world where events followed upon one another without logic and +with no connected sequence, went back to Honorine, whose feeble +condition had prevented her from attending her master's funeral.</p> + +<p>"I'm feeling better," said the Breton woman. "We shall go to-day or +to-morrow and we shall go with François."</p> + +<p>Véronique protested angrily; but Honorine repeated:</p> + +<p>"With François, I tell you, and with M. Stéphane. And as soon as +possible. I also want to go . . . and to take you with me . . . and +François too. There is death in the island. Death is the master here. We +must leave Sarek. We shall all go."</p> + +<p>Véronique did not wish to thwart her. But at nine o'clock hurried steps +were heard outside. It was Corréjou, coming from the village. On +reaching the door he shouted:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>"They've stolen your motor-boat, Ma'me Honorine! She's disappeared!"</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" said Honorine.</p> + +<p>But the sailor, all out of breath, declared:</p> + +<p>"She's disappeared. I suspected something this morning early. But I +expect I had had a glass too much; I did not give it another thought. +Others have since seen what I did. The painter has been cut . . . . It +happened during the night. And they've made off. No one saw or heard +them."</p> + +<p>The two women exchanged glances; and the same thought occurred to both +of them: François and Stéphane Maroux had taken to flight.</p> + +<p>Honorine muttered between her teeth:</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, that's it: he understands how to work the boat."</p> + +<p>Véronique perhaps felt a certain relief at knowing that the boy had gone +and that she would not see him again. But Honorine, seized with a +renewed fear, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Then . . . then what are we to do?"</p> + +<p>"You must leave at once, Ma'me Honorine. The boats are ready . . . +everybody's packing up. There'll be no one in the village by eleven +o'clock."</p> + +<p>Véronique interposed:</p> + +<p>"Honorine's not in a condition to travel."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am; I'm better," the Breton woman declared.</p> + +<p>"No, it would be ridiculous. Let us wait a day or two . . . . Come back +in two days, Corréjou."</p> + +<p>She pushed the sailor towards the door. He, for that matter, was only +too anxious to go:</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said, "that'll do: I'll come back the day after +to-morrow. Besides, we can't take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> everything with us. We shall have to +come back now and again to fetch our things . . . . Good-bye, Ma'me +Honorine; take care of yourself."</p> + +<p>And he ran outside.</p> + +<p>"Corréjou! Corréjou!"</p> + +<p>Honorine was sitting up in bed and calling to him in despair:</p> + +<p>"No, no, don't go away, Corréjou! . . . Wait for me and carry me to your +boat."</p> + +<p>She listened; and, as the man did not return, she tried to get up:</p> + +<p>"I'm frightened," she said. "I don't want to be left alone."</p> + +<p>Véronique held her down:</p> + +<p>"You're not going to be left alone, Honorine. I shan't leave you."</p> + +<p>There was an actual struggle between the two women; and Honorine, pushed +back on her bed by main force, moaned, helplessly:</p> + +<p>"I'm frightened . . . . I'm frightened . . . . The island is accursed +. . . . It's tempting Providence to remain behind . . . . Maguennoc's +death was a warning . . . . I'm frightened . . . ."</p> + +<p>She was more or less delirious, but still retained a half-lucidity which +enabled her to intersperse a few intelligible and reasonable remarks +among the incoherent phrases which revealed her superstitious Breton +soul.</p> + +<p>She gripped Véronique by her two shoulders and declared:</p> + +<p>"I tell you, the island's cursed. Maguennoc confessed as much himself +one day: 'Sarek is one of the gates of hell,' he said. 'The gate is +closed now,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> but, on the day when it opens, every misfortune you can +think of will be upon it like a squall.'"</p> + +<p>She calmed herself a little, at Véronique's entreaty, and continued, in +a lower voice, which grew fainter as she spoke:</p> + +<p>"He loved the island, though . . . as we all do. At such times he would +speak of it in a way which I did not understand: 'The gate is a double +one, Honorine, and it also opens on Paradise.' Yes, yes, the island was +good to live in . . . . We loved it . . . . Maguennoc made flowers grow +on it . . . . Oh, those flowers! They were enormous: three times as tall +. . . and as beautiful . . ."</p> + +<p>The minutes passed slowly. The bedroom was at the extreme left of the +house, just above the rocks which overhung the sea and separated from +them only by the width of the road.</p> + +<p>Véronique sat down at the window, with her eyes fixed on the white waves +which grew still more troubled as the wind blew more strongly. The sun +was rising. In the direction of the village she saw nothing except a +steep headland. But, beyond the belt of foam studded with the black +points of the reefs, the view embraced the deserted plains of the +Atlantic.</p> + +<p>Honorine murmured, drowsily:</p> + +<p>"They say that the gate is a stone . . . and that it comes from very far +away, from a foreign country. It's the God-Stone. They also say that +it's a precious stone . . . the colour of gold and silver mixed . . . . +The God-Stone . . . . The stone that gives life or death . . . . +Maguennoc saw it . . . . He opened the gate and put his arm through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +. . . . And his hand . . . his hand was burnt to a cinder."</p> + +<p>Véronique felt oppressed. Fear was gradually overcoming her also, like +the oozing and soaking of stagnant water. The horrible events of the +last few days, of which she had been a terrified witness, seemed to +evoke others yet more dreadful, which she anticipated like an inevitable +hurricane that is bound to carry off everything in its headlong course.</p> + +<p>She expected them. She had no doubt that they would come, unloosed by +the fatal power which was multiplying its terrible assaults upon her.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see the boats?" asked Honorine.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "you can't see them from here."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can: they are sure to come this way. They are heavy boats: and +there's a wider passage at the point."</p> + +<p>The next moment, Véronique saw the bow of a boat project beyond the end +of the headland. The boat lay low in the water, being very heavily +laden, crammed with crates and parcels on which women and children were +seated. Four men were rowing lustily.</p> + +<p>"That's Corréjou's," said Honorine, who had left her bed, half-dressed. +"And there's the other: look."</p> + +<p>The second boat came into view, equally burdened. Only three men were +rowing, with a woman to help them.</p> + +<p>Both boats were too far away—perhaps seven or eight hundred yards—to +allow the faces of the occupants to be seen. And no sound of voices rose +from those heavy hulls with their cargoes of wretchedness, which were +fleeing from death.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>"Oh dear, oh dear!" moaned Honorine. "If only they escape this hell!"</p> + +<p>"What can you be afraid of, Honorine? They are in no danger."</p> + +<p>"Yes, they are, as long as they have not left the island."</p> + +<p>"But they have left it."</p> + +<p>"It's still the island all around the island. It's there that the +coffins lurk and lie in wait."</p> + +<p>"But the sea is not rough."</p> + +<p>"There's more than the sea. It's not the sea that's the enemy."</p> + +<p>"Then what is?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know . . . . I don't know . . . ."</p> + +<p>The two boats veered round at the southern point. Before them lay two +channels, which Honorine pointed out by the name of two reefs, the +Devil's Rock and the Sarek Tooth.</p> + +<p>It at once became evident that Corréjou had chosen the Devil's Channel.</p> + +<p>"They're touching it," said Honorine. "They are there. Another hundred +yards and they are safe."</p> + +<p>She almost gave a chuckle:</p> + +<p>"Ah, all the devil's machinations will be thwarted, Madame Véronique! I +really believe that we shall be saved, you and I and all the people of +Sarek."</p> + +<p>Véronique remained silent. Her depression continued and was all the more +overwhelming because she could attribute it only to vague presentiments +which she was powerless to fight against. She had drawn an imaginary +line up to which the danger threatened, would continue to threaten, and +where it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> still persisted; and this line Corréjou had not yet reached.</p> + +<p>Honorine was shivering with fever. She mumbled:</p> + +<p>"I'm frightened . . . . I'm frightened . . . ."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," declared Véronique, pulling herself together, "It's absurd! +Where can the danger come from?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," cried the Breton woman, "what's that? What does it mean?"</p> + +<p>"What? What is it?"</p> + +<p>They had both pressed their foreheads to the panes and were staring +wildly before them. Down below, something had so to speak shot out from +the Devil's Rock. And they at once recognized the motor-boat which they +had used the day before and which according to Corréjou had disappeared.</p> + +<p>"François! François!" cried Honorine, in stupefaction. "François and +Monsieur Stéphane!"</p> + +<p>Véronique recognized the boy. He was standing in the bow of the +motor-boat and making signs to the people in the two rowing-boats. The +men answered by waving their oars, while the women gesticulated. In +spite of Véronique's opposition, Honorine opened both halves of the +window; and they could hear the sound of voices above the throbbing of +the motor, though they could not catch a single word.</p> + +<p>"What does it mean?" repeated Honorine. "François and M. Stéphane! . . . +Why did they not make for the mainland?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," Véronique explained, "they were afraid of being observed and +questioned on landing."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>"No, they are known, especially François, who often used to go with me. +Besides, the identity-papers are in the boat. No, they were waiting +there, hidden behind the rock."</p> + +<p>"But, Honorine, if they were hiding, why do they show themselves now?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's just it, that's just it! . . . I don't understand . . . and +it strikes me as odd . . . . What must Corréjou and the others think?"</p> + +<p>The two boats, of which the second was now gliding in the wake of the +first, had almost stopped. All the passengers seemed to be looking round +at the motor-boat, which came rapidly in their direction and slackened +speed when she was level with the second boat. In this way, she +continued on a line parallel with that of the two boats and fifteen or +twenty yards away.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand . . . . I don't understand," muttered Honorine.</p> + +<p>The motor had been cut off and the motor-boat now very slowly reached +the space that separated the two fish-boats.</p> + +<p>And suddenly the two women saw François stoop and then stand up again +and draw his right arm back, as though he were going to throw something.</p> + +<p>And at the same time Stéphane Maroux acted in the same way.</p> + +<p>Then the unexpected, terrifying thing happened.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Véronique.</p> + +<p>She hid her eyes for a second, but at once raised her head again and saw +the hideous sight in all its horror.</p> + +<p>Two things had been thrown across the little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> space, one from the bow, +flung by François, the other from the stern, flung by Stéphane Maroux.</p> + +<p>And two bursts of fire at once shot up from the two boats, followed by +two whirls of smoke.</p> + +<p>The explosions re-echoed. For a moment, nothing of what happened amid +that black cloud was visible. Then the curtain parted, blown aside by +the wind, and Véronique and Honorine saw the two boats swiftly sinking, +while their occupants jumped into the sea.</p> + +<p>The sight, the infernal sight, did not last long. They saw, standing on +one of the buoys that marked the channel, a woman holding a child in her +arms, without moving: then some motionless bodies, no doubt killed by +the explosion; then two men fighting, mad perhaps. And all this went +down with the boats.</p> + +<p>A few eddies, some black specks floating on the surface; and that was +all.</p> + +<p>Honorine and Véronique, struck dumb with terror, had not uttered a +single word. The thing surpassed the worst that their anguished minds +could have conceived.</p> + +<p>When it was all over, Honorine put her hand to her head and, in a hollow +voice which Véronique was never to forget, said:</p> + +<p>"My head's bursting. Oh, the poor people of Sarek! They were my friends, +the friends of my childhood; and I shall never see them again . . . . +The sea never gives up its dead at Sarek: it keeps them. It has its +coffins all ready: thousands and thousands of hidden coffins . . . . Oh, +my head is bursting! . . . I shall go mad . . . mad like François, my +poor François!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>Véronique did not answer. She was grey in the face. With clutching +fingers she clung to the balcony, gazing downwards as one gazes into an +abyss into which one is about to fling oneself. What would her son do? +Would he save those people, whose shouts of distress now reached her +ears, would he save them without delay? One may have fits of madness; +but the attacks pass away at the sight of certain things.</p> + +<p>The motor-boat had backed at first to avoid the eddies. François and +Stéphane, whose red cap and white cap were still visible, were standing +in the same positions at the bow and the stern; and they held in their +hands . . . what? The two women could not see clearly, because of the +distance, what they held in their hands. It looked like two rather long +sticks.</p> + +<p>"Poles, to help them," suggested Véronique.</p> + +<p>"Or guns," said Honorine.</p> + +<p>The black specks were still floating. There were nine of them, the nine +heads of the survivors, whose arms also the two women saw moving from +time to time and whose cries for help they heard.</p> + +<p>Some were hurriedly moving away from the motor-boat, but four were +swimming towards it; and, of those four, two could not fail to reach it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly François and Stéphane made the same movement, the movement of +marksmen taking aim.</p> + +<p>There were two flashes, followed by the sound of a single report.</p> + +<p>The heads of the two swimmers disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the monsters!" stammered Véronique, almost swooning and falling on +her knees.</p> + +<p>Honorine, beside her, began screaming:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>"François! François!"</p> + +<p>Her voice did not carry, first because it was too weak and then the wind +was in her face. But she continued:</p> + +<p>"François! François!"</p> + +<p>She next stumbled across the room and into the corridor, in search of +something, and returned to the window, still shouting:</p> + +<p>"François! François!"</p> + +<p>She had ended by finding the shell which she used as a signal. But, on +lifting it to her mouth, she found that she could produce only dull and +indistinct sounds from it:</p> + +<p>"Oh, curse the thing!" she cried, flinging the shell away. "I have no +strength left . . . . François! François!"</p> + +<p>She was terrible to look at, with her hair all in disorder and her face +covered with the sweat of fever. Véronique implored her:</p> + +<p>"Please, Honorine, please!"</p> + +<p>"But look at them, look at them!"</p> + +<p>The motor-boat was drifting forward down below, with the two marksmen at +their posts, holding their guns ready for murder.</p> + +<p>The survivors fled. Two of them hung back in the rear.</p> + +<p>These two were aimed at. Their heads disappeared from view.</p> + +<p>"But look at them!" Honorine said, explosively, in a hoarse voice. +"They're hunting them down! They're killing them like game! . . . Oh, +the poor people of Sarek! . . ."</p> + +<p>Another shot. Another black speck vanished.</p> + +<p>Véronique was writhing in despair. She shook<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> the rails of the balcony, +as she might have shaken the bars of a cage in which she was imprisoned.</p> + +<p>"Vorski! Vorski!" she groaned, stricken by the recollection of her +husband. "He's Vorski's son!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly she felt herself seized by the throat and saw, close to her own +face, the distorted face of the Breton woman.</p> + +<p>"He's your son!" spluttered Honorine. "Curse you! You are the monster's +mother and you shall be punished for it!"</p> + +<p>And she burst out laughing and stamping her feet, in an overpowering fit +of hilarity.</p> + +<p>"The cross, yes, the cross! You shall be crucified, with nails through +your hands! . . . What a punishment, nails through your hands!"</p> + +<p>She was mad.</p> + +<p>Véronique released herself and tried to hold the other motionless: but +Honorine, filled with malicious rage, threw her off, making her lose +balance, and began to climb into the balcony.</p> + +<p>She remained standing outside the window, lifting up her arms and once +more shouting:</p> + +<p>"François! François!"</p> + +<p>The first floor was not so high on this side of the house, owing to the +slope of the ground. Honorine jumped into the path below, crossed it, +pushed her way through the shrubs that lined it and ran to the ridge of +rocks which formed the cliff and overhung the sea.</p> + +<p>She stopped for a moment, thrice called out the name of the child whom +she had reared and flung herself headlong into the deep.</p> + +<p>In the distance, the man-hunt drew to a finish.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>The heads sank one by one. The massacre was completed.</p> + +<p>Then the motor-boat with François and Stéphane on board fled towards the +coast of Brittany, towards the beaches of Beg-Meil and Concarneau.</p> + +<p>Véronique was left alone on Coffin Island.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /> +<span class="smalltext">"FOUR WOMEN CRUCIFIED"</span></h2> + + +<p>Véronique was left alone on Coffin Island. Until the sun sank among the +clouds that seemed, on the horizon, to rest upon the sea, she did not +move, but sat huddled against the window, with her head buried in her +two arms resting on the sill.</p> + +<p>The dread reality passed through the darkness of her mind like pictures +which she strove not to see, but which at times became so clearly +defined that she imagined herself to be living through those atrocious +scenes again.</p> + +<p>Still she sought no explanation of all this and formed no theories as to +all the motives which might have thrown a light upon the tragedy. She +admitted the madness of François and of Stéphane Maroux, being unable to +suppose any other reasons for such actions as theirs. And, believing the +two murderers to be mad, she did not even try to attribute to them any +projects or definite wishes.</p> + +<p>Moreover, Honorine's madness, of which she had, so to speak, observed +the outbreak, impelled her to look upon all that had happened as +provoked by a sort of mental upset to which all the people of Sarek had +fallen victims. She herself at moments felt that her brain was reeling, +that her ideas were fading away in a mist, that invisible ghosts were +hovering around her.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>She dozed off into a sleep which was haunted by these images and in +which she felt so wretched that she began to sob. Also it seemed to her +that she could hear a slight noise which, in her benumbed wits, assumed +a hostile significance. Enemies were approaching. She opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>A couple of yards in front of her, sitting upon its haunches, was a +queer animal, covered with long mud-coloured hair and holding its +fore-paws folded like a pair of arms.</p> + +<p>It was a dog; and she at once remembered François' dog, of which +Honorine had spoken as a dear, devoted, comical creature. She even +remembered his name, All's-Well.</p> + +<p>As she uttered this name in an undertone, she felt an angry impulse and +was almost driving away the animal endowed with such an ironical +nickname. All's-Well! And she thought of all the victims of the horrible +nightmare, of all the dead people of Sarek, of her murdered father, of +Honorine killing herself, of François going mad. All's-Well, forsooth!</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the dog did not stir. He was sitting up as Honorine had +described, with his head a little on one side, one eye closed, the +corners of his mouth drawn back to his ears and his arms crossed in +front of him; and there was really something very like a smile flitting +over his face.</p> + +<p>Véronique now remembered: this was the manner in which All's-Well +displayed his sympathy for those in trouble. All's-Well could not bear +the sight of tears. When people wept, he sat up until they in their turn +smiled and petted him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>Véronique did not smile, but she pressed him against her and said:</p> + +<p>"No, my poor dog, all's not well; on the contrary, all's as bad as it +can be. No matter: we must live, mustn't we, and we mustn't go mad +ourselves like the others?"</p> + +<p>The necessities of life obliged her to act. She went down to the +kitchen, found some food and gave the dog a good share of it. Then she +went upstairs again.</p> + +<p>Night had fallen. She opened, on the first floor, the door of a bedroom +which at ordinary times must have been unoccupied. She was weighed down +with an immense fatigue, caused by all the efforts and violent emotions +which she had undergone. She fell asleep almost at once. All's Well lay +awake at the foot of her bed.</p> + +<p>Next morning she woke late, with a curious feeling of peace and +security. It seemed to her that her present life was somehow connected +with her calm and placid life at Besançon. The few days of horror which +she had passed fell away from her like distant events whose return she +had no need to fear. The men and women who had gone under in the great +horror became to her mind almost like strangers whom one has met and +does not expect to see again. Her heart ceased bleeding. Her sorrow for +them did not reach the depths of her soul.</p> + +<p>It was due to the unforeseen and undisturbed rest, the consoling +solitude. And all this seemed to her so pleasant that, when a steamer +came and anchored on the spot of the disaster, she made no signal. No +doubt yesterday, from the mainland,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> they had seen the flash of the +explosions and heard the report of the shots. Véronique remained +motionless.</p> + +<p>She saw a boat put off from the steamer and supposed that they were +going to land and explore the village. But not only did she dread an +enquiry in which her son might be involved: she herself did not wish to +be found, to be questioned, to have her name, her identity, her story +discovered and to be brought back into the infernal circle from which +she had escaped. She preferred to wait a week or two, to wait until +chance brought within hailing-distance of the island some fishing-boat +which could pick her up.</p> + +<p>But no one came to the Priory. The steamer put off; and nothing +disturbed her isolation.</p> + +<p>And so she remained for three days. Fate seemed to have reconsidered its +intention of making fresh assaults upon her. She was alone and her own +mistress. All's Well, whose company had done her a world of good, +disappeared.</p> + +<p>The Priory domain occupied the whole end of the island, on the site of a +Benedictine abbey, which had been abandoned in the fifteenth century and +gradually fallen into ruin and decay.</p> + +<p>The house, built in the eighteenth century by a wealthy Breton +ship-owner out of the materials of the old abbey and the stones of the +chapel, was in no way interesting either outside or in. Véronique, for +that matter, did not dare to enter any of the rooms. The memory of her +father and son checked her before the closed doors.</p> + +<p>But, on the second day, in the bright spring sunshine, she explored the +park. It extended to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> point of the island and, like the sward in +front of the house, was studded with ruins and covered with ivy. She +noticed that all the paths ran towards a steep promontory crowned with a +clump of enormous oaks. When she reached the spot, she found that these +oaks stood round a crescent-shaped clearing which was open to the sea.</p> + +<p>In the centre of the clearing was a cromlech with a rather short, oval +table upheld by two supports of rock, which were almost square. The spot +possessed an impressive magnificence and commanded a boundless view.</p> + +<p>"The Fairies' Dolmen, of which Honorine spoke," thought Véronique. "I +cannot be far from the Calvary and Maguennoc's flowers."</p> + +<p>She walked round the megalith. The inner surface of the two uprights +bore a few illegible engraved signs. But the two outer surfaces facing +the sea formed as it were two smooth slabs prepared to receive an +inscription; and here she saw something that caused her to shudder with +anguish. On the right, deeply encrusted, was an unskilful, primitive +drawing of four crosses with four female figures writhing upon them. On +the left was a column of lines of writing, whose characters, +inadequately carved in the stone, had been almost obliterated by the +weather, or perhaps even deliberately effaced by human hands. A few +words remained, however, the very words which Véronique had read on the +drawing which she found beside Maguennoc's corpse:</p> + +<p>"Four women crucified . . . . Thirty coffins . . . . The God-Stone which +gives life or death."</p> + +<p>Véronique moved away, staggering. The mys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>tery was once more before her, +as everywhere in the island, and she was determined to escape from it +until the moment when she could leave Sarek altogether.</p> + +<p>She took a path which started from the clearing and led past the last +oak on the right. This oak appeared to have been struck by lightning, +for all that remained of it was the trunk and a few dead branches.</p> + +<p>Farther on, she went down some stone steps, crossed a little meadow in +which stood four rows of menhirs and stopped suddenly with a stifled +cry, a cry of admiration and amazement, before the sight that presented +itself to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Maguennoc's flowers," she whispered.</p> + +<p>The last two menhirs of the central alley which she was following stood +like the posts of a door that opened upon the most glorious spectacle, a +rectangular space, fifty yards long at most, which was reached by a +short descending flight of steps and bordered by two rows of menhirs all +of the same height and placed at accurately measured intervals, like the +columns of a temple. The nave and side-aisles of this temple were paved +with wide, irregular, broken granite flag-stones, which the grass, +growing in the cracks, marked with patterns similar to those of the lead +which frames the pieces of a stained-glass window.</p> + +<p>In the middle was a small bed of flowers thronging around an ancient +stone crucifix. But such flowers! Flowers which the wildest imagination +or fancy never conceived, dream-flowers, miraculous flowers, flowers out +of all proportion to ordinary flowers!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>Véronique recognized all of them; and yet she stood dumbfounded at their +size and splendour. There were flowers of many varieties, but few of +each variety. It was like a nosegay made to contain every colour, every +perfume and every beauty that flowers can possess.</p> + +<p>And the strangest thing was that these flowers, which do not usually +bloom at the same time and which open in successive months, were all +growing and blossoming together! On one and the same day, these flowers, +all perennial flowers whose time does not last much more than two or +three weeks, were blooming and multiplying, full and heavy, vivid, +sumptuous, proudly borne on their sturdy stems.</p> + +<p>There were spiderworts, there were ranunculi, tiger-lilies, columbines, +blood-red potentillas, irises of a brighter violet than a bishop's +cassock. There were larkspurs, phlox, fuchsias, monk's-hoods, +montbretias. And, above all this, to Véronique's intense emotion, above +the dazzling flower-bed, standing a little higher in a narrow border +around the pedestal of the crucifix, with all their blue, white and +violet clusters seeming to lift themselves so as to touch the Saviour's +very form, were veronicas!</p> + +<p>She was faint with emotion. As she came nearer, she had read on a little +label fastened to the pedestal these two words.</p> + +<p>"Mother's flowers."</p> + +<hr class="thin" /> + +<p>Véronique did not believe in miracles. She was obliged to admit that the +flowers were wonderful, beyond all comparison with the flowers of our +climes. But she refused to think that this anomaly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> was not to be +explained except by supernatural causes or by magic recipes of which +Maguennoc held the secret. No, there was some reason, perhaps a very +simple one, of which events would afford a full explanation.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, amid the beautiful pagan setting, in the very centre of the +miracle which it seemed to have wrought by its presence, the figure of +Christ Crucified rose from the mass of flowers which offered Him their +colours and their perfumes. Véronique knelt and prayed.</p> + +<p>Next day and the day after, she returned to the Calvary of the Flowers. +Here the mystery that surrounded her on every side had manifested itself +in the most charming fashion; and her son played a part in it that +enabled Véronique to think of him, before her own flowers, without +hatred or despair.</p> + +<p>But, on the fifth day, she perceived that her provisions were becoming +exhausted; and in the middle of the afternoon she went down to the +village.</p> + +<p>There she noticed that most of the houses had been left open, so certain +had their owners been, on leaving, of coming back again and taking what +they needed in a second trip.</p> + +<p>Sick at heart, she dared not cross the thresholds. There were geraniums +on the window-ledges. Tall clocks with brass pendulums were ticking off +the time in the empty rooms. She moved away.</p> + +<p>In a shed near the quay, however, she saw the sacks and boxes which +Honorine had brought with her in the motor-boat.</p> + +<p>"Well," she thought, "I shan't starve. There's enough to last me for +weeks; and by that time . . ."</p> + +<p>She filled a basket with chocolate, biscuits, a few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> tins of preserved +meat, rice and matches; and she was on the point of returning to the +Priory, when it occurred to her that she would continue her walk to the +other end of the island. She would fetch her basket on the way back.</p> + +<p>A shady road climbed upwards on the right. The landscape seemed to be +the same: the same flat stretches of moorland, without ploughed fields +or pastures; the same clumps of ancient oaks. The island also became +narrower, with no obstacle to block the view of the sea on either side +or of the Penmarch headland in the distance.</p> + +<p>There was also a hedge which ran from one cliff to the other and which +served to enclose a property, a shabby property, with a straggling, +dilapidated, tumbledown house upon it, some out-houses with patched +roofs and a dirty, badly-kept yard, full of scrap-iron and stacks of +firewood.</p> + +<p>Véronique was already retracing her steps, when she stopped in alarm and +surprise. It seemed to her that she heard some one moan. She listened, +striving to plumb the vast silence, and once again the same sound, but +this time more distinctly, reached her ears; and there were others: +cries of pain, cries for help, women's cries. Then had not all the +inhabitants taken to flight? She had a feeling of joy mingled with some +sorrow, to know that she was not alone in Sarek, and of fear also, at +the thought that events would perhaps drag her back again into the fatal +cycle of death and horror.</p> + +<p>So far as Véronique was able to judge, the noise came not from the +house, but from the buildings on the right of the yard. This yard was +closed with a simple gate which she had only to push and which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> opened +with the creaking sound of wood upon wood.</p> + +<p>The cries in the out-house at once increased in number. The people +inside had no doubt heard Véronique approach. She hastened her steps.</p> + +<p>Though the roof of the out-buildings was gone in places, the walls were +thick and solid, with old arched doors strengthened with iron bars. +There was a knocking against one of these doors from the inside, while +the cries became more urgent:</p> + +<p>"Help! Help!"</p> + +<p>But there was a dispute; and another, less strident voice grated:</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Clémence, can't you? It may be them!"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Gertrude, it's not! I don't hear them! . . . Open the door, +will you? The key ought to be there."</p> + +<p>Véronique, who was seeking for some means of entering, now saw a big key +in the lock. She turned it; and the door opened.</p> + +<p>She at once recognized the sisters Archignat, half-dressed, gaunt, +evil-looking, witch-like. They were in a wash-house filled with +implements; and Véronique saw at the back, lying on some straw, a third +woman, who was bewailing her fate in an almost inaudible voice and who +was obviously the third sister.</p> + +<p>At that moment, one of the first two collapsed from exhaustion; and the +other, whose eyes were bright with fever, seized Véronique by the arm +and began to gasp:</p> + +<p>"Did you see them, tell me? . . . Are they there? . . . How is it they +didn't kill you? . . . They are the masters of Sarek since the others +went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> off . . . . And it's our turn next . . . . We've been locked in +here now for six days . . . . Listen, it was on the day when everybody +left. We three came here, to the wash-house, to fetch our linen, which +was drying. And then <i>they</i> came . . . . We didn't hear them . . . . One +never does hear them . . . . And then, suddenly, the door was locked on +us . . . . A slam, a turn of the key . . . and the thing was done +. . . . We had bread, apples and best of all, brandy . . . . We didn't +do so badly . . . . Only, were they going to come back and kill us? Was +it our turn next? . . . Oh, my dear good lady, how we strained our ears! +And how we trembled with fear! . . . My eldest sister's gone crazy +. . . . Hark, you can hear her raving . . . . The other, Clémence, has +borne all she can . . . . And I . . . I . . . Gertrude . . ."</p> + +<p>Gertrude had plenty of strength left, for she was twisting Véronique's +arm:</p> + +<p>"And Corréjou? He came back, didn't he, and went away again? Why didn't +anyone come to look for us? It would have been easy enough: everybody +knew where we were; and we called out at the least sound. So what does +it all mean?"</p> + +<p>Véronique hesitated what to reply. Still, why should she conceal the +truth?</p> + +<p>She replied:</p> + +<p>"The two boats went down."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"The two boats sank in view of Sarek. All on board were drowned. It was +opposite the Priory . . . after leaving the Devil's Passage."</p> + +<p>Véronique said no more, so as to avoid mentioning the names of François +and his tutor or speaking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> of the part which these two had played. But +Clémence now sat up, with distorted features. She had been leaning +against the door and raised herself to her knees.</p> + +<p>Gertrude murmured:</p> + +<p>"And Honorine?"</p> + +<p>"Honorine is dead."</p> + +<p>"Dead!"</p> + +<p>The two sisters both cried out at once. Then they were silent and looked +at each other. The same thought struck them both. They seemed to be +reflecting. Gertrude was moving her fingers as though counting. And the +terror on their two faces increased.</p> + +<p>Speaking in a very low voice, as though choking with fear, Gertrude, +with her eyes fixed on Véronique, said:</p> + +<p>"That's it . . . that's it . . . I've got the total . . . . Do you know +how many there were in the boats, without my sisters and me? Do you +know? Twenty . . . . Well, reckon it up: twenty . . . and Maguennoc, who +was the first to die . . . and M. Antoine, who died afterwards . . . and +little François and M. Stéphane, who vanished, but who are dead too +. . . and Honorine and Marie Le Goff, both dead . . . . So reckon it up: +that makes twenty-six, twenty-six . . . The total's correct, isn't it? +. . . Now take twenty-six from thirty . . . . You understand, don't you? +The thirty coffins: they have to be filled . . . . So twenty-six from +thirty . . . leaves four, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>She could no longer speak; her tongue faltered. Nevertheless the +terrible syllables came from her mouth; and Véronique heard her +stammering:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>"Eh? Do you understand? . . . That leaves four . . . us four . . . the +three sisters Archignat, who were kept behind and locked up . . . and +yourself . . . . So—do you follow me?—the three crosses—you know, the +'four women crucified'—the number's there . . . it's our four selves +. . . there's no one besides us on the island . . . four women . . . ."</p> + +<p>Véronique had listened in silence. She broke out into a slight +perspiration.</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders, however:</p> + +<p>"Well? And then? If there's no one except ourselves on the island, what +are you afraid of?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Them</i>, of course! <i>Them!</i>"</p> + +<p>Véronique lost her patience:</p> + +<p>"But if everybody has gone!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Gertrude took fright:</p> + +<p>"Speak low. Suppose they heard you!"</p> + +<p>"But who?"</p> + +<p>"<i>They</i>: the people of old."</p> + +<p>"The people of old?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, those who used to make sacrifices . . . the people who killed men +and women . . . to please their gods."</p> + +<p>"But that's a thing of the past! The Druids: is that what you mean? +Come, come; there are no Druids nowadays."</p> + +<p>"Speak quietly! Speak quietly! There are still . . . there are evil +spirits . . ."</p> + +<p>"Then they're ghosts?" asked Véronique, horror-stricken by these +superstitions.</p> + +<p>"Ghosts, yes, but ghosts of flesh and blood . . . with hands that lock +doors and keep you imprisoned . . . creatures that sink boats, the same, +I tell you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> that killed M. Antoine, Marie Le Goff and the others . . . +that killed twenty-six of us . . . ."</p> + +<p>Véronique did not reply. There was no reply to make. She knew, she knew +only too well who had killed M. d'Hergemont, Marie Le Goff and the +others and sunk the two boats.</p> + +<p>"What time was it when the three of you were locked in?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Half-past ten . . . . We had arranged to meet Corréjou in the village +at eleven."</p> + +<p>Véronique reflected. It was hardly possible that François and Stéphane +should have had time to be at half-past ten in this place and an hour +later to be behind the rock from which they had darted out upon the two +boats. Was it to be presumed that one or more of their accomplices were +left on the island?</p> + +<p>"In any case," she said, "you must come to a decision. You can't remain +in this state. You must rest yourselves, eat something . . . ."</p> + +<p>The second sister had risen to her feet. She said, in the same hollow +and violent tones as her sister:</p> + +<p>"First of all, we must hide . . . and be able to defend ourselves +against <i>them</i>."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Véronique.</p> + +<p>She too, in spite of herself, felt this need of a refuge against a +possible enemy.</p> + +<p>"What do I mean? I'll tell you. The thing has been talked about a lot in +the island, especially this year; and Maguennoc decided that, at the +first attack, everybody should take shelter in the Priory."</p> + +<p>"Why in the Priory?"</p> + +<p>"Because we could defend ourselves there. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> cliffs are perpendicular. +You're protected on every side."</p> + +<p>"What about the bridge?"</p> + +<p>"Maguennoc and Honorine thought of everything. There's a little hut +fifteen yards to the left of the bridge. That's the place they hit on to +keep their stock of petrol in. Empty three or four cans over the bridge, +strike a match . . . and the thing's done. You're just as in your own +home. You can't be got at and you can't be attacked."</p> + +<p>"Then why didn't they come to the Priory instead of taking to flight in +the boats?"</p> + +<p>"It was safer to escape in the boats. But we no longer have the choice."</p> + +<p>"And when shall we start?"</p> + +<p>"At once. It's daylight still; and that's better than the dark."</p> + +<p>"But your sister, the one on her back?"</p> + +<p>"We have a barrow. We've got to wheel her. There's a direct road to the +Priory, without passing through the village."</p> + +<p>Véronique could not help looking with repugnance upon the prospect of +living in close intimacy with the sisters Archignat. She yielded, +however, swayed by a fear which she was unable to overcome:</p> + +<p>"Very well," she said. "Let's go. I'll take you to the Priory and come +back to the village to fetch some provisions."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mustn't be away long!" protested one of the sisters. "As soon +as the bridge is cut, we'll light a bonfire on Fairies' Dolmen Hill and +they'll send a steamer from the mainland. To-day the fog is coming up; +but to-morrow . . ."</p> + +<p>Véronique raised no objection. She now accepted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> the idea of leaving +Sarek, even at the cost of an enquiry which would reveal her name.</p> + +<p>They started, after the two sisters had swallowed a glass of brandy. The +madwoman sat huddled in the wheel-barrow, laughing softly and uttering +little sentences which she addressed to Véronique as though she wanted +her to laugh too:</p> + +<p>"We shan't meet them yet . . . . They're getting ready . . . ."</p> + +<p>"Shut up, you old fool!" said Gertrude. "You'll bring us bad luck."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, we shall see some sport . . . . It'll be great fun . . . . I +have a cross of gold hung round my neck . . . and another cut into the +skin of my head . . . . Look! . . . Crosses everywhere . . . . One ought +to be comfortable on the cross . . . . One ought to sleep well there +. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Shut up, will you, you old fool?" repeated Gertrude, giving her a box +on the ear.</p> + +<p>"All right, all right! . . . But it's they who'll hit you; I see them +hiding! . . ."</p> + +<p>The path, which was pretty rough at first, reached the table-land formed +by the west cliffs, which were loftier, but less rugged and worn away +than the others. The woods were scarcer; and the oaks were all bent by +the wind from the sea.</p> + +<p>"We are coming to the heath which they call the Black Heath," said +Clémence Archignat.</p> + +<p>"<i>They</i> live underneath."</p> + +<p>Véronique once more shrugged her shoulders:</p> + +<p>"How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"We know more than other people," said Gertrude. "They call us witches; +and there's something in it. Maguennoc himself, who knew a great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> deal, +used to ask our advice about anything that had to do with healing, lucky +stones, the herbs you gather on St. John's Eve . . ."</p> + +<p>"Mugwort and vervain," chuckled the madwoman. "They are picked at +sunset."</p> + +<p>"Or tradition too," continued Gertrude. "We know what's been said in the +island for hundreds of years; and it's always been said that there was a +whole town underneath, with streets and all, in which <i>they</i> used to +live of old. And there are some left still, I've seen them myself."</p> + +<p>Véronique did not reply.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my sister and I saw one. Twice, when the June moon was six days +old. He was dressed in white . . . and he was climbing the Great Oak to +gather the sacred mistletoe . . . with a golden sickle. The gold +glittered in the moonlight. I saw it, I tell you, and others saw it too +. . . . And he's not the only one. There are several of them left over +from the old days to guard the treasure . . . . Yes, as I say, the +treasure . . . . They say it's a stone which works miracles, which can +make you die if you touch it and which makes you live if you lie down on +it. That's all true, Maguennoc told us so, all perfectly true. <i>They</i> of +old guard the stone, the God-Stone, and <i>they</i> are to sacrifice all of +us this year . . . . yes, all of us, thirty dead people for the thirty +coffins . . . ."</p> + +<p>"Four women crucified," crooned the madwoman.</p> + +<p>"And it will be soon. The sixth day of the moon is near at hand. We must +be gone before <i>they</i> climb the Great Oak to gather the mistletoe. Look, +you can see the Great Oak from here. It's in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> wood on this side of +the bridge. It stands out above the others."</p> + +<p>"<i>They</i> are hiding behind it," said the madwoman, turning round in her +wheel-barrow. "<i>They</i> are waiting for us."</p> + +<p>"That'll do; and don't you stir . . . . As I was saying, you see the +Great Oak . . . over there . . . beyond the end of the heath. It is +. . . it is . . ."</p> + +<p>She dropped the wheel-barrow, without finishing her sentence.</p> + +<p>"Well?" asked Clémence. "What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I've seen something," stammered Gertrude. "Something white, moving +about."</p> + +<p>"Something? What do you mean? <i>They</i> don't show themselves in broad +daylight! You've gone cross-eyed."</p> + +<p>They both looked for a moment and then went on again. Soon the Great Oak +was out of sight.</p> + +<p>The heath which they were now crossing was wild and rough, covered with +stones lying flat like tombstones and all pointing in the same +direction.</p> + +<p>"It's <i>their</i> burying-ground," whispered Gertrude.</p> + +<p>They said nothing more. Gertrude repeatedly had to stop and rest. +Clémence had not the strength to push the wheel-barrow. They were both +of them tottering on their legs; and they gazed into the distance with +anxious eyes.</p> + +<p>They went down a dip in the ground and up again. The path joined that +which Véronique had taken with Honorine on the first day; and they +entered the wood which preceded the bridge.</p> + +<p>Presently the growing excitement of the sisters<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> Archignat made +Véronique understand that they were approaching the Great Oak; and she +saw it standing on a mound of earth and roots, bigger than the others +and separated from them by wider intervals. She could not help thinking +that it was possible for several men to hide behind that massive trunk +and that perhaps several were hiding there now.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding their fears, the sisters had quickened their pace; and +they kept their eyes turned from the fatal tree.</p> + +<p>They left it behind. Véronique breathed more freely. All danger was +passed; and she was just about to laugh at the sisters Archignat, when +one of them, Clémence, spun on her heels and dropped with a moan.</p> + +<p>At the same time something fell to the ground, something that had struck +Clémence in the back. It was an axe, a stone axe.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the thunder-stone, the thunder-stone!" cried Gertrude.</p> + +<p>She looked up for a second, as if, in accordance with the inveterate +popular belief, she believed that the axe came from the sky and was an +emanation of the thunder.</p> + +<p>But, at that moment, the madwoman, who had got out of her barrow, leapt +from the ground and fell head forward. Something else had whizzed +through the air. The madwoman was writhing with pain. Gertrude and +Véronique saw an arrow which had been driven through her shoulder and +was still vibrating.</p> + +<p>Then Gertrude fled screaming.</p> + +<p>Véronique hesitated. Clémence and the mad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>woman were rolling about on +the ground. The madwoman giggled:</p> + +<p>"Behind the oak! They're hiding . . . I see them."</p> + +<p>Clémence stammered:</p> + +<p>"Help! . . . Lift me up . . . carry me . . . I'm terrified!"</p> + +<p>But another arrow whizzed past them and fell some distance farther.</p> + +<p>Véronique now also took to her heels, urged not so much by panic, though +this would have been excusable, as by the eager longing to find a weapon +and defend herself. She remembered that in her father's study there was +a glass case filled with guns and revolvers, all bearing the word +"loaded," no doubt as a warning to François; and it was one of these +that she wished to seize in order to face the enemy. She did not even +turn round. She was not interested to know whether she was being +pursued. She ran for the goal, the only profitable goal.</p> + +<p>Being lighter and swifter of foot, she overtook Gertrude, who panted:</p> + +<p>"The bridge . . . . We must burn it . . . . The petrol's there . . . ."</p> + +<p>Véronique did not reply. Breaking down the bridge was a secondary matter +and would even have been an obstacle to her plan of taking a gun and +attacking the enemy.</p> + +<p>But, when she reached the bridge, Gertrude whirled about in such a way +that she almost fell down the precipice. An arrow had struck her in the +back.</p> + +<p>"Help! Help!" she screamed. "Don't leave me!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>"I'm coming back," replied Véronique, who had not seen the arrow and +thought that Gertrude had merely caught her foot in running. "I'm coming +back, with two guns. You join me."</p> + +<p>She imagined in her mind that, once they were both armed, they would go +back to the wood and rescue the other sisters. Redoubling her efforts, +therefore, she reached the wall of the estate, ran across the grass and +went up to her father's study. Here she stopped to recover her breath; +and, after she had taken the two guns, her heart beat so fast that she +had to go back at a slower pace.</p> + +<p>She was astonished at not meeting Gertrude, at not seeing her. She +called her. No reply. And it was not till then that the thought occurred +to her that Gertrude had been wounded like her sisters.</p> + +<p>She once more broke into a run. But, when she came within sight of the +bridge, she heard shrill cries pierce through the buzzing in her ears +and, on coming into the open opposite the sharp ascent that led to the +wood of the Great Oak, she saw . . .</p> + +<p>What she saw rivetted her to the entrance to the bridge. On the other +side, Gertrude was sprawling upon the ground, struggling, clutching at +the roots, digging her nails into the grass and slowly, slowly, with an +imperceptible and uninterrupted movement, moving along the slope.</p> + +<p>And Véronique became aware that the unfortunate woman was fastened under +the arms and round the waist by a cord which was hoisting her up, like a +bound and helpless prey, and which was pulled by invisible hands above.</p> + +<p>Véronique raised one of the guns to her shoulder. But at what enemy was +she to take aim? What<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> enemy was she to fight? Who was hiding behind the +trees and stones that crowned the hill like a rampart?</p> + +<p>Gertrude slipped between those stones, between those trees. She had +ceased screaming, no doubt she was exhausted and swooning. She +disappeared from sight.</p> + +<p>Véronique had not moved. She realized the futility of any venture or +enterprise. By rushing into a contest in which she was beaten beforehand +she would not be able to rescue the sisters Archignat and would merely +offer herself to the conqueror as a new and final victim.</p> + +<p>Besides, she was overcome with fear. Everything was happening in +accordance with the ruthless logic of facts of which she did not grasp +the meaning but which all seemed connected like the links of a chain. +She was afraid, afraid of those beings, afraid of those ghosts, +instinctively and unconsciously afraid, afraid like the sisters +Archignat, like Honorine, like all the victims of the terrible scourge.</p> + +<p>She stooped, so as not to be seen from the Great Oak, and, bending +forward and taking the shelter offered by some bramble-bushes, she +reached the little hut of which the sisters Archignat had spoken, a sort +of summer-house with a pointed roof and coloured tiles. Half the +summer-house was filled with cans of petrol.</p> + +<p>From here she overlooked the bridge, on which no one could step without +being seen by her. But no one came down from the wood.</p> + +<p>Night fell, a night of thick fog silvered by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> moon which just +allowed Véronique to see the opposite side.</p> + +<p>After an hour, feeling a little reassured, she made a first trip with +two cans which she emptied on the outer beams of the bridge.</p> + +<p>Ten times, with her ears pricked up, carrying her gun slung over her +shoulder and prepared at any moment to defend herself, she repeated the +journey. She poured the petrol a little at random, groping her way and +yet as far as possible selecting the places where her sense of touch +seemed to tell her that the wood was most rotten.</p> + +<p>She had a box of matches, the only one that she had found in the house. +She took out a match and hesitated a moment, frightened at the thought +of the great light it would make:</p> + +<p>"Even so," she reflected, "if it could be seen from the mainland . . . +But, with this fog . . ."</p> + +<p>Suddenly she struck the match and at once lit a paper torch which she +had prepared by soaking it in petrol.</p> + +<p>A great flame blazed and burnt her fingers. Then she threw the paper in +a pool of petrol which had formed in a hollow and fled back to the +summer-house.</p> + +<p>The fire flared up immediately and, at one flash, spread over the whole +part which she had sprinkled. The cliffs on the two islands, the strip +of granite that united them, the big trees around, the hill, the wood of +the Great Oak and the sea at the bottom of the ravine: these were all +lit up.</p> + +<p>"<i>They</i> know where I am . . . . <i>They</i> are looking at the summer-house +where I am hiding,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> thought Véronique, keeping her eyes fixed on the +Great Oak.</p> + +<p>But not a shadow passed through the wood. Not a sound of voices reached +her ears. Those concealed above did not leave their impenetrable +retreat.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes, half the bridge collapsed, with a great crash and a +gush of sparks. But the other half went on burning; and at every moment +a piece of timber tumbled into the precipice, lighting up the depths of +the night.</p> + +<p>Each time that this happened, Véronique had a sense of relief and her +overstrung nerves grew relaxed. A feeling of security crept over her and +became more and more justified as the gulf between her and her enemies +widened. Nevertheless she remained inside the summer-house and resolved +to wait for the dawn in order to make sure that no communication was +henceforth possible.</p> + +<p>The fog increased. Everything was shrouded in darkness. About the middle +of the night, she heard a sound on the other side, at the top of the +hill, so far as she could judge. It was the sound of wood-cutters +felling trees, the regular sound of an axe biting into branches which +were finally removed by breaking.</p> + +<p>Véronique had an idea, absurd though she knew it to be, that they were +perhaps building a foot-bridge; and she clutched her gun resolutely.</p> + +<p>About an hour later, she seemed to hear moans and even a stifled cry, +followed, for some time, by the rustle of leaves and the sound of steps +coming and going. This ceased. Once more there was a great silence which +seemed to absorb in space every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> stirring, every restless, every +quivering, every living thing.</p> + +<p>The numbness produced by the fatigue and hunger from which she was +beginning to suffer left Véronique little power of thought. She +remembered above all that, having failed to bring any provisions from +the village, she had nothing to eat. She did not distress herself, for +she was determined, as soon as the fog lifted—and this was bound to +happen before long—to light bonfires with the cans of petrol. She +reflected that the best place would be at the end of the island, at the +spot where the dolmen stood.</p> + +<p>But suddenly a dreadful thought struck her: had she not left her box of +matches on the bridge? She felt in her pockets but could not find it. +All search was in vain.</p> + +<p>This also did not perturb her unduly. For the time being, the feeling +that she had escaped the attacks of the enemy filled her with such +delight that it seemed to her that all the difficulties would disappear +of their own accord.</p> + +<p>The hours passed in this way, endlessly long hours, which the +penetrating fog and the cold made more painful as the morning +approached.</p> + +<p>Then a faint gleam overspread the sky. Things emerged from the gloom and +assumed their actual forms. And Véronique now saw that the bridge had +collapsed throughout its length. An interval of fifty yards separated +the two islands, which were only joined below by the sharp, pointed, +inaccessible ridge of the cliff.</p> + +<p>She was saved.</p> + +<p>But, on raising her eyes to the hill opposite, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> saw, right at the +top of the slope, a sight that made her utter a cry of horror. Three of +the nearest trees of those which crowned the hill and belonged to the +wood of the Great Oak had been stripped of their lower branches. And, on +the three bare trunks, with their arms strained backward, with their +legs bound, under the tatters of their skirts, and with ropes drawn +tight beneath their livid faces, half-hidden by the black bows of their +caps, hung the three sisters Archignat.</p> + +<p>They were crucified.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /> +<span class="smalltext">ALL'S WELL</span></h2> + + +<p>Walking erect, with a stiff and mechanical gait, without turning round +to look at the abominable spectacle, without recking of what might +happen if she were seen, Véronique went back to the Priory.</p> + +<p>A single aim, a single hope sustained her: that of leaving the Isle of +Sarek. She had had her fill of horror. Had she seen three corpses, three +women who had had their throats cut, or been shot, or even hanged, she +would not have felt, as she did now, that her whole being was in revolt. +But this, this torture, was too much. It involved an ignominy, it was an +act of sacrilege, a damnable performance which surpassed the bounds of +wickedness.</p> + +<p>And then she was thinking of herself, the fourth and last victim. Fate +seemed to be leading her towards that catastrophe as a person condemned +to death is pushed on to the scaffold. How could she do other than +tremble with fear? How could she fail to read a warning in the choice of +the hill of the Great Oak for the torture of the three sisters +Archignat?</p> + +<p>She tried to find comfort in words:</p> + +<p>"Everything will be explained. At the bottom of these hideous mysteries +are quite simple causes, actions apparently fantastic but in reality +performed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> by beings of the same species as myself, who behave as they +do from criminal motives and in accordance with a determined plan. No +doubt all this is only possible because of the war; the war brings about +a peculiar state of affairs in which events of this kind are able to +take place. But, all the same, there is nothing miraculous about it nor +anything inconsistent with the rules of ordinary life."</p> + +<p>Useless phrases! Vain attempts at argument which her brain found +difficulty in following! In reality, upset as she was by violent nervous +shocks, she came to think and feel like all those people of Sarek whose +death she had witnessed. She shared their weakness, she was shaken by +the same terrors, besieged by the same nightmares, unbalanced by the +persistence within her of the instincts of bygone ages and lingering +superstitions ever ready to rise to the surface.</p> + +<p>Who were these invisible beings who persecuted her? Whose mission was it +to fill the thirty coffins of Sarek? Who was it that was wiping out all +the inhabitants of the luckless island? Who was it that lived in +caverns, gathering at the fateful hours the sacred mistletoe and the +herbs of St. John, using axes and arrows and crucifying women? And in +view of what horrible task, of what monstrous duty? In accordance with +what inconceivable plans? Were they spirits of darkness, malevolent +genii, priests of a dead religion, sacrificing men, women and children +to their blood-thirsty gods?</p> + +<p>"Enough, enough, or I shall go mad!" she said, aloud. "I must go! That +must be my only thought: to get away from this hell!"</p> + +<p>But it was as though destiny were taking special<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> pains to torture her! +On beginning her search for a little food, she suddenly noticed, in her +father's study, at the back of a cupboard, a drawing pinned to the wall, +representing the same scene as the roll of paper which she had found +near Maguennoc's body in the deserted cabin.</p> + +<p>A portfolio full of drawings lay on one of the shelves in the cupboard. +She opened it. It contained a number of sketches of the same scene, +likewise in red chalk. Each of them bore above the head of the first +woman the inscription, "V. d'H." One of them was signed, "Antoine +d'Hergemont."</p> + +<p>So it was her father who had made the drawing on Maguennoc's paper! It +was her father who had tried in all these sketches to give the tortured +woman a closer and closer resemblance to his own daughter!</p> + +<p>"Enough, enough!" repeated Véronique. "I won't think, I won't reflect!"</p> + +<p>Feeling very faint, she pursued her search but found nothing with which +to stay her hunger.</p> + +<p>Nor did she find anything that would allow her to light a fire at the +point of the island, though the fog had lifted and the signals would +certainly have been observed.</p> + +<p>She tried rubbing two flints against each other, but she did not +understand how to go to work and she did not succeed.</p> + +<p>For three days she kept herself alive with water and wild grapes +gathered among the ruins. Feverish and utterly exhausted, she had fits +of weeping which nearly every time produced the sudden appearance of +All's Well; and her physical suffering was such that she felt angry with +the poor dog for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> having that ridiculous name and drove him away. All's +Well, greatly surprised, squatted on his haunches farther off and began +to sit up again. She felt exasperated with him, as though he could help +being François' dog!</p> + +<p>The least sound made her shake from head to foot and covered her with +perspiration. What were the creatures in the Great Oak doing? From which +side were they preparing to attack her? She hugged herself nervously, +shuddering at the thought of falling into those monsters' hands, and +could not keep herself from remembering that she was a beautiful woman +and that they might be tempted by her good looks and her youth.</p> + +<p>But, on the fourth day, a great hope uplifted her. She had found in a +drawer a powerful reading-glass. Taking advantage of the bright +sunshine, she focussed the rays upon a piece of paper which ended by +catching fire and enabling her to light a candle.</p> + +<p>She believed that she was saved. She had discovered quite a stock of +candles, which allowed her, to begin with, to keep the precious flame +alive until the evening. At eleven o'clock, she took a lantern and went +towards the summer-house, intending to set fire to it. It was a fine +night and the signal would be perceived from the coast.</p> + +<p>Fearing to be seen with her light, fearing above all the tragic vision +of the sisters Archignat, whose tragic Calvary was flooded by the +moonlight, she took, on leaving the Priory, another road, more to the +left and bordered with thickets. She walked anxiously, taking care not +to rustle the leaves or stumble over the roots. When she reached open +country, not far from the summer-house, she felt so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> tired that she had +to sit down. Her head was buzzing. Her heart almost refused to beat.</p> + +<p>She could not see the place of execution from here either. But, on +turning her eyes, despite herself, in the direction of the hill, she +received the impression that something resembling a white figure had +moved. It was in the very heart of the wood, at the end of an avenue +which intersected the thick mass of trees on that side.</p> + +<p>The figure appeared again, in the full moonlight; and Véronique saw, +notwithstanding the considerable distance, that it was the figure of a +person clad in a robe and perched amid the branches of a tree which +stood alone and higher than the others.</p> + +<p>She remembered what the sisters Archignat had said:</p> + +<p>"The sixth day of the moon is near at hand. <i>They</i> will climb the Great +Oak and gather the sacred mistletoe."</p> + +<p>And she now remembered certain descriptions which she had read in books +and different stories which her father had told her; and she felt as if +she were present at one of those Druid ceremonies which had appealed to +her imagination as a child. But at the same time she felt so weak that +she was not convinced that she was awake or that the strange sight +before her eyes was real. Four other figures formed a group at the foot +of the tree and raised their arms as though to catch the bough ready to +fall. A light flashed above. The high-priest's golden sickle had cut off +the bunch of mistletoe.</p> + +<p>Then the high-priest climbed down from the oak; and all five figures +glided along the avenue, skirted the wood and reached the top of the +knoll.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>Véronique, who was unable to take her haggard eyes from those creatures, +bent forward and saw the three corpses hanging each from its tree of +torment. At the distance where she stood, the black bows of the caps +looked like crows. The figures stopped opposite the victims as though to +perform some incomprehensible rite. At last the high-priest separated +himself from the group and, holding the bunch of mistletoe in his hand, +came down the hill and went towards the spot where the first arch of the +bridge was anchored.</p> + +<p>Véronique was almost fainting. Her wavering eyes, before which +everything seemed to dance, fastened on to the glittering sickle which +swung from side to side on the priest's chest, below his long white +beard. What was he going to do? Though the bridge no longer existed, +Véronique was convulsed with anguish. Her legs refused to carry her. She +lay down on the ground, keeping her eyes fixed upon the terrifying +sight.</p> + +<p>On reaching the edge of the chasm, the priest again stopped for a few +seconds. Then he stretched out the arm in which he carried the mistletoe +and, preceded by the sacred plant as by a talisman which altered the +laws of nature in his favour, he took a step forward above the yawning +gulf.</p> + +<p>And he walked thus in space, all white in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>What happened Véronique did not know, nor was she quite sure what had +been happening, if she had not been the sport of an hallucination, nor +at what stage of the strange ceremony this hallucination had originated +in her enfeebled brain.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>She waited with closed eyes for events which did not take place and +which, for that matter, she did not even try to foresee. But other, more +real things preoccupied her mind. Her candle was going out inside the +lantern. She was aware of this; and yet she had not the strength to pull +herself together and return to the Priory. And she said to herself that, +if the sun should not shine again within the next few days, she would +not be able to light the flame and that she was lost.</p> + +<p>She resigned herself, weary of fighting and realizing that she was +defeated beforehand in this unequal contest. The only ending that was +not to be endured was that of being captured. But why not abandon +herself to the death that offered, death from starvation, from +exhaustion? If you suffer long enough, there must come a moment when the +suffering decreases and when you pass, almost unconsciously, from life, +which has grown too cruel, to death, which Véronique was gradually +beginning to desire.</p> + +<p>"That's it, that's it," she murmured. "To go from Sarek or to die: it's +all the same. What I want is to get away."</p> + +<p>A sound of leaves made her open her eyes. The flame of the candle was +expiring. But behind the lantern All's Well was sitting, beating the air +with his fore-paws.</p> + +<p>And Véronique saw that he carried a packet of biscuits, fastened round +his neck by a string.</p> + +<hr class="thin" /> + +<p>"Tell me your story, you dear old All's Well," said Véronique, next +morning, after a good night's rest in her bedroom at the Priory. "For, +after all,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> I can't believe that you came to look for me and bring me +food of your own accord. It was an accident, wasn't it? You were +wandering in that direction, you heard me crying and you came to me. But +who tied that little box of biscuits round your neck? Does it mean that +we have a friend in the island, a friend who takes an interest in us? +Why doesn't he show himself? Speak and tell me, All's Well."</p> + +<p>She kissed the dog and went on:</p> + +<p>"And whom were those biscuits intended for? For your master, for +François? Or for Honorine? No? Then for Monsieur Stéphane perhaps?"</p> + +<p>The dog wagged his tail and moved towards the door. He really seemed to +understand. Véronique followed him to Stéphane Maroux's room. All's Well +slipped under the tutor's bed. There were three more cardboard boxes of +biscuits, two packets of chocolate and two tins of preserved meat. And +each parcel was supplied with a string ending in a wide loop, from which +All's Well must have released his head.</p> + +<p>"What does it mean?" asked Véronique, bewildered. "Did you put them under +there? But who gave them to you? Have we actually a friend in the +island, who knows us and knows Stéphane Maroux? Can you take me to him? +He must live on this side of the island, because there is no means of +communicating with the other and you can't have been there."</p> + +<p>Véronique stopped to think. But, in addition to the provisions stowed +away by All's Well, she also noticed a small canvas-covered satchel +under the bed; and she wondered why Stéphane Maroux had hidden<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> it. She +thought that she had the right to open it and to look for some clue to +the part played by the tutor, to his character, to his past perhaps, to +his relations with M. d'Hergemont and François:</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "it is my right and even my duty."</p> + +<p>Without hesitation, she took a pair of big scissors and forced the frail +lock.</p> + +<p>The satchel contained nothing but a manuscript-book, with a rubber band +round it. But, the moment she opened the book, she stood amazed.</p> + +<p>On the first page was her own portrait, her photograph as a girl, with +her signature in full and the inscription:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"To my friend Stéphane."</p></div> + +<p>"I don't understand, I don't understand," she murmured. "I remember the +photograph: I must have been sixteen. But how did I come to give it to +him? I must have known him!"</p> + +<p>Eager to learn more, she read the next page, a sort of preface worded as +follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Véronique, I wish to lead my life under your eyes. In +undertaking the education of your son, of that son +whom I ought to loathe, because he is the son of +another, but whom I love because he is your son, my +intention is that my life shall be in full harmony +with the secret feeling that has swayed it so long. +One day, I have no doubt, you will resume your place +as François' mother. On that day you will be proud of +him. I shall have effaced all that may survive in him +of his father and I shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> have exalted all the fine +and noble qualities which he inherits from you. The +aim is great enough for me to devote myself to it body +and soul. I do so with gladness. Your smile shall be +my reward."</p></div> + +<p>Véronique's heart was flooded with a singular emotion. Her life was lit +with a calmer radiance; and this new mystery, which she was unable to +fathom any more than the others, was at least, like that of Maguennoc's +flowers, gentle and comforting.</p> + +<p>As she continued to turn the pages, she followed her son's education +from day to day. She beheld the pupil's progress and the master's +methods. The pupil was engaging, intelligent, studious, zealous loving, +sensitive, impulsive and at the same time thoughtful. The master was +affectionate, patient and borne up by some profound feeling which showed +through every line of the manuscript.</p> + +<p>And, little by little, there was a growing enthusiasm in the daily +confession, which expressed itself in terms less and less restrained:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"François, my dearly-beloved son—for I may call you +so, may I not?—François, your mother lives once again +in you. Your eyes are pure and limpid as hers. Your +soul is grave and simple as her soul. You are +unacquainted with evil; and one might almost say that +you are unacquainted with good, so closely is it +blended with your beautiful nature."</p></div> + +<p>Some of the child's exercises were copied into the book, exercises in +which he spoke of his mother with passionate affection and with the +persistent hope that he would soon see her again.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>"We shall see her again, François," Stéphane added, +"and you will then understand better what beauty means +and light and the charm of life and the delight of +beholding and admiring."</p></div> + +<p>Next came anecdotes about Véronique, minor details which she herself did +not remember or which she thought that she alone knew:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"One day, at the Tuileries—she was only sixteen—a +circle was formed round her . . . by people who looked +at her and wondered at her loveliness. Her girl +friends laughed, happy at seeing her admired . . . .</p> + +<p>"Open her right hand, François. You will see a long, +white scar in the middle of the palm. When she was +quite a little girl, she ran the point of an iron +railing into her hand . . . ."</p></div> + +<p>But the last pages were not written for the boy and had certainly not +been read by him. The writer's love was no longer disguised beneath +admiring phrases. It displayed itself without reserve, ardent, exalted, +suffering, quivering with hope, though always respectful.</p> + +<p>Véronique closed the book. She could read no more.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I confess, All's Well," she said to the dog, who was already +sitting up, "my eyes are wet with tears. Devoid of feminine weaknesses +as I am, I will tell you what I would say to nobody else: that really +touches me. Yes, I must try to recall the unknown features of the man +who loves me like this . . . some friend of my childhood whose +af<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>fection I never suspected and whose name has not left even a trace in +my memory."</p> + +<p>She drew the dog to her:</p> + +<p>"Two kind hearts, are they not, All's Well? Neither the master nor the +pupil is capable of the crimes which I saw them commit. If they are the +accomplices of our enemies here, they are so in spite of themselves and +without knowing it. I cannot believe in philtres and incantations and +plants which deprive you of your reason. But, all the same, there is +something, isn't there, you dear little dog? The boy who planted +veronicas round the Calvary of Flowers and who wrote, 'Mother's +flowers,' is not guilty, is he? And Honorine was right, when she spoke +of a fit of madness, and he will come back to look for me, won't he? +Stéphane and he are sure to come back."</p> + +<p>The hours that went by were full of soothing quiet. Véronique was no +longer lonely. The present had no terrors for her; and she had faith in +the future.</p> + +<p>Next morning, she said to All's Well, whom she had locked up to prevent +his running away:</p> + +<p>"Will you take me there now my man? Where? Why, to the friend, of +course, who sent provisions to Stéphane Maroux. Come along."</p> + +<p>All's Well was only waiting for Véronique's permission. He dashed off in +the direction of the grassy sward that led to the dolmen; and he stopped +half way. Véronique came up with him. He turned to the right and took a +path which brought them to a huddle of ruins near the edge of the +cliffs. Then he stopped again.</p> + +<p>"Is it here?" asked Véronique.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>The dog lay down flat. In front of him, at the foot of two blocks of +stones leaning against each other and covered with the same growth of +ivy, was a tangle of brambles with under it a little passage like the +entrance to a rabbit-warren. All's Well slipped in, disappeared and then +returned in search of Véronique, who had to go back to the Priory and +fetch a bill-hook to cut down the brambles.</p> + +<p>She managed in half an hour to uncover the top step of a staircase, +which she descended, feeling her way and preceded by All's Well, and +which took her to a long tunnel, cut in the body of the rock and lighted +on the left by little openings. She raised herself on tip-toe and saw +that these openings overlooked the sea.</p> + +<p>She walked on the level for ten minutes and then went down some more +steps. The tunnel grew narrower. The openings, which all looked towards +the sky, no doubt so as not to be seen from below, now gave light from +both the right and the left. Véronique began to understand how All's +Well was able to communicate with the other part of the island. The +tunnel followed the narrow strip of cliff which joined the Priory estate +to Sarek. The waves lapped the rocks on either side.</p> + +<p>They next climbed by steps under the knoll of the Great Oak. Two tunnels +opened at the top. All's Well chose the one on the left, which continued +to skirt the sea.</p> + +<p>Then on the right there were two more passages, both quite dark. The +island appeared to be riddled in this way with invisible communications; +and Véronique felt something clutch at her heart as she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> reflected that +she was making for the part which the sisters Archignat had described as +the enemy's subterranean domains, under the Black Heath.</p> + +<p>All's Well trotted in front of her, turning round from time to time to +see if she was following.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, dear, I'm coming," she whispered, "and I am not a bit afraid: +I am sure that you are leading me to a friend . . . a friend who has +taken shelter down here. But why has he not left his shelter? Why did +you not show him the way?"</p> + +<p>The passage had been chipped smooth throughout, with a rounded ceiling +and a very dry granite floor, which was amply ventilated by the +openings. There was not a mark, not a scratch of any kind on the walls. +Sometimes the point of a black flint projected.</p> + +<p>"Is it here?" asked Véronique, when All's Well stopped.</p> + +<p>The tunnel went no farther and widened into a chamber into which the +light filtered more thinly through a narrower window.</p> + +<p>All's Well seemed undecided. He listened, with his ears pricked up, +standing on his hind-legs and resting his fore-paws against the end wall +of the tunnel.</p> + +<p>Véronique noticed that the wall, at this spot, was not formed throughout +its length of the bare granite but consisted of an accumulation of +stones of unequal size set in cement. The work evidently belonged to a +different, doubtless more recent period.</p> + +<p>A regular partition-wall had been built, closing the underground +passage, which was probably continued on the other side.</p> + +<p>She repeated:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>"It's here, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>But she said nothing more. She had heard the stifled sound of a voice.</p> + +<p>She went up to the wall and presently gave a start. The voice was raised +higher. The sounds became more distinct. Some one, a child, was singing, +and she caught the words:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"And the mother said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rocking her child abed:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0a">'Weep not. If you do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Virgin Mary weeps with you.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Véronique murmured:</p> + +<p>"The song . . . the song . . ."</p> + +<p>It was the same that Honorine had hummed at Beg-Meil. Who could be +singing it now? A child, imprisoned in the island? A boy friend of +François'?</p> + +<p>And the voice went on:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0qa">"'Babes that laugh and sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles to the Blessed Virgin bring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fold your hands this way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to sweet Mary pray.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The last verse was followed by a silence that lasted for a few minutes. +All's Well appeared to be listening with increasing attention, as though +something, which he knew of, was about to take place.</p> + +<p>Thereupon, just where he stood, there was a slight noise of stones +carefully moved. All's Well wagged his tail frantically and barked, so +to speak, in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> whisper, like an animal that understands the danger of +breaking the silence. And suddenly, about his head, one of the stones +was drawn inward, leaving a fairly large aperture.</p> + +<p>All's Well leapt into the hole at a bound, stretched himself out and, +helping himself with his hind-legs, twisting and crawling, disappeared +inside.</p> + +<p>"Ah, there's Master All's Well!" said the young voice. "How are we, +Master All's Well? And why didn't we come and pay our master a visit +yesterday? Serious business, was it? A walk with Honorine? Oh, if you +could talk, my dear old chap, what stories you would have to tell! And, +first of all, look here . . ."</p> + +<p>Véronique, thrilled with excitement, had knelt down against the wall. +Was it her son's voice that she heard? Was she to believe that he was +back and in hiding? She tried in vain to see. The wall was thick; and +there was a bend in the opening. But how clearly each syllable uttered, +how plainly each intonation reached her ears!</p> + +<p>"Look here," repeated the boy, "why doesn't Honorine come to set me +free? Why don't you bring her here? You managed to find me all right. +And grandfather must be worried about me . . . . But <i>what</i> an +adventure! . . . So you're still of the same mind, eh, old chap? All's +well, isn't it? All's as well as well can be!"</p> + +<p>Véronique could not understand. Her son—for there was no doubt that it +was François—her son was speaking as if he knew nothing of what had +happened. Had he forgotten? Had his memory lost every trace of the deeds +done during his fit of madness?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>"Yes, a fit of madness," thought Véronique, obstinately. "He was mad. +Honorine was quite right: he was undoubtedly mad. And his reason has +returned. Oh, François, François! . . ."</p> + +<p>She listened, with all her tense being and all her trembling soul, to +the words that might bring her so much gladness or such an added load of +despair. Either the darkness would close in upon her more thickly and +heavily than ever, or daylight was to pierce that endless night in which +she had been struggling for fifteen years.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," continued the boy, "I agree with you, All's Well. But all +the same, I should be jolly glad if you could bring me some real proof +of it. On the one hand, there's no news of grandfather or Honorine, +though I've given you lots of messages for them; on the other hand, +there's no news of Stéphane. And that's what alarms me. Where is he? +Where have they locked him up? Won't he be starving by now? Come, All's +Well, tell me: where did you take the biscuits yesterday? . . . But, +look here, what's the matter with you? You seem to have something on +your mind. What are you looking at over there? Do you want to go away? +No? Then what is it?"</p> + +<p>The boy stopped. Then, after a moment, in a much lower voice:</p> + +<p>"Did you come with some one?" he asked. "Is there anybody behind the +wall?"</p> + +<p>The dog gave a dull bark. Then there was a long pause, during which +François also must have been listening.</p> + +<p>Véronique's emotion was so great that it seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> to her that François +must hear the beating of her heart.</p> + +<p>He whispered:</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Honorine?"</p> + +<p>There was a fresh pause; and he continued:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm sure it's you . . . . I can hear you breathing . . . . Why +don't you answer?"</p> + +<p>Véronique was carried away by a sudden impulse. Certain gleams of light +had flashed upon her mind since she had understood that Stéphane was a +prisoner, no doubt like François, therefore a victim of the enemy; and +all sorts of vague suppositions flitted through her brain. Besides, how +could she resist the appeal of that voice? Her son was asking her a +question . . . her son!</p> + +<p>"François . . . François!" she stammered.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, "there's an answer! I knew it! Is it you, Honorine?"</p> + +<p>"No, François," she said.</p> + +<p>"Then who is it?"</p> + +<p>"A friend of Honorine's."</p> + +<p>"I don't know you, do I?"</p> + +<p>"No . . . but I am your friend."</p> + +<p>He hesitated. Was he on his guard?</p> + +<p>"Why didn't Honorine come with you?"</p> + +<p>Véronique was not prepared for this question, but she at once realized +that, if the involuntary suppositions that were forcing themselves upon +her were correct, the boy must not yet be told the truth.</p> + +<p>She therefore said:</p> + +<p>"Honorine came back from her journey, but has gone away again."</p> + +<p>"Gone to look for me?"</p> + +<p>"That's it, that's it," she said, quickly. "She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> thought that you had +been carried away from Sarek and your tutor with you."</p> + +<p>"But grandfather?"</p> + +<p>"He's gone too: so have all the inhabitants of the island."</p> + +<p>"Ah! The old story of the coffins and the crosses, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Just so. They thought that your disappearance meant the beginning of +the disasters; and their fear made them take to flight."</p> + +<p>"But you, madame?"</p> + +<p>"I have known Honorine for a long time. I came from Paris with her to +take a holiday at Sarek. I have no reason to go away. All these +superstitions have no terrors for me."</p> + +<p>The child was silent. The improbability and inadequacy of the replies +must have been apparent to him: and his suspicions increased in +consequence. He confessed as much, frankly:</p> + +<p>"Listen, madame, there's something I must tell you. It's ten days since +I was imprisoned in this cell. During the first part of that time, I saw +and heard nobody. But, since the day before yesterday, every morning a +little wicket opens in the middle of my door and a woman's hand comes +through and gives a fresh supply of water. A woman's hand . . . so . . . +you see?"</p> + +<p>"So you want to know if that woman is myself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am obliged to ask you."</p> + +<p>"Would you recognize that woman's hand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is lean and bony, with a yellow arm."</p> + +<p>"Here's mine," said Véronique. "It can pass where All's Well did."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>She pulled up her sleeve; and by flexing her bare arm she easily passed +it through.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said François, at once, "that's not the hand I saw!"</p> + +<p>And he added, in a lower voice:</p> + +<p>"How pretty this one is!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly Véronique felt him take it in his own with a quick movement; +and he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Oh, it can't be true, it can't be true!"</p> + +<p>He had turned her hand over and was separating the fingers so as to +uncover the palm entirely. And he whispered:</p> + +<p>"The scar! . . . It's there! . . . The white scar! . . ."</p> + +<p>Then Véronique became greatly agitated. She remembered Stéphane Maroux's +diary and certain details set down by him which François must have +heard. One of these details was this scar, which recalled an old and +rather serious injury.</p> + +<p>She felt the boy's lips pressed to her hand, first gently and then with +passionate ardour and a great flow of tears, and heard him stammering:</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, mother darling! . . . My dear, dear mother! . . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">FRANÇOIS AND STÉPHANE</span></h2> + + +<p>Long the mother and son remained thus, kneeling against the wall that +divided them, yet as close together as though they were able to see each +other with their frenzied eyes and to mingle their tears and kisses. +They spoke both at once, asking each other questions and answering them +at random. They were in a transport of delight. The life of each flowed +over into the other's life and became swallowed up in it. No power on +earth could now dissolve their union or break the bonds of love and +confidence which unite mothers and sons.</p> + +<p>"Yes, All's Well, old man," said François, "you may sit up as much and +as long as you like. We are really crying this time . . . and you will +be the first to get tired, for one doesn't mind shedding such tears as +these, does one, mother?"</p> + +<p>As for Véronique, her mind retained not a vestige of the terrible +visions which had dismayed it. Her son a murderer, her son killing and +massacring people: she no longer admitted any of that. She did not even +admit the excuse of madness. Everything would be explained in some other +way which she was not even in a hurry to understand. She thought only of +her son. He was there. His eyes saw her through the wall. His heart beat +against hers. He lived; and he was the same gentle, affectionate,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> pure +and charming child that her maternal dreams had pictured.</p> + +<p>"My son, my son!" she kept on repeating, as though she could not utter +those marvellous words often enough. "My son, it's you, it's you! I +believed you dead, a thousand times dead, more dead than it is possible +to be . . . . And you are alive! And you are here! And I am touching +you! O Heaven, can it be true! I have a son . . . and my son is alive! +. . ."</p> + +<p>And he, on his side, took up the refrain with the same passionate +fervour:</p> + +<p>"Mother! Mother! I have waited for you so long! . . . To me you were not +dead, but it was so sad to be a child and to have no mother . . . to see +the years go by and to waste them in waiting for you."</p> + +<p>For an hour they talked at random, of the past, of the present, of a +hundred subjects which at first appeared to them the most interesting +things in the world and which they forthwith dropped to ask each other +more questions and to try to know each other a little better and to +enter more deeply into the secret of their lives and the privacy of +their souls.</p> + +<p>It was François who first attempted to impart some little method to +their conversation:</p> + +<p>"Listen, mother; we have so much to say to each other that we must give +up trying to say it all to-day and even for days and days. Let us speak +now of what is essential and in the fewest possible words, for we have +perhaps not much time before us."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" said Véronique, instantly alarmed. "I have no +intention of leaving you!"</p> + +<p>"But, mother, if we are not to leave each other,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> we must first be +united. Now there are many obstacles to be overcome, even if it were +only the wall that separates us. Besides, I am very closely watched; and +I may be obliged at any moment to send you away, as I do All's Well, at +the first sound of footsteps approaching."</p> + +<p>"Watched by whom?"</p> + +<p>"By those who fell upon Stéphane and me on the day when we discovered +the entrance to these caves, under the heath on the table-land, the +Black Heath."</p> + +<p>"Did you see them?"</p> + +<p>"No, it was too dark."</p> + +<p>"But who are they? Who are those enemies?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You suspect, of course?"</p> + +<p>"The Druids?" he said, laughing. "The people of old of whom the legends +speak? Rather not! Ghosts? Not that either. They were just simply +creatures of to-day, creatures of flesh and blood."</p> + +<p>"They live down here, though?"</p> + +<p>"Most likely."</p> + +<p>"And you took them by surprise?"</p> + +<p>"No, on the contrary. They seemed even to be expecting us and to be +lying in wait for us. We had gone down a stone staircase and a very long +passage, lined with perhaps eighty caves, or rather eighty cells. The +doors, which were of wood, were open; and the cells overlooked the sea. +It was on the way back, as we were going up the staircase again in the +dark, that we were seized from one side, knocked down, bound, +blindfolded and gagged. The whole thing did not take a minute. I +suspect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> that we were carried back to the end of the long passage. When +I succeeded in removing my bonds and my bandage, I found that I was +locked in one of the cells, probably the last in the passage; and I have +been here ten days."</p> + +<p>"My poor darling, how you must have suffered!"</p> + +<p>"No, mother, and in any case not from hunger. There was a whole stack of +provisions in one corner and a truss of straw in another to lie on. So I +waited quietly."</p> + +<p>"For whom?"</p> + +<p>"You promise not to laugh, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Laugh at what, dear?"</p> + +<p>"At what I'm going to tell you?"</p> + +<p>"How can you think . . . ?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I was waiting for some one who had heard of all the stories of +Sarek and who promised grandfather to come."</p> + +<p>"But who was it?"</p> + +<p>The boy hesitated:</p> + +<p>"No, I am sure you will make fun of me, mother, I'll tell you later. +Besides, he never came . . . though I thought for a moment . . . Yes, +fancy, I had managed to remove two stones from the wall and to open this +hole of which my gaolers evidently didn't know. All of a sudden, I heard +a noise, someone scratching . . ."</p> + +<p>"It was All's Well?"</p> + +<p>"It was Master All's Well coming by the other road. You can imagine the +welcome he received! Only what astonished me was that nobody followed +him this way, neither Honorine nor grandfather. I had no pencil or paper +to write to them; but, after all, they had only to follow All's Well."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>"That was impossible," said Véronique, "because they believed you to be +far away from Sarek, carried off no doubt, and because your grandfather +had left."</p> + +<p>"Just so: why believe anything of the sort? Grandfather knew, from a +lately discovered document, where we were, for it was he who told us of +the possible entrance to the underground passage. Didn't he speak to you +about it?"</p> + +<p>Véronique had been very happy in listening to her son's story. As he had +been carried off and imprisoned, he was not the atrocious monster who +had killed M. d'Hergemont, Marie Le Goff, Honorine and Corréjou and his +companions. The truth which she had already vaguely surmised now assumed +a more definite form and, though still thickly shrouded, was visible in +its essential part. François was not guilty. Some one had put on his +clothes and impersonated him, even as some one else, in the semblance of +Stéphane, had pretended to be Stéphane. Ah, what did all the rest +matter, the improbabilities and inconsistencies, the proofs and +certainties! Véronique did not even think about it. The only thing that +counted was the innocence of her beloved son.</p> + +<p>And so she still refused to tell him anything that would sadden him and +spoil his happiness; and she said:</p> + +<p>"No, I have not seen your grandfather. Honorine wanted to prepare him +for my visit, but things happened so hurriedly . . ."</p> + +<p>"And you were left alone on the island, poor mother? So you hoped to +find me here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, after a moment's hesitation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>"Alone, but with All's Well, of course."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I hardly paid any attention to him during the first days. It was +not until this morning that I thought of following him."</p> + +<p>"And where does the road start from that brought you here?"</p> + +<p>"It's an underground passage the outlet of which is concealed between +two stones near Maguennoc's garden."</p> + +<p>"What! Then the two islands communicate?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, by the cliff underneath the bridge."</p> + +<p>"How strange! That's what neither Stéphane not I guessed, nor anybody +else, for that matter . . . except our dear All's Well, when it came to +finding his master."</p> + +<p>He interrupted himself and then whispered:</p> + +<p>"Hark!"</p> + +<p>But, the next moment, he said:</p> + +<p>"No, it's not that yet. Still, we must hurry."</p> + +<p>"What am I to do?"</p> + +<p>"It's quite simple, mother. When I made this hole, I saw that it could +be widened easily enough, if it were possible also to take out the three +or four stones next to it. But these are firmly fixed; and we should +need an implement of some kind."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll go and . . ."</p> + +<p>"Yes, do, mother. Go back to the Priory. To the left of the house, in a +basement, is a sort of workshop where Maguennoc kept his garden-tools. +You will find a small pick-axe there, with a very short handle. Bring it +me in the evening. I will work during the night; and to-morrow morning I +shall give you a kiss, mother."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it sounds too good to be true!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>"I promise you I shall. Then all that we shall have to do will be to +release Stéphane."</p> + +<p>"Your tutor? Do you know where he is shut up?"</p> + +<p>"I do almost know. According to the particulars which grandfather gave +us, the underground passages consist of two floors one above the other; +and the last cell of each is fitted as a prison. I occupy one of them. +Stéphane should occupy the other, below mine. What worries me . . ."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's this: according to grandfather again, these two cells were +once torture-chambers . . . 'death chambers' was the word grandfather +used."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but how alarming!"</p> + +<p>"Why alarm yourself, mother? You see that they are not thinking of +torturing me. Only, on the off chance and not knowing what sort of fate +was in store for Stéphane, I sent him something to eat by All's Well, +who is sure to have found a way of getting to him."</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "All's Well did not understand."</p> + +<p>"How do you know, mother?"</p> + +<p>"He thought you were sending him to Stéphane Maroux's room and he heaped +it all under the bed."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the boy, anxiously. "What can have become of Stéphane?" And +he at once added, "You see, mother, that we must hurry, if we would save +Stéphane and save ourselves."</p> + +<p>"What are you afraid of?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, if you act quickly."</p> + +<p>"But still . . ."</p> + +<p>"Nothing, I assure you. I feel certain that we shall get the better of +every obstacle."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>"And, if any others present themselves . . . dangers which we cannot +foresee? . . ."</p> + +<p>"It is then," said François, laughing, "that the man whom I am expecting +will come and protect us."</p> + +<p>"You see, my darling, you yourself admit the need of assistance . . . ."</p> + +<p>"Why, no, mother, I am trying to ease your mind, but nothing will +happen. Come, how would you have a son who has just found his mother +lose her again at once? It isn't possible. In real life, may be . . . +but we are not living in real life. We are absolutely living in a +romance; and in romances things always come right. You ask All's Well. +It's so, old chap, isn't it: we shall win and be united and live happy +ever after? That's what you think, All's Well? Then be off, old chap, +and take mother with you. I'm going to fill up the hole, in case they +come and inspect my cell. And be sure not to try and come in when the +hole is stopped, eh, All's Well? That's when the danger is. Go, mother, +and don't make a noise when you come back."</p> + +<p>Véronique was not long away. She found the pick-axe; and, forty minutes +after, brought it and managed to slip it into the cell.</p> + +<p>"No one has been yet," said François, "but they are certain to come soon +and you had better not stay. I may have a night's work before me, +especially as I shall have to stop because of likely visits. So I shall +expect you at seven o'clock to-morrow . . . . By the way, talking of +Stéphane: I have been thinking it over. Some noises which I heard just +now confirmed my notion that he is shut up more or less underneath me. +The opening that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> lights my cell is too narrow for me to pass through. +Is there a fairly wide window at the place where you are now?"</p> + +<p>"No, but it can be widened by removing the little stones round it."</p> + +<p>"Capital. You will find in Maguennoc's workshop a bamboo ladder, with +iron hooks to it, which you can easily bring with you to-morrow morning. +Next, take some provisions and some rugs and leave them in a thicket at +the entrance to the tunnel."</p> + +<p>"What for, darling?"</p> + +<p>"You'll see. I have a plan. Good-bye, mother. Have a good night's rest +and pick up your strength. We may have a hard day before us."</p> + +<p>Véronique followed her son's advice. The next morning, full of hope, she +once more took the road to the cell. This time, All's Well, reverting to +his instincts of independence, did not come with her.</p> + +<p>"Keep quite still, mother," said François, in so low a whisper that she +could scarcely hear him. "I am very closely watched; and I think there's +some one walking up and down in the passage. However, my work is nearly +done; the stones are all loosened. I shall have finished in two hours. +Have you the ladder?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Remove the stones from the window . . . that will save time . . . for +really I am frightened about Stéphane . . . . And be sure not to make a +noise . . . ."</p> + +<p>Véronique moved away.</p> + +<p>The window was not much more than three feet from the floor: and the +small stones, as she had supposed, were kept in place only by their own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +weight and the way in which they were arranged. The opening which she +thus contrived to make was very wide; and she easily passed the ladder +which she had brought with her through and secured it by its iron hooks +to the lower ledge.</p> + +<p>She was some hundred feet or so above the sea, which lay all white +before her, guarded by the thousand reefs of Sarek. But she could not +see the foot of the cliff, for there was under the window a slight +projection of granite which jutted forward and on which the ladder +rested instead of hanging perpendicularly.</p> + +<p>"That will help François," she thought.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the danger of the undertaking seemed great; and she +wondered whether she herself ought not to take the risk, instead of her +son, all the more so as François might be mistaken, as Stéphane's cell +was perhaps not there at all and as perhaps there was no means of +entering it by a similar opening. If so, what a waste of time! And what +a useless danger for the boy to run!</p> + +<p>At that moment she felt so great a need of self-devotion, so intense a +wish to prove her love for him by direct action, that she formed her +resolution without pausing to reflect, even as one performs immediately +a duty which there is no question of not performing. Nothing deterred +her: neither her inspection of the ladder, whose hooks were not wide +enough to grip the whole thickness of the ledge, nor the sight of the +precipice, which gave an impression that everything was about to fall +away from under her. She had to act; and she acted.</p> + +<p>Pinning up her skirt, she stepped across the wall,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> turned round, +supported herself on the ledge, groped with her foot in space and found +one of the rungs. Her whole body was trembling. Her heart was beating +furiously, like the clapper of a bell. Nevertheless she had the mad +courage to catch hold of the two uprights and go down.</p> + +<p>It did not take long. She knew that there were twenty rungs in all. She +counted them. When she reached the twentieth, she looked to the left and +murmured, with unspeakable joy:</p> + +<p>"Oh, François . . . my darling!"</p> + +<p>She had seen, three feet away at most, a recess, a hollow which appeared +to be the entrance to a cavity cut in the rock itself.</p> + +<p>"Stéphane . . . Stéphane," she called, but in so faint a voice that +Stéphane Maroux, if he were there, could not hear her.</p> + +<p>She hesitated a few seconds, but her legs were giving way and she no +longer had the strength either to climb up again or to remain hanging +where she was. Taking advantage of a few irregularities in the rock and +thus shifting the ladder, at the risk of unhooking it, she succeeded, by +a sort of miracle of which she was quite aware, in catching hold of a +flint which projected from the granite and setting foot in the cave. +Then, with fierce energy, she made one supreme effort and, recovering +her balance with a jerk, she entered.</p> + +<p>She at once saw some one, fastened with cords, lying on a truss of +straw.</p> + +<p>The cave was small and not very deep, especially in the upper portion, +which pointed towards the sky rather than the sea and which must have +looked,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> from a distance, like a mere fold in the cliff. There was no +projection to bound it at the edge. The light entered freely.</p> + +<p>Véronique went nearer. The man did not move. He was asleep.</p> + +<p>She bent over him; though she did not recognize him for certain, it +seemed to her that a memory was emerging from that dim past in which all +the faces of our childhood gradually fade away. This one was surely not +unknown to her: a gentle visage, with regular features, fair hair flung +well back, a broad, white forehead and a slightly feminine countenance, +which reminded Véronique of the charming face of a convent friend who +had died before the war.</p> + +<p>She deftly unfastened the bonds with which the wrists were fastened +together.</p> + +<p>The man, without waking immediately, stretched his arms, as though +submitting himself to a familiar operation, not effected for the first +time, which did not necessarily interfere with his sleep. Presumably he +was released like this at intervals, perhaps in order to eat and at +night, for he ended by muttering:</p> + +<p>"So early? . . . But I'm not hungry . . . and it's still light!"</p> + +<p>This last reflection astonished the man himself. He opened his eyes and +at once sat up where he lay, so that he might see the person who was +standing in front of him, no doubt for the first time in broad daylight.</p> + +<p>He was not greatly surprised, for the reason that the reality could not +have been manifest to him at once. He probably thought that he was the +sport<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> of a dream or an hallucination; and he said, in an undertone:</p> + +<p>"Véronique . . . Véronique . . ."</p> + +<p>She felt a little embarrassed by his gaze, but finished releasing his +bonds; and, when he distinctly felt her hand on his own hands and on his +imprisoned limbs, he understood the wonderful event which her presence +implied and he said, in a faltering voice:</p> + +<p>"You! You! . . . Can it be? . . . Oh, speak just one word, just one! +. . . Can it possibly be you?" He continued, almost to himself, "Yes, it +is she . . . it is certainly she . . . . She is here!" And, anxiously, +aloud, "You . . . at night . . . on the other nights . . . it wasn't you +who came then? It was another woman, wasn't it? An enemy? . . . Oh, +forgive me for asking you! . . . It's because . . . because I don't +understand . . . . How did you come here?"</p> + +<p>"I came this way," she said, pointing to the sea.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he said, "how wonderful!"</p> + +<p>He stared at her with dazed eyes, as he might have stared at some vision +descended from Heaven; and the circumstances were so unusual that he did +not think of suppressing the eagerness of his gaze.</p> + +<p>She repeated, utterly confused:</p> + +<p>"Yes, this way . . . . François suggested it."</p> + +<p>"I did not mention him," he said, "because, with you here, I felt sure +that he was free."</p> + +<p>"Not yet," she said, "but he will be in an hour."</p> + +<p>A long pause ensued. She interrupted it to conceal her agitation:</p> + +<p>"He will be free . . . . You shall see him . . . . But we must not +frighten him: there are things which he doesn't know."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>She perceived that he was listening not to the words uttered but to the +voice that uttered them and that this voice seemed to plunge him into a +sort of ecstasy, for he was silent and smiled. She thereupon smiled too +and questioned him, thus obliging him to answer:</p> + +<p>"You called me by my name at once. So you knew me? I also seem to . . . +Yes, you remind me of a friend of mine who died."</p> + +<p>"Madeleine Ferrand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Madeleine Ferrand."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I also remind you of her brother, a shy schoolboy who used +often to visit the parlour at the convent and who used to look at you +from a distance."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," she declared. "I remember. We even spoke to each other +sometimes; you used to blush. Yes, that's it: your name was Stéphane. +But how do you come to be called Maroux?"</p> + +<p>"Madeleine and I were not children of the same father."</p> + +<p>"Ah," she said, "that was what misled me!"</p> + +<p>She gave him her hand:</p> + +<p>"Well, Stéphane," she said, "as we are old friends and have renewed our +acquaintance, let us put off all our remembrances until later. For the +moment, the most urgent matter is to get away. Have you the strength?"</p> + +<p>"The strength, yes: I have not had such a very bad time. But how are we +to go from here?"</p> + +<p>"By the same road by which I came, a ladder communicating with the upper +passage of cells."</p> + +<p>He was now standing up:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>"You had the courage, the pluck?" he asked, at last realizing what she +had dared to do.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was not very difficult!" she declared. "François was so anxious! +He maintained that you were both occupying old torture-chambers . . . +death-chambers . . . ."</p> + +<p>It was as though these words aroused him violently from a dream and made +him suddenly see that it was madness to converse in such circumstances.</p> + +<p>"Go away!" he cried. "François is right! Oh, if you knew the risk you +are running. Please, please go!"</p> + +<p>He was beside himself, as though convulsed by the thought of an +immediate peril. She tried to calm him, but he entreated her:</p> + +<p>"Another second may be your undoing. Don't stay here . . . . I am +condemned to death and to the most terrible death. Look at the ground on +which we are standing, this sort of floor . . . . But it's no use +talking about it. Oh, please do go!"</p> + +<p>"With you," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, with me. But save yourself first."</p> + +<p>She resisted and said, firmly:</p> + +<p>"For us both to be saved, Stéphane, we must above all things remain +calm. What I did just now we can do again only by calculating all our +actions and controlling our excitement. Are you ready?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, overcome by her magnificent confidence.</p> + +<p>"Then follow me."</p> + +<p>She stepped to the very edge of the precipice and leant forward:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>"Give me your hand," she said, "to help me keep my balance."</p> + +<p>She turned round, flattened herself against the cliff and felt the +surface with her free hand.</p> + +<p>Not finding the ladder, she leant outward slightly.</p> + +<p>The ladder had become displaced. No doubt, when Véronique, perhaps with +too abrupt a movement, had set foot in the cave, the iron hook of the +right-hand upright had slipped and the ladder, hanging only by the other +hook, had swung like a pendulum.</p> + +<p>The bottom rungs were now out of reach.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">ANGUISH</span></h2> + + +<p>Had Véronique been alone, she would have yielded to one of those moods +of despondency which her nature, brave though it was, could not escape +in the face of the unrelenting animosity of fate. But in the presence of +Stéphane, who she felt to be the weaker and who was certainly exhausted +by his captivity, she had the strength to restrain herself and announce, +as though mentioning quite an ordinary incident:</p> + +<p>"The ladder has swung out of our reach."</p> + +<p>Stéphane looked at her in dismay:</p> + +<p>"Then . . . then we are lost!"</p> + +<p>"Why should we be lost?" she asked, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"There is no longer any hope of getting away."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? Of course there is. What about François?"</p> + +<p>"François?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. In an hour at most, François will have made his escape; and, +when he sees the ladder and the way I came, he will call to us. We shall +hear him easily. We have only to be patient."</p> + +<p>"To be patient!" he said, in terror. "To wait for an hour! But they are +sure to be here in less than that. They keep a constant watch."</p> + +<p>"Well, we will manage somehow."</p> + +<p>He pointed to the wicket in the door:</p> + +<p>"Do you see that wicket?" he said. "They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> open it each time. They will +see us through the grating."</p> + +<p>"There's a shutter to it. Let's close it."</p> + +<p>"They will come in."</p> + +<p>"Then we won't close it and we'll keep up our confidence, Stéphane."</p> + +<p>"I'm frightened for you, not for myself."</p> + +<p>"You mustn't be frightened either for me or for yourself . . . . If the +worst comes to the worst, we are able to defend ourselves," she added, +showing him a revolver which she had taken from her father's rack of +arms and carried on her ever since.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, "what I fear is that we shall not even be called upon to +defend ourselves! They have other means."</p> + +<p>"What means?"</p> + +<p>He did not answer. He had flung a quick glance at the floor; and +Véronique for a moment examined its curious structure.</p> + +<p>All around, following the circumference of the walls, was the granite +itself, rugged and uneven. But outlined in the granite was a large +square. They could see, on each of the four sides, the deep crevice that +divided it from the rest. The timbers of which it consisted were worn +and grooved, full of cracks and gashes, but nevertheless massive and +powerful. The fourth side almost skirted the edge of the precipice, from +which it was divided by eight inches at most.</p> + +<p>"A trap-door?" she asked, with a shudder.</p> + +<p>"No, not that," he said. "It would be too heavy."</p> + +<p>"Then what?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Very likely it is nothing but a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> remnant of some past +contrivance which no longer works. Still . . ."</p> + +<p>"Still what?"</p> + +<p>"Last night . . . or rather this morning there was a creaking sound down +below there. It seemed to suggest attempts, but they stopped at once +. . . it's such a long time since! . . . No, the thing no longer works +and they can't make use of it."</p> + +<p>"Who's <i>they</i>?"</p> + +<p>Without waiting for his answer, she continued:</p> + +<p>"Listen, Stéphane, we have a few minutes before us, perhaps fewer than +we think. François will be free at any moment now and will come to our +rescue. Let us make the most of the interval and tell each other the +things which both of us ought to know. Let us discuss matters quietly. +We are threatened with no immediate danger; and the time will be well +employed."</p> + +<p>Véronique was pretending a sense of security which she did not feel. +That François would make his escape she refused to doubt; but who could +tell that the boy would go to the window and notice the hook of the +hanging ladder? On failing to see his mother, would he not rather think +of following the underground tunnel and running to the Priory?</p> + +<p>However, she mastered herself, feeling the need of the explanation for +which she had asked, and, sitting down on a granite projection which +formed a sort of bench, she at once began to tell Stéphane the events +which she had witnessed and in which she had played a leading part, from +the moment when her investigations led her to the deserted cabin +containing Maguennoc's dead body.</p> + +<p>Stéphane listened to the terrifying narrative with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>out attempting to +interrupt her but with an alarm marked by his gestures of abhorrence and +the despairing expression of his face. M. d'Hergemont's death in +particular seemed to crush him, as did Honorine's. He had been greatly +attached to both of them.</p> + +<p>"There, Stéphane," said Véronique, when she had described the anguish +which she suffered after the execution of the sisters Archignat, the +discovery of the underground passage and her interview with François. +"That is all that I need absolutely tell you. I thought that you ought +to know what I have kept from François, so that we may fight our enemies +together."</p> + +<p>He shook his head:</p> + +<p>"Which enemies?" he said. "I, too, in spite of your explanations, am +asking the very question which you asked me. I have a feeling that we +are flung into the midst of a great tragedy which has continued for +years, for centuries, and in which we have begun to play our parts only +at the moment of the crisis, at the moment of the terrific cataclysm +prepared by generations of men. I may be wrong. Perhaps there is nothing +more than a disconnected series of sinister, weird and horrible +coincidences amid which we are tossed from side to side, without being +able to appeal to any other reasons than the whim of chance. In reality +I know no more than you do. I am surrounded by the same obscurity, +stricken by the same sorrows and the same losses. It's all just +insanity, extravagant convulsions, unprecedent shocks, the crimes of +savages, the fury of the barbaric ages."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>Véronique agreed:</p> + +<p>"Yes, of the barbaric ages; and that is what baffles me most and +impresses me so much! What is the connection between the present and the +past, between our persecutors of to-day and the men who lived in these +caves in days of old and whose actions are prolonged into our own time, +in a manner so impossible to understand? To what do they all refer, +those legends of which I know nothing except from Honorine's delirium +and the distress of the sisters Archignat?"</p> + +<p>They spoke low, with their ears always on the alert. Stéphane listened +for sounds in the corridor, Véronique concentrated her attention on the +cliff, in the hope of hearing François' signal.</p> + +<p>"They are very complicated legends," said Stéphane, "very obscure +traditions in which we must abandon any attempt to distinguish between +what is superstition and what might be truth. Out of this jumble of old +wives' tales, the very most that we can disentangle is two sets of +ideas, those referring to the prophecy of the thirty coffins and those +relating to the existence of a treasure, or rather of a miraculous +stone."</p> + +<p>"Then they take as a prophecy," said Véronique, "the words which I read +on Maguennoc's drawing and again on the Fairies' Dolmen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a prophecy which dates back to an indeterminate period and which +for centuries has governed the whole history and the whole life of +Sarek. The belief has always prevailed that a day would come when, +within a space of twelve months, the thirty principal reefs which +surround the island and which are called the thirty coffins would +receive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> their thirty victims, who were to die a violent death, and that +those thirty victims would include four women who were to die crucified. +It is an established and undisputed tradition, handed down from father +to son: and everybody believes in it. It is expressed in the line and +part of a line inscribed on the Fairies' Dolmen: 'Four women crucified,' +and 'For thirty coffins victims thirty times!'"</p> + +<p>"Very well; but people have gone on living all the same, normally and +peaceably. Why did the outburst of terror suddenly take place this +year?"</p> + +<p>"Maguennoc was largely responsible. Maguennoc was a fantastic and rather +mysterious person, a mixture of the wizard and the bone-setter, the +healer and the charlatan, who had studied the stars in their courses and +whom people liked to consult about the most remote events of the past as +well as the future. Now Maguennoc announced not long ago that 1917 would +be the fateful year."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Intuition perhaps, presentiment, divination, or subconscious knowledge: +you can choose any explanation that you please. As for Maguennoc, who +did not despise the practices of the most antiquated magic, <i>he</i> would +tell you that he knew it from the flight of a bird or the entrails of a +fowl. However, his prophecy was based on something more serious. He +pretended, quoting evidence collected in his childhood among the old +people of Sarek, that, at the beginning of the last century, the first +line of the inscription on the Fairies' Dolmen was not yet obliterated +and that it formed this, which would rhyme with 'Four women shall be +crucified on tree:'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> 'In Sarek's isle, in year fourteen and three.' The +year fourteen and three is the year seventeen; and the prediction became +more impressive for Maguennoc and his friends of late years, because the +total number was divided into two numbers and the war broke out in 1914. +From that day, Maguennoc grew more and more important and more and more +sure of the truth of his previsions. For that matter, he also grew more +and more anxious; and he even announced that his death, followed by the +death of M. d'Hergemont, would give the signal for the catastrophe. Then +the year 1917 arrived and produced a genuine terror in the island. The +events were close at hand."</p> + +<p>"And still," said Véronique, "and still it was all absurd."</p> + +<p>"Absurd, yes; but it all acquired a curiously disturbing significance on +the day when Maguennoc was able to compare the scraps of prophecy +engraved on the dolmen with the complete prophecy."</p> + +<p>"Then he succeeded in doing so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He discovered under the abbey ruins, in a heap of stones which had +formed a sort of protecting chamber round it, an old worn and tattered +missal, which had a few of its pages in good condition, however, and one +in particular, the one which you saw, or rather of which you saw a copy +in the deserted cabin."</p> + +<p>"A copy made by my father?"</p> + +<p>"By your father, as were all those in the cupboard in his study. M. +d'Hergemont, you must remember, was fond of drawing, of painting +water-colours. He copied the illuminated page, but of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> prophecy that +accompanied the drawing he reproduced only the words inscribed on the +Fairies' Dolmen."</p> + +<p>"How do you account for the resemblance between the crucified woman and +myself?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw the original, which Maguennoc gave to M. d'Hergemont and +which your father kept jealously in his room. But M. d'Hergemont +maintained that the resemblance was there. In any case, he accentuated +it in his drawing, in spite of himself, remembering all that you had +suffered . . . and through his fault, he said."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," murmured Véronique, "he was also thinking of the other +prophecy that was once made to Vorski: 'You will perish by the hand of a +friend and your wife will be crucified.' So I suppose the strange +coincidence struck him . . . and even made him write the initials of my +maiden name, 'V. d'H.', at the top." And she added, "And all this +happened in accordance with the wording of the inscription . . . ."</p> + +<p>They were both silent. How could they do other than think of that +inscription, of the words written ages ago on the pages of the missal +and on the stone of the dolmen? If destiny had as yet provided only +twenty-seven victims for the thirty coffins of Sarek, were the last +three not there, ready to complete the sacrifice, all three imprisoned, +all three captive and in the power of the sacrificial murderers? And if, +at the top of the knoll, near the Grand Oak, there were as yet but three +crosses, would the fourth not soon be prepared, to receive a fourth +victim?</p> + +<p>"François is a very long time," said Véronique, presently.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>She went to the edge and looked over. The ladder had not moved and was +still out of reach.</p> + +<p>"The others will soon be coming to my door," said Stéphane. "I am +surprised that they haven't been yet."</p> + +<p>But they did not wish to confess their mutual anxiety; and Véronique put +a further question, in a calm voice:</p> + +<p>"And the treasure? The God-Stone?"</p> + +<p>"That riddle is hardly less obscure," said Stéphane, "and also depends +entirely on the last line of the inscription: 'The God-Stone which gives +life or death.' What is this God-Stone? Tradition says that it is a +miraculous stone; and, according to M. d'Hergemont, this belief dates +back to the remotest periods. People at Sarek have always had faith in +the existence of a stone capable of working wonders. In the middle ages +they used to bring puny and deformed children and lay them on the stone +for days and nights together, after which the children got up strong and +healthy. Barren women resorted to this remedy with good results, as did +old men, wounded men and all sorts of degenerates. Only it came about +that the place of pilgrimage underwent changes, the stone, still +according to tradition, having been moved and even, according to some, +having disappeared. In the eighteenth century, people venerated the +Fairies' Dolmen and used still sometimes to expose scrofulous children +there."</p> + +<p>"But," said Véronique, "the stone also had harmful properties, for it +gave death as well as life?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you touched it without the knowledge of those whose business it +was to guard it and keep it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> sacred. But in this respect the mystery +becomes still more complicated, for there is the question also of a +precious stone, a sort of fantastic gem which shoots out flames, burns +those who wear it and makes them suffer the tortures of the damned."</p> + +<p>"That's what happened to Maguennoc, by Honorine's account," said +Véronique.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Stéphane, "but here we are entering upon the present. So +far I have been speaking of the fabled past, the two legends, the +prophecy and the God-Stone. Maguennoc's adventure opens up the period of +the present day, which for that matter is hardly less obscure than the +ancient period. What happened to Maguennoc? We shall probably never +know. He had been keeping in the background for a week, gloomy and doing +no work, when suddenly he burst into M. d'Hergemont's study roaring, +'I've touched it! I'm done for! I've touched it! . . . I took it in my +hand . . . . It burnt me like fire, but I wanted to keep it . . . . Oh, +it's been gnawing into my bones for days! It's hell, it's hell!' And he +showed us the palm of his hand. It was all burnt, as though eaten up +with cancer. We tried to dress it for him, but he seemed quite mad and +kept rambling on, 'I'm the first victim . . . . the fire will go to my +heart . . . . And after me the others' turn will come . . . .' That same +evening, he cut off his hand with a hatchet. And a week later, after +infecting the whole island with terror, he went away."</p> + +<p>"Where did he go to?"</p> + +<p>"To the village of Le Faouet, on a pilgrimage to the Chapel of St. +Barbe, near the place where you found his dead body."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>"Who killed him, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly one of the creatures who used to correspond by means of +signs written along the road, one of the creatures who live hidden in +the cells and who are pursuing some purpose which I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Those who attacked you and François, therefore?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and immediately afterwards, having stolen and put on our clothes, +played the parts of François and myself."</p> + +<p>"With what object?"</p> + +<p>"To enter the Priory more easily and then, if their attempt failed, to +balk enquiry."</p> + +<p>"But haven't you seen them since they have kept you here?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen only a woman, or rather caught a glimpse of her. She comes +at night. She brings me food and drink, unties my hands, loosens the +fastenings round my legs a little and comes back two hours after."</p> + +<p>"Has she spoken to you?"</p> + +<p>"Once only, on the first night, in a low voice, to tell me that, if I +called out or uttered a sound or tried to escape, François would pay the +penalty."</p> + +<p>"But, when they attacked you, couldn't you then make out . . . ?"</p> + +<p>"No, I saw no more than François did."</p> + +<p>"And the attack was quite unexpected?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, quite. M. d'Hergemont had that morning received two important +letters on the subject of the investigation which he was making into all +these facts. One of the letters, written by an old Breton nobleman +well-known for his royalist leanings, was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> accompanied by a curious +document which he had found among his great-grandfather's papers, a plan +of some underground cells which the Chouans used to occupy in Sarek. It +was evidently the same Druid dwellings of which the legends tell us. The +plan showed the entrance on the Black Heath and marked two stories, each +ending in a torture-chamber. François and I went out exploring together; +and we were attacked on our way back."</p> + +<p>"And you have made no discovery since?"</p> + +<p>"No, none at all."</p> + +<p>"But François spoke of a rescue which he was expecting, some one who had +promised his assistance."</p> + +<p>"Oh, a piece of boyish nonsense, an idea of François', which, as it +happened, was connected with the second letter which M. d'Hergemont +received that morning!"</p> + +<p>"And what was it about?"</p> + +<p>Stéphane did not reply at once. Something made him think that they were +being spied on through the door. But, on going to the wicket, he saw no +one in the passage outside.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, "if we are to be rescued, the sooner it happens the +better. <i>They</i> may come at any moment now."</p> + +<p>"Is any help really possible?" asked Véronique.</p> + +<p>"Well," Stéphane answered, "we must not attach too much importance to +it, but it's rather curious all the same. You know, Sarek has often been +visited by officers or inspectors with a view to exploring the rocks and +beaches around the island, which were quite capable of concealing a +submarine base. Last time, the special delegate sent from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> Paris, a +wounded officer, Captain Patrice Belval,<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> became friendly with M. +d'Hergemont, who told him the legend of Sarek and the apprehension which +we were beginning to feel in spite of everything; it was the day after +Maguennoc went away. The story interested Captain Belval so much that he +promised to speak of it to one of his friends in Paris, a Spanish or +Portuguese nobleman, Don Luis Perenna,<a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> an extraordinary person, it +would seem, capable of solving the most complicated mysteries and of +succeeding in the most reckless enterprises. A few days after Captain +Belval's departure, M. d'Hergemont received from Don Luis Perenna the +letter of which I spoke to you and of which he read us only the +beginning. 'Sir,' it said, 'I look upon the Maguennoc incident as more +than a little serious; and I beg you, at the least fresh alarm, to +telegraph to Patrice Belval. If I can rely upon certain indications, you +are standing on the brink of an abyss. But, even if you were at the +bottom of that abyss, you would have nothing to fear, if only I hear +from you in time. From that moment, I make myself responsible, whatever +happens, even though everything may seem lost and though everything may +be lost. As for the riddle of the God-Stone, it is simply childish and I +am astonished that, with the very ample data which you gave Belval, it +should for an instant be regarded as impossible of explanation. I will +tell you in a few words what has puzzled so many generations of mankind +. . . .'"</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See <i>The Golden Triangle</i>, by Maurice Leblanc.</p></div> + +<p>"Well?" said Véronique, eager to know more.</p> + +<p>"As I said, M. d'Hergemont did not tell us the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> end of the letter. He +read it in front of us, saying, with an air of amazement, 'Can that be +it? . . . Why, of course, of course it is . . . . How wonderful!' And, +when we asked him, he said, 'I'll tell you all about it this evening, +when you come back from the Black Heath. Meanwhile you may like to know +that this most extraordinary man—it's the only word for him—discloses +to me, without more ado or further particulars, the secret of the +God-Stone and the exact spot where it is to be found. And he does it so +logically as to leave no room for doubt.'"</p> + +<p>"And in the evening?"</p> + +<p>"In the evening, François and I were carried off and M. d'Hergemont was +murdered."</p> + +<p>Véronique paused to think:</p> + +<p>"I should not be surprised," she said, "if they wanted to steal that +important letter from him. For, after all, the theft of the God-Stone +seems to me the only motive that can explain all the machinations of +which we are the victims."</p> + +<p>"I think so too: but M. d'Hergemont, on Don Luis Perenna's +recommendation, tore up the letter before our eyes."</p> + +<p>"So, after all, Don Luis Perenna has not been informed?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Yet François . . ."</p> + +<p>"François does not know of his grandfather's death and does not suspect +that M. d'Hergemont never heard of our disappearance and therefore never +sent a message to Don Luis Perenna. If he had done so, Don Luis, to +François' mind, must be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> on his way. Besides, François has another +reason for expecting something . . . ."</p> + +<p>"A serious reason?"</p> + +<p>"No. François is still very much of a child. He has read a lot of books +of adventure, which have worked upon his imagination. Now Captain Belval +told him such fantastic stories about his friend Perenna and painted +Perenna in such strange colours that François firmly believes Perenna to +be none other than Arsène Lupin. Hence his absolute confidence and his +certainty that, in case of danger, the miraculous intervention will take +place at the very minute when it becomes necessary."</p> + +<p>Véronique could not help smiling:</p> + +<p>"He is a child, of course; but children sometimes have intuitions which +we have to take into account. Besides, it keeps up his courage and his +spirits. How could he have endured this ordeal, at his age, if he had +not had that hope?"</p> + +<p>Her anguish returned. In a very low voice, she said:</p> + +<p>"No matter where the rescue comes from, so long as it comes in time and +so long as my son is not the victim of those dreadful creatures!"</p> + +<p>They were silent for a long time. The enemy, present, though invisible, +oppressed them with his formidable weight. He was everywhere; he was +master of the island, master of the subterranean dwellings, master of +the heaths and woods, master of the sea around them, master of the +dolmens and the coffins. He linked together the monstrous ages of the +past and the no less monstrous hours of the present. He was continuing +history according to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> the ancient rites and striking blows which had +been foretold a thousand times.</p> + +<p>"But why? With what object? What does it all mean?" asked Véronique, in +a disheartened tone. "What connection can there be between the people of +to-day and those of long ago? What is the explanation of the work +resumed by such barbarous methods?"</p> + +<p>And, after a further pause, she said, for in her heart of hearts, behind +every question and reply and every insoluble problem, the obsession +never ceased to torment her:</p> + +<p>"Ah, if François were here! If we were all three fighting together! What +has happened to him? What keeps him in his cell? Some obstacle which he +did not foresee?"</p> + +<p>It was Stéphane's turn to comfort her:</p> + +<p>"An obstacle? Why should you suppose so? There is no obstacle. But it's +a long job . . . ."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, you are right; a long, difficult job. Oh, I'm sure that he +won't lose heart! He has such high spirits! And such confidence! 'A +mother and son who have been brought together cannot be parted again,' +he said. 'They may still persecute us, but separate us, never! We shall +win in the end.' He was speaking truly, wasn't he, Stéphane? I've not +found my son again, have I, only to lose him? No, no, it would be too +unjust and it would be impossible . . ."</p> + +<p>Stéphane looked at her, surprised to hear her interrupt herself. +Véronique was listening to something.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Stéphane.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>"I hear sounds," she said.</p> + +<p>He also listened:</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, you're right."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it's François," she said. "Perhaps it's up there."</p> + +<p>She moved to rise. He held her back:</p> + +<p>"No, it's the sound of footsteps in the passage."</p> + +<p>"In that case . . . in that case . . . ?" said Véronique.</p> + +<p>They exchanged distraught glances, forming no decision, not knowing what +to do.</p> + +<p>The sound came nearer. The enemy could not be suspecting anything, for +the steps were those of one who is not afraid of being heard.</p> + +<p>Stéphane said, slowly:</p> + +<p>"They must not see me standing up. I will go back to my place. You must +fasten me again as best you can."</p> + +<p>They remained hesitating, as though cherishing the absurd hope that the +danger would pass of its own accord. Then, suddenly, releasing herself +from the sort of stupor that seemed to paralyse her, Véronique made up +her mind:</p> + +<p>"Quick! . . . Here they come! . . . Lie down!"</p> + +<p>He obeyed. In a few seconds, she had replaced the cords on and around +him as she had found them, but without tying them.</p> + +<p>"Turn your face to the rock," she said. "Hide your hands. Your hands +might betray you."</p> + +<p>"And you?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be all right."</p> + +<p>She stooped and stretched herself at full length<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> against the door, in +which the spy-hole, barred with strips of iron, projected inwardly in +such a way as to hide her from sight.</p> + +<p>At the same moment, the enemy stopped outside. Notwithstanding the +thickness of the door, Véronique heard the rustle of a dress.</p> + +<p>And, above her, some one looked in.</p> + +<p>It was a terrible moment. The least indication would give the alarm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, why does she stay?" thought Véronique. "Is there anything to betray +my presence? My clothes? . . ."</p> + +<p>She thought that it was more likely Stéphane, whose attitude did not +appear natural and whose bonds did not wear their usual aspect.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a movement outside, followed by a whistle and a +second whistle.</p> + +<p>Then from the far end of the passage came another sound of steps, which +increased in the solemn silence and stopped, like the first, behind the +door. Words were spoken. Those outside seemed to be concerting measures.</p> + +<p>Véronique managed to reach her pocket. She took out her revolver and put +her finger on the trigger. If any one entered, she would stand up and +fire shot after shot, without hesitating. Would not the least hesitation +have meant François' death?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE DEATH-CHAMBER</span></h2> + + +<p>Véronique's estimate was correct, provided that the door opened outwards +and that her enemies were at once revealed to view. She therefore +examined the door and suddenly observed that, against all logical +expectation, it had a large strong bolt at the bottom. Should she make +use of it?</p> + +<p>She had no time to weigh the advantages or drawbacks of this plan. She +had heard a jingle of keys and, almost at the same time, the sound of a +key grating in the lock.</p> + +<p>Véronique received a very clear vision of what was likely to happen. +When the assailants burst in, she would be thrust aside, she would be +hampered in her movements, her aim would be inaccurate and her shots +would miss, whereupon <i>they</i> would shut the door again and promptly +hurry off to François' cell. The thought of it made her lose her head; +and her action was instinctive and immediate. First, she pushed the bolt +at the foot of the door. Next, half rising, she slammed the iron shutter +over the wicket. A latch clicked. It was no longer possible either to +enter or to look in.</p> + +<p>Then at once she realized the absurdity of her action, which had not +opposed any obstacle to the menace of the enemy. Stéphane, leaping to +her side, said:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>"Good heavens, what have you done? Why, they saw that I was not moving +and they now know that I am not alone!"</p> + +<p>"Exactly," she answered, striving to defend herself. "They will try to +break down the door, which will give us the time we want."</p> + +<p>"The time we want for what?"</p> + +<p>"To make our escape."</p> + +<p>"Which way?"</p> + +<p>"François will call out to us. François will . . ."</p> + +<p>She did not complete her sentence. They now heard the sound of footsteps +moving swiftly down the passage. There was no doubt about it; the enemy, +without troubling about Stéphane, whose flight appeared impossible, was +making for the upper floor of cells. Moreover, might he not suppose that +the two friends were acting in agreement and that it was the boy who was +in Stéphane's cell and who had barred the door?</p> + +<p>Véronique therefore had precipitated events and given them a turn which +she had so many reasons to dread; and François, up above, would be +caught at the very moment when he was preparing to escape.</p> + +<p>She was utterly overwhelmed:</p> + +<p>"Why did I come here?" she muttered. "It would have been so simple to +wait! The two of us would have saved you to a certainty."</p> + +<p>One idea flashed through the confusion of her mind: had she not sought +to hasten Stéphane's release because of what she knew of this man's love +for her? And was it not an unworthy curiosity that had prompted her to +make the attempt? A horrible idea, which she at once rejected, saying:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>"No, I had to come. It is fate which is persecuting us."</p> + +<p>"Don't believe it," said Stéphane. "Everything will come right."</p> + +<p>"Too late!" said she, shaking her head.</p> + +<p>"Why? How do we know that François has not left his cell? You yourself +thought so just now . . . ."</p> + +<p>She did not reply. Her face became drawn and very pale. By virtue of her +sufferings she had acquired a kind of intuition of the evil that +threatened her. This evil now surrounded her on every hand. A second +series of ordeals was before her, more terrible than the first.</p> + +<p>"There's death all about us," she said.</p> + +<p>He tried to smile:</p> + +<p>"You are talking like the people of Sarek. You have the same fears . . ."</p> + +<p>"They were right to be afraid. And you yourself feel the horror of it +all."</p> + +<p>She rushed to the door, drew the bolt, tried to open it; but what could +she do against that massive, iron-clad door?</p> + +<p>Stéphane seized her by the arm:</p> + +<p>"One moment . . . . Listen . . . . It sounds as if . . ."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "it's up there that they are knocking . . . above our +heads . . . in François' cell . . . ."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, not at all: listen . . . ."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence; and then blows were heard in the thickness of +the cliff. The sound came from below them.</p> + +<p>"The same blows that I heard this morning,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> said Stéphane, in dismay. +"The same attempt of which I spoke to you . . . . Ah, I understand! +. . ."</p> + +<p>"What? What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>The blows were repeated, at regular intervals, and then ceased, to be +followed by a dull, continuous sound, pierced by shriller creakings and +sudden cracks, like the straining of machinery newly started, or of one +of those capstans which are used for hoisting boats up a beach.</p> + +<p>Véronique listened, desperately expectant of what was coming, trying to +guess, seeking to find some clue in Stéphane's eyes. He stood in front +of her, looking at her as a man, in the hour of danger, looks at the +woman he loves.</p> + +<p>And suddenly she staggered and had to press her hand against the wall. +It was as though the cave and indeed the whole cliff were bodily moving +from its place.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she murmured, "is it I who am trembling like this? Is it from fear +that I am shaking from head to foot?"</p> + +<p>Seizing Stéphane's hands, she said:</p> + +<p>"Tell me! I want to know! . . ."</p> + +<p>He did not answer. There was no fear in his eyes bedewed with tears, +there was nothing but immense love and unbounded despair. He was +thinking only of her.</p> + +<p>Besides, was it necessary for him to explain what was happening? Did not +the reality itself become more and more apparent as the seconds passed? +A strange reality indeed, having no connection with commonplace facts, a +reality quite beyond anything that the imagination might invent in the +domain of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> evil, a strange reality which Véronique, who was beginning to +grasp its indication, still refused to believe.</p> + +<p>Acting like a trap-door, but like a trap-door working the reverse way, +the square of enormous joists which was set in the middle of the cave +rose, pivoting on the fixed axis by which it was hinged parallel with +the cliff. The almost imperceptible movement was that of an enormous lid +opening; and the thing already formed a sort of spring-board reaching +from the edge to the back of the cave, a spring-board with as yet a very +slight slope, on which it was easy enough to keep one's balance.</p> + +<p>At the first moment, Véronique thought that the enemy's object was to +crush them between the implacable floor and the granite of the ceiling. +But, almost immediately afterwards, she understood that the hateful +mechanism, by standing erect like a draw-bridge when hoisted up, was +intended to hurl them over the precipice. And it would carry out that +intention inexorably. The result was fatal and inevitable. Whatever they +might try, whatever efforts they might make to hold on, a minute would +come when the floor of that draw-bridge would be absolutely vertical, +forming an integral part of the perpendicular cliff.</p> + +<p>"It's horrible, it's horrible," she muttered.</p> + +<p>Their hands were still clasped. Stéphane was weeping silent tears.</p> + +<p>Presently she moaned:</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to be done, is there?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Still, there is room beyond that wooden floor. The cave is round. We +might .<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> . ."</p> + +<p>"The space is too small. If we tried to stand between the sides of the +square and the wall, we should be crushed to death. That has all been +planned. I have often thought about it."</p> + +<p>"Then . . . ?"</p> + +<p>"We must wait."</p> + +<p>"For what? For whom?"</p> + +<p>"For François."</p> + +<p>"Oh, François!" she said, with a sob. "Perhaps he too is doomed . . . . +Or perhaps he is looking for us and will fall into some trap. In any +case, I shall not see him . . . . And he will know nothing . . . . And +he will not even have seen his mother before dying . . . ."</p> + +<p>She pressed Stéphane's hands and said:</p> + +<p>"Stéphane, if one of us escapes death—and I hope it may be you . . ."</p> + +<p>"It will be you," he said, in a tone of conviction. "I am even surprised +that the enemy should condemn you to the same torture as myself. But no +doubt he doesn't know that it's you who are here with me."</p> + +<p>"It surprises me too!" said Véronique. "A different torture is set aside +for me. But what does it matter, if I am not to see my son again! . . . +Stéphane, I can safely leave him in your charge, can't I? I know all +that you have already done for him."</p> + +<p>The floor continued to rise very slowly, with an uneven vibration and +sudden jerks. The slope became more accentuated. A few minutes more and +they would no longer be able to speak freely and quietly.</p> + +<p>Stéphane replied:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>"If I survive, I swear to fulfil my task to the end. I swear it in +memory . . ."</p> + +<p>"In memory of me," she said, in a firm voice, "in memory of the +Véronique whom you knew . . . and loved."</p> + +<p>He looked at her passionately:</p> + +<p>"So you know?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and I tell you frankly, I have read your diary. I know your love +for me . . . and I accept it." She gave a sad smile. "That poor love +which you offered to the woman who was absent . . . and which you are +now offering to the woman who is about to die."</p> + +<p>"No, no," he said, eagerly, "don't believe that . . . . Salvation may be +near at hand . . . . I feel it. My love does not belong to the past but +to the future."</p> + +<p>He stooped to put his lips to her hands.</p> + +<p>"Kiss me," she said, offering him her forehead.</p> + +<p>Each of them had been obliged to place one foot on the brink of the +precipice, on the straight edge of granite which ran parallel with the +fourth side of the spring-board.</p> + +<p>They kissed gravely.</p> + +<p>"Hold me firmly," said Véronique.</p> + +<p>She leant back as far as she could, raising her head, and called in a +muffled voice:</p> + +<p>"François . . . . François . . . ."</p> + +<p>But there was no one at the upper opening, from which the ladder was +still hanging by one of its hooks, well out of reach.</p> + +<p>Véronique bent over the sea. At this spot, the swell of the cliff did +not project as much as elsewhere; and she saw, in between the +foam-topped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> reefs, a little pool of still water, very calm and so deep +that she could not see the bottom. She thought that death would be +gentler there than on the sharp-pointed rocks and, yielding to a sudden +longing to have done with it all and to avoid a lingering agony, she +said to Stéphane:</p> + +<p>"Why wait for the end? Better die than suffer this torture."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" he exclaimed, horrified at the thought that Véronique might +disappear from his sight.</p> + +<p>"Then you are still hoping?"</p> + +<p>"Until the last second, since it's your life that's at stake."</p> + +<p>"I have no longer any hope."</p> + +<p>Nor was he borne up by hope; but he would have given anything to lull +Véronique's sufferings and to bear the whole weight of the supreme +ordeal himself.</p> + +<p>The floor continued to rise. The vibration had ceased and the slope +became much more marked, already reaching the bottom of the wicket, half +way up the door. Then there was a sound like a sudden stoppage of +machinery, followed by a violent jolt, and the whole wicket was covered. +It was becoming impossible for them to stand erect.</p> + +<p>They lay down on the slanting floor, bracing their feet against the +granite edge.</p> + +<p>Two more jerks occurred, each time pushing the upper end still higher. +The top of the inner wall was reached; and the enormous mechanism moved +slowly forward, along the ceiling, towards the opening of the cave. They +could see very plainly that it would fit this opening exactly and close +it hermetically, like a draw-bridge. The rock had been hewn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> in such a +way that the deadly task might be accomplished without leaving any +loophole for chance.</p> + +<p>They did not utter a word. With hands tight-clasped, they resigned +themselves to the inevitable. Their death was assuming the aspect of an +event decreed by destiny. The machine had been constructed far back in +the centuries and had no doubt been reconstructed, repaired and put in +order at a more recent date; and during those centuries, worked by +invisible executioners, it had caused the death of culprits, of guilty +men and innocent, of men of Armorica, Gaul, France or foreign lands. +Prisoners of war, sacrilegious monks, persecuted peasants, renegade +Chouans and soldiers of the Revolution; one by one the monster had +hurled them over the cliff.</p> + +<p>To-day it was their turn.</p> + +<p>They had not even the bitter solace of rage and hatred. Whom were they +to hate? They were dying in the deepest obscurity, with no hostile face +emerging from that implacable night. They were dying in the +accomplishment of a task unknown to themselves, to make up a total, so +to speak, and for the fulfilment of absurd prophecies, of imbecile +intentions, such as the orders given by the barbarian gods and +formulated by fanatical priests. They were—it was a thing unheard +of—the victims of some expiatory sacrifice, of some holocaust offered +to the divinities of a blood-thirsty creed!</p> + +<p>The wall stood behind them. In a few more minutes it would be +perpendicular. The end was approaching.</p> + +<p>Time after time Stéphane had to hold Véronique<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> back. An increasing +terror distracted her mind. She yearned to fling herself down.</p> + +<p>"Please, please," she stammered, "do let me . . . . I am suffering more +than I can bear."</p> + +<p>Had she not found her son again, she would have retained her +self-control to the end. But the thought of François was unsettling her. +The boy must also be a prisoner, they must be torturing him too and +immolating him, like his mother, on the altars of the execrable gods.</p> + +<p>"No, no, he will come," Stéphane declared. "You will be saved . . . . I +will have it so . . . . I know it."</p> + +<p>She replied, wildly:</p> + +<p>"He is imprisoned as we are . . . . They are burning him with torches, +driving arrows into him, tearing his flesh . . . . Oh, my poor little +son! . . ."</p> + +<p>"He will come, dear, he told you he would. Nothing can separate a mother +and son who have been brought together again."</p> + +<p>"We have found each other in death; we shall be united in death. I wish +it might be at once! I don't want him to suffer!"</p> + +<p>The agony was too great. With an effort she released her hands from +Stéphane's and made a movement to fling herself down. But she +immediately threw herself back against the draw-bridge, with a cry of +amazement which was echoed by Stéphane.</p> + +<p>Something had passed before their eyes and disappeared again. It came +from the left.</p> + +<p>"The ladder!" exclaimed Stéphane. "It's the ladder, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's François," said Véronique, catching her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> breath with joy and +hope. "He is saved. He is coming to rescue us."</p> + +<p>At that moment, the wall of torment was almost upright, vibrating +implacably beneath their shoulders. The cave no longer existed behind +them. The depths had already claimed them; at most they were clinging to +a narrow ledge.</p> + +<p>Véronique leant outwards again. The ladder swung back and then became +stationary, fixed by its two hooks.</p> + +<p>Above them, at the opening in the cliff, was a boy's face; and the boy +was smiling and making gestures:</p> + +<p>"Mother, mother . . . quick!"</p> + +<p>The call was eager and urgent. The two arms were outstretched towards +the pair below. Véronique moaned:</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's you, it's you, my darling!"</p> + +<p>"Quick, mother, I'm holding the ladder! . . . Quick! . . . It's quite +safe!"</p> + +<p>"I'm coming, darling, I'm coming."</p> + +<p>She had seized the nearest upright. This time, with Stéphane's +assistance, she had no difficulty in placing her foot on the bottom +rung. But she said:</p> + +<p>"And you, Stéphane? You're coming with me, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I have plenty of time," he said. "Hurry."</p> + +<p>"No, you must promise."</p> + +<p>"I swear. Hurry."</p> + +<p>She climbed four rungs and stopped:</p> + +<p>"Are you coming, Stéphane?"</p> + +<p>He had already turned towards the cliff and slipped his left hand into a +narrow fissure which remained between the draw-bridge and the rock. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +right hand reached the ladder and he was able to set foot on the lowest +rung. He too was saved.</p> + +<p>With what delight Véronique covered the rest of the distance! What +mattered the void below her, now that her son was there, waiting for her +to clasp him to her breast at last!</p> + +<p>"Here I am, here I am," she said. "Here I am, my darling."</p> + +<p>She swiftly put her head and shoulders in the window. He pulled her +through; and she climbed over the ledge. At last she was with her son.</p> + +<p>They flung themselves into each other's arms:</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, mother, is it really true? Mother!"</p> + +<p>But she had no sooner closed her arms about him than she drew back a +little, she did not know why. An inexplicable discomfort checked her +first outburst.</p> + +<p>"Come here," she said, dragging him to the light of the window. "Come +and let me look at you."</p> + +<p>The boy did as she wished. She examined him for two or three seconds, no +longer, and suddenly, giving a start of terror, ejaculated:</p> + +<p>"Then it's you? It's you, the murderer?"</p> + +<p>Oh, horror! She was once more looking on the face of the monster who had +killed her father and Honorine before her eyes!</p> + +<p>"So you know me?" he chuckled.</p> + +<p>Véronique realised her mistake from the boy's very tone. This was not +François but the other, the one who had played his devilish part in the +clothes which François usually wore.</p> + +<p>He gave another chuckle:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>"Ah, you're beginning to see things as they are, ma'am! You know me now, +don't you?"</p> + +<p>The hateful face contracted, became wicked and cruel, animated by the +vilest expression.</p> + +<p>"Vorski! Vorski!" stammered Véronique. "It's Vorski I recognise in you."</p> + +<p>He burst out laughing:</p> + +<p>"Why not? Do you think I'm going to disown my father as you did?"</p> + +<p>"Vorski's son! His son!" Véronique repeated.</p> + +<p>"Lord bless me, yes, his son: why shouldn't I be? Surely the good fellow +had the right to have two sons! Me first and dear François next!"</p> + +<p>"Vorski's son!" Véronique exclaimed once more.</p> + +<p>"And one of the best, I tell you, ma'am, a worthy son of his father and +brought up on the highest principles. I've shown you as much already, +haven't I? But it's not finished, we're only at the beginning . . . . +Here, would you like me to give you a fresh proof? Just take a squint at +that stick-in-the-mud of a tutor! . . . No, but look how things go when +I take a hand in them."</p> + +<p>He sprang to the window. Stéphane's head appeared. The boy picked up a +stone and struck with all his might, throwing him backwards.</p> + +<p>Véronique, who at the first moment had hesitated, not realising the +danger, now rushed and seized the boy's arm. It was too late. The head +vanished. The hooks of the ladder slipped off the ledge. There was a +loud cry, followed by the sound of a body falling into the water below.</p> + +<p>Véronique ran to the window. The ladder was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> floating on the part of the +little pool which she was able to see, lying motionless in its frame of +rocks. There was nothing to point to the place where Stéphane had +fallen, not an eddy, not a ripple.</p> + +<p>She called out:</p> + +<p>"Stéphane! Stéphane! . . ."</p> + +<p>No reply, nothing but the great silence of space in which the winds are +still and the sea asleep.</p> + +<p>"You villain, what have you done?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Don't take on, missus," he said. "Master Stéphane brought up your kid +to be a duffer. Come it's a laughing matter, it is, really. Give us a +kiss, won't you, daddy's missus? But, I say, what a face you're pulling! +Surely you don't hate me as much as all that?"</p> + +<p>He went up to her, with his arms outstretched. Véronique swiftly covered +him with her revolver:</p> + +<p>"Be off, be off, or I'll kill you as I would a mad dog! Be off!"</p> + +<p>The boy's face became more inhuman than ever. He fell back step by step, +snarling:</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll make you pay for this, my pretty lady! . . . What do you mean +by it? I come up to give you a kiss . . . I'm full of kindly feelings +. . . and you want to shoot me! You shall pay for it in blood . . . in +nice red flowing blood . . . blood . . . blood . . . ."</p> + +<p>He seemed to love the sound of the word. He repeated it time after time, +then once more gave a burst of evil laughter and fled down the tunnel +which led to the Priory, shouting:</p> + +<p>"The blood of your son, Mother Véronique! . . . The blood of your +darling François!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE ESCAPE</span></h2> + + +<p>Shuddering, uncertain how to act next, Véronique listened till she no +longer heard the sound of his footsteps. What should she do? The murder +of Stéphane had for a moment turned her thoughts from François; but she +now once more fell a prey to anguish. What had become of her son? Should +she go to him at the Priory and defend him against the dangers that +threatened him?</p> + +<p>"Come, come," she said, "I'm losing my head . . . . Let me think things +out . . . . A few hours ago, François was speaking to me through the +wall of his prison . . . for it was certainly he then, it was certainly +François who yesterday took my hand and covered it with his kisses +. . . . A mother cannot be deceived; and I was quivering with love and +tenderness . . . . But since . . . since this morning has he not left +his prison?"</p> + +<p>She stopped to think and then said, slowly:</p> + +<p>"That's it . . . that's what happened . . . . Stéphane and I were +discovered below, on the floor underneath. The alarm was given at once. +The monster, Vorski's son, had gone up expressly to watch François. He +found the cell empty and, seeing the opening which had been made, +crawled out here. Yes, that's it . . . . If not, by what way did he +come? . . . When he got here, it occurred to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> him to run to the window, +knowing that it overlooked the sea and suspecting that François had +chosen it to make his escape. He at once saw the hooks of the ladder. +Then, on leaning over, he saw me, knew who I was and called out to me +. . . . And now . . . now he is on his way to the Priory, where he is +bound to meet François . . . ."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless Véronique did not stir. She had an instinct that the danger +lay not at the Priory but here, by the cells. And she wondered whether +François had really succeeded in escaping and whether, before his task +was done, he had not been surprised by the other and attacked by him.</p> + +<p>It was a horrible doubt! She stooped quickly and, perceiving that the +hole had been widened, tried to pass through it herself. But the outlet, +at most large enough for a child, was too narrow for her; and her +shoulders became fixed. She persisted in the attempt, however, tearing +her bodice and bruising her skin against the rock, and at last, by dint +of patience and wriggling, succeeded in slipping through.</p> + +<p>The cell was empty. But the door was open on the passages facing her; +and Véronique had an impression—merely an impression, for the window +admitted only a faint light—that some one was just leaving the cell +through the open door. And from this confused impression of something +that she had not absolutely seen she retained the certainty that it was +a woman who was hiding there, in the passage, a woman surprised by her +unexpected entrance.</p> + +<p>"It's their accomplice," thought Véronique.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> "She came up with the boy +who killed Stéphane, and she has no doubt taken François away . . . . +Perhaps François is even there still, quite near me, while she's +watching me . . . ."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Véronique's eyes were growing accustomed to the semidarkness +and she distinctly saw a woman's hand upon the door, which opened +inwardly. The hand was slowly pulling.</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't she shut it at once," Véronique wondered, "since she +obviously wants to put a barrier between us?"</p> + +<p>Véronique received her answer when she heard a pebble grating under the +door and interfering with its movement. If the pebble were not there, +the door would be closed. Without hesitating, Véronique went up, took +hold of a great iron handle and pulled it towards her. The hand +disappeared, but the opposition continued. There was evidently a handle +on the other side as well.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she heard a whistle. The woman was summoning assistance. And +almost at the same time, in the passage, at some distance from the +woman, there was a cry:</p> + +<p>"Mother! Mother!"</p> + +<p>Ah, with what deep emotion Véronique heard that cry! Her son, her real +son was calling to her, her son, still a captive but alive! Oh, the +superhuman delight of it!</p> + +<p>"I'm here, darling!"</p> + +<p>"Quick, mother! I'm tied up; and the whistle is their signal . . . +they'll be coming."</p> + +<p>"I'm here . . . . I shall save you before they come!"</p> + +<p>She had no doubt of the result. It seemed to her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> as though her strength +knew no limits and as though nothing could resist the exasperated +tension of her whole being.</p> + +<p>Her adversary was in fact weakening and giving ground by inches. The +opening became wider; and suddenly the contest was over. Véronique +walked through.</p> + +<p>The woman had already fled down the passage and was dragging the boy by +a rope in order to make him walk despite the cords with which he was +bound. It was a vain attempt and she abandoned it forthwith. Véronique +was close to her, with her revolver in her hand.</p> + +<p>The woman let go the boy and stood up in the light from the open cells. +She was dressed in white serge, with a knotted girdle round her waist. +Her arms were half bare. Her face was still young, but faded, thin and +wrinkled. Her hair was fair, interspersed with strands of white. Her +eyes gleamed with a feverish hatred.</p> + +<p>The two women looked at each other without a word, like two adversaries +who have met before and are about to fight again. Véronique almost +smiled, with a smile of mingled triumph and defiance. In the end she +said:</p> + +<p>"If you dare to lay a finger on my child, I'll kill you. Go! Be off!"</p> + +<p>The woman was not frightened. She seemed to be reflecting and to be +listening in the expectation of assistance. None come. Then she lowered +her eyes to François and made a movement as though to seize upon her +prey again.</p> + +<p>"Don't touch him!" Véronique exclaimed, violently. "Don't touch him, or +I fire!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>The woman shrugged her shoulders and said, in measured accents:</p> + +<p>"No threats, please! If I had wanted to kill that child of yours, I +should have done so by now. But his hour has not come; and it is not by +my hand that he is to die."</p> + +<p>Véronique, trembling all over, could not help asking:</p> + +<p>"By whose hand is he to die?"</p> + +<p>"By my son's: you know . . . the one you've seen."</p> + +<p>"Is he your son, the murderer, the monster?"</p> + +<p>"He's the son of . . ."</p> + +<p>"Silence! Silence!" Véronique commanded. She understood that the woman +had been Vorski's mistress and feared that she would make some +disclosure in François' presence. "Silence: that name is not to be +spoken."</p> + +<p>"It will be when it has to be," said the woman. "Ah, I've suffered +enough through you, Véronique: it's your turn now; and you're only at +the beginning of it!"</p> + +<p>"Go!" cried Véronique, pointing her revolver.</p> + +<p>"Once more, no threats, please."</p> + +<p>"Go, or I fire! I swear it on the head of my son."</p> + +<p>The woman retreated, betraying a certain anxiety in spite of herself. +But she was seized with a fresh access of rage. Impotently she raised +her clenched fists and shouted, in a raucous, broken voice:</p> + +<p>"I will be revenged . . . You shall see. Véronique . . . . The cross—do +you understand?—the cross is ready . . . . You are the fourth . . . . +What, oh, what a revenge!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>She shook her gnarled, bony fists. And she continued:</p> + +<p>"Oh, how I hate you! Fifteen years of hatred! But the cross will avenge +me . . . . I shall string you up on it myself . . . . The cross is ready +. . . you'll see . . . the cross is ready for you! . . ."</p> + +<p>She walked away slowly, holding herself erect under the threat of the +revolver.</p> + +<p>"Don't kill her, mother, will you?" whispered François, suspecting the +contest in his mother's mind.</p> + +<p>Véronique seemed to wake from a dream:</p> + +<p>"No, no," she replied, "don't be afraid . . . . And yet perhaps I ought +to . . ."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please let her be, mother, and let us go away."</p> + +<p>She lifted him in her arms, even before the woman was out of sight, +pressed him to her and carried him to the cell as though he weighed no +more than a little child.</p> + +<p>"Mother, mother," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling, your own mother; and no one shall take you from me again, +that I swear to you."</p> + +<p>Without troubling about the wounds inflicted by the stone she slipped, +this time almost at the first attempt, through the gap made by François, +drew him after her and then, but not before, released him from his +bonds.</p> + +<p>"There is no danger here," she said, "at least for the moment, because +they can hardly get at us except by the cell and I shall be able to +defend the entrance."</p> + +<p>Mother and son exchanged the fondest of embraces. There was now no +barrier to part their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> lips and their arms. They could see each other, +could gaze into each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>"How handsome you are, my darling!" said Véronique.</p> + +<p>She saw no resemblance between him and the boy murderer and was +astonished that Honorine could have taken one for the other. And she +felt as if she would never weary of admiring the breeding, the frankness +and the sweetness which she read in his face.</p> + +<p>"And you, mother," he said, "do you think that I ever pictured a mother +as beautiful as you? No, not even in my dreams, when you seemed as +lovely as a fairy. And yet Stéphane often used to tell me . . ."</p> + +<p>She interrupted him:</p> + +<p>"We must hurry, dearest, and take refuge from their pursuit. We must +go."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "and above all we must leave Sarek. I have invented a +plan of escape which is bound to succeed. But, first of all, Stéphane: +what has become of him? I heard the sound of which I spoke to you +underneath my cell and I fear . . ."</p> + +<p>She dragged him along by the hand, without answering his question:</p> + +<p>"I have many things to tell you, darling, painful things which I must no +longer keep from you. But presently will do . . . . For the moment we +must take refuge in the Priory. That woman will go in search of help and +come after us."</p> + +<p>"But she was not alone, mother, when she entered my cell suddenly and +caught me in the act of digging at the wall. There was some one with +her."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>"A boy, wasn't it? A boy of your own size?"</p> + +<p>"I could hardly see. He and the woman fell upon me, bound me and carried +me into the passage. Then the woman left me for a moment and he went +back to the cell. He therefore knows about this tunnel by now and about +the exit in the Priory grounds."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. But we shall easily get the better of him; and we'll block +up the exit."</p> + +<p>"But there remains the bridge which joins the two islands," François +objected.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "I burnt it down and the Priory is absolutely cut off."</p> + +<p>They were walking very quickly, Véronique pressing her pace, François a +little anxious at the words spoken by his mother.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," he said, "I see that there is a good deal which I don't know +and which you have kept from me, mother, in order not to frighten me. +For instance, when you burnt down the bridge . . . . It was with the +petrol set aside for the purpose, wasn't it, and as arranged with +Maguennoc in case of danger? So you were threatened too; and the first +attack was made on you, mother? . . . And then there was something that +woman said with such a hateful look on her face! . . . And then . . . +and then, above all, what has become of Stéphane? They were whispering +about him just now in my cell . . . . All this worries me . . . . Then +again I don't see the ladder which you brought . . . ."</p> + +<p>"Please, dearest, don't let us wait a moment. The woman will have found +assistance . . . ."</p> + +<p>The boy stopped short:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>"Mother."</p> + +<p>"What? Do you hear anything?"</p> + +<p>"Some one walking."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Some one coming this way."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, in a hollow voice, "it's the murderer coming back from +the Priory!"</p> + +<p>She felt her revolver and prepared herself for anything that might +happen. But suddenly she pushed François towards a dark corner on her +left, formed by the entry to one of those tunnels, probably blocked, +which she had noticed when she came.</p> + +<p>"Get in there," she said. "We shall be all right here: he will not see +us."</p> + +<p>The sound approached.</p> + +<p>"Stand well back," she said, "and don't stir."</p> + +<p>The boy whispered:</p> + +<p>"What's that in your hand? A revolver? Mother, you're not going to +fire?"</p> + +<p>"I ought to, I ought to," said Véronique. "He's such a monster! . . . +It's as with his mother . . . I ought to have . . . we shall perhaps +regret it." And she added, almost unconsciously, "He killed your +grandfather."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, mother!"</p> + +<p>She supported him, to prevent his falling, and amid the silence she +heard the boy sobbing on her breast and stammering:</p> + +<p>"Never mind . . . don't fire, mother . . . ."</p> + +<p>"Here he comes, darling, here he comes; look at him."</p> + +<p>The other passed. He was walking slowly, a little bent, listening for +the least sound. He appeared to Véronique to be the exact same size as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +her son; and this time, when she looked at him with more attention, she +was not so much surprised that Honorine and M. d'Hergemont had been +taken in, for there were really some points of resemblance, which would +have been accentuated by the fact that he was wearing the red cap stolen +from François.</p> + +<p>He walked on.</p> + +<p>"Do you know him?" asked Véronique.</p> + +<p>"No, mother."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure that you never saw him?"</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"And it was he who fell upon you, with the woman, in your cell?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't a doubt of it, mother. He even hit me in the face, for no +reason, with absolute hatred."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, "this is all incomprehensible! When shall we escape this +awful nightmare?"</p> + +<p>"Quick, mother, the road's clear. Let's make the most of it."</p> + +<p>On returning to the light, she saw that he was very pale and felt his +hand in hers like a lump of ice. Nevertheless he looked up at her with a +smile of happiness.</p> + +<p>They set out again; and soon, after passing the strip of cliff that +joined the two islands and climbing the staircases, they emerged in the +open air, to the right of Maguennoc's garden. The daylight was beginning +to wane.</p> + +<p>"We are saved," said Véronique.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the boy, "but only on condition that they cannot reach us +by the same road. We shall have to bar it, therefore."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>"Wait for me here; I'll go and fetch some tools at the Priory."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't let us leave each other, François!"</p> + +<p>"You can come with me, mother."</p> + +<p>"And suppose the enemy arrives in the meantime? No, we must defend this +outlet."</p> + +<p>"Then help me, mother."</p> + +<p>A rapid inspection showed them that one of the two stones which formed a +roof above the entrance was not very firmly rooted in its place. They +found no difficulty in first shifting and then clearing it. The stone +fell across the staircase and was at once covered by an avalanche of +earth and pebbles which made the passage, if not impracticable, at least +very hard to manage.</p> + +<p>"All the more so," said François, "as we shall stay here until we are +able to carry out my plan. And be easy, mother; it's a sound scheme and +we have nearly managed it."</p> + +<p>For that matter, they recognized above all, that rest was essential. +They were both of them worn out.</p> + +<p>"Lie down, mother . . . look, just here: there's a bed of moss under +this overhanging rock which makes a regular nest. You'll be as cosy as a +queen there and sheltered from the cold."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my darling, my darling!" murmured Véronique, overcome with +happiness.</p> + +<p>It was now the time for explanations; and Véronique did not hesitate to +give them. The boy's grief at hearing of the death of all those whom he +had known would be mitigated by the great joy which he felt at +recovering his mother. She therefore spoke without reserve, cradling him +in her lap,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> wiping away his tears, feeling plainly that she was enough +to make up for all the lost affections and friendships. He was +particularly afflicted by Stéphane's death.</p> + +<p>"But is it quite certain?" he asked. "For, after all, there is nothing +to tell us that he is drowned. Stéphane is a perfect swimmer; and so +. . . Yes, yes, mother, we must not despair . . . on the contrary +. . . . Look, here's a friend who always comes at the worst times, to +declare that everything is not lost."</p> + +<p>All's Well came trotting along. The sight of his master did not appear +to surprise him. Nothing unduly surprised All's Well. Events, to his +mind, always followed one another in a natural order which did not +disturb either his habits or his occupations. Tears alone seemed to him +worthy of special attention. And Véronique and François were not crying.</p> + +<p>"You see, mother? All's Well agrees with me; nothing is lost . . . . +But, upon my word, All's Well, you're a sharp little fellow! What would +you have said, eh, if we'd left the island without you?"</p> + +<p>Véronique looked at her son:</p> + +<p>"Left the island?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly: and the sooner the better. That's my plan. What do you say +to it?"</p> + +<p>"But how are we to get away?"</p> + +<p>"In a boat."</p> + +<p>"Is there one here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mine."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Close by, at Sarek Point."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>"But how are we to get down? The cliff is perpendicular."</p> + +<p>"She's at the very place where the cliff is steepest, a place known as +the Postern. The name puzzled Stéphane and myself. A postern suggests an +entrance, a gate. Well, we ended by learning that, in the middle ages, +at the time of the monks, the little isle on which the Priory stands was +surrounded by ramparts. It was therefore to be presumed that there was a +postern here which commanded an outlet on the sea. And in fact, after +hunting about with Maguennoc, we discovered, on the flat top of the +cliff, a sort of gully, a sandy depression reinforced at intervals by +regular walls made of big building-stones. A path winds down the middle, +with steps and windows on the side of the sea, and leads to a little +bay. That is the Postern outlet. We repaired it: and my boat is hanging +at the foot of the cliff."</p> + +<p>Véronique's features underwent a transformation:</p> + +<p>"Then we're safe now!"</p> + +<p>"There's no doubt of that."</p> + +<p>"And the enemy can't get there?"</p> + +<p>"How could he?"</p> + +<p>"He has the motor-boat at his disposal."</p> + +<p>"He has never been there, because he doesn't know of the bay nor of the +way down to it either: you can't see them from the open sea. Besides, +they are protected by a thousand sharp-pointed rocks."</p> + +<p>"And what's to prevent us from leaving at once?"</p> + +<p>"The darkness, mother. I'm a good mariner<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> and accustomed to navigate +all the channels that lead away from Sarek, but I should not be at all +sure of not striking some reef or other. No, we must wait for daylight."</p> + +<p>"It seems so long!"</p> + +<p>"A few hours' patience, mother. And we are together, you and I! At break +of dawn, we'll take the boat and begin by hugging the foot of the cliff +till we are underneath the cells. Then we'll pick up Stéphane, who of +course will be waiting for us on some strip of beach, and we'll all be +off, won't we, All's Well? We'll land at Pont-l'Abbé at twelve o'clock +or so. That's my plan."</p> + +<p>Véronique could not contain her delight and admiration. She was +astonished to find so young a boy giving proofs of such self-possession.</p> + +<p>"It's splendid, darling, and you're right in everything. Luck is +decidedly coming our way."</p> + +<p>The evening passed without incidents. An alarm, however, a noise under +the rubbish which blocked the underground passage and a ray of light +trickling through a slit obliged them to mount guard until the minute of +their departure. But it did not affect their spirits.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I'm easy in my mind," said François. "From the moment +when I found you again, I felt that it was for good. Besides, if the +worst came to the worst, have we not a last hope left? Stéphane spoke to +you about it, I expect. And it makes you laugh, my confidence in a +rescuer whom I have never seen . . . . Well, I tell you, mother, if I +were to see a dagger about to strike me, I should be certain, absolutely +certain, mind you, that a hand would come and ward off the blow."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>"Alas," she said, "that providential hand did not prevent all the +misfortunes of which I told you!"</p> + +<p>"It will keep off those which threaten my mother," declared the boy.</p> + +<p>"How? This unknown friend has not been warned."</p> + +<p>"He will come all the same. He doesn't need to be warned to know how +great the danger is. He will come. And, mother, promise me one thing: +whatever happens, you must have confidence."</p> + +<p>"I will have confidence, darling, I promise you."</p> + +<p>"And you will be right," he said, laughing, "for I shall be the leader. +And what a leader, eh, mother? Why, yesterday evening I foresaw that, to +carry the enterprise through successfully and so that my mother should +be neither cold nor hungry, in case we were not able to take the boat +this afternoon, we must have food and rugs! Well, they will be of use to +us to-night, seeing that for prudence's sake we mustn't abandon our post +here and sleep at the Priory. Where did you put the parcel, mother?"</p> + +<p>They ate gaily and with a good appetite. Then François wrapped his +mother up and tucked her in: and they both fell asleep, lying close +together, happy and unafraid.</p> + +<p>When the keen air of the morning woke Véronique, a belt of rosy light +streaked the sky. François was sleeping the peaceful sleep of a child +that feels itself protected and is untroubled by dreams. For a long time +she just sat gazing at him without wearying: and she was still looking +at him when the sun was high above the horizon.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>"To work, mother," he said, after he had opened his eyes and given her a +kiss. "No one in the tunnel? No. Then we have plenty of time to go on +board."</p> + +<p>They took the rugs and provisions and, with brisk steps, went towards +the descent leading to the Postern, at the extreme end of the island. +Beyond this point the rocks were heaped up in formidable confusion: and +the sea, though calm, lapped against them noisily.</p> + +<p>"I hope your boat's there still!" said Véronique.</p> + +<p>"Lean over a little, mother. You can see her down there, hanging in that +crevice. We have only to work the pulley to get her afloat. Oh, it's all +very well thought out, mother darling! We have nothing to fear . . . . +Only . . . only . . ."</p> + +<p>He had interrupted himself and was thinking.</p> + +<p>"What? What is it?" asked Véronique.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing! A slight delay."</p> + +<p>"But . . ."</p> + +<p>He began to laugh:</p> + +<p>"Really, for the leader of an expedition, it's rather humiliating, I +admit. Just fancy, I've forgotten one thing: the oars. They are at the +Priory."</p> + +<p>"But this is terrible!" cried Véronique.</p> + +<p>"Why? I'll run to the Priory and I shall be back in ten minutes."</p> + +<p>All Véronique's apprehensions returned:</p> + +<p>"And suppose they make their way out of the tunnel meanwhile?"</p> + +<p>"Come, come, mother," he laughed, "you promised to have confidence. To +get out of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> tunnel would take them an hour's hard work; and we +should hear them. Besides, what's the use of talking, mother? I'll be +back at once."</p> + +<p>He ran off.</p> + +<p>"François! François!"</p> + +<p>He did not reply.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she thought, once more assailed by forebodings. "I had sworn not +to leave him for a second!"</p> + +<p>She followed him at a distance and stopped on a hillock between the +Fairies' Dolmen and the Calvary of the Flowers. From here she could see +the entrance to the tunnel and also saw her son jogging along the grass.</p> + +<p>He first went into the basement of the Priory. But the oars seemed not +to be there, for he came out almost at once and went to the main door, +which he opened and disappeared from sight.</p> + +<p>"One minute ought to be plenty for him," said Véronique to herself. "The +oars must be in the hall . . . or at any rate on the ground-floor +. . . . Say two minutes, at the outside."</p> + +<p>She counted the seconds while watching the entrance to the tunnel.</p> + +<p>But three minutes, four minutes, five minutes passed: and the front-door +did not open again.</p> + +<p>All Véronique's confidence vanished. She thought that it was mad of her +not to have gone with her son and that she ought never to have submitted +to a child's will. Without troubling about the tunnel or the dangers +from that side, she began to walk towards the Priory. But she had the +horrible feeling which people sometimes experience in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> dreams, when +their legs seem paralysed and when they are unable to move, while the +enemy advances to attack them.</p> + +<p>And suddenly, on reaching the Dolmen, she beheld a sight the meaning of +which was immediately clear to her. The ground at the foot of the oaks +round the right-hand part of the semi-circle was littered with lately +cut branches, which still bore their green leaves.</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes and stood stupefied and dismayed.</p> + +<p>One oak alone had been stripped. And on the huge trunk, bare to a height +of twelve or fifteen feet, there was a paper, transfixed by an arrow and +bearing the inscription, "V. d'H."</p> + +<p>"The fourth cross," Véronique faltered, "the cross marked with my name!"</p> + +<p>She supposed that, as her father was dead, the initials of her maiden +name must have been written by one of her enemies, the chief of them, no +doubt; and for the first time, under the influence of recent events, +remembering the woman and the boy who were persecuting her, she +involuntarily attributed a definite set of features to that enemy.</p> + +<p>It was a fleeting impression, an improbable theory, of which she was not +even conscious. She was overwhelmed by something much more terrible. She +suddenly understood that the monsters, those creatures of the heath and +the cells, the accomplices of the woman and the boy, must have been +there, since the cross was prepared. No doubt they had built a +foot-bridge and thrown it over the chasm to take the place of the bridge +to which she had set fire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> They were masters of the Priory. And +François was once more in their hands!</p> + +<p>Then she rushed straight along, collecting all her strength. She in her +turn ran over the turf, dotted with ruins, that sloped towards the front +of the house.</p> + +<p>"François! François! François!"</p> + +<p>She called his name in a piercing voice. She announced her coming with +loud cries. Thus did she reach the Priory.</p> + +<p>One half of the door stood ajar. She pushed it and darted into the hall, +crying:</p> + +<p>"François! François!"</p> + +<p>The call rang from floor to attic and throughout the house, but remained +unanswered:</p> + +<p>"François! François!"</p> + +<p>She went upstairs, opening doors at random, running into her son's room, +into Stéphane's, into Honorine's. She found nobody.</p> + +<p>"François! François! . . . Don't you hear me? Are they hurting you? +. . . Oh, François, do answer!"</p> + +<p>She went back to the landing. Opposite her was M. d'Hergemont's study. +She flung herself upon the door and at once recoiled, as though stricken +by a vision from hell.</p> + +<p>A man was standing there, with arms crossed and apparently waiting for +her. And it was the man whom she had pictured for an instant when +thinking of the woman and the boy. It was the third monster!</p> + +<p>She said, simply, but in a voice filled with inexpressible horror:</p> + +<p>"Vorski! . . . Vorski! . . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE SCOURGE OF GOD</span></h2> + + +<p>Vorski! Vorski! The unspeakable creature, the thought of whom filled her +with shame and horror, the monstrous Vorski, was not dead! The murder of +the spy by one of his colleagues, his burial in the cemetery at +Fontainebleau; all this was a fable, a delusion! The only real fact was +that Vorski was alive!</p> + +<p>Of all the visions that could have haunted Véronique's brain, there was +none so abominable as the sight before her; Vorski standing erect, with +his arms crossed and his head up, alive! Vorski alive!</p> + +<p>She would have accepted anything with her usual courage, but not this. +She had felt strong enough to face and defy no matter what enemy, but +not this one. Vorski stood for ignominious disgrace, for insatiable +wickedness, for boundless ferocity, for method mingled with madness in +crime.</p> + +<p>And this man loved her.</p> + +<p>She suddenly blushed. Vorski was staring with greedy eyes at the bare +flesh of her shoulders and arms, which showed through her tattered +bodice, and looking upon this bare flesh as upon a prey which nothing +could snatch from him. Nevertheless Véronique did not budge. She had no +covering within reach. She pulled herself together under the insult of +the man's desire and defied him with such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> a glance that he was +embarrassed and for a moment turned away his eyes.</p> + +<p>Then she cried, with an uncontrollable outburst of feeling:</p> + +<p>"My son! Where's François? I want to see him."</p> + +<p>"<i>Our</i> son is sacred, madame," he replied. "He has nothing to fear from +his father."</p> + +<p>"I want to see him."</p> + +<p>He lifted his hand as one taking an oath:</p> + +<p>"You shall see him, I swear."</p> + +<p>"Dead, perhaps!" she said, in a hollow voice.</p> + +<p>"As much alive as you and I, madame."</p> + +<p>There was a fresh pause. Vorski was obviously seeking his words and +preparing the speech with which the implacable conflict between them was +to open.</p> + +<p>He was a man of athletic stature, with a powerful frame, legs slightly +bowed, an enormous neck swollen by great bundles of muscles and a head +unduly small, with fair hair plastered down and parted in the middle. +That in him which at one time produced an impression of brute strength, +combined with a certain distinction, had become with age the massive and +vulgar aspect of a professional wrestler posturing on the hustings at a +fair. The disquieting charm which once attracted the women had vanished; +and all that remained was a harsh and cruel expression of which he tried +to correct the hardness by means of an impassive smile.</p> + +<p>He unfolded his arms, drew up a chair and, bowing to Véronique, said:</p> + +<p>"Our conversation, madame, will be long and at times painful. Won't you +sit down?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>He waited for a moment and, receiving no reply, without allowing himself +to be disconcerted, continued:</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you would rather first take some refreshment at the sideboard. +Would you care for a biscuit and a thimbleful of old claret or a glass +of champagne?"</p> + +<p>He affected an exaggerated politeness, the essentially Teutonic +politeness of the semibarbarians who are anxious to prove that they are +familiar with all the niceties of civilization and that they have been +initiated into every refinement of courtesy, even towards a woman whom +the right of conquest would permit them to treat more cavalierly. This +was one of the points of detail which in the past had most vividly +enlightened Véronique as to her husband's probable origin.</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders and remained silent.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said, "but you must then authorize me to stand, as +behooves a man of breeding who prides himself on possessing a certain +amount of <i>savoir faire</i>. Also pray excuse me for appearing in your +presence in this more than careless attire. Internment-camps and the +caves of Sarek are hardly places in which it is easy to renew one's +wardrobe."</p> + +<p>He was in fact wearing a pair of old patched trousers and a torn +red-flannel waistcoat. But over these he had donned a white linen robe +which was half-closed by a knotted girdle. It was a carefully studied +costume; and he accentuated its eccentricity by adopting theatrical +attitudes and an air of satisfied negligence.</p> + +<p>Pleased with his preamble, he began to walk up and down, with his hands +behind his back, like a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> man who is in no hurry and who is taking time +for reflection in very serious circumstances. Then he stopped and, in a +leisurely tone:</p> + +<p>"I think, madame, that we shall gain time in the end by devoting a few +indispensable minutes to a brief account of our past life together. +Don't you agree?"</p> + +<p>Véronique did not reply. He therefore began, in the same deliberate +tone:</p> + +<p>"In the days when you loved me . . ."</p> + +<p>She made a gesture of revolt. He insisted:</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, Véronique . . ."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, in an accent of disgust, "I forbid you! . . . That name +from your lips! . . . I will not allow it . . . ."</p> + +<p>He smiled and continued, in a tone of condescension:</p> + +<p>"Don't be annoyed with me, madame. Whatever formula I employ, you may be +assured of my respect. I therefore resume my remarks. In the days when +you loved me, I was, I must admit, a heartless libertine, a debauchee, +not perhaps without a certain style and charm, for I always made the +most of my advantages, but possessing none of the qualities of a married +man. These qualities I should easily have acquired under your influence, +for I loved you to distraction. You had about you a purity that +enraptured me, a charm and a simplicity which I have never met with in +any woman. A little patience on your part, an effort of kindness would +have been enough to transform me. Unfortunately, from the very first +moment, after a rather melancholy engagement, during which you thought +of nothing but your father's grief and anger, from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> first moment of +our marriage there was a complete and irretrievable lack of harmony +between us. You had accepted in spite of yourself the bridegroom who had +thrust himself upon you. You entertained for your husband no feeling +save hatred and repulsion. These are things which a man like Vorski does +not forgive. So many women and among them some of the proudest had given +me proof of my perfect delicacy that I had no cause to reproach myself. +That the little middle-class person that you were chose to be offended +was not my business. Vorski is one of those who obey their instincts and +their passions. Those instincts and passions failed to meet with your +approval. That, madame, was your affair; it was purely a matter of +taste. I was free; I resumed my own life. Only . . ."</p> + +<p>He interrupted himself for a few seconds and then went on:</p> + +<p>"Only, I loved you. And, when, a year later, certain events followed +close upon one another, when the loss of your son drove you into a +convent, I was left with my love unassuaged, burning and torturing me. +What my existence was you can guess for yourself; a series of orgies and +violent adventures in which I vainly strove to forget you, followed by +sudden fits of hope, clues which were suggested to me, in the pursuit of +which I flung myself headlong, only to relapse into everlasting +discouragement and loneliness. That was how I discovered the whereabouts +of your father and your son, that was how I came to know their retreat +here, to watch them, to spy upon them, either personally or with the aid +of people who were entirely devoted to me. In this way I was hoping to +reach yourself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> the sole object of my efforts and the ruling motive of +all my actions, when war was declared. A week later, having failed in an +attempt to cross the frontier, I was imprisoned in an internment-camp."</p> + +<p>He stopped. His face became still harder; and he growled:</p> + +<p>"Oh, the hell that I went through there! Vorski! Vorski, the son of a +king, mixed up with all the waiters and pickpockets of the Fatherland! +Vorski a prisoner, scoffed at and loathed by all! Vorski unwashed and +eaten up with vermin! My God, how I suffered! . . . But let us pass on. +What I did, to escape from death, I was entitled to do. If some one else +was stabbed in my stead, if some one else was buried in my name in a +corner of France, I do not regret it. The choice lay between him and +myself; I made my choice. And it was perhaps not only my persistent love +of life that inspired my action; it was also—and this above all is a +new thing—an unexpected dawn which broke in the darkness and which was +already dazzling me with its glory. But this is my secret. We will speak +of it later, if you force me to. For the moment . . ."</p> + +<p>In the face of all this rhetoric delivered with the emphasis of an actor +rejoicing in his eloquence and applauding his own periods, Véronique had +retained her impassive attitude. Not one of those lying declarations was +able to touch her. She seemed to be thinking of other things.</p> + +<p>He went up to her and, to compel her attention, continued, in a more +aggressive tone:</p> + +<p>"You do not appear to suspect, madame, that my words are extremely +serious. They are, however, and they will become even more so. But, +before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> approaching more formidable matters and in the hope of avoiding +them altogether, I should like to make an appeal, not to your spirit of +conciliation, for there is no conciliation possible with you, but to +your reason, to your sense of reality. After all, you cannot be ignorant +of your present position, of the position of your son . . . ."</p> + +<p>She was not listening, he was absolutely convinced of it. Doubtless +absorbed by the thought of her son, she read not the least meaning into +the words that reached her ears. Nevertheless, irritated and unable to +conceal his impatience, he continued:</p> + +<p>"My offer is a simple one; and I hope and trust that you will not reject +it. In François' name and because of my feelings of humanity and +compassion, I ask you to link the present to the past of which I have +sketched the main features. From the social point of view, the bond that +unites us has never been shattered. You are still in name and in the +eyes of the law . . ."</p> + +<p>He ceased, stared at Véronique and then, clapping his hand violently on +her shoulder, shouted:</p> + +<p>"Listen, you baggage, can't you! It's Vorski speaking!"</p> + +<p>Véronique lost her balance, saved herself by catching at the back of a +chair and once more stood erect before her adversary, with her arms +folded and her eyes full of scorn.</p> + +<p>This time Vorski again succeeded in controlling himself. He had acted +under impulse and against his will. His voice retained an imperious and +malevolent intonation:</p> + +<p>"I repeat that the past still exists. Whether you like it or not, +madame, you are Vorski's wife.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> And it is because of this undeniable +fact that I am asking you, if you please, to consider yourself so +to-day. Let us understand each other; if I do not aim at obtaining your +love or even your friendship, I will not accept either that we should +return to our former hostile relations. I do not want the scornful and +distant wife that you have been. I want . . . I want a woman . . . a +woman who will submit herself . . . who will be the devoted, attentive, +faithful companion . . ."</p> + +<p>"The slave," murmured Véronique.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he exclaimed, "the slave; you have said it. I don't shrink from +words any more than I do from deeds. The slave; and why not? A slave +understands her duty, which is blindly to obey, bound hand and foot, +<i>perinde ac cadaver</i>; does the part appeal to you? Will you belong to me +body and soul? As for your soul, I don't care a fig about that. What I +want . . . what I want . . . you know well enough, don't you? What I +want is what I have never had. Your husband? Ha, ha, have I ever been +your husband? Look back into my life as I will, amid all my seething +emotions and delights, I do not find a single memory to remind me that +there was ever between us anything but the pitiless struggle of two +enemies. When I look at you, I see a stranger, a stranger in the past as +in the present. Well, since my luck has turned, since I once more have +you in my clutches, it shall not be so in the future. It shall not be so +to-morrow, nor even to-night, Véronique. I am the master; you must +accept the inevitable. Do you accept?"</p> + +<p>He did not wait for her answer and, raising his voice still higher, +roared:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>"Do you accept? No subterfuges or false promises. Do you accept? If so, +go on your knees, make the sign of the cross and say, in a firm voice, +'I accept. I will be a consenting wife. I will submit to all your orders +and to all your whims. You are the master.'"</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders and made no reply. Vorski gave a start. The +veins in his forehead swelled up. However, he still contained himself:</p> + +<p>"Very well. For that matter, I was expecting this. But the consequences +of your refusal will be so serious for you that I propose to make one +last attempt. Perhaps, after all, your refusal is addressed to the +fugitive that I am, to the poor beggar that I seem to be; and perhaps +the truth will alter your ideas. That truth is dazzling and wonderful. +As I told you, an unforeseen dawn has broken through my darkness; and +Vorski, son of a king, is bathed in radiant light."</p> + +<p>He had a trick of speaking of himself in the third person which +Véronique knew of old and which was the sign of his insupportable +vanity. She also observed and recognized in his eyes a peculiar gleam +which was always there at moments of exaltation, a gleam which was +obviously due to his drinking habits but in which she seemed to see +besides a sign of temporary aberration. Was he not indeed a sort of +madman and had his madness not increased as the years passed?</p> + +<p>He continued, and this time Véronique listened.</p> + +<p>"I had therefore left here, at the time when the war broke out, a person +who is attached to me and who continued the work of watching your father +which I had begun. An accident revealed to us the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> existence of the +caves dug under the heath and also one of the entrances to the caves. It +was in this safe retreat that I took refuge after my last escape; and it +was here that I learnt, through some intercepted letters, of your +father's investigations into the secret of Sarek and the discoveries +which he had made. You can understand how my vigilance was redoubled! +Particularly because I found in all this story, as it became more and +more clear to me, the strangest coincidences and an evident connection +with certain details in my own life. Presently doubt was no longer +possible. Fate had sent me here to accomplish a task which I alone was +able to fulfil . . . and more, a task in which I alone had the right to +assist. Do you understand what I mean? Long centuries ago, Vorski was +predestined. Vorski was the man appointed by fate, Vorski's name was +written in the book of time. Vorski had the necessary qualities, the +indispensable means, the requisite titles . . . . I was ready, I set to +work without delay, conforming ruthlessly to the decrees of destiny. +There was no hesitation as to the road to be followed to the end; the +beacon was lighted. I therefore followed the path marked out for me. +Vorski has now only to gather the reward of his efforts. Vorski has only +to put out his hand. Within reach of his hand fortune, glory, unlimited +power. In a few hours, Vorski, son of a king, will be king of the world. +It is this kingdom that he offers you."</p> + +<p>He was becoming more and more declamatory, more and more of the emphatic +and pompous play-actor.</p> + +<p>He bent towards Véronique:</p> + +<p>"Will you be a queen, an empress, and soar above<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> other women even as +Vorski will dominate other men? Queen by right of gold and power even as +you are already queen by right of beauty? Will you? . . . Vorski's +slave, but mistress of all those over whom Vorski holds sway? Will you? +. . . Understand me clearly; it is not a question of your making a +single decision; you have to choose between two. There is, mark you, the +alternative to your refusal. Either the kingdom which I am offering, or +else . . ."</p> + +<p>He paused and then, in a grating tone, completed his sentence:</p> + +<p>"Or else the cross!"</p> + +<p>Véronique shuddered. The dreadful word, the dreadful thing appeared once +more. And she now knew the name of the unknown executioner!</p> + +<p>"The cross!" he repeated, with an atrocious smile of content. "It is for +you to choose. On the one hand all the joys and honours of life. On the +other hand, death by the most barbarous torture. Choose. There is +nothing between the two alternatives. You must select one or the other. +And observe that there is no unnecessary cruelty on my part, no vain +ostentation of authority. I am only the instrument. The order comes from +a higher power than mine, it comes from destiny. For the divine will to +be accomplished, Véronique d'Hergemont must die and die on the cross. +This is explicitly stated. There is no remedy against fate. There is no +remedy unless one is Vorski and, like Vorski, is capable of every +audacity, of every form of cunning. If Vorski was able, in the forest of +Fontainebleau, to substitute a sham Vorski for the real one, if Vorski +thus succeeded in escaping the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> fate which condemned him, from his +childhood, to die by the knife of a friend, he can certainly discover +some stratagem by which the divine will is accomplished, while the woman +he loves is left alive. But in that case she will have to submit. I +offer safety to my bride or death to my foe. Which are you, my foe or my +bride? Which do you choose? Life by my side, with all the joys and +honours of life . . . or death?"</p> + +<p>"Death," Véronique replied, simply.</p> + +<p>He made a threatening gesture:</p> + +<p>"It is more than death. It is torture. Which do you choose?"</p> + +<p>"Torture."</p> + +<p>He insisted, malevolently:</p> + +<p>"But you are not alone! Pause to reflect! There is your son. When you +are gone, he will remain. In dying, you leave an orphan behind you. +Worse than that; in dying, you bequeath him to me. I am his father. I +possess full rights. Which do you choose?"</p> + +<p>"Death," she said, once more.</p> + +<p>He became incensed:</p> + +<p>"Death for you, very well. But suppose it means death for him? Suppose I +bring him here, before you, your François, and put the knife to his +throat and ask you for the last time, what will your answer be?"</p> + +<p>Véronique closed her eyes. Never before had she suffered so intensely, +and Vorski had certainly found the vulnerable spot. Nevertheless she +murmured:</p> + +<p>"I wish to die."</p> + +<p>Vorski flew into a rage, and, resorting straight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>way to insults, +throwing politeness and courtesy to the winds, he shouted:</p> + +<p>"Oh, the hussy, how she must hate me! Anything, anything, she accepts +anything, even the death of her beloved son, rather than yield to me! A +mother killing her son! For that's what it is; you're killing your son, +so as not to belong to me. You are depriving him of his life, so as not +to sacrifice yours to me. Oh, what hatred! No, no, it is impossible. I +don't believe in such hatred. Hatred has its limits. A mother like you! +No, no, there's something else . . . some love-affair, perhaps? No, no, +Véronique's not in love . . . What then? My pity, a weakness on my part? +Oh, how little you know me! Vorski show pity! Vorski show weakness! Why, +you've seen me at work! Did I flinch in the performance of my terrible +mission? Was Sarek not devastated as it was written? Were the boats not +sunk and the people not drowned? Were the sisters Archignat not nailed +to the ancient oak-trees? I, I flinch! Listen, when I was a child, with +these two hands of mine I wrung the necks of dogs and birds, with these +two hands I flayed goats alive and plucked the live chickens in the +poultry-yard. Pity indeed! Do you know what my mother called me? Attila! +And, when she was mystically inspired and read the future in these hands +of mine or on the tarot-cards, 'Attila Vorski,' that great seer would +say, 'you shall be the instrument of Providence. You shall be the sharp +edge of the blade, the point of the dagger, the bullet in the rifle, the +noose in the rope. Scourge of God! Scourge of God, your name is written +at full length in the books of time! It blazes among the stars<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> that +shone at your birth. Scourge of God! Scourge of God!' And you, you hope +that my eyes will be wet with tears? Nonsense! Does the hangman weep? It +is the weak who weep, those who fear lest they be punished, lest their +crimes be turned against themselves. But I, I! Our ancestors feared but +one thing, that the sky should fall upon their heads. What have <i>I</i> to +fear? I am God's accomplice! He has chosen me among all men. It is God +that has inspired me, the God of the fatherland, the old German God, for +whom good and evil do not count where the greatness of his sons is at +stake. The spirit of evil is within me. I love evil, I thirst after +evil. So you shall die, Véronique, and I shall laugh when I see you +suffering on the cross!"</p> + +<p>He was already laughing. He walked with great strides, stamping noisily +on the floor. He lifted his arms to the ceiling; and Véronique, +quivering with anguish, saw the red frenzy in his bloodshot eyes.</p> + +<p>He took a few more steps and then came up to her and, in a restrained +voice, snarling with menace:</p> + +<p>"On your knees, Véronique, and beseech my love! It alone can save you. +Vorski knows neither pity nor fear. But he loves you; and his love will +stop at nothing. Take advantage of it, Véronique. Appeal to the past. +Become the child that you once were; and perhaps one day I shall drag +myself at your feet. Véronique, do not repel me; a man like me is not to +be repelled. One who loves as I love you, Véronique, as I love you, is +not to be defied."</p> + +<p>She suppressed a cry. She felt his hated hands on her bare arms. She +tried to release herself; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> he, much stronger than she, did not let +go and continued, in a panting voice:</p> + +<p>"Do not repel me . . . it is absurd . . . it is madness . . . . You must +know that I am capable of anything . . . Well? . . . The cross is +horrible . . . . To see your son dying before your eyes; is that what +you want? . . . Accept the inevitable. Vorski will save you. Vorski will +give you the most beautiful life . . . . Oh, how you hate me! But no +matter: I accept your hatred, I love your hatred, I love your disdainful +mouth . . . . I love it more than if it offered itself of its own accord +. . . ."</p> + +<p>He ceased speaking. An implacable struggle took place between them. +Véronique's arms vainly resisted his closer and closer grip. Her +strength was failing her; she felt helpless, doomed to defeat. Her knees +gave way beneath her. Opposite her and quite close, Vorski's eyes seemed +filled with blood; and she was breathing the monster's breath.</p> + +<p>Then, in her terror, she bit him with all her might; and, profiting by a +second of discomfiture, she released herself with one great effort, +leapt back, drew her revolver, and fired once and again.</p> + +<p>The two bullets whistled past Vorski's ears and sent fragments flying +from the wall behind him. She had fired too quickly, at random.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the jade!" he roared. "She nearly did for me."</p> + +<p>In a second he had his arms round her body and, with an irresistible +effort, bent her backwards, turned her round and laid her on a sofa. +Then he took a cord from his pocket and bound her firmly and brutally.</p> + +<p>There was a moment's respite and silence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> Vorski wiped the perspiration +from his forehead, filled himself a tumbler of wine and drank it down at +a gulp.</p> + +<p>"That's better," he said, placing his foot on his victim, "and confess +that this is best all round. Each one in his place, my beauty; you +trussed like a fowl and I treading on you at my pleasure. Aha, we're no +longer enjoying ourselves so much! We're beginning to understand that +it's a serious matter. Ah, you needn't be afraid, you baggage: Vorski's +not the man to take advantage of a woman! No, no, that would be to play +with fire and to burn with a longing which this time would kill me. I'm +not such a fool as that. How should I forget you afterwards? One thing +only can make me forget and give me my peace of mind; your death. And, +since we understand each other on that subject, all's well. For it's +settled, isn't it; you want to die?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, as firmly as before.</p> + +<p>"And you want your son to die?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said.</p> + +<p>He rubbed his hands:</p> + +<p>"Excellent! We are agreed; and the time is past for words that mean +nothing. The real words remain to be spoken, those which count; for you +admit that, so far, all that I have said is mere verbiage, what? Just as +all the first part of the adventure, all that you saw happening at +Sarek, is only child's play. The real tragedy is beginning, since you +are involved in it body and soul; and that's the most terrifying part, +my pretty one. Your beautiful eyes have wept, but it is tears of blood +that are wanted, you poor darling! But what would you have? Once again, +Vorski is not cruel. He obeys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> a higher power; and destiny is against +you. Your tears? Nonsense! You've got to shed a thousand times as many +as another. Your death? Fudge! You've got to die a thousand deaths +before you die for good. Your poor heart must bleed as never woman's and +mother's poor heart bled before. Are you ready, Véronique? You shall +hear really cruel words, to be followed perhaps by words more cruel +still. Oh, fate is not spoiling you, my pretty one! . . ."</p> + +<p>He poured himself out a second glass of wine and emptied it in the same +gluttonous fashion; then he sat down beside her and, stooping, said, +almost in her ear:</p> + +<p>"Listen, dearest, I have a confession to make to you. I was already +married when I met you. Oh, don't be upset! There are greater +catastrophes for a wife and greater crimes for a husband than bigamy. +Well, by my first wife I had a son . . . whom I think you know; you +exchanged a few amicable remarks with him in the passage of the cells +. . . . Between ourselves, he's a regular bad lot, that excellent +Raynold, a rascal of the worst, in whom I enjoy the pride of +discovering, raised to their highest degree, some of my best instincts +and some of my chief qualities. He is a second edition to myself, but he +already outstrips me and now and then alarms me. Whew, what a devil! At +his age, a little over fifteen, I was an angel compared with him. Now it +so happens that this fine fellow has to take the field against my other +son, against our dear François. Yes, such is the whim of destiny, which, +once again, gives orders and of which, once again, I am the +clear-sighted and subtle interpreter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> Of course it is not a question of +a protracted and daily struggle. On the contrary, something short, +violent and decisive: a duel, for instance. That's it, a duel; you +understand, a serious duel. Not a turn with the fists, ending in a few +bruises; no, what you call a duel to the death, because one of the two +adversaries must be left, on the ground, because there must be a victor +and a victim, in short, a living combatant and a dead one."</p> + +<p>Véronique had turned her head a little and she saw that he was smiling. +Never before had she so plainly perceived the madness of that man, who +smiled at the thought of a mortal contest between two children both of +whom were his sons. The whole thing was so extravagant that Véronique, +so to speak, did not suffer. It was all outside the limits of suffering.</p> + +<p>"There is something better, Véronique," he said, gloating over every +syllable. "There's something better. Yes, destiny has devised a +refinement which I dislike, but to which, as a faithful servant, I have +to give effect. It has devised that you should be present at the duel. +Capital; you, François' mother, must see him fight. And, upon my word, I +wonder whether that apparent malevolence is not a mercy in disguise. Let +us say that you owe it to me, shall we, and that I myself am granting +you this unexpected, I will even say, this unjust favour? For, when all +is said, though Raynold is more powerful and experienced than François +and though, logically, François ought to be beaten, how it must add to +his courage and strength to know that he is fighting before his mother's +eyes! He will feel like a knight errant who stakes all his pride on +winning. He will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> be a son whose victory will save his mother . . . at +least, so he will think. Really the advantage is too great; and you can +thank me, Véronique, if this duel, as I am sure it will, does not—and I +am sure that it will not—make your heart beat a little faster . . . . +Unless . . . unless I carry out the infernal programme to the end +. . . . Ah, in that case, you poor little thing! . . ."</p> + +<p>He gripped her once more and, lifting her to her feet in front of him, +pressing his face against hers, he said, in a sudden fit of rage:</p> + +<p>"So you won't give in?"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"You will never give in?"</p> + +<p>"Never! Never! Never!" she repeated, with increasing vehemence.</p> + +<p>"You hate me more than everything?"</p> + +<p>"I hate you more than I love my son."</p> + +<p>"You lie, you lie!" he snarled. "You lie! Nothing comes above your son!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my hatred for you."</p> + +<p>All Véronique's passion of revolt, all the detestation which she had +succeeded in restraining now burst forth; and, indifferent to what might +come of it, she flung the words of hatred full in his face:</p> + +<p>"I hate you! I hate you! I would have my son die before my eyes, I would +witness his agony, anything rather than the horror of your sight and +presence. I hate you! You killed my father! You are an unclean murderer, +a halfwitted, savage idiot, a criminal lunatic! I hate you!"</p> + +<p>He lifted her with an effort, carried her to the window and threw her on +the ground, spluttering:</p> + +<p>"On your knees! On your knees! The punish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>ment is beginning. You would +scoff at me, you hussy, would you? Well, you shall see!"</p> + +<p>He forced her to her knees and then, pushing her against the lower wall +and opening the window, he fastened her head to the rail of the balcony +by means of a cord round her neck and under her arms. He ended by +gagging her with a scarf:</p> + +<p>"And now look!" he cried. "The curtain's going up! Boy François doing +his exercises! . . . Oh, you hate me, do you? Oh, you would rather have +hell than a kiss from Vorski? Well, my darling, you shall have hell; and +I'm arranging a little performance for you, one of my own composing and +a highly original one at that! . . . Also, I may tell you, it's too late +now to change your mind. The thing's irrevocable. You may beg and +entreat for mercy as much as you like; it's too late! The duel, followed +by the cross; that's the programme. Say your prayers, Véronique, and +call on Heaven. Shout for assistance if it amuses you . . . . Listen, I +know that your brat is expecting a rescuer, a professor of clap-trap, a +Don Quixote of adventure. Let him come! Vorski will give him the +reception he deserves! The more the merrier! We shall see some fun! +. . . And, if the very gods join in the game and take up your defence, I +shan't care! It's no longer their business, it's my business. It's no +longer a question of Sarek and the treasure and the great secret and all +the humbug of the God-Stone! It's a question of yourself! You have spat +in Vorski's face and Vorski is taking his revenge. He is taking his +revenge! It is the glorious hour. What exquisite joy! . . . To do evil +as others do good, lavishly and profusely! To do evil! To<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> kill, +torture, break, ruin and destroy! . . . Oh, the fierce delight of being +a Vorski!"</p> + +<p>He stamped across the room, striking the floor at each step and hustling +the furniture. His haggard eyes roamed in all directions. He would have +liked to begin his work of destruction at once, strangling some victim, +giving work to his greedy fingers, executing the incoherent orders of +his insane imagination.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, he drew a revolver and, brutishly, stupidly, fired bullets +into the mirrors, the pictures, the window-panes.</p> + +<p>And, still gesticulating, still capering about, an ominous and sinister +figure, he opened the door, bellowing:</p> + +<p>"Vorski's having his revenge! Vorski's having his revenge!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE ASCENT OF GOLGOTHA</span></h2> + + +<p>Twenty or thirty minutes elapsed. Véronique was still alone. The cords +cut into her flesh; and the rails of the balcony bruised her forehead. +The gag choked her. Her knees, bent in two and doubled up beneath her, +carried the whole weight of her body. It was an intolerable position, an +unceasing torture . . . . Still, though she suffered, she was not very +clearly aware of it. She was unconscious of her physical suffering; and +she had already undergone such mental suffering that this supreme ordeal +did not awaken her drowsing senses.</p> + +<p>She hardly thought. Sometimes she said to herself that she was about to +die; and she already felt the repose of the after-life, as one +sometimes, amidst a storm, feels in advance the wide peace of the +harbour. Hideous things were sure to happen between the present moment +and the conclusion which would set her free; but her brain refused to +dwell on them; and her son's fate in particular elicited only momentary +thoughts, which were immediately dispersed.</p> + +<p>At heart, as there was nothing to enlighten her as to her frame of mind, +she was hoping for a miracle. Would the miracle occur in Vorski? +Incapable of generosity though he was, would not the monster<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> hesitate +none the less in the presence of an utterly unnecessary crime? A father +does not kill his son, or at least the act must be brought about by +imperative reasons; and Vorski had no such reasons to allege against a +mere child whom he did not know and whom he could not hate except with +an artificial hatred.</p> + +<p>Her torpor was lulled by this hope of a miracle. All the sounds which +reechoed through the house, sounds of discussions, sounds of hurrying +footsteps, seemed to her to indicate not so much the preparations for +the events foretold as the sign of interruptions which would ruin all +Vorski's plans. Had not her dear François said that nothing could any +longer separate them from each other and that, at the moment when +everything might seem lost and even when everything would be really +lost, they must keep their faith intact?</p> + +<p>"My François," she repeated, "my darling François, you shall not die +. . . we shall see each other again . . . you promised me!"</p> + +<p>Out of doors, a blue sky, flecked with a few menacing clouds, hung +outspread above the tall oaks. In front of her, beyond that same window +at which her father had appeared to her, in the middle of the grass +which she had crossed with Honorine on the day of her arrival, a site +had been recently cleared and covered with sand, like an arena. Was it +here that her son was to fight? She received the sudden intuition that +it must be; and her heart contracted.</p> + +<p>"François," she said, "François, have no fear . . . . I shall save you +. . . . Oh, forgive me, François darling, forgive me! . . . All this is +a punishment for the wrong I once did . . . . It is the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> atonement +. . . . The son is atoning for the mother . . . . Forgive me, forgive +me! . . ."</p> + +<p>At that moment a door opened on the ground-floor and voices ascended +from the doorstep. She recognized Vorski's voice among them.</p> + +<p>"So it's understood," he said. "We shall each go our own way; you two on +the left, I on the right. You'll take this kid with you, I'll take the +other and we'll meet in the lists. You'll be the seconds, so to speak, +of yours and I'll be the second of mine, so that all the rules will be +observed."</p> + +<p>Véronique shut her eyes, for she did not wish to see her son, who would +no doubt be maltreated, led out to fight like a slave. She could hear +the creaking of two sets of footsteps following the two circular paths. +Vorski was laughing and speechifying.</p> + +<p>The groups turned and advanced in opposite directions.</p> + +<p>"Don't come any nearer," Vorski ordered. "Let the two adversaries take +their places. Halt, both of you. Good. And not a word, do you hear? If +either of you speaks, I shall cut him down without mercy. Are you ready? +Begin!"</p> + +<p>So the terrible thing was commencing. In accordance with Vorski's will, +the duel was about to take place before the mother, the son was about to +fight before her face. How could she do other than look? She opened her +eyes.</p> + +<p>She at once saw the two come to grips and hold each other off. But she +did not at once understand what she saw, or at least she failed to +understand its exact meaning. She saw the two boys, it was true; but +which of them was François and which was Raynold?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>"Oh," she stammered, "it's horrible! . . . And yet . . . no, I must be +mistaken . . . . It's not possible . . ."</p> + +<p>She was not mistaken. The two boys were dressed alike, in the same +velvet knickerbockers, the same white-flannel shirts, the same leather +belts. But each had his head wrapped in a red-silk scarf, with two holes +for the eyes, as in a highwayman's mask.</p> + +<p>Which was François? Which was Raynold?</p> + +<p>Now she remembered Vorski's inexplicable threat. This was what he meant +by the programme drawn up by himself, this was to what he alluded when +he spoke of a little play of his composing. Not only was the son +fighting before the mother, but she did not know which was her son.</p> + +<p>It was an infernal refinement of cruelty; Vorski himself had said so. No +agony could add to Véronique's agony.</p> + +<p>The miracle which she had hoped for lay chiefly in herself and in the +love which she bore her son. Because her son was fighting before her +eyes, she felt certain that her son could not die. She would protect him +against the blows and against the ruses of the foe. She would make the +dagger swerve, she would ward off death from the head which she adored. +She would inspire her boy with dauntless energy, with the will to +attack, with indefatigable strength, with the spirit that foretells and +seizes the propitious moment. But now that both of them were veiled, on +which was she to exercise her good influence, for which to pray, against +which to rebel?</p> + +<p>She knew nothing. There was no clue to enlighten her. One of them was +taller, slimmer and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> lither in his movements. Was this François? The +other was more thick-set, stronger and stouter in appearance. Was this +Raynold? She could not tell. Nothing but a glimpse of a face, or even a +fleeting expression, could have revealed the truth to her. But how was +she to pierce the impenetrable mask?</p> + +<p>And the fight continued, more terrible for her than if she had seen her +son with his face uncovered.</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" cried Vorski, applauding an attack.</p> + +<p>He seemed to be following the duel like a connoisseur, with the +affectation of impartiality displayed by a good judge of fighting who +above all things wants the best man to win. And yet it was one of his +sons that he had condemned to death.</p> + +<p>Facing her stood the two accomplices, both of them men with brutal +faces, pointed skulls and big noses with spectacles. One of them was +extremely thin; the other was also thin, but with a swollen paunch like +a leather bottle. These two did not applaud and remained indifferent, or +perhaps even hostile, to the sight before them.</p> + +<p>"Capital!" cried Vorski, approvingly. "Well parried! Oh, you're a couple +of sturdy fellows and I'm wondering to whom to award the palm."</p> + +<p>He pranced around the adversaries, urging them on in a hoarse voice in +which Véronique, remembering certain scenes in the past, seemed to +recognize the effects of drink. Nevertheless the poor thing made an +effort to stretch out her bound hands towards him; and she moaned under +her gag:</p> + +<p>"Mercy! Mercy! I can't bear it. Have pity!"</p> + +<p>It was impossible for her martyrdom to last.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> Her heart was beating so +violently that it shook her from head to foot; and she was on the point +of fainting when an incident occurred that gave her fresh life. One of +the boys, after a fairly stubborn tussle, had jumped back and was +swiftly bandaging his right wrist, from which a few drops of blood were +trickling. Véronique seemed to remember seeing in her son's hand the +small blue-and-white handkerchief which the boy was using.</p> + +<p>She was immediately and irresistibly convinced. The boy—it was the more +slender and agile of the two—had more grace than the other, more +distinction, greater elegance of movement.</p> + +<p>"It's François," she murmured. "Yes, yes, it's he . . . . It's you, +isn't it, my darling? I recognize you now . . . . The other is common +and heavy . . . . It's you, my darling! . . . Oh, my François, my +dearest François!"</p> + +<p>In fact, though both were fighting with equal fierceness, this one +displayed less savage fury and blind rage in his efforts. It was as +though he were trying not so much to kill his adversary as to wound him +and as though his attacks were directed rather to preserving himself +from the death that lay in wait for him. Véronique felt alarmed and +stammered, as though he could hear her:</p> + +<p>"Don't spare him, my darling! He's a monster, too! . . . Oh, dear, if +you're generous, you're lost! . . . François, François, mind what you're +doing!"</p> + +<p>The blade of the dagger had flashed over the head of the one whom she +called her son; and she had cried out, under her gag, to warn him. +François having avoided the blow, she felt persuaded that her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> cry had +reached his ears; and she continued instinctively to put him on his +guard and advise him:</p> + +<p>"Take a rest . . . . Get your breath . . . . Whatever you do, keep your +eyes on him . . . . He's getting ready to do something . . . . He's +going to rush at you . . . . Here he comes! Oh, my darling, another inch +and he would have stabbed you in the neck! . . . Be careful, darling, +he's treacherous . . . there's no trick too mean for him to play +. . . ."</p> + +<p>But the unhappy mother felt, however reluctant she might yet be to admit +it, that the one whom she called her son was beginning to lose strength. +Certain signs proclaimed a reduced power of resistance, while the other, +on the contrary, was gaining in eagerness and vigour. François retreated +until he reached the edge of the arena.</p> + +<p>"Hi, you, boy!" grinned Vorski. "You're not thinking of running away, +are you? Keep your nerve, damn it! Show some pluck! Remember the +conditions!"</p> + +<p>The boy rushed forward with renewed zest; and it was the other's turn to +fall back. Vorski clapped his hands, while Véronique murmured:</p> + +<p>"It's for me that he's risking his life. The monster must have told him, +'Your mother's fate depends on you. If you win, she's saved.' And he has +sworn to win. He knows that I am watching him. He guesses that I am +here. He hears me. Bless you, my darling!"</p> + +<p>It was the last phase of the duel. Véronique trembled all over, +exhausted by her emotion and by the too violent alternation of hope and +anguish. Once again her son lost ground and once again he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> leapt +forward. But, in the final struggle that followed, he lost his balance +and fell on his back, with his right arm caught under his body.</p> + +<p>His adversary at once stooped, pressed his knee on the other's chest and +raised his arm. The dagger gleamed in the air.</p> + +<p>"Help! Help!" Véronique gasped, choking under her gag.</p> + +<p>She flattened her breast against the wall, without thinking of the cords +which tortured her. Her forehead was bleeding, cut by the sharp corner +of the rail, and she felt that she was about to die of the death of her +son. Vorski had approached and stood without moving, with a merciless +look on his face.</p> + +<p>Twenty seconds, thirty seconds passed. With his outstretched left hand, +François checked his adversary's attempt. But the victorious arm sank +lower and lower, the dagger descended, the point was only an inch or two +from the neck.</p> + +<p>Vorski stooped. Just then, he was behind Raynold, so that neither +Raynold nor François could see him; and he was watching most +attentively, as though intending to intervene at some given moment. But +in whose favor would he intervene? Was it his plan to save François?</p> + +<p>Véronique no longer breathed; her eyes were enormously dilated; she hung +between life and death.</p> + +<p>The point of the dagger touched the neck and must have pricked the +flesh, but only very slightly, for it was still held back by François' +resistance.</p> + +<p>Vorski bent lower. He stood over the fighters and did not take his eyes +from the deadly point. Suddenly he took a pen-knife from his pocket, +opened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> it and waited. A few more seconds elapsed. The dagger continued +to descend. Then quickly he gashed Raynold's shoulder with the blade of +his knife.</p> + +<p>The boy uttered a cry of pain. His grip at once became relaxed; and, at +the same time, François, set free, his right arm released, half rose, +resumed the offensive and, without seeing Vorski or understanding what +had happened, in an instinctive impulse of his whole being escaped from +death and revolting against his adversary, struck him full in the face. +Raynold in his turn fell like a log.</p> + +<p>All this had certainly lasted no longer than ten seconds. But the +incident was so unexpected and took Véronique so greatly aback that, not +realizing, not knowing that she ought to rejoice, believing rather that +she was mistaken and that the real François was dead, murdered by +Vorski, the poor thing sank into a huddled heap and lost consciousness.</p> + +<hr class="thin" /> + +<p>A long, long time elapsed. Then, gradually, Véronique became aware of +certain sensations. She heard the clock strike four; and she said:</p> + +<p>"It's two hours since François died. For it was he who died."</p> + +<p>She had not a doubt that the duel had ended in this way. Vorski would +never have allowed François to be the victor and his other son to be +killed. And so it was against her own child that she had sent up wishes +and for the monster that she had prayed!</p> + +<p>"François is dead," she repeated. "Vorski has killed him."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>The door opened and she heard Vorski's voice. He entered, with an +unsteady gait:</p> + +<p>"A thousand pardons, dear lady, but I think Vorski must have fallen +asleep. It's your father's fault, Véronique! He had hidden away in his +cellar some confounded Saumur which Conrad and Otto discovered and which +has fuddled me a bit! But don't cry; we shall make up for lost time +. . . . Besides everything must be settled by midnight. So . . ."</p> + +<p>He had come nearer; and he now exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"What! Did that rascal of a Vorski leave you tied up? What a brute that +Vorski is! And how uncomfortable you must be! . . . Hang it all, how +pale you are! I say, look here, you're not dead, are you? That would be +a nasty trick to play us!"</p> + +<p>He took Véronique's hand, which she promptly snatched away.</p> + +<p>"Capital! We still loathe our little Vorski! Then that's all right and +there's plenty of reserve strength. You'll hold out to the end, +Véronique."</p> + +<p>He listened:</p> + +<p>"What is it? Who's calling me? Is it you, Otto? Come up . . . . Well, +Otto, what news? I've been asleep, you know. That damned Saumur wine! +. . ."</p> + +<p>Otto, one of the two accomplices, entered the room at a run. He was the +one whose paunch bulged so oddly.</p> + +<p>"What news?" he exclaimed. "Why, this: I've seen some one on the +island!"</p> + +<p>Vorski began to laugh:</p> + +<p>"You're drunk, Otto. That damned Saumur wine . . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>"I'm not drunk. I saw . . . and so did Conrad . . ."</p> + +<p>"Oho," said Vorski, more seriously, "if Conrad was with you! Well, what +did you see?"</p> + +<p>"A white figure, which hid when we came along."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Between the village and the heath, in a little wood of chestnut trees."</p> + +<p>"On the other side of the island then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"All right. We'll take our precautions."</p> + +<p>"How? There may be several of them."</p> + +<p>"I don't care if there are ten of them; it would make no difference. +Where's Conrad?"</p> + +<p>"By the foot-bridge which we put in the place of the bridge that was +burnt down. He's keeping watch from there."</p> + +<p>"Conrad is a clever one. When the bridge was burnt, we were kept on the +other side; if the foot-bridge is burnt, it'll produce the same +hindrance. Véronique, I really believe they're coming to rescue you. +It's the miracle you expected, the assistance you hoped for. But it's +too late, my beauty."</p> + +<p>He untied the bonds that fastened her to the balcony, carried her to the +sofa and loosened the gag slightly:</p> + +<p>"Sleep, my wench," he said. "Get what rest you can. You're only half-way +to Golgotha yet; and the last bit of the ascent will be the hardest."</p> + +<p>He went away jesting; and Véronique heard the two men exchange a few +sentences which proved to her that Otto and Conrad were only supers who +knew nothing of the business in hand:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>"Who's this wretched woman whom you're persecuting?" asked Otto.</p> + +<p>"That doesn't concern you."</p> + +<p>"Still, Conrad and I would like to know something about it."</p> + +<p>"Lord, why?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, just because!"</p> + +<p>"Conrad and you are a pair of fools," replied Vorski. "When I took you +into my service and helped you to escape with me, I told you all I could +of my plans. You accepted my conditions. It was your look-out. You've +got to see this thing through now."</p> + +<p>"And if we don't?"</p> + +<p>"If you don't, beware of the consequences. I don't like shirkers +. . . ."</p> + +<p>More hours passed. Nothing, it seemed to Véronique, could any longer +save her from the end for which she craved with all her heart. She no +longer hoped for the intervention of which Otto had spoken. In reality +she was not thinking at all. Her son was dead; and she had no other wish +than to join him without delay, even at the cost of the most dreadful +suffering. What did that suffering matter to her? There are limits to +the strength of those who are tortured; and she was so near to reaching +those limits that her agony would not last long.</p> + +<p>She began to pray. Once more the memory of the past forced itself on her +mind; and the fault which she had committed seemed to her the cause of +all the misfortunes heaped upon her.</p> + +<p>And, while praying, exhausted, harassed, in a state of nervous +extenuation which left her indiffer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>ent to anything that might happen, +she fell asleep.</p> + +<p>Vorski's return did not even rouse her. He had to shake her:</p> + +<p>"The hour is at hand, my girl. Say your prayers."</p> + +<p>He spoke low, so that his assistants might not hear what he said; and, +whispering in her ear, he told her things of long ago, insignificant +trifles which he dribbled out in a thick tone. At last he called out:</p> + +<p>"It's still too light, Otto. Go and see what you can find in the larder, +will you? I'm hungry."</p> + +<p>They sat down to table, but Vorski stood up again at once:</p> + +<p>"Don't look at me, my girl. Your eyes worry me. What do you expect? My +conscience doesn't worry me when I'm alone, but it gets worked up when a +fine pair of eyes like yours go right through me. Lower your lids, my +pretty one."</p> + +<p>He bound Véronique's eyes with a handkerchief which he knotted behind +her head. But this did not satisfy him; and he unhooked a muslin curtain +from the window, wrapped her whole head in it and wound it round her +neck. Then he sat down again to eat and drink.</p> + +<p>The three of them hardly spoke and said not a word of their trip across +the island, nor of the duel of the afternoon. In any case, these were +details which did not interest Véronique and which, even if she had paid +attention to them, would not have aroused her. Everything had become +indifferent to her. The words reached her ears but assumed no definite +meaning. She thought of nothing but dying.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>When it was dark, Vorski gave the signal for departure.</p> + +<p>"Then you're still determined?" asked Otto, in a voice betraying a +certain hostility.</p> + +<p>"More so than ever. What's your reason for asking?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing . . . . But, all the same . . ."</p> + +<p>"All the same what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I may as well out with it, we only half like the job."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say so! And you only discover it now, my man, after +stringing up the sisters Archignat and treating it as a lark!"</p> + +<p>"I was drunk that day. You made us drink."</p> + +<p>"Well, get boozed if you want to, old cock. Here, take the +brandy-bottle. Fill your flask and shut up . . . . Conrad, is the +stretcher ready?"</p> + +<p>He turned to his victim:</p> + +<p>"A polite attention for you, my dear . . . . Two old stilts of your +brat's, fastened together with straps . . . . It's very practical and +comfortable."</p> + +<p>At half-past eight, the grim procession set out, with Vorski at the +head, carrying a lantern. The accomplices followed with the litter.</p> + +<p>The clouds which had been threatening all the afternoon had now gathered +and were rolling, thick and black, over the island. The night was +falling swiftly. A stormy wind was blowing and made the candle flicker +in the lantern.</p> + +<p>"Brrrr!" muttered Vorski. "Dismal work! A regular Golgotha evening."</p> + +<p>He swerved and grunted at the sight of a little black shape bounding +along by his side:</p> + +<p>"What's that? Look. It's a dog, isn't it?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>"It's the boy's mongrel," said Otto.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course, the famous All's Well! The brute's come in the nick of +time. Everything's going jolly well! Just wait a bit, you mangy beast!"</p> + +<p>He aimed a kick at the dog. All's Well avoided it and keeping out of +reach, continued to accompany the procession, giving a muffled bark at +intervals.</p> + +<p>It was a rough ascent; and every moment one of the three men, leaving +the invisible path that skirted the grass in front of the house and led +to the open space by the Fairies' Dolmen, tripped in the brambles or in +the runners of ivy.</p> + +<p>"Halt!" Vorski commanded. "Stop and take breath, my lads. Otto, hand us +your flask. My heart's turning upside down."</p> + +<p>He took a long pull:</p> + +<p>"Your turn, Otto . . . . What, don't you want to? What's the matter with +you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm thinking that there are people on the island who are looking for +us."</p> + +<p>"Let them look!"</p> + +<p>"And suppose they come by boat and climb that path in the cliffs which +the woman and the boy were trying to escape by this morning, the path we +found?"</p> + +<p>"What we have to fear is an attack by land, not by sea. Well, the +foot-bridge is burnt. There's no means of communication."</p> + +<p>"Unless they find the entrance to the cells, on the Black Heath, and +follow the tunnel to this place."</p> + +<p>"Have they found the entrance?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Well, granting that they do find it, haven't we just blocked the exit +on this side, broken down the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> staircase, thrown everything topsy-turvy? +To clear it will take them half a day and more. Whereas at midnight the +thing'll be done and by daybreak we shall be far away from Sarek."</p> + +<p>"It'll be done, it'll be done; that is to say, we shall have one more +murder on our conscience. But . . ."</p> + +<p>"But what?"</p> + +<p>"What about the treasure?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, the treasure! You've got it out at last! Well, make your mind easy: +your shares of it are as good as in your pockets."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure of that?"</p> + +<p>"Rather! Do you imagine that I'm staying here and doing all this dirty +work for fun?"</p> + +<p>They resumed their progress. After a quarter of an hour, a few drops of +rain began to fall. There was a clap of thunder. The storm still +appeared to be some distance away.</p> + +<p>They had difficulty in completing the rough ascent: and Vorski had to +help his companions.</p> + +<p>"At last!" he said. "We're there. Otto, hand me the flask. That's it. +Thanks."</p> + +<p>They had laid their victim at the foot of the oak which had had its +lower branches removed. A flash of light revealed the inscription, +"V. d'H." Vorski picked up a rope, which had been left there in +readiness, and set a ladder against the trunk of the tree:</p> + +<p>"We'll do as we did with the sisters Archignat," he said. "I'll pass the +cord over the big branch which we left intact. That will serve as a +pulley."</p> + +<p>He interrupted himself and jumped to one side. Something extraordinary +had just happened.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>"What's that?" he whispered. "What was it? Did you hear that whistling +sound?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Conrad, "it grazed my ear. One would have said it was a +bullet."</p> + +<p>"You're mad."</p> + +<p>"I heard it too," said Otto, "and it seems to me that it hit the tree."</p> + +<p>"What tree?"</p> + +<p>"The oak, of course! It was as though somebody had fired at us."</p> + +<p>"There was no report."</p> + +<p>"A stone, then; a stone that must have hit the oak."</p> + +<p>"We'll soon see," said Vorski.</p> + +<p>He turned his lantern and at once let fly an oath:</p> + +<p>"Damn it! Look, there, under the lettering."</p> + +<p>They looked. An arrow was fixed at the spot to which he pointed. Its +feathered end was still quivering.</p> + +<p>"An arrow!" gasped Conrad. "How is it possible? An arrow!"</p> + +<p>And Otto spluttered:</p> + +<p>"We're done for! It's us they were aiming at!"</p> + +<p>"The man who took aim at us can't be far off," Vorski observed. "Keep +your eyes open. We'll have a look."</p> + +<p>He swung the light in a circle which penetrated the surrounding +darkness.</p> + +<p>"Stop," said Conrad, eagerly. "A little more to the right. Do you see?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I see."</p> + +<p>Thirty yards from where they stood, in the direction of the Calvary of +the Flowers, just beyond the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> blasted oak, they saw something white, a +figure which was trying, at least so it seemed, to hide behind a clump +of bushes.</p> + +<p>"Not a word, not a movement," Vorski ordered. "Do nothing to let him +think that we've discovered him. Conrad, come with me. You, Otto, stay +here, with your revolver in your hand, and keep a good watch. If they +try to come near and to release her ladyship, fire two shots and we'll +run back at once. Is that understood?"</p> + +<p>"Quite."</p> + +<p>Vorski bent over Véronique and loosened the veil slightly. Her eyes and +mouth were still concealed by their bandages. She was breathing with +difficulty; the pulse was weak and slow.</p> + +<p>"We have time," he muttered, "but we must hurry if we want her to die +according to plan. In any case she doesn't seem to be in pain. She has +lost all consciousness."</p> + +<p>He put down the lantern and then softly, followed by his assistant, +stole towards the white figure, both of them choosing the places where +the shadow was densest.</p> + +<p>But he soon became aware, on the one hand, that the figure, which had +seemed stationary, was moving as he himself moved forward, so that the +space between them remained the same, and, on the other hand, that it +was escorted by a small black figure frisking by its side.</p> + +<p>"It's that filthy mongrel!" growled Vorski.</p> + +<p>He quickened his pace: the distance did not decrease. He ran: the figure +in front of him ran likewise. And the strangest part of it was that they +heard no sound of leaves disturbed or of ground<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> trampled by the +mysterious person running ahead of them.</p> + +<p>"Damn it!" swore Vorski. "He's laughing at us. Suppose we fired at him, +Conrad?"</p> + +<p>"He's too far. The bullets wouldn't reach him."</p> + +<p>"All the same, we're not going to . . ."</p> + +<p>The unknown individual led them to the end of the island and then down +to the entrance of the tunnel, passed close to the Priory, skirted the +west cliff and reached the foot-bridge, some of the planks of which were +still smouldering. Then he branched off, passed back by the other side +of the house and went up the grassy slope.</p> + +<p>From time to time the dog barked gaily.</p> + +<p>Vorski could not control his rage. However hard he tried, he was unable +to gain an inch of ground: and the pursuit had lasted fifteen minutes. +He ended by vituperating the enemy:</p> + +<p>"Stop, can't you? Show yourself a man! . . . What are you trying to do? +Lead us into a trap? What for? . . . Is it her ladyship you're trying to +save? It's not worth while, in the state she's in. Oh, you damned, smart +bounder, if I could only get hold of you!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly Conrad seized him by the skirt of his robe.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Conrad?"</p> + +<p>"Look. He seems to be stopping."</p> + +<p>As Conrad suggested, the white figure for the first time was becoming +more and more clearly visible in the darkness and they were able to +distinguish, through the leaves of a thicket, its present attitude, with +the arms slightly opened, the back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> bowed, the legs bent and apparently +crossed on the ground.</p> + +<p>"He must have fallen," said Conrad.</p> + +<p>Vorski, after running forward, shouted:</p> + +<p>"Am I to shoot, you scum? I've got the drop on you. Hands up, or I +fire."</p> + +<p>Nothing stirred.</p> + +<p>"It's your own look-out! If you show fight, you're a dead man. I shall +count three and fire."</p> + +<p>He walked to twenty yards of the figure and counted, with outstretched +arm:</p> + +<p>"One . . . two . . . . Are you ready, Conrad? Fire!"</p> + +<p>The two bullets were discharged at the same time.</p> + +<p>There was a cry of distress. The figure seemed to collapse. The two men +rushed forward:</p> + +<p>"Ah, now you've got it, you rascal! I'll show you the stuff that +Vorski's made of! You've given me a pretty run, you oaf! Well, your +account's settled!"</p> + +<p>After the first few steps, he slackened his speed, for fear of a +surprise. The figure did not move; and Vorski, on coming close, saw that +it had the limp and misshapen look of a dead man, of a corpse. Nothing +remained but to fall upon it. This was what Vorski did, laughing and +jesting:</p> + +<p>"A good bag, Conrad! Let's pick up the game."</p> + +<p>But he was greatly surprised, on picking up the game, to feel in his +hands nothing but an almost impalpable quarry, consisting, to tell the +truth, of just a white robe, with no one inside it, the owner of the +robe having taken flight in good time, after hooking it to the thorns of +a thicket. As for the dog, he had disappeared.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>"Damn and blast it!" roared Vorski. "He's cheated us, the ruffian! But +why, hang it, why?"</p> + +<p>Venting his rage in the stupid fashion that was his habit, he was +stamping on the piece of stuff, when a thought struck him:</p> + +<p>"Why? Because, damn it, as I said just now, it's a trap: a trap to get +us away from her ladyship while his friends went for Otto! Oh, what an +ass I've been!"</p> + +<p>He started to go back in the dark and, as soon as he was able to see the +dolmen, he called out:</p> + +<p>"Otto! Otto!"</p> + +<p>"Halt! Who goes there?" answered Otto, in a scared voice.</p> + +<p>"It's me . . . . Damn you, don't fire!"</p> + +<p>"Who's there? You?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, you fool."</p> + +<p>"But the two shots?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing . . . . A mistake . . . . We'll tell you about it . . . ."</p> + +<p>He was now close to the oak and, at once, taking up the lantern, turned +its rays upon his victim. She had not moved and lay stretched at the +foot of the tree, with her head wrapped in the veil.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said. "I breathe again! Hang it, how frightened I was!"</p> + +<p>"Frightened of what?"</p> + +<p>"Of their taking her from us, of course!"</p> + +<p>"Well, wasn't I here?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you! You've got no more pluck than a louse . . . and, if they had +gone for you . . ."</p> + +<p>"I should have fired, at any rate. You'd have heard the signal."</p> + +<p>"May be. Well, did nothing happen?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>"Nothing at all."</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship didn't carry on too much?"</p> + +<p>"She did at first. She moaned and groaned under her hood, until I lost +all patience."</p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, then! It didn't last long: I stunned her with a good blow of my +fist."</p> + +<p>"You brute!" exclaimed Vorski. "If you've killed her, you're a dead +man."</p> + +<p>He plumped down and glued his ear to his unfortunate victim's breast.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, presently, "her heart is still beating. But that may not +last long. To work, lads. It must all be over in ten minutes."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">"ELOI, ELOI, LAMA SABACHTHANI!"</span></h2> + + +<p>The preparations were soon made; and Vorski himself took an active part +in them. Resting the ladder against the trunk of the tree, he passed one +end of the rope round his victim and the other over one of the upper +branches. Then, standing on the bottom rung, he instructed his +accomplices:</p> + +<p>"Here, all you've got to do now is to pull. Get her on her feet first +and one of you keep her from falling."</p> + +<p>He waited a moment. But Otto and Conrad were whispering to each other; +and he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Look here, hurry up, will you? . . . Remember I'm making a pretty easy +target, if they took it into their heads to send a bullet or an arrow at +me. Are you ready?"</p> + +<p>The two assistants did not reply.</p> + +<p>"Well, this is a bit thick! What's the matter with you? Otto! Conrad!"</p> + +<p>He leapt to the ground and shook them:</p> + +<p>"You're a pair of nice ones, you are! At this rate, we should still be +at it to-morrow morning . . . and the whole thing will miscarry . . . . +Answer me, Otto, can't you?" He turned the light full on Otto's face. +"Look here, what's all this about? Are you wriggling out of it? If so, +you'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> better say so! And you, Conrad? Are you both going on strike?"</p> + +<p>Otto wagged his head:</p> + +<p>"On strike . . . that's saying a lot. But Conrad and I would like a word +or two of explanation?"</p> + +<p>"Explanation? What about, you pudding-head? About the lady we're +executing? About either of the two brats? It's no use taking that line, +my man. I said to you, when I first mentioned the business, 'Will you go +to work blindfold? There'll be a tough job and plenty of bloodshed. But +there's big money at the end of it.'"</p> + +<p>"That's the whole question," said Otto.</p> + +<p>"Say what you mean, you jackass!"</p> + +<p>"It's for you to say and repeat the terms of our agreement. What are +they?"</p> + +<p>"You know as well as I do."</p> + +<p>"Exactly, it's to remind you of them that I'm asking you to repeat +them."</p> + +<p>"I remember them exactly. I get the treasure; and out of the treasure I +pay you two hundred thousand francs between the two of you."</p> + +<p>"That's so and it's not quite so. We'll come back to that. Let's begin +by talking of this famous treasure. Here have we been grinding away for +weeks, wallowing in blood, living in a nightmare of every sort of crime +. . . and not a thing in sight!"</p> + +<p>Vorski shrugged his shoulders:</p> + +<p>"You're getting denser and denser, my poor Otto! You know there were +certain things to be done first. They're all done, except one. In a few +minutes, this will be finished too and the treasure will be ours!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>"How do we know?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think I'd have done all that I have done, if I wasn't sure of +the result . . . as sure as I am that I'm alive? Everything has happened +in a certain given order. It was all predetermined. The last thing will +come at the hour foretold and will open the gate for me."</p> + +<p>"The gate of hell," sneered Otto, "as I heard Maguennoc call it."</p> + +<p>"Call it by that name or another, it opens on the treasure which I shall +have won."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Otto, impressed by Vorski's tone of conviction, "very +well. I'm willing to believe you're right. But what's to tell us that we +shall have our share?"</p> + +<p>"You shall have your share for the simple reason that the possession of +the treasure will provide me with such indescribable wealth that I'm not +likely to risk having trouble with you two fellows for the sake of a +couple of hundred thousand francs."</p> + +<p>"So we have your word?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"Your word that all the clauses of our agreement shall be respected."</p> + +<p>"Of course. What are you driving at?"</p> + +<p>"This, that you've begun to trick us in the meanest way by breaking one +of the clauses of the agreement."</p> + +<p>"What's that? What are you talking about? Do you realize whom you're +speaking to?"</p> + +<p>"I'm speaking to you, Vorski."</p> + +<p>Vorski laid violent hands on his accomplice:</p> + +<p>"What's this? You dare to insult me? To call me by my name, me, me?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>"What of it, seeing that you've robbed me of what's mine by rights?"</p> + +<p>Vorski controlled himself and, in a voice trembling with anger:</p> + +<p>"Say what you have to say and be careful, my man, for you're playing a +dangerous game. Speak out."</p> + +<p>"It's this," said Otto. "Apart from the treasure, apart from the two +hundred thousand francs, it was arranged between us—you held up your +hand and took your oath on it—that any loose cash found by either of us +in the course of the business would be divided in equal shares: half for +you, half for Conrad and myself. Is that so?"</p> + +<p>"That's so."</p> + +<p>"Then pay up," said Otto, holding out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Pay up what? I haven't found anything."</p> + +<p>"That's a lie. While we were settling the sisters Archignat, you +discovered on one of them, tucked away in her bodice, the hoard which we +couldn't find in their house."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's a likely story!" said Vorski, in a tone which betrayed his +embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"It's absolutely the truth."</p> + +<p>"Prove it."</p> + +<p>"Just fish out that little parcel, tied up with string, which you've got +pinned inside your shirt, just there," said Otto, touching Vorski's +chest with his finger. "Fish it out and let's have a look at those fifty +thousand-franc notes."</p> + +<p>Vorski made no reply. He was dazed, like a man who does not understand +what is happening to him and who is trying to guess how his adversary +procured a weapon against him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>"Do you admit it?" asked Otto.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he rejoined. "I meant to square up later, in the lump."</p> + +<p>"Square up now. We'd rather have it that way."</p> + +<p>"And suppose I refuse?"</p> + +<p>"You won't refuse."</p> + +<p>"Suppose I do?"</p> + +<p>"In that case, look out for yourself!"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to fear. There's only two of you."</p> + +<p>"There's three of us, at least."</p> + +<p>"Where's the third?"</p> + +<p>"The third is a gentleman who seems cleverer than most, from what Conrad +tells me: brrr! . . . The one who fooled you just now, the one with the +arrow and the white robe!"</p> + +<p>"You propose to call him?"</p> + +<p>"Rather!"</p> + +<p>Vorski felt that the game was not equal. The two assistants were +standing on either side of him and pressing him hard. He had to yield:</p> + +<p>"Here, you thief! Here, you robber!" he shouted, taking out the parcel +and unfolding the notes.</p> + +<p>"It's not worth while counting," said Otto, snatching the bundle from +him unawares.</p> + +<p>"Hi! . . ."</p> + +<p>"We'll do it this way: half for Conrad, half for me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you blackguard! Oh, you double-dyed thief! I'll make you pay for +this. I don't care a button about the money. But to rob me as though +you'd decoyed me into a wood, so to speak! I shouldn't like to be in +your skin, my lad!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>He continued to insult the other and then, suddenly, burst into a laugh, +a forced, malicious laugh:</p> + +<p>"After all, Otto, upon my word, well played! But where and how did you +come to know it? You'll tell me that, won't you? . . . Meanwhile, we've +not a minute to lose. We're agreed all round, aren't we? And you'll get +on with the work?"</p> + +<p>"Willingly, since you're taking the thing so well," said Otto. And he +added, obsequiously, "After all . . . you have a style about you, sir! +You're a fine gentleman, you are!"</p> + +<p>"And you, you're a varlet whom I pay. You've had your money, so hurry +up. The business is urgent."</p> + +<hr class="thin" /> + +<p>The "business," as the frightful creatures called it, was soon done. +Climbing on his ladder, Vorski repeated his orders, which were executed +in docile fashion by Conrad and Otto.</p> + +<p>They raised the victim to her feet and then, keeping her upright, hauled +at the rope. Vorski seized the poor woman and, as her knees were bent, +violently forced them straight. Thus flattened against the trunk of the +tree, with her skirt tightened round her legs, her arms hanging to right +and left at no great distance from her body, she was bound round the +waist and under the arms.</p> + +<p>She seemed not to have recovered from her blow and uttered no sound of +complaint. Vorski tried to speak a few words, but spluttered them, +incapable of utterance. Then he tried to raise her head, but abandoned +the attempt, lacking the courage to touch her who was about to die: and +the head dropped low on the breast.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>He at once got down and stammered:</p> + +<p>"The brandy, Otto. Have you the flask? Oh, damn it, what a beastly +business!"</p> + +<p>"There's time yet," Conrad suggested.</p> + +<p>Vorski took a few sips and cried:</p> + +<p>"Time . . . for what? To let her off? Listen to me, Conrad. Rather than +let her off, I'd sooner . . . yes, I'd sooner die in her stead. Give up +my task? Ah, you don't know what my task or what my object is! Besides +. . ."</p> + +<p>He drank some more:</p> + +<p>"It's excellent brandy, but, to settle my heart, I'd rather have rum. +Have you any, Conrad?"</p> + +<p>"A drain at the bottom of a flask."</p> + +<p>"Hand it over."</p> + +<p>They had screened the lantern lest they should be seen; and they sat +close up to the tree, determined to keep silence. But this fresh drink +went to their heads. Vorski began to hold forth very excitedly:</p> + +<p>"You've no need of any explanations. The woman who's dying up there, +it's no use your knowing her name. It's enough if you know that she's +the fourth of the women who were to die on the cross and was specially +appointed by fate. But there's one thing I can say to you, now that +Vorski's triumph is about to shine forth before your eyes. In fact I +take a certain pride in telling you, for, while all that's happened so +far has depended on me and my will, the thing that's going to happen +directly depends on the mightiest of will, wills working for Vorski!"</p> + +<p>He repeated several times, as though smacking his lips over the name:</p> + +<p>"For Vorski . . . For Vorski!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>And he stood up, impelled by the exuberance of his thoughts to walk up +and down and wave his arms:</p> + +<p>"Vorski, son of a king, Vorski, the elect of destiny, prepare yourself! +Your time has come! Either you are the lowest of adventurers and the +guiltiest of all the great criminals dyed in the blood of their +fellow-men, or else you are really the inspired prophet whom the gods +crown with glory. A superman or a highwayman: that is fate's decree. The +last heart-beats of the sacred victim sacrificed to the gods are marking +the supreme seconds. Listen to them, you two!"</p> + +<p>Climbing the ladder, he tried to hear those poor beats of an exhausted +heart. But the head, drooping to the left, prevented him from putting +his ear to the breast; and he dared not touch it. The silence was broken +only by a hoarse and irregular breath.</p> + +<p>He said, in a low whisper:</p> + +<p>"Véronique, do you hear me? Véronique . . . . Véronique . . . ."</p> + +<p>After a moment's hesitation:</p> + +<p>"I want you to know it . . . yes, I myself am terrified at what I'm +doing. But it's fate . . . . You remember the prophecy? 'Your wife shall +die on the cross.' Why, your very name, Véronique, demands it! . . . +Remember St. Veronica wiping Christ's face with a handkerchief and the +Saviour's sacred image remaining on the handkerchief . . . . Véronique, +you can hear me, surely? Véronique . . ."</p> + +<p>He ran down hurriedly, snatched the flask of rum from Conrad's hands and +emptied it at a draught.</p> + +<p>He was now seized with a sort of delirium which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> made him rave for a few +moments in a language which his accomplices did not understand. Then he +began to challenge the invisible enemy, to challenge the gods, to hurl +forth imprecations and blasphemies:</p> + +<p>"Vorski is the mightiest of all men, Vorski governs fate. The elements +and the mysterious powers of nature are compelled to obey him. +Everything will fall out as he has determined; and the great secret will +be declared to him in the mystic forms and according to the rules of the +Kabala. Vorski is awaited as the prophet. Vorski will be welcomed with +cries of joy and ecstasy; and one whom I know not, one whom I can only +half see, will come to meet him with palms and benedictions. Let the +unknown make ready! Let him arise from the darkness and ascend from +hell! Here stands Vorski. To the sound of bells, to the singing of +alleluias, let the fateful sign be revealed upon the face of the +heavens, while the earth opens and sends forth whirling flames!"</p> + +<p>He fell silent, as though he had descried in the air the signs which he +foretold. The hopeless death-rattle of the dying woman sounded from +overhead. The storm growled in the distance; and the black clouds were +rent by lightning. All nature seemed to be responding to the ruffian's +appeal.</p> + +<p>His grandiloquent speech and his play-acting made a great impression on +the two accomplices.</p> + +<p>"He frightens me," Otto muttered.</p> + +<p>"It's the rum," Conrad replied. "But all the same he's foretelling +terrible things."</p> + +<p>"Things which prowl round us," shouted Vorski, whose ears noticed the +least sound, "things which make part of the present moment and have been +be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>queathed to us by the pageant of the centuries. It's like a +prodigious childbirth. And I tell the two of you, you will be the amazed +witnesses of these things! Otto and Conrad, be prepared as I am: the +earth will shake; and, at the very spot where Vorski is to win the +God-Stone, a column of fire will rise up to the sky."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't know what he's saying," mumbled Conrad.</p> + +<p>"And there he is on the ladder again," whispered Otto. "It'll serve him +right if he gets an arrow through him."</p> + +<p>But Vorski's exaltation knew no bounds. The end was at hand. Extenuated +by pain, the victim was in her death-agony.</p> + +<p>Beginning very low, so as to be heard by none save her, but raising his +voice gradually, Vorski said:</p> + +<p>"Véronique . . . . Véronique . . . . You are fulfilling your mission +. . . . You are nearing the top of the ascent . . . . All honour to you! +You deserve a share in my triumph . . . . All honour to you! Listen! You +hear it already, don't you? The artillery of the heavens is drawing +near. My enemies are vanquished; you can no longer hope for rescue! Here +is the last beat of your heart . . . . Here is your last cry: '<i>Eloi, +Eloi, lama sabachthani?</i> My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?'"</p> + +<p>He screamed with laughter, like a man laughing at the most riotous +adventure. Then came silence. The roars of thunder ceased. Vorski bent +forward and suddenly, from the top of the ladder, shouted:</p> + +<p>"<i>Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani!</i> The gods have forsaken her. Death has +done its work. The last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> of the four women is dead. Véronique is dead!"</p> + +<p>He was silent once again and then roared twice over:</p> + +<p>"Véronique is dead! Véronique is dead!"</p> + +<p>Once again there was a great, deep silence.</p> + +<p>And all of a sudden the earth shook, not with a vibration produced by +the thunder, but with a deep inner convulsion, which came from the very +bowels of the earth and was repeated several times, like a noise +reechoing through the woods and hills.</p> + +<p>And almost at the same time, close by, at the other end of the +semicircle of oaks, a fountain of fire shot forth and rose to the sky, +in a whirl of smoke in which flared red, yellow and violet flames.</p> + +<p>Vorski did not speak a word. His companions stood aghast. One of them +stammered:</p> + +<p>"It's the old rotten oak, the one which has already been struck by +lightning."</p> + +<p>Though the fire had disappeared almost instantly, the three men retained +the fantastic vision of the old oak, all aglow, vomiting flames and +smoke of many colours.</p> + +<p>"This is the entrance leading to the God-Stone," said Vorski, solemnly. +"Destiny has spoken, as I said it would: and it has spoken at the +bidding of me who was once its servant and who am now its master."</p> + +<p>He advanced, carrying the lantern. They were surprised to see that the +tree showed no trace of fire and that the mass of dry leaves, held as in +a bowl where a few lower branches were outspread, had not caught fire.</p> + +<p>"Yet another miracle," said Vorski. "It is all an inconceivable +miracle."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>"What are we going to do?" asked Conrad.</p> + +<p>"Go in by the entrance revealed to us . . . . Take the ladder, Conrad, +and feel with your hand in that heap of leaves. The tree is hollow and +we shall soon see . . ."</p> + +<p>"A tree can be as hollow as you please," said Otto, "but there are +always roots to it; and I can hardly believe in a passage through the +roots."</p> + +<p>"I repeat, we shall see. Move the leaves, Conrad, clear them away."</p> + +<p>"No, I won't," said Conrad, bluntly.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, you won't? Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Have you forgotten Maguennoc? Have you forgotten that he tried to touch +the God-Stone and had to cut his hand off?"</p> + +<p>"But this isn't the God-Stone!" Vorski snarled.</p> + +<p>"How do you know? Maguennoc was always speaking of the gate of hell. +Isn't this what he meant when he talked like that?"</p> + +<p>Vorski shrugged his shoulders:</p> + +<p>"And you, Otto, are you afraid too?"</p> + +<p>Otto did not reply: and Vorski himself did not seem eager to risk the +attempt, for he ended by saying:</p> + +<p>"After all, there's no hurry. Let's wait till daylight comes. We will +cut down the tree with an axe: and that will show us better than +anything how things stand and how to go to work."</p> + +<p>They agreed accordingly. But, as the signal had been seen by others +besides themselves and as they must not allow themselves to be +forestalled, they resolved to sit down opposite the tree, under the +shelter offered by the huge table of the Fairies' Dolmen.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>"Otto," said Vorski, "go to the Priory, fetch us something to drink and +also bring an axe, some ropes and anything else that we're likely to +want."</p> + +<p>The rain was beginning to pour in torrents. They settled themselves +under the dolmen and each in turn kept watch while the other slept.</p> + +<p>Nothing happened during the night. The storm was very violent. They +could hear the waves roaring. Then gradually everything grew quiet.</p> + +<p>At daybreak they attacked the oak-tree, which they soon overthrew by +pulling upon the ropes.</p> + +<p>They now saw that, inside the tree itself, amid the rubbish and the dry +rot, a sort of trench had been dug, which extended through the mass of +sand and stones packed about the roots.</p> + +<p>They cleared the ground with a pick-axe. Some steps at once came into +sight: there was a sudden drop of earth: and they saw a staircase which +followed a perpendicular wall and led down into the darkness. They threw +the light of their lantern before them. A cavern opened beneath their +feet.</p> + +<p>Vorski was the first to venture down. The others followed him +cautiously.</p> + +<p>The steps, which at first consisted of earthen stairs reinforced by +flints, were presently hewn out of the rock. The cave which they entered +was in no way peculiar and seemed rather to be a vestibule. It +communicated, in fact, with a sort of crypt, which had a vaulted ceiling +and walls of rough masonry of unmortared stones.</p> + +<p>All around, like shapeless statues, stood twelve small menhirs, each of +which was surmounted by a horse's skull. Vorski touched one of these +skulls; it crumbled into dust.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>"No one has been to this crypt," he said, "for twenty centuries. We are +the first men to tread the floor of it, the first to behold the traces +of the past which it contains."</p> + +<p>He added, with increasing emphasis:</p> + +<p>"It is the mortuary-chamber of a great chieftain. They used to bury his +favourite horses with him . . . and his weapons too. Look, here are axes +. . . and a flint knife; and we also find the remains of certain funeral +rites, as this piece of charcoal shows and, over there, those charred +bones . . . ."</p> + +<p>His voice was husky with emotion. He muttered: "I am the first to enter +here. I was expected. A whole world awakens at my coming."</p> + +<p>Conrad interrupted him:</p> + +<p>"There are other doorways, another passage; and there's a sort of light +showing in the distance."</p> + +<p>A narrow corridor brought them to a second chamber, through which they +reached yet a third. The three crypts were exactly alike, with the same +masonry, the same upright stones, the same horses' skulls.</p> + +<p>"The tombs of three great chieftains," said Vorski. "They evidently lead +to the tomb of a king; and the chieftains must have been the king's +guards, after being his companions during his lifetime. No doubt it's +the next crypt."</p> + +<p>He hesitated to go farther, not from fear, but from excessive excitement +and a sense of inflamed vanity which he was enjoying to the full:</p> + +<p>"I am on the verge of knowledge," he declaimed, in dramatic tones. +"Vorski is approaching the goal and has only to put out his hand to be +regally rewarded for his labours and his struggles. The God-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>Stone is +there. For ages and ages men have sought to fathom the secret of the +island and not one has succeeded. Vorski came and the God-Stone is his. +So let it show itself to me and give me the promised power. There is +nothing between it and Vorski, nothing but my will. And I declare my +will! The prophet has risen out of the night. He is here. If there be, +in this kingdom of the dead, a shade whose duty it is to lead me to the +divine stone and place the golden crown upon my head, let that shade +arise! Here stands Vorski."</p> + +<p>He went in.</p> + +<p>The fourth room was much larger and shaped like a dome with a slightly +flattened summit. In the middle of the flattened part was a round hole, +no wider than the hole left by a very small flue; and from it there fell +a shaft of half-veiled light which formed a very plainly-defined disk on +the floor.</p> + +<p>The centre of this disk was occupied by a little block of stones set +together. And on this block, as though purposely displayed, lay a metal +rod.</p> + +<p>In other respects, this crypt did not differ from the first three. Like +them it was adorned with menhirs and horses' heads, like them it +contained traces of sacrifices.</p> + +<p>Vorski did not take his eyes off the metal rod. Strange to say, the +metal gleamed as though no dust had ever covered it. He put out his +hand.</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Conrad, quickly.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"It may be the one Maguennoc touched and burnt his hand with."</p> + +<p>"You're mad."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>"Still . . ."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not afraid of anything!" Vorski declared taking hold of the +rod.</p> + +<p>It was a leaden sceptre, very clumsily made, but nevertheless revealing +a certain artistic intention. Round the handle was a snake, here +encrusted in the lead, there standing out in relief. Its huge, +disproportionate head formed the pommel and was studded with silver +nails and little green pebbles transparent as emeralds.</p> + +<p>"Is it the God-Stone?" Vorski muttered.</p> + +<p>He handled the thing and examined it all over with respectful awe; and +he soon observed that the pommel shifted almost loose. He fingered it, +turned it to the left, to the right, until at length it gave a click and +the snake's head became unfastened.</p> + +<p>There was a space inside, containing a stone, a tiny, pale-red stone, +with yellow streaks that looked like veins of gold.</p> + +<p>"It's the God-Stone, it's the God-Stone!" said Vorski, greatly agitated.</p> + +<p>"Don't touch it!" Conrad repeated, filled with alarm.</p> + +<p>"What burnt Maguennoc will not burn me," replied Vorski, solemnly.</p> + +<p>And, in bravado, swelling with pride and delight, he kept the mysterious +stone in the hollow of his hand, which he clenched with all his +strength:</p> + +<p>"Let it burn me! I will let it! Let it sear my flesh! I shall be glad if +it will!"</p> + +<p>Conrad made a sign to him and put his finger to his lips.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>"What's the matter?" asked Vorski. "Do you hear anything?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the other.</p> + +<p>"So do I," said Otto.</p> + +<p>What they heard was a rhythmical, measured sound, which rose and fell +and made a sort of irregular music.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's close by!" mumbled Vorski. "It sounds as if it were in the +room."</p> + +<p>It was in the room, as they soon learnt for certain; and there was no +doubt that the sound was very like a snore.</p> + +<p>Conrad, who had ventured on this suggestion, was the first to laugh at +it; but Vorski said:</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I'm inclined to think you're right. It <i>is</i> a snore +. . . . There must be some one here then?"</p> + +<p>"It comes from over there," said Otto, "from that corner in the dark."</p> + +<p>The light did not extend beyond the menhirs. Behind each of them opened +a small, shadowy chapel. Vorski turned his lantern into one of these and +at once uttered a cry of amazement:</p> + +<p>"Some one . . . yes . . . there is some one . . . . Look . . . ."</p> + +<p>The two accomplices came forward. On a heap of rubble, piled up in an +angle of the wall, a man lay sleeping, an old man with a white beard and +long white hair. A thousand wrinkles furrowed the skin of his face and +hands. There were blue rings round his closed eyelids. At least a +century must have passed over his head.</p> + +<p>He was dressed in a patched and torn linen robe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> which came down to his +feet. Round his neck and hanging over his chest was a string of those +sacred beads which the Gauls called serpents' eggs and which are +actually sea-eggs or sea-urchins. Within reach of his hand was a +handsome jadeite axe, covered with illegible symbols. On the ground, in +a row, lay sharp-edged flints, some large, flat rings, two ear-drops of +green jasper and two necklaces of fluted blue enamel.</p> + +<p>The old man went on snoring.</p> + +<p>Vorski muttered:</p> + +<p>"The miracle continues . . . . It's a priest . . . a priest like those +of the olden time . . . of the time of the Druids."</p> + +<p>"And then?" asked Otto.</p> + +<p>"Why, then he's waiting for me!"</p> + +<p>Conrad expressed his brutal opinion:</p> + +<p>"I suggest we break his head with his axe."</p> + +<p>But Vorski flew into a rage:</p> + +<p>"If you touch a single hair of his head, you're a dead man!"</p> + +<p>"Still . . ."</p> + +<p>"Still what?"</p> + +<p>"He may be an enemy . . . he may be the one whom we were pursuing last +night . . . . Remember . . . the white robe."</p> + +<p>"You're the biggest fool I ever met! Do you think that, at his age, he +could have kept us on the run like that?"</p> + +<p>He bent over and took the old man gently by the arm, saying:</p> + +<p>"Wake up! . . . It's I!"</p> + +<p>There was no answer. The man did not wake up.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>Vorski insisted.</p> + +<p>The man moved on his bed of stones, mumbled a few words and went to +sleep again.</p> + +<p>Vorski, growing a little impatient, renewed his attempts, but more +vigorously, and raised his voice:</p> + +<p>"I say, what about it? We can't hang about all day, you know. Come on!"</p> + +<p>He shook the old man more roughly. The man made a movement of +irritation, pushed away his importunate visitor, clung to sleep a few +seconds longer and, in the end, turned round wearily and, in an angry +voice, growled:</p> + +<p>"Oh, rats!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE ANCIENT DRUID</span></h2> + + +<p>The three accomplices, who were perfectly acquainted with all the +niceties of the French language and familiar with every slang phrase, +did not for a moment mistake the true sense of that unexpected +exclamation. They were astounded.</p> + +<p>Vorski put the question to Conrad and Otto.</p> + +<p>"Eh? What does he say?"</p> + +<p>"What you heard . . . . That's right," said Otto.</p> + +<p>Vorski ended by making a fresh attack on the shoulder of the stranger, +who turned on his couch, stretched himself, yawned, seemed to fall +asleep again, and, suddenly admitting himself defeated, half sat up and +shouted:</p> + +<p>"When you've quite finished, please! Can't a man have a quiet snooze +these days, in this beastly hole?"</p> + +<p>A ray of light blinded his eyes: and he spluttered, in alarm:</p> + +<p>"What is it? What do you want with me?"</p> + +<p>Vorski put down his lantern on a projection in the wall; and the face +now stood clearly revealed. The old man, who had continued to vent his +ill temper in incoherent complaints, looked at his visitor, became +gradually calmer, even assumed an amiable and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> almost smiling expression +and, holding out his hand, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Well, I never! Why, it's you, Vorski! How are you, old bean?"</p> + +<p>Vorski gave a start. That the old man should know him and call him by +his name did not astonish him immensely, since he had the half-mystic +conviction that he was expected as a prophet might be. But to a prophet, +to a missionary clad in light and glory, entering the presence of a +stranger crowned with the double majesty of age and sacerdotal rank, it +was painful to be hailed by the name of "old bean!"</p> + +<p>Hesitating, ill at ease, not knowing with whom he was dealing, he asked:</p> + +<p>"Who are you? What are you here for? How did you get here?"</p> + +<p>And, when the other stared at him with a look of surprise, he repeated, +in a louder voice:</p> + +<p>"Answer me, can't you? Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Who am I?" replied the old man, in a husky and bleating voice. "Who am +I? By Teutatès, god of the Gauls, is it you who ask me that question? +Then you don't know me? Come, try and remember . . . . Good old +Ségenax—eh, do you get me now—Velléda's father, good old Ségenax, the +law-giver venerated by the Rhedons of whom Chateaubriand speaks in the +first volume of his <i>Martyrs</i>? . . . Ah, I see your memory's reviving!"</p> + +<p>"What are you gassing about!" cried Vorski.</p> + +<p>"I'm not gassing. I'm explaining my presence here and the regrettable +events which brought me here long ago. Disgusted by the scandalous +behaviour of Velléda, who had gone wrong with that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> dismal blighter +Eudorus, I became what we should call a Trappist nowadays, that is to +say, I passed a brilliant exam, as a bachelor of Druid laws. Since that +time, in consequence of a few sprees—oh, nothing to speak of: three or +four jaunts to Paris, where I was attracted by Mabille and afterwards by +the Moulin Rouge—I was obliged to accept the little berth which I fill +here, a cushy job, as you see: guardian of the God-Stone, a shirker's +job, what!"</p> + +<p>Vorski's amazement and uneasiness increased at each word. He consulted +his companions.</p> + +<p>"Break his head," Conrad repeated. "That's what I say: and I stick to +it."</p> + +<p>"And you, Otto?"</p> + +<p>"I think we ought to be on our guard."</p> + +<p>"Of course we must be on our guard."</p> + +<p>But the old Druid caught the word. Leaning on a staff, he helped himself +up and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"What's the meaning of this? Be on your guard . . . against me! That's +really a bit thick! Treat me as a fake! Why, haven't you seen my axe, +with the pattern of the swastika? The swastika, the leading cabalistic +symbol, eh, what? . . . And this? What do you call this?" He lifted his +string of beads. "What do you call it? Horse-chestnuts? You've got some +cheek, you have, to give a name like that to serpents' eggs, 'eggs which +they form out of slaver and the froth of their bodies mingled and which +they cast into the air, hissing the while.' It's Pliny's own words I'm +quoting! You're not going to treat Pliny also as a fake, I hope! . . . +You're a pretty customer! Putting yourself on your guard against me, +when I have all my degrees as an ancient Druid, all my diplomas, all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> my +patents, all my certificates signed by Pliny and Chateaubriand! The +cheek of you! . . . Upon my word, you won't find many ancient Druids of +my sort, genuine, of the period, with the bloom of age upon them and a +beard of centuries! I a fake, I, who boast every tradition and who +juggle with the customs of antiquity! . . . Shall I dance the ancient +Druid dance for you, as I did before Julius Caesar? Would you like me +to?"</p> + +<p>And, without waiting for a reply, the old man, flinging aside his staff, +began to cut the most extravagant capers and to execute the wildest of +jigs with perfectly astounding agility. And it was the most laughable +sight to see him jumping and twisting about, with his back bent, his +arms outstretched, his legs shooting to right and left from under his +robe, his beard following the evolutions of his frisking body, while the +bleating voice announced the successive changes in the performance:</p> + +<p>"The ancient Druids' dance, or Caesar's delight! Hi-tiddly, hi-tiddly, +hi-ti, hi! . . . The mistletoe dance, vulgarly known as the tickletoe! +. . . The serpents' egg waltz, music by Pliny! Hullo there! Begone, dull +care! . . . The Vorska, or the tango of the thirty coffins! . . . The +hymn of the Red Prophet! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Glory be to the +prophet!"</p> + +<p>He continued his furious jig a little longer and then suddenly halted +before Vorski and, in a solemn tone, said:</p> + +<p>"Enough of this prattle! Let us talk seriously, I am commissioned to +hand you the God-Stone. Now that you are here, are you ready to take +delivery of the goods?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>The three accomplices were absolutely flabbergasted. Vorski did not know +what to do, was unable to make out who the infernal fellow was:</p> + +<p>"Oh, shut up!" he shouted, angrily. "What do you want? What's your +object?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, my object? I've just told you; to hand you the +God-Stone!"</p> + +<p>"But by what right? In what capacity?"</p> + +<p>The ancient Druid nodded his head:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see what you're after. Things are not happening in the least as +you thought they would. Of course, you came here feeling jolly spry, +glad and proud of the work you had done. Just think; furnishings for +thirty coffins, four women crucified, shipwrecks, hands steeped in +blood, murders galore. Those things are no small beer; and you were +expecting an imposing reception, with an official ceremony, solemn pomp +and state, antique choirs, processions of bards and minstrels, human +sacrifices and what not; the whole Gallic bag of tricks! Instead of +which, a poor beggar of a Druid, snoozing in a corner, who just simply +offers you the goods. What a come down, my lords! Can't be helped, +Vorski; we do what we can and every man acts according to the means at +his disposal. I'm not a millionaire, you know; and I've already advanced +you, in addition to the washing of a few white robes, some thirty francs +forty for Bengal lights, fountains of fire and a nocturnal earthquake."</p> + +<p>Vorski started, suddenly understanding and beside himself with rage:</p> + +<p>"What! So it was . . ."</p> + +<p>"Of course it was me! Who did you think it was? St. Augustine? Unless +you believed in an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> intervention of the gods and supposed that they took +the trouble last night to send an archangel to the island, arrayed in a +white robe, to lead you to the hollow oak! . . . Really, you're asking +too much!"</p> + +<p>Vorski clenched his fists. So the man in white whom he had pursued the +night before was no other than this impostor!</p> + +<p>"Oh," he growled, "I'm not fond of having my leg pulled!"</p> + +<p>"Having your leg pulled!" cried the old man. "You've got a cheek, old +chap! Who hunted me like a wild beast, till I was quite out of breath? +And who drove bullets through my best Sunday robe? I never knew such a +fellow! It'll teach me to put my back into a job again!"</p> + +<p>"That'll do!" roared Vorski. "That'll do. Once more and for the last +time . . . what do you want with me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sick of telling you. I am commissioned to hand you the God-Stone."</p> + +<p>"Commissioned by whom?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, hanged if I know! I've always been brought up to believe that some +day a prince of Almain would appear at Sarek, one Vorski, who would slay +his thirty victims and to whom I was to make an agreed signal when his +thirtieth victim had breathed her last. Therefore, as I'm a slave to +orders, I got together my little parcel, bought two Bengal lights at +three francs seventy-five apiece at a hardware shop in Brest, <i>plus</i> a +few choice crackers, and, at the appointed hour, took up my perch in my +observatory, taper in hand, all ready for work. When you started +howling, in the top of the tree, 'She's dead! She's dead!' I thought +that was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> right moment, set fire to the lights and with my crackers +shook the bowels of the earth. There! Now you know all about it."</p> + +<p>Vorski stepped forward, with his fists raised to strike. That torrent of +words, that imperturbable composure, that calm, bantering voice put him +beside himself.</p> + +<p>"Another word and I'll knock you down!" he cried. "I've had enough of +it."</p> + +<p>"Is your name Vorski?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and then?"</p> + +<p>"Are you a prince of Almain?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; and then?"</p> + +<p>"Have you slain your thirty victims?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then you're my man. I have a God-Stone to hand you and I mean to +hand it you, come what may. That's the sort of hairpin I am. You've got +to pocket it, your miracle-stone."</p> + +<p>"But I don't care a hang for the God-Stone!" roared Vorski, stamping his +foot. "And I don't care a hang for you! I want nobody. The God-Stone! +Why, I've got it, it's mine. I've got it on me."</p> + +<p>"Let's have a look."</p> + +<p>"What do you call that?" said Vorski, taking from his pocket the little +stone disk which he had found in the pommel of the sceptre.</p> + +<p>"That?" asked the old man, with an air of surprise. "Where did you get +that from?"</p> + +<p>"From the pommel of this sceptre, when I unfastened it."</p> + +<p>"And what do you call it?"</p> + +<p>"It's a piece of the God-Stone."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>"You're mad."</p> + +<p>"Then what do you say it is?"</p> + +<p>"That's a trouser-button."</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"A trouser-button."</p> + +<p>"How do you make that out?"</p> + +<p>"A trouser-button with the shaft broken off, a button of the sort which +the niggers in the Sahara wear. I've a whole set of them."</p> + +<p>"Prove it, damn you!"</p> + +<p>"I put it there."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"To take the place of the precious stone which Maguennoc sneaked, the +one which burnt him and obliged him to cut off his hand."</p> + +<p>Vorski was silent. He was nonplussed. He had no notion what to do next +or how to behave towards this strange adversary.</p> + +<p>The ancient Druid went up to him and, gently, in a fatherly voice:</p> + +<p>"No, my lad," he said, "you can't do without me, you see. I alone hold +the key of the safe and the secret of the casket. Why do you hesitate?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know you."</p> + +<p>"You baby! If I were suggesting something indelicate and incompatible +with your honour, I could understand your scruples. But my offer is one +of those which can't offend the nicest conscience. Well, is it a +bargain? No? Not yet? But, by Teutatès, what more do you want, you +unbelieving Vorski? A miracle perhaps? Lord, why didn't you say so +before? Miracles, forsooth: I turn 'em out thirteen to the dozen. I work +a little miracle before breakfast every morning. Just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> think, a Druid! +Miracles? Why, I've got my shop full of 'em! I can't find room to sit +down for them. Where will you try first? Resurrection department? +Hair-restoring department? Revelation of the future department? You can +choose where you like. Look here, at what time did your thirtieth victim +breathe her last?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know?"</p> + +<p>"Eleven fifty-two. Your excitement was so great that it stopped your +watch. Look and see."</p> + +<p>It was ridiculous. The shock produced by excitement has no effect on the +watch of the man who experiences the excitement. Nevertheless, Vorski +involuntarily took out his watch: it marked eight minutes to twelve. He +tried to wind it up: it was broken.</p> + +<p>The ancient Druid, without giving him time to recover his breath and +reply, went on:</p> + +<p>"That staggers you, eh? And yet there's nothing simpler for a Druid who +knows his business. A Druid sees the invisible. He does more: he makes +anyone else see it if he wants to. Vorski, would you like to see +something that doesn't exist? What's your name? I'm not speaking of your +name Vorski, but of your real name, your governor's name."</p> + +<p>"Silence on that subject!" Vorski commanded. "It's a secret I've +revealed to nobody."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you write it down?"</p> + +<p>"I've never written it down."</p> + +<p>"Vorski, your father's name is written in red pencil on the fourteenth +page of the little note-book you carry on you. Look and see."</p> + +<p>Acting mechanically, like an automaton whose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> movements are controlled +by an alien will, Vorski took from his inside pocket a case containing a +small note-book. He turned the pages till he came to the fourteenth, +when he muttered, with indescribable dismay:</p> + +<p>"Impossible! Who wrote this? And you know what's written here?"</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to prove it to you?"</p> + +<p>"Once more, silence! I forbid you . . ."</p> + +<p>"As you please, old chap! All that I do is meant for your edification. +And it's no trouble to me! Once I start working miracles, I simply can't +stop. Here's another funny little trick. You carry a locket hanging from +a silver chain round your shirt, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Vorski, his eyes blazing with fever.</p> + +<p>"The locket consists of a frame, without the photograph which used to be +set in it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, a portrait of . . ."</p> + +<p>"Of your mother, I know: and you lost it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I lost it last year."</p> + +<p>"You mean you <i>think</i> you've lost the portrait."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, the locket is empty."</p> + +<p>"You <i>think</i> the locket's empty. It's not. Look and see."</p> + +<p>Still moving mechanically, with his eyes starting from his head, Vorski +unfastened the button of his shirt and pulled out the chain. The locket +appeared. There was the portrait of a woman in a round gold frame.</p> + +<p>"It's she, it's she," he muttered, completely taken aback.</p> + +<p>"Quite sure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>"Then what do you say to it all, eh? There's no fake about it, no +deception. The ancient Druid's a smart chap and you're coming with him, +aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Vorski was beaten. The man had subjugated him. His superstitious +instincts, his inherited belief in the mysterious powers, his restless +and unbalanced nature, all imposed absolute submission on him. His +suspicion persisted, but did not prevent him from obeying.</p> + +<p>"Is it far?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Next door, in the great hall."</p> + +<p>Otto and Conrad had been the astounded witnesses of this dialogue. +Conrad tried to protest. But Vorski silenced him:</p> + +<p>"If you're afraid, go away. Besides," he added, with an affectation of +assurance, "besides, we shall walk with our revolvers ready. At the +slightest alarm, fire."</p> + +<p>"Fire on me?" chuckled the ancient Druid.</p> + +<p>"Fire on any enemy, no matter who it may be."</p> + +<p>"Well, you go first, Vorski . . . . What, won't you?"</p> + +<p>He had brought them to the very end of the crypt, in the darkest shadow, +where the lantern showed them a recess hollowed at the foot of the wall +and plunging into the rocks in a downward direction.</p> + +<p>Vorski hesitated and then entered. He had to crawl on his hands and +knees in this narrow, winding passage, from which he emerged, a minute +later, on the threshold of a large hall.</p> + +<p>The others joined him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>"The hall of the God-Stone," the ancient Druid declared, solemnly.</p> + +<p>It was lofty and imposing, similar in shape and size to the broad walk +under which it lay. The same number of upright stones, which seemed to +be the columns of an immense temple, stood in the same place and formed +the same rows as the menhirs on the walk overhead: stones hewn in the +same uncouth way, with no regard for art or symmetry. The floor was +composed of huge irregular flagstones, intersected with a network of +gutters and covered with round patches of dazzling light, falling from +above at some distance one from the other.</p> + +<p>In the centre, under Maguennoc's garden, rose a platform of unmortared +stones, fourteen or fifteen feet high, with sides about twenty yards +long. On the top was a dolmen with two sturdy supports and a long, oval +granite table.</p> + +<p>"Is that it?" asked Vorski, in a husky voice.</p> + +<p>Without giving a direct answer, the ancient Druid said:</p> + +<p>"What do you think of it? They were dabs at building, those ancestors of +ours! And what ingenuity they displayed! What precautions against prying +eyes and profane enquiries! Do you know where the light comes from? For +we are in the bowels of the island and there are no windows opening on +to the sky. The light comes from the upper menhirs. They are pierced +from the top to bottom with a channel which widens as it goes down and +which sheds floods of light below. In the middle of the day, when the +sun is shining, it's like fairyland. You, who are an artist, would shout +with admiration."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>"Then that's <i>it</i>?" Vorski repeated.</p> + +<p>"At any rate, it's a sacred stone," declared the ancient Druid, +impassively, "since it used to overlook the place of the underground +sacrifices, which were the most important of all. But there is another +one underneath, which is protected by the dolmen and which you can't see +from here; and that is the one on which the selected victims were +offered up. The blood used to flow from the platform and along all these +gutters to the cliffs and down to the sea."</p> + +<p>Vorski muttered, more and more excited:</p> + +<p>"Then that's it? If so, let's go on."</p> + +<p>"No need to stir," said the old man, with exasperating coolness. "It's +not that one either. There's a third; and to see that one you have only +to lift your head a little."</p> + +<p>"Where? Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Of course! Take a good look . . . above the upper table, yes, in the +very vault which forms the ceiling and which is like a mosaic made of +great flagstones . . . . You can twig it from here, can't you? A +flagstone forming a separate oblong, long and narrow like the lower +table and shaped like it . . . . They might be two sisters . . . . But +there's only one good one, stamped with the trademark . . . ."</p> + +<p>Vorski was disappointed. He had expected a more elaborate introduction +to a more mysterious hiding-place.</p> + +<p>"Is that the God-Stone?" he asked. "Why, it has nothing particular about +it."</p> + +<p>"From a distance, no; but wait till you see it close by. There are +coloured veins in it, glitter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>ing lodes, a special grain: in short, the +God-Stone. Besides, it's remarkable not so much for its substance as for +its miraculous properties."</p> + +<p>"What are the miracles in question?" asked Vorski.</p> + +<p>"It gives life and death, as you know, and it gives a lot of other +things."</p> + +<p>"What sort of things?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, hang it, you're asking me too much! I don't know anything about +it."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean, you don't know?"</p> + +<p>The ancient Druid leant over and, in a confidential tone:</p> + +<p>"Listen, Vorski," he said, "I confess that I have been boasting a bit +and that my function, though of the greatest importance—keeper of the +God-Stone, you know, a first-class berth—is limited by a power which in +a manner of speaking is higher than my own."</p> + +<p>"What power?"</p> + +<p>"Velléda's."</p> + +<p>Vorski eyed him with renewed uneasiness:</p> + +<p>"Velléda?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, or at least the woman whom I call Velléda, the last of the +Druidesses: I don't know her real name."</p> + +<p>"Where is she?"</p> + +<p>"Here."</p> + +<p>"Here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, on the sacrificial stone. She's asleep."</p> + +<p>"What, she's asleep?"</p> + +<p>"She's been sleeping for centuries, since all time. I've never seen her +other than sleeping: a chaste and peaceful slumber. Like the Sleeping +Beauty,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> Velléda is waiting for him whom the gods have appointed to +awake her; and that is . . ."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"You, Vorski, you."</p> + +<p>Vorski knitted his brows. What was the meaning of this improbable story +and what was his impenetrable interlocutor driving at?</p> + +<p>The ancient Druid continued:</p> + +<p>"That seems to ruffle you! Come, there's no reason, just because your +hands are red with blood and because you have thirty coffins on your +mind, why you shouldn't have the right to act as Prince Charming. You're +too modest, my young friend. Look here, Velléda is marvellously +beautiful: I tell you, hers is a superhuman beauty. Ah, my fine fellow, +you're getting excited! What? Not yet?"</p> + +<p>Vorski hesitated. Really he was feeling the danger increase around him +and rise like a swelling wave that is about to break. But the old man +would not leave him alone:</p> + +<p>"One last word, Vorski; and I'm speaking low so that your friends shan't +hear me. When you wrapped your mother in her shroud, you left on her +fore-finger, in obedience to her formal wish, a ring which she had +always worn, a magic ring made of a large turquoise surrounded by a +circle of smaller turquoises set in gold. Am I right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," gasped Vorski, taken aback, "yes, you're right: but I was alone +and it is a secret which nobody knew."</p> + +<p>"Vorski, if that ring is on Velléda's finger, will you trust me and will +you believe that your mother, in her grave, appointed Velléda to +receive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> you, that she herself might hand you the miraculous stone?"</p> + +<p>Vorski was already walking towards the tumulus. He quickly climbed the +first few steps. His head passed the level of the platform.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he said, staggering back, "the ring . . . the ring is on her +finger!"</p> + +<p>Between the two supports of the dolmen, stretched on the sacrificial +table and clad in a spotless gown that came down to her feet, lay the +Druidess. Her body and face were turned the other way; and a veil +hanging over her forehead hid her hair. Almost bare, her shapely arm lay +along the table. On the forefinger was a turquoise ring.</p> + +<p>"Is that your mother's ring all right?" asked the ancient Druid.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there's no doubt about it."</p> + +<p>Vorski had hurried across the space between himself and the dolmen and, +stooping, almost kneeling, was examining the turquoises.</p> + +<p>"The number is complete," he whispered. "One of them is cracked. Another +is half covered by the gold setting which has worked down over it."</p> + +<p>"You needn't be so cautious," said the old man. "She won't hear you; and +your voice can't wake her. What you had better do is to stand up and +pass your hand lightly over her forehead. That is the magic caress which +will rouse her from her slumber."</p> + +<p>Vorski stood up. Nevertheless he hesitated to approach the woman, who +inspired him with ungovernable fear and respect.</p> + +<p>"Don't come any nearer, you two," said the ancient Druid, addressing +Otto and Conrad.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> "When Velléda's eyes open, they must rest on no one +but Vorski and behold no other sight. Well, Vorski, are you afraid?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not afraid."</p> + +<p>"Only you're not feeling comfortable. It's easier to murder people than +to bring them to life, what? Come, show yourself a man! Put aside her +veil and touch her forehead. The God-Stone is within your reach. Act and +you will be the master of the world."</p> + +<p>Vorski acted. Standing against the sacrificial altar, he looked down +upon the Druidess. He bent over the motionless bust. The white gown rose +and fell to the regular rhythm of the breathing. With an undecided hand +he drew back the veil and then stooped lower, so that his other hand +might touch the uncovered forehead.</p> + +<p>But at that moment his action remained, so to speak, suspended and he +stood without moving, like a man who does not understand but is vainly +trying to understand.</p> + +<p>"Well, what's up, old chap?" exclaimed the Druid. "You look petrified. +Another squabble? Something gone wrong? Must I come and help you?"</p> + +<p>Vorski did not answer. He was staring wildly, with an expression of +stupefaction and affright which gradually changed into one of mad +terror. Drops of perspiration trickled over his face. His haggard eyes +seemed to be gazing upon the most horrible vision.</p> + +<p>The old man burst out laughing:</p> + +<p>"Lord love us, how ugly you are! I hope the last of the Druidesses won't +raise her divine eye<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>lids and see that hideous mug of yours! Sleep, +Velléda, sleep your pure and dreamless sleep."</p> + +<p>Vorski stood muttering between his teeth incoherent words which conveyed +the menace of an increasing anger. The truth became partly revealed to +him in a series of flashes. A word rose to his lips which he refused to +utter, as though, in uttering it, he feared lest he should give life to +a being who was no more, to that woman who was dead, yes, dead though +she lay breathing before him: she could not but be dead, because he had +killed her. However, in the end and in spite of himself, he spoke; and +every syllable cost him intolerable suffering:</p> + +<p>"Véronique . . . . Véronique . . . ."</p> + +<p>"So you think she's like her?" chuckled the ancient Druid. "Upon my +word, may be you are right: there is a sort of family resemblance +. . . . I dare say, if you hadn't crucified the other with your own +hands and if you hadn't yourself received her last breath, you would be +ready to swear that the two women are one and the same person . . . and +that Véronique d'Hergemont is alive and that she's not even wounded +. . . not even a scar . . . not so much as the mark of the cords round +her wrists . . . . But just look, Vorski, what a peaceful face, what +comforting serenity! Upon my word, I'm beginning to believe that you +made a mistake and that it was another woman you crucified! Just think a +bit! . . . Hullo, you're going to go for me now! Come to my rescue, O +Teutatès! The prophet wants to have my blood!"</p> + +<p>Vorski had drawn himself up and was now facing the ancient Druid. His +features, fashioned for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> hatred and fury, had surely never expressed +more of either than at this moment. The ancient Druid was not merely the +man who for an hour had been toying with him as with a child. He was the +man who had performed the most extraordinary feat and who suddenly +appeared to him as the most ruthless and dangerous foe. A man like that +must be got rid of on the spot, since the opportunity presented itself.</p> + +<p>"I'm done!" said the old man. "He's going to eat me up! Crikey, what an +ogre! . . . Help! Murder! Help! . . . Oh, look at his iron fingers! He's +going to strangle me! . . . Unless he uses a dagger . . . or a rope +. . . . No, a revolver! I prefer that, it's neater . . . . Fire away, +Alexis. Two of the seven bullets have already made holes in my best +Sunday robe. That leaves five. Fire away, Alexis."</p> + +<p>Each word aggravated Vorski's fury. He was eager to get the work over +and he shouted:</p> + +<p>"Otto . . . Conrad . . . are you ready?"</p> + +<p>He raised his arm. The two assistants likewise took aim. Four paces in +front of them stood the old man, laughingly pleading for mercy:</p> + +<p>"Please, kind gentlemen, have pity on a poor beggar . . . . I won't do +it again . . . . I'll be a good boy . . . . Kind gentlemen, please +. . . ."</p> + +<p>Vorski repeated:</p> + +<p>"Otto . . . Conrad . . . attention! . . . I'm counting three: one . . . +two . . . three . . . fire!"</p> + +<p>The three shots rang out together. The Druid whirled round with one leg +in the air, then drew himself up straight, opposite his adversaries, and +cried, in a tragic voice:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>"A hit, a palpable hit! Shot through the body! Dead, for a ducat! . . . +The ancient Druid's <i>kaput</i>! . . . A tragic development! Oh, the poor +old Druid, who was so fond of his joke!"</p> + +<p>"Fire!" roared Vorski. "Shoot, can't you, you idiots? Fire!"</p> + +<p>"Fire! Fire!" repeated the Druid. "Bang! Bang! A bull's eye! . . . Two! +. . . Three bull's eyes! . . . Your shot, Conrad: bang! . . . Yours, +Otto: bang!"</p> + +<p>The shots rattled and echoed through the great resounding hall. The +bewildered and furious accomplices were gesticulating before their +target, while the invulnerable old man danced and kicked, now almost +squatting on his heels, now leaping up with astounding agility:</p> + +<p>"Lord, what fun one can have in a cave! And what a fool you are, Vorski, +my own! You blooming old prophet! . . . What a mug! But, I say, however +could you take it all in? The Bengal lights! The crackers! And the +trouser-button! And your old mother's ring! . . . You silly juggins! +What a spoof!"</p> + +<p>Vorski stopped. He realized that the three revolvers had been made +harmless, but how? By what unprecedented marvel? What was at the bottom +of all this fantastic adventure? Who was that demon standing in front of +him?</p> + +<p>He flung away his useless weapon and looked at the old man. Was he +thinking of seizing him in his arms and crushing the life out of him? He +also looked at the woman and seemed ready to fall upon her. But he +obviously no longer felt equal to facing those two strange creatures, +who appeared to him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> to be remote from the world and from actuality.</p> + +<p>Then, quickly, he turned on his heel and, calling to his accomplices, +made for the crypts, followed by the ancient Druid's jeers:</p> + +<p>"Look at that now! He's slinging his hook! And the God-Stone, what about +it? What do you want me to do with it? . . . I say, isn't he showing a +clean pair of heels! . . . Hi! Are your trousers on fire? Yoicks, +tally-ho, tally-ho! Proph—et Proph—et! . . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE HALL OF THE UNDERGROUND SACRIFICES</span></h2> + + +<p>Vorski had never known fear and he was perhaps not yielding to an actual +sense of fear in taking to flight now. But he no longer knew what he was +doing. His bewildered brain was filled with a whirl of contradictory and +incoherent ideas in which the intuition of an irretrievable and to some +extent supernatural defeat held the first place.</p> + +<p>Believing as he did in witchcraft and wonders, he had an impression that +Vorski, the man of destiny, had fallen from his mission and been +replaced by another chosen favourite of destiny. There were two +miraculous forces opposed to each other, one emanating from him, Vorski, +the other from the ancient Druid; and the second was absorbing the +first. Véronique's resurrection, the ancient Druid's personality, the +speeches, the jokes, the leaps and bounds, the actions, the +invulnerability of that spring-heeled individual, all this seemed to him +magical and fabulous; and it created, in these caves of the barbaric +ages, a peculiar atmosphere which stifled and demoralized him.</p> + +<p>He was eager to return to the surface of the earth. He wanted to breathe +and see. And what he wanted above all to see was the tree stripped of +its branches to which he had tied Véronique and on which Véronique had +expired.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>"For she <i>is</i> dead," he snarled, as he crawled through the narrow +passage which communicated with the third and largest of the crypts. +"She <i>is</i> dead. I know what death means. I have often held it in my +hands and I make no mistakes. Then how did that demon manage to bring +her to life again?"</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly near the block on which he had picked up the +sceptre:</p> + +<p>"Unless . . ." he said.</p> + +<p>Conrad, following him, cried:</p> + +<p>"Hurry up, instead of chattering."</p> + +<p>Vorski allowed himself to be pulled along; but, as he went, he +continued:</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you what I think, Conrad? Well, the woman he showed us, +the one asleep, wasn't that one at all. Was she even alive? Oh, the old +wizard is capable of anything! He'll have modelled a figure, a wax doll, +and given it her likeness."</p> + +<p>"You're mad. Get on!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not mad. That woman was not alive. The one who died on the tree is +properly dead. And you'll find her again up there, I warrant you. +Miracles, yes, but not such a miracle as that!"</p> + +<p>Having left their lantern behind them, the three accomplices kept +bumping against the wall and the upright stones. Their footsteps echoed +from vault to vault. Conrad never ceased grumbling:</p> + +<p>"I warned you . . . . We ought to have broken his head."</p> + +<p>Otto, out of breath with walking, said nothing.</p> + +<p>Thus, groping their way, they reached the lobby which preceded the +entrance-crypt; and they were not a little surprised to find that this +first hall was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> dark, though the passage which they had dug in the upper +part, under the roots of the dead oak, ought to have given a certain +amount of light.</p> + +<p>"That's funny," said Conrad.</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" said Otto. "We've only got to find the ladder hooked to the +wall. Here, I have it . . . here's a step . . . and the next . . . ."</p> + +<p>He climbed the rungs, but was pulled up almost at once:</p> + +<p>"Can't get any farther . . . . It's as if there had been a fall of +earth."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" Vorski protested. "However, wait a bit, I was forgetting: +I have my pocket-lighter."</p> + +<p>He struck a light; and the same cry of anger escaped all three of them: +the whole of the top of the staircase and half the room was buried under +a heap of stones and sand, with the trunk of the dead oak fallen in the +middle. Not a chance of escape remained.</p> + +<p>Vorski gave way to a fit of despair and collapsed on the stairs:</p> + +<p>"We're tricked. It's that old brute who has played us this trick . . . +which shows that he's not alone."</p> + +<p>He bewailed his fate, raving, lacking the strength to continue the +unequal struggle. But Conrad grew angry:</p> + +<p>"I say, Vorski, this isn't like you, you know."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to be done against that fellow."</p> + +<p>"Nothing to be done! In the first place, there's this, as I've told you +twenty times: wring his neck. Oh, why did I restrain myself?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>"You couldn't even have laid a hand on him. Did any of our bullets touch +him?"</p> + +<p>"Our bullets . . . our bullets," muttered Conrad. "All this strikes me +as mighty queer. Hand me your lighter. I have another revolver, which +comes from the Priory: and I loaded it myself yesterday morning. I'll +soon see."</p> + +<p>He examined the weapon and was not long in discovering that the seven +cartridges which he had put in the cylinder had been replaced by seven +cartridges from which the bullets had been extracted and which could +therefore fire nothing except blank shots.</p> + +<p>"That explains it," he said, "and your ancient Druid is no more of a +wizard than I am. If our revolvers had been really loaded, we'd have +shot him down like a dog."</p> + +<p>But the explanation only increased Vorski's alarm:</p> + +<p>"And how did he unload them? At what moment did he manage to take our +revolvers from our pockets and put them back after drawing the charges? +I did not leave go of mine for an instant."</p> + +<p>"No more did I," Conrad admitted.</p> + +<p>"And I defy any one to touch it without my knowing. So what then? +Doesn't it prove that that demon has a special power? After all, we must +look at things as they are. He's a man who possesses secrets of his own +. . . and who has means at his disposal, means which . . ."</p> + +<p>Conrad shrugged his shoulders:</p> + +<p>"Vorski, this business has shattered you. You were within reach of the +goal and yet you let go at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> the first obstacle. You're turned into a +dish-cloth. Well, I don't bow my head like you. Tricked? Why so? If he +comes after us, there are three of us."</p> + +<p>"He won't come. He'll leave us here shut up in a burrow with no way out +of it."</p> + +<p>"Then, if he doesn't come, I'll go back there, I will! I've got my +knife; that's enough for me."</p> + +<p>"You're wrong, Conrad."</p> + +<p>"How am I wrong? I'm a match for any man, especially for that old +blighter; and he's only got a sleeping woman to help him."</p> + +<p>"Conrad, he's not a man and she's not a woman. Be careful."</p> + +<p>"I'm careful and I'm going."</p> + +<p>"You're going, you're going; but what's your plan?"</p> + +<p>"I've no plan. Or rather, if I have, it's to out that beggar."</p> + +<p>"All the same, mind what you're doing. Don't go for him bull-headed; try +to take him by surprise."</p> + +<p>"Well, of course!" said Conrad, moving away. "I'm not ass enough to risk +his attacks. Be easy, I've got the bounder!"</p> + +<p>Conrad's daring comforted Vorski.</p> + +<p>"After all," he said, when his accomplice was gone, "he's right. If that +old Druid didn't come after us, it's because he's got other ideas in his +head. He certainly doesn't expect us to return on the offensive; and +Conrad can very well take him by surprise. What do you say, Otto?"</p> + +<p>Otto shared his opinion:</p> + +<p>"He has only to bide his time," he replied.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>Fifteen minutes passed. Vorski gradually recovered his assurance. He had +yielded to the reaction, after an excess of hope followed by +disappointment too great for him to bear and also because of the +weariness and depression produced by his drinking-bout. But the fighting +spirit stimulated him once more; and he was anxious to have done with +his adversary.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't be surprised," he said, "if Conrad had finished him off by +now."</p> + +<p>By this time he had acquired an exaggerated confidence which proved his +unbalanced state of mind; and he wanted to go back again at once.</p> + +<p>"Come along, Otto, it's the last trip. An old beggar to get rid of; and +the thing's done. You've got your dagger? Besides, it won't be wanted. +My two hands will do the trick."</p> + +<p>"And suppose that blasted Druid has friends?"</p> + +<p>"We'll see."</p> + +<p>He once more went towards the crypts, moving cautiously and watching the +opening of the passages which led from one to the other. No sound +reached their ears. The light in the third crypt showed them the way.</p> + +<p>"Conrad must have succeeded," Vorski observed. "If not, he would have +shirked the fight and come back to us."</p> + +<p>Otto agreed.</p> + +<p>"It's a good sign, of course, that we don't see him. The ancient Druid +must have had a bad time of it. Conrad is a scorcher."</p> + +<p>They entered the third crypt. Things were in the places where they had +left them: the sceptre on the block and the pommel, which Vorski had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +unfastened, a little way off, on the ground. But, when he cast his eyes +towards the shadowy recess where the ancient Druid was sleeping when +they first arrived, he was astounded to see the old fellow, not exactly +at the same place, but between the recess and the exit to the passage.</p> + +<p>"Hang it, what's he doing?" he stammered, at once upset by that +unexpected presence. "One would think he was asleep!"</p> + +<p>The ancient Druid, in fact, appeared to be asleep. Only, why on earth +was he sleeping in that attitude, flat on his stomach, with his arms +stretched out on either side and his face to the floor? No man on his +guard, or at least aware that he was in some sort of danger, would +expose himself in this way to the enemy's attack. Moreover—Vorski's +eyes were gradually growing accustomed to the half-darkness of the end +crypt—moreover the white robe was marked with stains which looked red, +which undoubtedly were red. What did it mean?</p> + +<p>Otto said, in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"He's lying in a queer attitude."</p> + +<p>Vorski was thinking the same thing and put it more plainly:</p> + +<p>"Yes, the attitude of a corpse."</p> + +<p>"The attitude of a corpse," Otto agreed. "That's it, exactly."</p> + +<p>Vorski presently fell back a step:</p> + +<p>"Oh," he exclaimed, "can it be?"</p> + +<p>"What?" asked the other.</p> + +<p>"Between the two shoulders . . . . Look."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"The knife."</p> + +<p>"What knife?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>"Conrad's," Vorski declared. "Conrad's dagger. I recognise it. Driven in +between the shoulders." And he added, with a shudder, "That's where the +red stains come from . . . . It's blood . . . blood flowing from the +wound."</p> + +<p>"In that case," Otto remarked, "he is dead?"</p> + +<p>"He's dead, yes, the ancient Druid is dead . . . . Conrad must have +surprised him and killed him . . . . The ancient Druid is dead."</p> + +<p>Vorski remained undecided for a while, ready to fall upon the lifeless +body and to stab it in his turn. But he dared no more touch it now that +it was dead than when it was alive; and all that he had the courage to +do was to run and wrench the dagger from the wound.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he cried, "you scoundrel, you've got what you deserve! And Conrad +is a champion. I shan't forget you, Conrad, be sure of that."</p> + +<p>"Where can Conrad be?"</p> + +<p>"In the hall of the God-Stone. Ah, Otto, I'm itching to get back to the +woman whom the ancient Druid put there and to settle her hash too!"</p> + +<p>"Then you believe that she's a live woman?" chuckled Otto.</p> + +<p>"And very much alive at that . . . like the ancient Druid! That wizard +was only a fake, with a few tricks of his own, perhaps, but no real +power. There's the proof!"</p> + +<p>"A fake, if you like," the accomplice objected. "But, all the same, he +showed you by his signals the way to enter these caves. Now what was his +object in that? And what was he doing here? Did he really know the +secret of the God-Stone, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> way to get possession of it and exactly +where it is?"</p> + +<p>"You're right. It's all so many riddles," said Vorski, who preferred not +to examine the details of the adventure too closely. "But it's so many +riddles which'll answer themselves and which I'm not troubling about for +the moment, because it's no longer that creepy individual who's putting +them to me."</p> + +<p>For the third time they went through the narrow communicating passage. +Vorski entered the great hall like a conqueror, with his head high and a +confident glance. There was no longer any obstacle, no longer any enemy +to overcome. Whether the God-Stone was suspended between the stones of +the ceiling, or whether the God-Stone was elsewhere, he was sure to +discover it. There remained the mysterious woman who looked like +Véronique, but who could not be Véronique and whose real identity he was +about to unmask.</p> + +<p>"Always presuming that she's still there," he muttered. "And I very much +suspect that she's gone. She played her part in the ancient Druid's +obscure schemes: and the ancient Druid, thinking me out of the way +. . ."</p> + +<p>He stepped forward and climbed a few steps.</p> + +<p>The woman was there. She was there, lying on the lower table of the +dolmen, shrouded in veils as before. The arm no longer hung towards the +ground. There was only the hand emerging from the veils. The turquoise +ring was on the finger.</p> + +<p>"She hasn't moved," said Otto. "She's still asleep."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>"Perhaps she is asleep," said Vorski. "I'll watch her. Leave me alone."</p> + +<p>He went nearer. He still had Conrad's dagger in his hand: and perhaps it +was this that suggested killing to him, for his eyes fell upon the +weapon and it was not till then that he seemed to realise that he was +carrying it and that he might make use of it.</p> + +<p>He was not more than three paces from the woman, when he perceived that +the wrist which was uncovered was all bruised and as it were mottled +with black patches, which evidently came from the cords with which she +had been bound. Now the ancient Druid had remarked, an hour ago, that +the wrists showed no signs of a bruise!</p> + +<p>This detail confounded him anew, first, because it proved to him that +this was really the woman whom he had crucified, who had been taken down +and who was now before his eyes and, secondly, because he was suddenly +reentering the domain of miracles; and Véronique's arm appeared to him, +alternately, under two different aspects, as the arm of a living, +uninjured woman and as the arm of a lifeless, tortured victim.</p> + +<p>His trembling hand clutched the dagger, clinging to it, in a manner of +speaking, as the only instrument of salvation. Once more in his confused +brain the idea arose of striking, not to kill, because the woman must be +dead, but of striking the invisible enemy who persisted in thwarting him +and of conjuring all the evil spells at one blow.</p> + +<p>He raised his arm. He chose the spot. His face assumed an expression of +extreme savagery, lit up with the joy of murder. And suddenly he swooped +down, striking, like a madman, at random,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> ten times, twenty times, with +a frenzied unbridling of all his instincts.</p> + +<p>"Take that and die!" he spluttered. "Another! . . . Die! . . . And let's +have an end of this . . . . You are the evil genius that's been +resisting me . . . and now I'm killing you . . . . Die and leave me +free! . . . Die so that I shall be the only master!"</p> + +<p>He stopped to take breath. He was exhausted. And while his haggard eyes +stared blindly at the horrible spectacle of the lacerated corpse, he +received the strange impression that a shadow was placing itself between +him and the sunlight which came through the opening overhead.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what you remind me of?" said a voice.</p> + +<p>He was dumbfounded. The voice was not Otto's voice. And the voice +continued, while he stood with his head lowered and stupidly holding his +dagger planted in the dead woman's body:</p> + +<p>"Do you know what you remind me of, Vorski? You remind me of the bulls +of my country. Let me tell you that I am a Spaniard and a great +frequenter of the bull-ring. Well, when our bulls have gored some poor +old cab-horse that is only fit for the knacker's yard, they go back to +the body, from time to time, turn it over, gore it again, keep on +killing it and killing it. You're like them, Vorski. You're seeing red. +In order to defend yourself against the living enemy, you fall +desperately on the enemy who is no longer alive; and it is death itself +that you are trying to kill. What a silly beast you're making of +yourself!"</p> + +<p>Vorski raised his head. A man was standing in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> front of him, leaning +against one of the uprights of the dolmen. The man was of the average +height, with a slender, well-built figure, and seemed to be still young, +notwithstanding his hair, which was turning grey at the temples. He wore +a blue-serge jacket with brass buttons and a yachting-cap with a black +peak.</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble to rack your brains," he said. "You don't know me. Let me +introduce myself: Don Luis Perenna, grandee of Spain, a noble of many +countries and Prince of Sarek. Yes, don't be surprised: I've taken the +title of Prince of Sarek, having a certain right to it."</p> + +<p>Vorski looked at him without understanding. The man continued:</p> + +<p>"You don't seem very familiar with the Spanish nobility. Still, just +test your memory: I am the gentleman who was to come to the rescue of +the d'Hergemont family and the people of Sarek, the one whom your son +François was expecting with such simple faith . . . . Well, are you +there? . . . Look, your companion, the trusty Otto, he seems to +remember! . . . But perhaps my other name will convey more to you? It is +well and favourably known. Lupin . . . . Arsène Lupin . . . ."</p> + +<p>Vorski watched him with increasing terror and with a misgiving which +became more accentuated at each word and movement of this new adversary. +Though he recognized neither the man nor the man's voice, he felt +himself dominated by a will of which he had already felt the power and +lashed by the same sort of implacable irony. But was it possible?</p> + +<p>"Everything is possible," Don Luis Perenna went on, "including even what +you think. But I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> repeat, what a silly beast you're making of yourself! +Here are you playing the bold highwayman, the dashing adventurer; and +you're frightened the moment you set eyes on one of your crimes! As long +as it was just a matter of happy-go-lucky killing, you went straight +ahead. But the first little jolt throws you off the track. Vorski kills; +but whom has he killed? He has no idea. Is Véronique d'Hergemont dead or +alive? Is she fastened to the oak on which you crucified her? Or is she +lying here, on the sacrificial table? Did you kill her up there or down +here? You can't tell. You never even thought, before you stabbed, of +looking to see what you were stabbing. The great thing for you is to +slash away with all your might, to intoxicate yourself with the sight +and smell of blood and to turn live flesh into a hideous pulp. But look, +can't you, you idiot? When a man kills, he's not afraid of killing and +he doesn't hide the face of his victim. Look, you idiot!"</p> + +<p>He himself stopped over the corpse and unwrapped the veil around the +head.</p> + +<p>Vorski had closed his eyes. Kneeling, with his chest pressed against the +dead woman's legs, he remained without moving and kept his eyes +obstinately shut.</p> + +<p>"Are you there now?" chuckled Don Luis. "If you daren't look, it's +because you've guessed or because you're on the point of guessing, you +wretch: am I right? Your idiot brain is working it out: am I right? +There were two women in the Isle of Sarek and two only, Véronique and +the other . . . the other whose name was Elfride, I understand: am I +right? Elfride and Véronique, your two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> wives, one the mother of +Raynold, the other the mother of François. So, if it's not François' +mother whom you tied on the cross and whom you've just stabbed, then +it's Raynold's mother. If the woman lying here, with her wrists bruised +by the torture, is not Véronique, then she's Elfride. There's no mistake +possible: Elfride, your wife and your accomplice; Elfride, your willing +and subservient tool. And you know it so well that you would rather take +my word for it than risk a glance and see the livid face of that dead +woman, of your obedient accomplice tortured by yourself. You miserable +poltroon!"</p> + +<p>Vorski had hidden his head in his folded arms. He was not weeping. +Vorski could not weep. Nevertheless, his shoulders were jerking +convulsively; and his whole attitude expressed the wildest despair.</p> + +<p>This lasted for some time. Then the shaking of the shoulders ceased. +Still Vorski did not stir.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, you move me to pity, you poor old buffer!" said Don Luis. +"Were you so fond of your Elfride as all that? She had become a habit, +what? A mascot? Well, what can I say? People as a rule aren't such fools +as you! They know what they're doing. They look before they leap! Hang +it all, they stop to think! Whereas you go floundering about in crime +like a new-born babe struggling in the water! No wonder you sink and go +to the bottom . . . . The ancient Druid, for instance: is he dead or +alive? Did Conrad stick a dagger into his back, or was I playing the +part of that diabolical personage? In short, are there an ancient Druid +and a Spanish grandee, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> are the two individuals one and the same? +This is all a sealed book to you, my poor fellow. And yet you'll want an +explanation. Shall I help you?"</p> + +<p>If Vorski had acted without thinking, it was easy to see, when he raised +his head, that on this occasion he had taken time to reflect; that he +knew very well the desperate resolve which circumstances called upon him +to take. He was certainly ready for an explanation, as Don Luis +suggested, but he wanted it dagger in hand, with the implacable +intention of using it. Slowly, with his eyes fixed on Don Luis and +without concealing his purpose, he had freed his weapon and was rising +to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Take care," said Don Luis. "Your knife is faked as your revolver was. +It's made of tin-foil."</p> + +<p>Useless pleasantry! Nothing could either hasten or delay the methodical +impulse which urged Vorski to the supreme contest. He walked round the +sacred table and took up his stand in front of Don Luis.</p> + +<p>"You're sure it's you who have been thwarting all my plans these last +few days?"</p> + +<p>"The last twenty-four hours, no longer. I arrived at Sarek twenty-four +hours ago."</p> + +<p>"And you're determined to go on to the end?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and farther still, if possible."</p> + +<p>"Why? And in what capacity?"</p> + +<p>"As a sportsman; and because you fill me with disgust."</p> + +<p>"So there's no arrangement to be made?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Would you refuse to go shares with me?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, now you're talking!"</p> + +<p>"You can have half, if you like."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>"I'd rather have the lot."</p> + +<p>"Meaning that the God-Stone . . ."</p> + +<p>"The God-Stone belongs to me."</p> + +<p>Further speech was idle. An adversary of that quality has to be made +away with; if not, he makes away with you. Vorski had to choose between +the two endings; there was not a third.</p> + +<p>Don Luis remained impassive, leaning against the pillar. Vorski towered +a head above him: and at the same time Vorski had the profound +impression that he was equally Don Luis' superior in every other +respect, in strength, muscular power and weight. In these conditions, +there was no need to hesitate. Moreover, it seemed out of the question +that Don Luis could even attempt to defend himself or to evade the blow +before the dagger fell. His parry was bound to come late unless he moved +at once. And he did not move. Vorski therefore struck his blow with all +certainty, as one strikes a quarry that is doomed beforehand.</p> + +<p>And yet—it all happened so quickly and so inexplicably that he could +not tell what occurred to bring about his defeat—and yet, three or four +seconds later, he was lying on the ground, disarmed, defeated, with his +two legs feeling as though they had been broken with a stick and his +right arm hanging limp and paining him till he cried out.</p> + +<p>Don Luis did not even trouble to bind him. With one foot on the big, +helpless body, half-bending over his adversary, he said:</p> + +<p>"For the moment, no speeches. I'm keeping one in reserve for you. It'll +strike you as a bit long, but it'll show you that I understand the whole +business from start to finish, that is to say, much better<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> than you do. +There's one doubtful point: and you're going to clear it up. Where's +your son François d'Hergemont?"</p> + +<p>Receiving no reply, he repeated:</p> + +<p>"Where's François d'Hergemont?"</p> + +<p>Vorski no doubt considered that chance had placed an unexpected trump in +his hands and that the game was perhaps not absolutely lost, for he +maintained an obstinate silence.</p> + +<p>"You refuse to answer?" asked Don Luis. "One . . . two . . . three +times: do you refuse? . . . Very well!"</p> + +<p>He gave a low whistle.</p> + +<p>Four men appeared from a corner of the hall, four men with swarthy +faces, resembling Moors. Like Don Luis, they wore jackets and sailor's +caps with shiny peaks.</p> + +<p>A fifth person arrived almost immediately afterwards, a wounded French +officer, who had lost his right leg and wore a wooden leg in its place.</p> + +<p>"Ah, is that you, Patrice?" said Don Luis.</p> + +<p>He introduced him formally:</p> + +<p>"Captain Patrice Belval, my greatest friend; Mr. Vorski, a Hun."</p> + +<p>Then he asked:</p> + +<p>"No news, captain? You haven't found François?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"We shall have found him in an hour and then we'll be off. Are all our +men on board?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Everything all right there?"</p> + +<p>"Quite."</p> + +<p>He turned to the three Moors:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>"Pick up the Hun," he ordered, "and carry him up to the dolmen outside. +You needn't bind him: he couldn't move a limb if he tried. Oh, one +minute!"</p> + +<p>He leant over Vorski's ear:</p> + +<p>"Before you start, have a good look at the God-Stone, between the flags +in the ceiling. The ancient Druid wasn't lying to you. It <i>is</i> the +miraculous stone which people have been seeking for centuries . . . and +which I discovered from a distance . . . by correspondence. Say good-bye +to it, Vorski! You will never see it again, if indeed you are ever to +see anything in this world."</p> + +<p>He made a sign with his hand.</p> + +<p>The four Moors briskly took up Vorski and carried him to the back of the +hall, on the side opposite the communicating passage.</p> + +<p>Turning to Otto, who had stood throughout this scene without moving:</p> + +<p>"I see that you're a reasonable fellow, Otto, and that you understand +the position. You won't get up to any tricks?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then we shan't touch you. You can come along without fear."</p> + +<p>He slipped his arm through Belval's and the two walked away, talking.</p> + +<p>They left the hall of the God-Stone through a series of three crypts, +each of which was on a higher level than the one before. The last of +them also led to a vestibule. At the far side of the vestibule, a ladder +stood against a lightly-built wall in which an opening had been newly +made. Through this they emerged into the open air, in the middle of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +steep path, cut into steps, which wound about as it climbed upwards in +the rock and which brought them to that part of the cliff to which +François had taken Véronique on the previous morning. It was the Postern +path. From above they saw, hanging from two iron davits, the boat in +which Véronique and her son had intended to take flight. Not far away, +in a little bay, was the long, tapering outline of a submarine.</p> + +<p>Turning their backs to the sea, Don Luis and Patrice Belval continued on +their way towards the semicircle of oaks and stopped near the Fairies' +Dolmen, where the Moors were waiting for them. They had set Vorski down +at the foot of the tree on which his last victim had died. Nothing +remained on the tree to bear witness to the abominable torture except +the inscription, "V. d'H."</p> + +<p>"Not too tired, Vorski?" asked Don Luis. "Legs feeling better?"</p> + +<p>Vorski gave a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," said Don Luis. "You're pinning your faith to your last +card. Still, I would have you know that I also hold a few trumps and +that I have a rather artistic way of playing them. The tree behind you +should be more than enough to tell you so. Would you like another +instance? While you're getting muddled with all your murders and are no +longer sure of the number of your victims, I bring them to life again. +Look at that man coming from the Priory. Do you see him? He's wearing a +blue reefer with brass buttons, like myself. He's one of your dead men, +isn't he? You locked him up in one of the torture-chambers, intending +to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> cast him into the sea; and it was your sweet cherub of a Raynold who +hurled him down before Véronique's eyes. Do you remember? Stéphane +Maroux his name was. He's dead, isn't he? No, not a bit of it! A wave of +my magic wand; and he's alive again. Here he is. I take him by the hand. +I speak to him."</p> + +<p>Going up to the newcomer, he shook hands with him and said:</p> + +<p>"You see, Stéphane? I told you that it would be all over at twelve +o'clock precisely and that we should meet at the dolmen. Well, it is +twelve o'clock precisely."</p> + +<p>Stéphane seemed in excellent health. He showed not a sign of a wound. +Vorski looked at him in dismay and stammered:</p> + +<p>"The tutor . . . . Stéphane Maroux . . . ."</p> + +<p>"The man himself," said Don Luis. "What did you expect? Here again you +behaved like an idiot. The adorable Raynold and you throw a man into the +sea and don't even think of leaning over to see what becomes of him. I +pick him up . . . . And don't be too badly staggered, old chap. It's +only the beginning; and I have a few more tricks in my bag. Remember, +I'm a pupil of the ancient Druid's! . . . Well, Stéphane, where do we +stand? What's the result of your search?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"François?"</p> + +<p>"Not to be found."</p> + +<p>"And All's Well? Did you send him on his master's tracks, as we +arranged?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but he simply took me down the Postern path to François' boat."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>"There's no hiding-place on that side?"</p> + +<p>"Not one."</p> + +<p>Don Luis was silent and began to pace up and down before the dolmen. He +seemed to be hesitating at the last moment, before beginning the series +of actions upon which he had resolved. At last, addressing Vorski, he +said:</p> + +<p>"I have no time to waste. I must leave the island in two hours. What's +your price for setting François free at once?"</p> + +<p>"François fought a duel with Raynold," Vorski replied, "and was beaten."</p> + +<p>"You lie. François won."</p> + +<p>"How do you know? Did you see them fight?"</p> + +<p>"No, or I should have interfered. But I know who was the victor."</p> + +<p>"No one knows except myself. They were masked."</p> + +<p>"Then, if François is dead, it's all up with you."</p> + +<p>Vorski took time to think. The argument allowed of no debate. He put a +question in his turn:</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you offer me?"</p> + +<p>"Your liberty."</p> + +<p>"And with it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the God-Stone."</p> + +<p>"<i>Never!</i>"</p> + +<p>Don Luis shouted the word, accompanying it with a vehement gesture of +the hand, and he explained:</p> + +<p>"Never! Your liberty, yes, if the worst comes to the worst and because I +know you and know that, denuded of all resources, you will simply go and +get yourself hanged somewhere else. But the God<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>-Stone would spell +safety, wealth, the power to do evil . . ."</p> + +<p>"That's exactly why I want it," said Vorski; "and, by telling me what +it's worth, you make me all the more difficult in the matter of +François."</p> + +<p>"I shall find François all right. It's only a question of patience; and +I shall stay two or three days longer, if necessary."</p> + +<p>"You will not find him; and, if you do, it will be too late."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because he has had nothing to eat since yesterday."</p> + +<p>This was said coldly and maliciously. There was a silence; and Don Luis +retorted:</p> + +<p>"In that case, speak, if you don't want him to die."</p> + +<p>"What do I care? Anything rather than fail in my task and stop midway +when I've got so far. The end is within sight: those who get in my way +must look out for themselves."</p> + +<p>"You lie. You won't let that boy die."</p> + +<p>"I let the other die right enough!"</p> + +<p>Patrice and Stéphane made a movement of horror, while Don Luis laughed +frankly:</p> + +<p>"Capital! There's no hypocrisy about you. Plain and convincing +arguments. By Jingo, how beautiful to see a Hun laying bare his soul! +What a glorious mixture of vanity and cruelty, of cynicism and +mysticism! A Hun has always a mission to fulfil, even when he's +satisfied with plundering and murdering. Well, you're better than a Hun: +you're a Superhun!"</p> + +<p>And he added, still laughing:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>"So I propose to treat you as Superhun. Once more, will you tell me +where François is?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"All right."</p> + +<p>He turned to the four Moors and said, very calmly:</p> + +<p>"Go ahead, lads."</p> + +<p>It was a matter of a second. With really extraordinary precision of +gesture and as though the act had been separated into a certain number +of movements, learnt and rehearsed beforehand like a military drill, +they picked up Vorski, fastened him to the rope which hung to the tree, +hoisted him up without paying attention to his cries, his threats or his +shouts and bound him firmly, as he had bound his victim.</p> + +<p>"Howl away, old chap," said Don Luis, serenely, "howl as much as you +like! You can only wake the sisters Archignat and the others in the +thirty coffins! Howl away, my lad! But, good Lord, how ugly you are! +What a face!"</p> + +<p>He took a few steps back, to appreciate the sight better:</p> + +<p>"Excellent! You look very well there; it couldn't be better. Even the +inscription fits: 'V. d'H.,' Vorski de Hohenzollern! For I presume that, +as the son of a king, you are allied to that noble house. And now, +Vorski, all you have to do is to lend me an attentive ear: I'm going to +make you the little speech I promised you."</p> + +<p>Vorski was wriggling on the tree and trying to burst his bonds. But, +since every effort merely served to increase his suffering, he kept +still and, to vent his fury, began to swear and blaspheme most hideously +and to inveigh against Don Luis:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>"Robber! Murderer! It's you that are the murderer, it's you that are +condemning François to death! François was wounded by his brother; it's +a bad wound and may be poisoned . . . ."</p> + +<p>Stéphane and Patrice pleaded with Don Luis. Stéphane expressed his +alarm:</p> + +<p>"You can never tell," he said. "With a monster like that, anything is +possible. And suppose the boy's ill?"</p> + +<p>"It's bunkum and blackmail!" Don Luis declared. "The boy's quite well."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Well enough, in any case, to wait an hour. In an hour the Superhun will +have spoken. He won't hold out any longer. Hanging loosens the tongue."</p> + +<p>"And suppose he doesn't hold out at all?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose he himself expires, from too violent an effort, heart-failure, +a clot of blood to the head?"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well, his death would destroy the only hope we have of learning where +François is hidden, his death would be François' undoing!"</p> + +<p>But Don Luis was inflexible:</p> + +<p>"He won't die!" he cried. "Vorski's sort doesn't die of a stroke! No, +no, he'll talk, he'll talk within an hour. Just time enough to deliver +my lecture."</p> + +<p>Patrice Belval began to laugh in spite of himself:</p> + +<p>"Have you a lecture to deliver?"</p> + +<p>"Rather! And such a lecture!" exclaimed Don Luis. "The whole adventure +of the God-Stone! An historical treatise, a comprehensive view extending +from prehistoric times to the thirty murders<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> committed by the Superhun! +By Jove, it's not every day that one has the opportunity of reading a +paper like that; and I wouldn't miss it for a kingdom! Mount the +platform, Don Luis, and fire away with your speech!"</p> + +<p>He took his stand opposite Vorski:</p> + +<p>"You lucky dog, you! You're in the front seats and you won't lose a +word. I expect you're glad, eh, to have a little light thrown upon your +darkness? We've been floundering about so long that it's time we had a +definite lead. I assure you I'm beginning not to know where I am. Just +think, a riddle which has lasted for centuries and centuries and which +you've merely muddled still further."</p> + +<p>"Thief! Robber!" snarled Vorski.</p> + +<p>"Insults? Why? If you're not comfortable, let's talk about François."</p> + +<p>"Never! He shall die."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, you'll talk. I give you leave to interrupt me. When you +want me to stop, all you've got to do is to whistle a tune: '<i>En +r'venant de la r'vue</i>,' or <i>Tipperary</i>. I'll at once send to see; and, +if you've told the truth, we'll leave you here quietly, Otto will untie +you and you can be off in François' boat. Is it agreed?"</p> + +<p>He turned to Stéphane and Patrice Belval:</p> + +<p>"Sit down, my friends," he said, "for it will take rather long. But, if +I am to be eloquent, I need an audience . . . and an audience who will +also act as judges."</p> + +<p>"We're only two," said Patrice.</p> + +<p>"You're three."</p> + +<p>"With whom?"</p> + +<p>"Here's your third."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>It was All's Well. He came trotting along, without hurrying more than +usual. He frisked round Stéphane, wagged his tail to Don Luis, as though +to say, "I know you: you and I are pals," and squatted on his +hind-quarters, with the air of one who does not wish to disturb people.</p> + +<p>"That's right, All's Well!" cried Don Luis. "You also want to hear all +about the adventure. Your curiosity does you honour; and I won't +disappoint you."</p> + +<p>Don Luis appeared to be delighted. He had an audience, a full bench of +judges. Vorski was writhing on his tree. It was an exquisite moment.</p> + +<p>He cut a sort of caper which must have reminded Vorski of the ancient +Druid's pirouettes and, drawing himself up, bowed, imitated a lecturer +taking a sip of water from a tumbler, rested his hands on an imaginary +table and at last began, in a deliberate voice:</p> + +<p>"Ladies and Gentlemen:</p> + +<p>"On the twenty-fifth of July, in the year seven hundred and thirty-two +B. C. . . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE HALL OF THE KINGS OF BOHEMIA</span></h2> + + +<p>Don Luis interrupted himself after delivering his opening sentence and +stood enjoying the effect produced. Captain Belval, who knew his friend, +was laughing heartily. Stéphane continued to look anxious. All's Well +had not budged.</p> + +<p>Don Luis continued:</p> + +<p>"Let me begin by confessing, ladies and gentlemen, that my object in +fixing my date so precisely was to some extent to stagger you. In +reality I could not tell you within a few centuries the exact date of +the scene which I shall have the honour of describing to you. But what I +can guarantee is that it is laid in that country of Europe which to-day +we call Bohemia and at the spot where the little industrial town of +Joachimsthal now stands. That, I hope, is fairly circumstantial. Well, +on the morning of the day when my story begins, there was great +excitement among one of those Celtic tribes which had settled a century +or two earlier between the banks of the Danube and the sources of the +Elbe, amidst the Hyrcanian forests. The warriors, assisted by their +wives, were striking their tents, collecting the sacred axes, the bows +and arrows, gathering up the pottery, the bronze and tin implements, +loading the horses and the oxen.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>"The chiefs were here, there and everywhere, attending to the smallest +details. There was neither tumult nor disorder. They started early in +the direction of a tributary of the Elbe, the Eger, which they reached +towards the end of the day. Here boats were waiting, guarded by a +hundred of the picked warriors who had been sent ahead. One of these +boats was conspicuous for its size and the richness of its decoration. A +long yellow cloth was stretched from side to side. The chief of chiefs, +the King, if you prefer, climbed on the stern thwart and made a speech +which I will spare you, because I do not wish to shorten my own, but +which may be summed up as follows: the tribe was emigrating to escape +the cupidity of the neighbouring populations. It is always sad to leave +the places where one has dwelt. But it made no difference to the men of +the tribe, because they were carrying with them their most valuable +possession, the sacred inheritance of their ancestors, the divinity that +protected them and made them formidable and great among the greatest, in +short, the stone that covered the tomb of their kings.</p> + +<p>"And the chief of chiefs, with a solemn gesture, drew the yellow cloth +and revealed a block of granite in the shape of a slab about two yards +by one, granular in appearance and dark in colour, with a few glittering +scales gleaming in its substance.</p> + +<p>"There was a single shout raised by the crowd of men and women; and all, +with outstretched arms, fell flat on their faces in the dust.</p> + +<p>"Then the chief of chiefs took up a metal sceptre with a jewelled +handle, which lay on the block of granite, brandished it on high and +spoke:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>"'The all-powerful staff shall not leave my hand until the miraculous +stone is in a place of safety. The all-powerful staff is born of the +miraculous stone. It also contains the fire of heaven, which gives life +or death. While the miraculous stone was the tomb of my forefathers, the +all-powerful staff never left their hands on days of disaster or of +victory. May the fire of heaven lead us! May the Sun-god light our way!'</p> + +<p>"He spoke: and the whole tribe set out upon its journey."</p> + +<p>Don Luis struck an attitude and repeated, in a self-satisfied tone:</p> + +<p>"He spoke: and the whole tribe set out upon its journey."</p> + +<p>Patrice Belval was greatly amused; and Stéphane, infected by his +hilarity, began to feel more cheerful. But Don Luis now addressed his +remarks to them:</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to laugh at! All this is very serious. It's not a story +for children who believe in conjuring tricks and sleight of hand, but a +real history, all the details of which will, as you shall see, give rise +to precise, natural and, in a sense, scientific explanations. Yes, +ladies and gentlemen, scientific: I am not afraid of the word. We are +here on scientific ground; and Vorski himself will regret his cynical +merriment."</p> + +<p>Don Luis took a second sip of water and continued:</p> + +<p>"For weeks and months the tribe followed the course of the Elbe; and one +evening, on the stroke of half-past nine, reached the sea-board, in the +country which afterwards became the country of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> Frisians. It +remained there for weeks and months, without finding the requisite +security. It therefore determined upon a fresh exodus.</p> + +<p>"This time it was a naval exodus. Thirty boats put out to sea—observe +this number thirty, which was that of the families composing the +tribe—and for weeks and months they wandered from shore to shore, +settling first in Scandinavia, next among the Saxons, driven off, +putting to sea again and continuing their voyage. And I assure you it +was really a strange, moving, impressive sight to see this vagrant tribe +dragging in its wake the tombstone of its kings and seeking a safe, +inaccessible and final refuge in which to conceal its idol, protect it +from the attack of its enemies, celebrate its worship and employ it to +consolidate the tribal power.</p> + +<p>"The last stage was Ireland; and it was here that, one day, after they +had dwelt in the green isle for half a century or perhaps a century, +after their manners had acquired a certain softening by contact with +nations which were already less barbarous, the grandson or +great-grandson of the great chief, himself a great chief, received one +of the emissaries whom he maintained in the neighbouring countries. This +one came from the continent. He had discovered the miraculous refuge. It +was an almost unapproachable island, protected by thirty rocks and +having thirty granite monuments to guard it.</p> + +<p>"Thirty! The fateful number! It was an obvious summons and command from +the mysterious deities. The thirty galleys were launched once more and +the expedition set forth.</p> + +<p>"It succeeded. They took the island by assault. The natives they simply +exterminated. The tribe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> settled down; and the tombstone of the Kings of +Bohemia was installed . . . in the very place which it occupies to-day +and which I showed to our friend Vorski. Here I must interpolate a few +historical data of the greatest significance. I will be brief."</p> + +<p>Adopting a professorial tone, Don Luis explained:</p> + +<p>"The island of Sarek, like all France and all the western part of +Europe, had been inhabited for thousands of years by a race known as the +Liguri, the direct descendants of the cave-dwellers part of whose +manners and customs they had retained. They were mighty builders, those +Liguri, who, in the neolithic period, perhaps under the influence of the +great civilizations of the east, had erected their huge blocks of +granite and built their colossal funeral chambers.</p> + +<p>"It was here that our tribe found and made great use of a system of +caves and natural crypts adapted by the patient hand of man and of a +cluster of enormous monuments which struck the mystic and superstitious +imagination of the Celts.</p> + +<p>"We find therefore that, after the first or wandering phase, there +begins for the God-Stone a period of rest and worship which we will call +the Druidical period. It lasted for a thousand or fifteen hundred years. +The tribe became mingled with the neighbouring tribes and probably lived +under the protection of some Breton king. But, little by little, the +ascendancy had passed from the chiefs to the priests; and these priests, +that is to say, the Druids, assumed an authority which increased in the +course of the generations that followed.</p> + +<p>"They owed this authority, beyond all doubt, to the miraculous stone. +True, they were the priests<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> of a religion accepted by all and also the +instructors of Gallic childhood (it seems certain, incidentally, that +the cells under the Black Heath were those of a Druid convent, or rather +a sort of university); true, in obedience to the practices of the time, +they presided over human sacrifices and ordained the gathering of the +mistletoe, the vervain and all the magic herbs; but, before all, in the +island of Sarek, they were the guardians and the possessors of the stone +which gave life or death. Placed above the hall of the underground +sacrifices, it was at that time undoubtedly visible in the open air; and +I have every reason to believe that the Fairies' Dolmen, which we now +see here, then stood in the place known as the Calvary of the Flowers +and sheltered the God-Stone. It was there that ailing and crippled +persons and sickly children were laid to recover their health and +strength. It was on the sacred slab that barren women became fruitful, +on the sacred slab that old men felt their energies revive.</p> + +<p>"In my eyes it dominates the whole of the legendary and fabled past of +Brittany. It is the radiating centre of all the superstitions, all the +beliefs, all the fears and hopes of the country. By virtue of the stone +or of the magic sceptre which the archdruid wielded and with which he +burnt men's flesh or healed their sores at will, we see the beautiful +tales of romance springing spontaneously into being, tales of the +knights of the Round Table, tales of Merlin the wizard. The stone is at +the bottom of every mystery, at the heart of every symbol. It is +darkness and light in one, the great riddle and the great explanation."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>Don Luis uttered these last words with a certain exaltation. He smiled:</p> + +<p>"Don't let yourself be carried away, Vorski. We'll keep our enthusiasm +for the narrative of your crimes. For the moment, we are at the climax +of the Druidical period, a period which lasted far beyond the Druids +through long centuries during which, after the Druids had gone, the +miraculous stone was exploited by the sorcerers and soothsayers. And +thus we come gradually to the third period, the religious period, that +is to say, actually to the progressive decline of all that constituted +the glory of Sarek: pilgrimages, commemorative festivals and so forth.</p> + +<p>"The Church in fact was unable to put up with that crude fetish-worship. +As soon as she was strong enough, she was bound to fight against the +block of granite which attracted so many believers and perpetuated so +hateful a religion. The fight was an unequal one; and the past +succumbed. The dolmen was moved to where we stand, the slab of the kings +of Bohemia was buried under a layer of earth and a Calvary rose at the +very spot where the sacrilegious miracles were once wrought.</p> + +<p>"And, over and above that, there was the great oblivion!</p> + +<p>"Let me explain. The practices were forgotten. The rites were forgotten +and all that constituted the history of a vanished cult. But the +God-Stone was not forgotten. Men no longer knew where it was. In time +they even no longer knew what it was. But they never ceased to speak of +and believe in the existence of something which they called the +God-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>Stone. From mouth to mouth, from generation to generation, they +handed down on to one another fabulous and terrible stories, which +became farther and farther removed from reality, which formed a more and +more vague and, for that matter, a more and more frightful legend, but +which kept alive in their imaginations the recollection of the God-Stone +and, above all, its name.</p> + +<p>"This persistence of an idea in men's memories, this survival of a fact +in the annals of a country had the logical result that, from time to +time, some enquiring person would try to reconstruct the prodigious +truth. Two of these enquiring persons, Brother Thomas, a member of the +Benedictine Order, who lived in the middle of the fifteenth century, and +the man Maguennoc, in our own time, played an important part. Brother +Thomas was a poet and an illuminator about whom we possess not many +details, a very bad poet, to judge by his verses, but as an illuminator +ingenuous and not devoid of talent. He left a sort of missal in which he +related his life at Sarek Abbey and drew the thirty dolmens of the +island, the whole accompanied by instances, religious quotations and +predictions after the manner of Nostradamus. It was this missal, +discovered by Maguennoc aforesaid, that contained the famous page with +the crucified women and the prophecy relating to Sarek; it was this +missal that I myself found and consulted last night in Maguennoc's +bedroom.</p> + +<p>"He was an odd person, this Maguennoc, a belated descendant of the +sorcerers of old; and I strongly suspect him of playing the ghost on +more than one occasion. You may be sure that the white-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>robed, +white-bearded Druid whom people declared that they had seen on the sixth +day of the moon, gathering the mistletoe, was none other than Maguennoc. +He too knew all about the good old recipes, the healing herbs, the way +to work up the soil so as to make it yield enormous flowers. One thing +is certain, that he explored the mortuary crypts and the hall of the +sacrifices, that it was he who purloined the magic stone contained in +the knob of the sceptre and that he used to enter these crypts by the +opening through which we have just come, in the middle of the Postern +path, of which he was obliged each time to replace the screen of stones +and pebbles. It was he also who gave M. d'Hergemont the page from the +missal. Whether he confided the result of his last explorations to him +and how much exactly M. d'Hergemont knew does not matter now. Another +figure looms into sight, one who is henceforth the embodiment of the +whole affair and claims all our attention, an emissary dispatched by +fate to solve the riddle of the centuries, to carry out the orders of +the mysterious powers and to pocket the God-Stone. I am speaking of +Vorski."</p> + +<p>Don Luis swallowed his third glass of water and, beckoning to the +accomplice, said:</p> + +<p>"Otto, you had better give him a drink, if he's thirsty. Are you +thirsty, Vorski?"</p> + +<p>Vorski on his tree seemed exhausted, incapable of further effort or +resistance. Stéphane and Patrice once more intervened on his behalf, +fearing an immediate consummation.</p> + +<p>"Not at all, not at all!" cried Don Luis. "He's all right and he'll hold +out until I've finished my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> speech, if it were only because he wants to +know. You're tremendously interested, aren't you, Vorski?"</p> + +<p>"Robber! Murderer!" spluttered the wretched man.</p> + +<p>"Splendid! So you still refuse to tell us where François is hidden?"</p> + +<p>"Murderer! Highwayman!"</p> + +<p>"Then stay where you are, old chap. As you please. There's nothing +better for the health than a little suffering. Besides, you have caused +so much suffering to others, you dirty scum!"</p> + +<p>Don Luis uttered these words harshly and in accents of anger which one +would hardly have expected from a man who had already beheld so many +crimes and battled with so many criminals. But then this last one was +out of all proportion.</p> + +<p>Don Luis continued:</p> + +<p>"About thirty-five years ago, a very beautiful woman, who came from +Bohemia but who was of Hungarian descent, visited the watering-places +that swarm around the Bavarian lakes and soon achieved a great +reputation as a fortune-teller palmist, seer and medium. She attracted +the attention of King Louis II, Wagner's friend, the man who built +Bayreuth, the crowned mad-man famed for his extravagant fancies. The +intimacy between the king and the clairvoyant lasted for some years. It +was a violent, restless intimacy, interrupted by the frequent whims of +the king; and it ended tragically on the mysterious evening when Louis +of Bavaria threw himself out of his boat into the Starnbergersee. Was it +really, as the official version stated, suicide following on a fit of +madness? Or was it a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> case of murder, as some have held? Why suicide? +Why murder? These are questions that have never been answered. But one +fact remains: the Bohemian woman was in the boat with Louis II and next +day was escorted to the frontier and expelled from the country after her +money and jewellery had been taken from her.</p> + +<p>"She brought back with her from this adventure a young monster, four +years old, Alex Vorski by name, which young monster lived with his +mother near the village of Joachimsthal in Bohemia. Here, in course of +time, she instructed him in all the practices of hypnotic suggestion, +extralucidity and trickery. Endowed with a character of unexampled +violence but a very weak intellect, a prey to hallucinations and +nightmares, believing in spells, in predictions, in dreams, in occult +powers, he took legends for history and falsehoods for reality. One of +the numerous legends of the mountains in particular had impressed his +imagination: it was the one that describes the fabulous power of a stone +which, in the dim recesses of the past, was carried away by evil genii +and which was one day to be brought back by the son of a king. The +peasants still show the cavity left by the stone in the side of a hill.</p> + +<p>"'The king's son is yourself,' his mother used to say. 'And, if you find +the missing stone, you will escape the dagger that threatens you and +will yourself become a king.'</p> + +<p>"This ridiculous prophecy and another, no less fantastic, in which the +Bohemian woman announced that her son's wife would perish on the cross +and that he himself would die by the hand of a friend, were among those +which exercised the most direct<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> influence on Vorski when the fateful +hour struck. And I will go straight on to this fateful hour, without +saying any more of what our conversations of yesterday and last night +revealed to the three of us or of what we have been able to reconstruct. +There is no reason to repeat in full the story which you, Stéphane, told +Véronique d'Hergemont in your cell. There is no need to inform you, +Patrice, you, Vorski, or you, All's Well, of events with which you are +familiar, such as your marriage, Vorski, or rather your two marriages, +first with Elfride and next with Véronique d'Hergemont, the kidnapping +of François by his grandfather, the disappearance of Véronique, the +searches which you set on foot to find her, your conduct at the outbreak +of the war and your life in the internment-camps. These are mere trifles +besides the events which are on the point of taking place. We have +cleared up the history of the God-Stone. It is the modern adventure, +which you, Vorski, have woven around the God-Stone, that we are now +about to unravel.</p> + +<p>"In the beginning it appears like this: Vorski is imprisoned in an +internment-camp near Pontivy in Brittany. He no longer calls himself +Vorski, but Lauterbach. Fifteen months before, after a first escape and +at the moment when the court martial was about to sentence him to death +as a spy, he escaped again, spent some time in the Forest of +Fontainebleau, there found one of his former servants, a man called +Lauterbach, a German like himself and like himself an escaped prisoner, +killed him, dressed the body in his clothes and made the face up in such +a way as to give him the appearance of his murderer, Vorski. The +military police were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> taken in and had the sham Vorski buried at +Fontainebleau. As for the real Vorski, he had the bad luck to be +arrested once more, under his new name of Lauterbach, and to be interned +in the camp at Pontivy.</p> + +<p>"So much for Vorski. On the other hand, Elfride, his first wife, the +formidable accomplice in all his crimes and herself a German—I have +some particulars about her and their past life in common which are of no +importance and need not be mentioned here—Elfride, I was saying, his +accomplice, was hidden with their son Raynold in the cells of Sarek. He +had left her there to spy on M. d'Hergemont and through him to ascertain +Véronique d'Hergemont's whereabouts. The reasons which prompted the +wretched woman's actions I do not know. It may have been blind devotion, +fear of Vorski, an instinctive love of evil-doing, hatred of the rival +who supplanted her. It doesn't matter. She has suffered the most +terrible punishment. Let us speak only of the part she played, without +seeking to understand how she had the courage to live for three years +underground, never going out except at night, stealing food for herself +and her son and patiently awaiting the day when she could serve and save +her lord and master.</p> + +<p>"I am also ignorant of the series of events that enabled her to take +action, nor do I know how Vorski and Elfride managed to communicate. But +what I know most positively is that Vorski's escape was long and +carefully prepared by his first wife. Every detail arranged. Every +precaution was taken. On the fourteenth of September of last year, +Vorski escaped, taking with him the two ac<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>complices with whom he had +made friends during his captivity and whom he had, so to speak, +enrolled: the Otto and Conrad whom you know of.</p> + +<p>"It was an easy journey. At every cross-roads, an arrow, accompanied by +a number, one of a series, and surmounted by the initials 'V. d'H.,' +which initials were evidently selected by Vorski, pointed out the road +which he was to follow. At intervals, in a deserted cabin, some +provisions were hidden under a stone or in a truss of hay. The way led +through Guémené, Le Faouet and Rosporden and ended on the beach at +Beg-Meil.</p> + +<p>"Here Elfride and Raynold came by night to fetch the three fugitives in +Honorine's motor-boat and to land them near the Druid cells under the +Black Heath. They clambered up. Their lodgings were ready for them and, +as you have seen, were fairly comfortable. The winter passed; and +Vorski's plan, which as yet was very vague, became more precisely +outlined from day to day.</p> + +<p>"Strange to say, at the time of his first visit to Sarek, before the +war, he had not heard of the secret of the island. It was Elfride who +told him the legend of the God-Stone in the letters which she wrote to +him at Pontivy. You can imagine the effect produced by this revelation +on a man like Vorski. The God-Stone was bound to be the miraculous stone +wrested from the soil of his native land, the stone which was to be +discovered by the son of a king and which, from that time onward, would +give him power and royalty. Everything that he learnt later confirmed +his conviction. But the great fact that dominates his subterranean<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> life +at Sarek was the discovery of Brother Thomas' prophecy in the course of +the last month. Fragments of this prophecy were lingering on every hand, +which he was able to pick up by listening to the conversations of the +fisherfolk in the evenings, lurking under the windows of the cottages or +on the roofs of the barns. Within mortal memory, the people of Sarek +have always feared some terrible events, connected with the discovery +and the disappearance of the invisible stone. There was likewise always +a question of wrecks and of women crucified. Besides, Vorski was +acquainted with the inscription on the Fairies' Dolmen, about the thirty +victims destined for the thirty coffins, the martyrdom of the four +women, the God-Stone which gives life or death. What a number of +disturbing coincidences for a mind as weak as his!</p> + +<p>"But the prophecy itself, found by Maguennoc in the illuminated missal, +constitutes the essential factor of the whole story. Remember that +Maguennoc had torn out the famous page and that M. d'Hergemont, who was +fond of drawing, had copied it several times and had unconsciously given +to the principal woman the features of his daughter Véronique. Vorski +became aware of the existence of the original and of one of the copies +when he saw Maguennoc one night looking at them by the light of his +lamp. Immediately, in the darkness, he contrived somehow to pencil in +his note-book the fifteen lines of this precious document. He now knew +and understood everything. He was dazzled by a blinding light. All the +scattered elements were gathered into a whole, forming a compact and +solid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> truth. There was no doubt possible: the prophecy concerned <i>him</i>! +And it was <i>his</i> mission to realize it!</p> + +<p>"This, I repeat, is the essence of the whole matter. From that moment, +Vorski's path was lighted by a beacon. He held in his hand Ariadne's +clue of thread. The prophecy represented to him an unimpeachable text. +It was one of the Tables of the Law. It was the Bible. And yet think of +the stupidity, of the unspeakable silliness of those fifteen lines +scribbled at a venture, with no other motive than rhyme! Not a phrase +showing a sign of inspiration! Not a spark, not a gleam! Not a trace of +the sacred madness that uplifted the Delphian pythoness or provoked the +delirious visions of a Jeremiah or an Ezekiel! Nothing! Syllables, +rhymes! Nothing! Less than nothing! But quite enough to enlighten the +gentle Vorski and to make him burn with all the enthusiasm of a +neophyte!</p> + +<p>"Stéphane, Patrice, listen to the prophecy of Brother Thomas. The +Superhun wrote it down on ten different pages of his note-book, so that +he might wear it ten times next to his skin and engrave it in the very +substance of his being. Here's one of the pages. Stéphane, Patrice, +listen! Listen, O faithful Otto! And you yourself, Vorski, for the last +time listen to the doggerel of Brother Thomas! Listen as I read!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"In Sarek's isle, in year fourteen and three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There will be shipwrecks, terrors, grief and crimes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death-chambers, arrows, poison there will be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woe, four women crucified on tree!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thirty coffins victims thirty times.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>"Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The father then, coming forth of Almain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cruel prince, obeying destiny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thousand deaths and lingering agony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wedded wife one night of June hath slain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Fire and loud noise will issue from the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In secrecy where the great treasure lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And man again will on the stone set eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once stolen from wild men in byegone days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the sea; the God-Stone which gives life or death."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Don Luis Perenna had begun to read in emphatic tones, bringing out the +imbecility of the words and the triteness of the rhythm. He ended in a +hollow voice, without resonance, which died away in an anguished +silence. The whole adventure appeared in all its horror.</p> + +<p>He continued:</p> + +<p>"You understand how the facts are linked together, don't you Stéphane, +you who were one of the victims and who knew or know the others? So do +you, Patrice, don't you? In the fifteenth century, a poor monk, with a +disordered imagination and a brain haunted by infernal visions, +expresses his dreams in a prophecy which we will describe as bogus, +which rests on no serious data, which consists of details depending on +the exigencies of the rhyme or rhythm and which certainly, both in the +poet's mind and from the standpoint of originality, possesses no more +value than if the poet had drawn the words at random out of a bag. The +story of the God-Stone, the legends and traditions, none of all this +provides him with the least element of prophecy. The worthy man evolved +the prophecy from his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> own consciousness, not intending any harm and +simply to add a text of some sort to the margin of the devilish drawing +which he had so painstakingly illuminated. And he is so pleased with it +that he takes the trouble to take a pointed implement and engrave a few +lines of it on one of the stones of the Fairies' Dolmen.</p> + +<p>"Well, four or five centuries later, the prophetic page falls into the +hands of a Superhun, a criminal lunatic, a madman eaten up with vanity. +What does the Superhun see in it? A diverting puerile fantasy? A +meaningless caprice? Not a bit of it! He regards it as a document of the +highest interest, one of those documents which the most Superhunnish of +his fellowcountrymen love to pore over, with this difference, that the +document to his mind possesses a miraculous origin. He looks upon it as +the Old and New Testament, the Scriptures which explain and expound the +Sarek law, the very gospel of the God-Stone. And this gospel designates +him, Vorski, him, the Superhun, as the Messiah appointed to execute the +decrees of Providence.</p> + +<p>"To Vorski, there is no possibility of mistake. No doubt he enjoys the +business, because it is a matter of stealing wealth and power. But this +question occupies a secondary position. He is above all obeying the +mystic impulse of a race which believes itself to be marked out by +destiny and which flatters itself that it is always fulfilling missions, +a mission of regeneration as well as a mission of pillage, arson and +murder. And Vorski reads his mission set out in full in Brother Thomas' +prophecy. Brother Thomas says explicitly what has to be done and names +him, Vorski, in the plainest terms, as the man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> of destiny. Is he not a +king's son, in other words a 'prince of Almain?' Does he not come from +the country where the stone was stolen from the 'wild men o'er the sea?' +Has he not also a wife who is doomed, in the seer's prophecies, to the +torture of the cross? Has he not two sons, one gentle and gracious as +Abel, and the other wicked and uncontrolled as Cain?</p> + +<p>"These proofs are enough for him. He now has his mobilization-papers, +his marching-orders in his pocket. The gods have indicated the objective +upon which he is to march; and he marches. True, there are a few living +people in his path. So much the better; it is all part of the programme. +For it is after all these living people have been killed and, moreover, +killed in the manner announced by Brother Thomas that the task will be +done, the God-Stone released and Vorski, the instrument of destiny, +crowned king. Therefore, let's turn up our sleeves, take our trusty +butcher's knife in hand, and get to work! Vorski will translate Brother +Thomas' nightmare into real life!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">"CRUEL PRINCE, OBEYING DESTINY"</span></h2> + + +<p>Don Luis once more addressed himself to Vorski:</p> + +<p>"We're agreed, aren't we, Kamerad? All that I'm saying exactly expresses +the truth?"</p> + +<p>Vorski had closed his eyes, his head was drooping, and the veins on his +temple were immoderately swollen. To prevent any interference by +Stéphane, Don Luis exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"You will speak, my fine fellow! Ah, the pain is beginning to grow +serious, is it? The brain is giving way? . . . Remember, just one +whistle, a bar or two of <i>Tipperary</i> and I interrupt my speech . . . . +You won't? You're not ripe yet? So much the worse for you! . . . And +you, Stéphane, have no fear for François. I answer for everything. But +no pity for this monster, please! No, no and again no! Don't forget that +he prepared and contrived everything of his own free will! Don't forget +. . . But I'm getting angry. What's the use?"</p> + +<p>Don Luis unfolded the page of the note-book on which Vorski had written +down the prophecy and, holding it under his eyes, continued:</p> + +<p>"What remains to be said is not so important, once the general +explanation is accepted. Nevertheless, we must go into detail to some +slight extent, show the mechanism of the affair imagined and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> built up +by Vorski and lastly come to the part played by our attractive ancient +Druid . . . . So we are now in the month of June. This is the season +fixed for the execution of the thirty victims. It was evidently +appointed by Brother Thomas because the rhythm of his verse called for a +month in one syllable, just as the year fourteen and three was selected +because three rhymes with be and tree and just as Brother Thomas decided +upon the number of thirty victims because thirty is the number of the +Sarek reefs and coffins. But Vorski takes it as a definite command. +Thirty victims are needed in June '17. They will be provided. They will +be provided on condition that the twenty-nine inhabitants of Sarek—we +shall see presently that Vorski has his thirtieth victim handy—consent +to stay on the island and await their destruction. Well, Vorski suddenly +hears of the departure of Honorine and Maguennoc. Honorine will come +back in time. But how about Maguennoc? Vorski does not hesitate: he +sends Elfride and Conrad on his tracks, with instructions to kill him +and to wait. He hesitates the less because he believes, from certain +words which he has overheard, that Maguennoc has taken with him the +precious stone, the miraculous gem which must not be touched but which +must be left in its leaden sheath (this is the actual phrase used by +Maguennoc)!</p> + +<p>"Elfride and Conrad therefore set out. One morning, at an inn, Elfride +mixes poison with the coffee which Maguennoc is drinking (the prophecy +has stated that there will be poison). Maguennoc continues his journey. +But in an hour or two he is seized with intolerable pain and dies, +almost im<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>mediately, on the bank by the road-side. Elfride and Conrad +come up and go through his pockets. They find nothing, no gem, no +precious stone. Vorski's hopes have not been realized. All the same, the +corpse is there. What are they to do with it? For the time being, they +fling it into a half-demolished hut, which Vorski and his accomplices +had visited some months before. Here Véronique d'Hergemont discovers the +body . . . and an hour later fails to find it there. Elfride and Conrad, +keeping watch close at hand, have taken it away and hidden it, still for +the time being, in the cellars of a little empty country-house.</p> + +<p>"There's one victim accounted for. We may observe, in passing, that +Maguennoc's predictions relating to the order in which the thirty +victims are to be executed—beginning with himself—have no basis. The +prophecy doesn't mention such a thing. In any case, Vorski goes to work +at random. At Sarek he carries off François and Stéphane Maroux and +then, both as a measure of precaution and in order to cross the island +without attracting attention and to enter the Priory more easily, he +dresses himself in Stéphane's clothes, while Raynold puts on François'. +The job before them is an easy one. The only people in the house are an +old man, M. d'Hergemont, and a woman, Marie Le Goff. As soon as these +are got rid of, the rooms and Maguennoc's in particular will be +searched. Vorski, as yet unaware of the result of Elfride's expedition, +would not be surprised if Maguennoc had left the miraculous jewel at the +Priory.</p> + +<p>"The first to fall is the cook, Marie Le Goff, whom Vorski takes by the +throat and stabs with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> knife. But it so happens that the ruffian's +face gets covered with blood; and, seized with one of those fits of +cowardice to which he is subject, he runs away, after loosing Raynold +upon M. d'Hergemont.</p> + +<p>"The fight between the boy and the old man is a long one. It is +continued through the house and, by a tragic chance, ends before +Véronique d'Hergemont's eyes. M. d'Hergemont is killed. Honorine arrives +at the same moment. She drops, making the fourth victim.</p> + +<p>"Matters now begin to go quickly. Panic sets in during the night. The +people of Sarek, frightened out of their wits, seeing that Maguennoc's +predictions are being fulfilled and that the hour of the disaster which +has so long threatened their island is about to strike, make up their +minds to go. This is what Vorski and his son are waiting for. Taking up +their position in the motor-boat which they have stolen, they rush after +the runaways and the abominable hunt begins, the great disaster foretold +by Brother Thomas:</p> + +<p>"'There will be shipwrecks, terrors, grief and crimes.'</p> + +<p>"Honorine, who witnesses the scene and whose brain is already greatly +upset, goes mad and throws herself from the cliff.</p> + +<p>"Thereupon we have a lull of a few days, during which Véronique +d'Hergemont explores the Priory and the island without being disturbed. +As a matter of fact, after their successful hunt, leaving only Otto, who +spends his time drinking in the cells, the father and son have gone off +in the boat to fetch Elfride and Conrad and to bring back Maguennoc's +body and fling it in the water within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> sight of Sarek, since Maguennoc +of necessity has one of the thirty coffins earmarked for his reception.</p> + +<p>"At that moment, that is when he returns to Sarek, Vorski's bag numbers +twenty-four victims. Stéphane and François are prisoners, guarded by +Otto. The rest consists of four women reserved for crucifixion, +including the three sisters Archignat, all locked up in their +wash-house. It is their turn next. Véronique d'Hergemont tries to +release them, but it is too late. Waylaid by the band, shot at by +Raynold, who is an expert archer, the sisters Archignat are wounded by +arrows (for arrows, see the prophecy) and fall into the enemy's hands. +That same evening they are strung up on the three oaks, after Vorski has +first relieved them of the fifty thousand-franc notes which they carried +concealed on their persons. Total: twenty-nine victims. Who will be the +thirtieth? Who will be the fourth woman?"</p> + +<p>Don Luis paused and continued:</p> + +<p>"As to this, the prophecy speaks very plainly in two places, each of +which complements the other:</p> + +<p>"'Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain.'</p> + +<p>"And, a few lines lower down:</p> + +<p>"'His wedded wife one night in June hath slain.'</p> + +<p>"Vorski, from the moment when he became aware of this document, had +interpreted the two lines in his own fashion. Being, in fact, unable at +that time to dispose of Véronique, for whom he has vainly been hunting +all over France, he temporizes with the decrees of destiny. The fourth +woman to be tortured shall be a wife, but she shall be his first wife, +Elfride. And this will not be absolutely contrary to the prophecy, +which, if need be, can apply<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> to the mother of Cain just as well as to +the mother of Abel. And observe that the other prophecy, that which was +communicated to him by word of mouth in the old days, also failed to +specify the woman who was to die:</p> + +<p>"'Vorski's wife shall perish on the cross.'</p> + +<p>"Which wife? Elfride.</p> + +<p>"So his dear, devoted accomplice is to perish. It's terrible for Vorski; +it breaks his heart. But the god Moloch must be obeyed; and, considering +that Vorski, to accomplish his task, decided to sacrifice his son +Raynold, it would be inexcusable if he refused to sacrifice his wife +Elfride. So all will be well.</p> + +<p>"But, suddenly, a dramatic incident occurs. While pursuing the sisters +Archignat, he sees and recognizes Véronique d'Hergemont!</p> + +<p>"A man like Vorski could not fail to behold in this yet another favour +vouchsafed by the powers above. The woman whom he has never forgotten is +sent to him at the very moment when she is to take her place in the +great adventure. She is given to him as a miraculous victim which he can +destroy . . . or conquer. What a prospect! And how the heavens brighten +with unexpected light! Vorski loses his head. He becomes more and more +convinced that he is the Messiah, the chosen one, the apostle, +missionary, the man who is 'obeying destiny.' He is linked up with the +line of the high-priests, the guardians of the God-Stone. He is a Druid, +an arch-druid; and, as such, on the night when Véronique d'Hergemont +burns the bridge, on the sixth night after the moon, he goes and cuts +the sacred mistletoe with a golden sickle!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span>"And the siege of the Priory begins. I will not linger over this. +Véronique d'Hergemont has told you the whole story, Stéphane, and we +know her sufferings, the part played by the delightful All's Well, the +discovery of the underground passage and the cells, the fight for +François, the fight for you, Stéphane, whom Vorski imprisoned in one of +the torture-cells called 'death-chambers' in the prophecy. Here you are +surprised with Madame d'Hergemont. The young monster, Raynold, hurls you +into the sea. François and his mother escape. Unfortunately, Vorski and +his band succeed in reaching the Priory. François is captured. His +mother joins him. And then . . . and then the most tragic scenes ensue, +scenes upon which I will not enlarge: the interview between Vorski and +Véronique d'Hergemont, the duel between the two brothers, between Cain +and Abel, before Véronique d'Hergemont's very eyes. For the prophecy +insists upon it:</p> + +<p>"'Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain.'</p> + +<p>"And the prophecy likewise demands that she shall suffer beyond +expression and that Vorski shall be subtle in doing evil. 'A cruel +prince,' he puts marks on the two combatants; and, when Abel is on the +point of being defeated, he himself wounds Cain so that Cain may be +killed.</p> + +<p>"The monster is mad. He's mad and drunk. The climax is close at hand. He +drinks and drinks; for Véronique d'Hergemont's martyrdom is to take +place that evening:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0qa">"'By thousand deaths and lingering agony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wedded wife one night of June hath slain.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>"The thousand deaths Véronique has already undergone; and the agony will +be lingering. The hour comes. Supper, funeral procession, preparations, +the setting up of the ladder, the binding of the victim and then . . . +and then the ancient Druid!"</p> + +<p>Don Luis gave a hearty laugh as he uttered the last words:</p> + +<p>"Here, upon my word, things begin to get amusing! From this moment +onward, tragedy goes hand in hand with comedy, the gruesome with the +burlesque. Oh, that ancient Druid, what a caution! To you, Stéphane, and +you, Patrice, who were behind the scenes, the story is devoid of +interest. But to you, Vorski, what exciting revelations! . . . I say, +Otto, just put the ladder against the trunk of the tree, so that your +employer can rest his feet on the top rung. Is that easier for you, +Vorski? Mark you, my little attention does not come from any ridiculous +feeling of pity. Oh, dear, no! But I'm afraid that you might go phut; +and besides I want you to be in a comfortable position to listen to the +ancient Druid's confession."</p> + +<p>He had another burst of laughter. There was no doubt about it: the +ancient Druid was a great source of entertainment to Don Luis.</p> + +<p>"The ancient Druid's arrival," he said, "introduces order and reason +into the adventure. What was loose and vague becomes more compact. +Incoherent crime turns into logical punishment. We have no longer blind +obedience to Brother Thomas' doggerel, but the submission to common +sense, the rigorous method of a man who knows what he wants and who has +no time to lose. Really, the ancient Druid deserves all our admiration.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>"The ancient Druid, whom we may call either Don Luis Perenna or Arsène +Lupin—you suspect that, don't you?—knew very little of the story when +the periscope of his submarine, the <i>Crystal Stopper</i>, emerged in sight +of the coast of Sarek at mid-day yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Very little?" Stéphane Maroux cried, in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>"One might say, nothing," Don Luis declared.</p> + +<p>"What! All those facts about Vorski's past, all those precise details +about what he did at Sarek, about his plans and the part played by +Elfride and the poisoning of Maguennoc?"</p> + +<p>"I learnt all that here, yesterday," said Don Luis.</p> + +<p>"But from whom? We never left one another?"</p> + +<p>"Believe me when I say that the ancient Druid, when he landed yesterday +on the coast of Sarek, knew nothing at all. But the ancient Druid lays +claim to be at least as great a favourite of the gods as you are, +Vorski. And in fact he at once had the luck to see, on a lonely little +beach, our friend Stéphane, who himself had had the luck to fall into a +pretty deep pool of water and thus to escape the fate which you and your +son had prepared for him. Rescue-work, conversation. In half an hour, +the ancient Druid had the facts. Forthwith, investigations. He ended by +reaching the cells, where he found in yours, Vorski, a white robe which +he needed for his own use and a scrap of paper with a copy of the +prophecy written by yourself. Excellent. The ancient Druid knows the +enemy's plans.</p> + +<p>"He begins by following the tunnel down which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> François and his mother +fled, but is unable to pass because of the subsidence which has been +produced. He retraces his steps and comes out on the Black Heath. +Exploration of the island. Meeting with Otto and Conrad. The enemy burns +the foot-bridge. It is six o'clock in the evening. Query: how to get to +the Priory? Stéphane suggests, by the Postern path. The ancient Druid +returns to the <i>Crystal Stopper</i>. They circumnavigate the island under +the direction of Stéphane, who knows all the channels—and besides, my +dear Vorski, the <i>Crystal Stopper</i> is a very docile submarine. She can +slip in anywhere; the ancient Druid had her built to his own +designs—and at last they land at the spot where François' boat is +hanging. Here, meeting with All's Well, who is sleeping under the boat, +the ancient Druid introduces himself. Immediate display of sympathy. +They make a start. But, half-way up the ascent, All's Well branches off. +At this place the wall is the cliff is, so to speak, patched with +movable blocks of stone. In the middle of these stones is an opening, an +opening made by Maguennoc, as the ancient Druid discovered later, in +order to enter the hall of sacrifices and the mortuary crypts. Thus, the +ancient Druid finds himself in the thick of the plot, master above +ground and below. Only, it is eight o'clock in the evening.</p> + +<p>"As regards François, there is no immediate anxiety. The prophecy says, +'Abel kills Cain.' But Véronique d'Hergemont was to perish 'one night of +June.' Had she undergone the horrible martyrdom? Was it too late to +rescue her?"</p> + +<p>Don Luis turned to Stéphane:</p> + +<p>"You remember, Stéphane, the agony through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> which you and the ancient +Druid passed and your relief at discovering the tree prepared with the +inscription, 'V. d'H.' The tree has no victim on it yet. Véronique will +be saved; and in fact we hear a sound of voices coming from the Priory. +It is the grim procession. It slowly climbs the grassy slope amid the +thickening darkness. The lantern is waved. A halt is called. Vorski +spouts and holds forth. The last scene is at hand. Soon we shall rush to +the assault and Véronique will be delivered.</p> + +<p>"But here an incident occurs which will amuse you, Vorski. Yes, we make +a strange discovery, my friends and I: we find a woman prowling round +the dolmen, who hides as we come up. We seize her. Stéphane recognizes +her by the light of an electric torch. Do you know who it was, Vorski? I +give you a hundred guesses. Elfride! Yes, Elfride, your accomplice, the +one whom you meant to crucify at first! Curious, wasn't it? In an +extreme state of excitement, half crazy, she tells us that she consented +to the duel between the two boys on your promise that her son would be +the victor and kill Véronique's son. But you had locked her up, in the +morning; and, in the evening, when she succeeded in making her escape, +it was Raynold's dead body that she found. She has now come to be +present at the torture of the rival whom she detests and then to avenge +herself on you and kill you, my poor old chap.</p> + +<p>"A capital idea! The ancient Druid approves; and, while you go up to the +dolmen and Stéphane keeps an eye on you, he continues to question +Elfride. But, lo and behold, Vorski, at the sound of your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> voice, the +jade begins to kick! She veers round unexpectedly. Her master's voice +stimulates her to an unparalleled display of ardour. She wants to see +you, to warn you of your danger, to save you; and suddenly she makes a +rush at the ancient Druid with a dagger in her hand. The ancient Druid +is obliged, in self-defence, to knock her down, half-stunning her; and +the sight of this moribund woman at once suggests to him a means of +turning the incident to good account. The wretched creature is tied up +in the twinkling of an eye. The ancient Druid intends you yourself to +punish her, Vorski, and make her undergo the fate which you had reserved +for her before. So he slips his robe on Stéphane, gives him his +instructions, shoots an arrow in your direction the moment you come up +and, while you go running in pursuit of a white robe, does a +conjuring-trick and substitutes Elfride for Véronique, the first wife +for the second. How? That's my business. All you need know is that the +trick was played and succeeded to perfection!" Don Luis stopped to draw +breath. One would really have thought, from his familiar and +confidential tone, that he was telling Vorski an amusing story, a good +joke, which Vorski ought to be the first to laugh at.</p> + +<p>"That's not all," he continued. "Patrice Belval and some of my +Moors—you may as well know that we have eighteen of them on board—have +been working in the underground rooms. There's no getting away from the +prophecy. The moment the wife has expired</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0qa">"'Fire and loud noise will issue from the earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In secrecy where the great treasure lies.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>"Of course, Brother Thomas never knew where the great treasure lay, nor +did any one else. But the ancient Druid has guessed; and he wants Vorski +to receive his signal and to drop ready-roasted into his mouth. For this +he needs an outlet issuing near the Fairies' Dolmen. Captain Belval +looks for one and finds it. They clear an old stairway. They clear the +inside of the dead tree. They take from the submarine some +dynamite-cartridges and signal-rockets and place them in position. And, +when you, Vorski, from your perch, start proclaiming like a herald, +'She's dead! The fourth woman has died upon the cross!' bang, bang, +bang! Thunder, flame, uproar, the whole bag of tricks. That does it: you +are more and more the darling of the gods, the pet of destiny; and you +burn with the noble longing to fling yourself down the chimney and +gobble up the God-Stone. Next day, therefore, after sleeping off your +brandy and your rum, you start to work again, smiling. You killed your +thirty victims, according to the rites prescribed by Brother Thomas. You +have surmounted every obstacle. The prophecy is fulfilled.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0qa">"'And man again will on the stone set eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once stolen from wild men in bye-gone days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er sea: the God-stone which gives life or death.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"The ancient Druid has no choice but to give in and to hand you the key +of Paradise. But first, of course, a little interlude, a few capers and +wizard's tricks, just for a bit of fun. And then hey for the God-Stone +guarded by the Sleeping Beauty!"</p> + +<p>Don Luis nimbly cut a few of those capers of which he seemed so fond. +Then he said to Vorski:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>"Well, old chap, I have a vague impression that you've had enough of my +speech and that you would prefer to reveal François' hiding-place to me +at once, rather then stay here any longer. I'm awfully sorry, but you +really must learn how the matter stands with the Sleeping Beauty and the +unexpected presence of Véronique d'Hergemont. However, two minutes will +be sufficient. Pardon me."</p> + +<p>Dropping the character of the ancient Druid and speaking in his own +name, Don Luis continued:</p> + +<p>"What you want to know is why I took Véronique d'Hergemont to that place +after snatching her from your clutches. The answer is very simple. Where +would you have me take her? To the submarine? An absurd suggestion! The +sea was rough that night and Véronique needed rest. To the Priory? +Never! That would have been too far from the scene of operations and I +should have had no peace of mind. In reality there was only one place +sheltered from the storm and sheltered from attack; and that was the +hall of sacrifices. That was why I took her there and why she was +sleeping there, quietly, under the influence of a strong narcotic, when +you saw her. I confess that the pleasure of treating you to this +spectacle counted for something in my decision. And how splendidly I was +rewarded! Oh, if you could have seen the face you pulled! Such a ghastly +sight! Véronique raised from the dead! Véronique brought back to life! +So horrible was the vision that you ran away helter-skelter.</p> + +<p>"But to cut a long story short: you find the exit blocked. Thereupon you +change your mind. Conrad returns to the offensive. He attacks me by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> +stealth while I am preparing to move Véronique d'Hergemont to the +submarine. Conrad receives a mortal blow from one of the Moors. Second +comic interlude. Conrad, dressed up in the ancient Druid's robe, is laid +on the floor in one of the crypts; and of course your first thought is +to leap on him and wreak your vengeance on him. And, when you see +Elfride's body, which has taken the place of Véronique d'Hergemont in +the sacred table, whoosh . . . you jump on that too and reduce the woman +whom you have already crucified to a bleeding pulp! Blunder upon +blunder! And the end of the whole story likewise strikes a comic note. +You are strung up on the pillory while I deliver straight at you a +speech which does for you and which proves that, if you have won the +God-Stone by virtue of your thirty coffins, I am taking possession of it +by my own intrinsic virtue. There's the whole adventure for you, my dear +Vorski. Except for a few secondary incidents, or some others, of greater +importance, which there is no need for you to know, you know as much as +I do. You've been quite comfortable and have had lots of time to think. +So I am confidently expecting your answer about François. Come, out with +your little song:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0qa">"'It's a long, long way to Tipperary.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's a long way to go . . . .'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Well? Are you feeling in a chatty mood?"</p> + +<p>Don Luis had climbed a few rungs. Stéphane and Patrice had come near and +were anxiously listening. It was evident that Vorski meant to speak.</p> + +<p>He had opened his eyes and was staring at Don Luis with a look of +mingled hatred and fear. This<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> extraordinary man must have appeared to +him as one of those persons against whom it is absolutely useless to +fight and to whom it is equally useless to appeal for compassion. Don +Luis represented the conqueror; and, in the presence of one stronger +than yourself, there is nothing for it but to yield in all humility. +Besides, Vorski was incapable of further resistance. The torture was +becoming intolerable.</p> + +<p>He spoke a few words in an unintelligible voice.</p> + +<p>"A little louder, please," said Don Luis. "I can't hear. Where's +François?"</p> + +<p>He climbed the ladder. Vorski stammered:</p> + +<p>"Shall I be free?"</p> + +<p>"On my word of honour. We shall all leave this place, except Otto, who +will release you."</p> + +<p>"At once?"</p> + +<p>"At once."</p> + +<p>"Then . . ."</p> + +<p>"Then what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, François is alive."</p> + +<p>"You mutton-head. I know that. But where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Tied into the boat."</p> + +<p>"The one hanging at the foot of the cliff?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Don Luis struck his forehead with his hand:</p> + +<p>"Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! . . . Don't mind: I'm speaking of myself. Yes, I +ought to have guessed that! Why, All's Well was sleeping under the boat, +peacefully, like a good dog sleeping beside his master! Why, when we +sent All's Well on François' trail, he led Stéphane straight to the +boat. It's true enough, there are times when the cleverest of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> us behave +like simpletons! But you, Vorski, did you know that there was a way down +there and a boat?"</p> + +<p>"I knew it since yesterday."</p> + +<p>"And, you artful dog, you intended to skedaddle in her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, Vorski, you shall skedaddle in her, with Otto. I'll leave her for +you. Stéphane!"</p> + +<p>But Stéphane Maroux was already running towards the cliff, escorted by +All's Well.</p> + +<p>"Release him, Stéphane," cried Don Luis.</p> + +<p>And he added, addressing the Moors:</p> + +<p>"Help him, you others. And get the submarine under way. We shall sail in +ten minutes."</p> + +<p>He turned to Vorski:</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, my dear chap . . . . Oh, just one more word! Every +well-regulated adventure contains a love-story. Ours appears to be +without one, for I should never dare to allude to the feelings that +urged you towards the sainted woman who bore your name. And yet I must +tell you of a very pure and noble affection. Did you notice the +eagerness with which Stéphane flew to François' assistance? Obviously he +loves his young pupil, but he loves the mother still more. And, since +everything that pleases Véronique d'Hergemont is bound to please you, I +wish to admit that he is not indifferent to her, that his wonderful love +has touched her heart, that it was with real joy that she saw him +restored to her this morning and that this will all end in a wedding +. . . as soon as she's a widow, of course. You follow me, don't you? The +only obstacle to their happiness is yourself. Therefore, as you are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> a +perfect little gentleman, you will not like to . . . But I need not go +on. I rely on your good manners to die as soon as you can. Good-bye, old +fellow, I won't offer you my hand, but my heart's with you. Otto, in ten +minutes, unless you hear to the contrary, release your employer. You'll +find the boat at the bottom of the cliff. Good luck, my friends!"</p> + +<p>It was finished. The battle between Don Luis and Vorski was ended: and +the issue had not been in doubt for a single instant. From the first +minute, one of the two adversaries had so consistently dominated the +other, that the latter, in spite of all his daring and his training as a +criminal, had been nothing more than a grotesque, absurd, disjointed +puppet in his opponent's hands. After succeeding in the entire execution +of his plan, after attaining and surpassing his object, he, the master +of events, in the moment of victory, found himself suddenly strung up on +the tree of torture; and there he remained, gasping and captive like an +insect pinned to a strip of cork.</p> + +<p>Without troubling any further about his victims, Don Luis went off with +Patrice Belval, who could not help saying to him:</p> + +<p>"All the same, you're letting those vile scoundrels down very lightly!"</p> + +<p>"Pooh, it won't be long before they get themselves nabbed elsewhere," +said Don Luis, chuckling. "What do you expect them to do?"</p> + +<p>"Well, first of all, to take the God-Stone."</p> + +<p>"Out of the question! It would need twenty men to do that, with a +scaffolding and machinery. I myself am giving up the idea for the +present. I shall come back after the war."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>"But, look here, Don Luis, what is this miraculous stone?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, now you're asking something!" said Don Luis, without making further +reply.</p> + +<p>They set out; and Don Luis, rubbing his hands, said:</p> + +<p>"I worked the thing well. It's not much over twenty-four hours since we +landed at Sarek. And the riddle had lasted twenty-four centuries. One +century an hour. My congratulations, Lupin."</p> + +<p>"I should be glad to offer you mine, Don Luis," said Patrice Belval, +"but they are not worth as much as those of an expert like yourself."</p> + +<p>When they reached the sands of the little beach, François' boat had +already been lowered and was empty. Farther away, on the right, the +<i>Crystal Stopper</i> was floating on the calm sea. François came running up +to them, stopped a few yards from Don Luis and looked at him with +wide-open eyes:</p> + +<p>"I say," he murmured, "then it's you? It's you I was expecting?"</p> + +<p>"Faith," said Don Luis, laughing. "I don't know if you were expecting me +. . . but I'm sure it's me!"</p> + +<p>"You . . . you . . . Don Luis Perenna! . . . That is to say . . ."</p> + +<p>"Hush, no other names! Perenna's enough for me . . . . Besides, we won't +talk about me, if you don't mind. I was just a chance, a gentleman who +happened to drop in at the right moment. Whereas you . . . by Jove, +youngster, but you've done jolly well! . . . So you spent the night in +the boat?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, under the tarpaulin, lashed to the bottom and tightly gagged."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>"Uncomfortable?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I hadn't been there ten minutes when All's Well appeared. +So . . ."</p> + +<p>"But the man, the scoundrel: what had he threatened to do to you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. After the duel, while the others were attending to my +opponent, he brought me down here, pretending that he was going to take +me to mother and put us both on board the boat. Then, when we got to the +boat, he laid hold of me without a word."</p> + +<p>"Do you know the man? Do you know his name?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about him. All I can say is that he was persecuting us, +mother and me."</p> + +<p>"For reasons which I shall explain to you, François. In any case, you +have nothing to fear from him now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you haven't killed him?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I have put it out of his power to do any more harm. This will +all be explained to you; but I think that, for the moment, the most +urgent thing is that we should go to your mother."</p> + +<p>"Stéphane told me that she was resting over there, in the submarine, and +that you had saved her too. Does she expect me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; we had a talk last night, she and I, and I promised to find you. I +felt that she trusted me. All the same, Stéphane, you had better go +ahead and prepare her."</p> + +<p>The <i>Crystal Stopper</i> lay at the end of a reef of rocks which formed a +sort of natural jetty. Some ten or twelve Moors were running to and fro. +Two had drawn apart and were whispering together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> Two of them were +holding a gangway which Don Luis and François crossed a minute later.</p> + +<p>In one of the cabins, arranged as a drawing-room, Véronique lay +stretched on a couch. Her pale face bore the marks of the unspeakable +suffering which she had undergone. She seemed very weak, very weary. But +her eyes, full of tears, were bright with happiness.</p> + +<p>François rushed into her arms. She burst into sobs, without speaking a +word.</p> + +<p>Opposite them, All's Well, seated on his haunches, beat the air with his +fore-paws and looked at them, with his head a little on one side:</p> + +<p>"Mother," said François, "Don Luis is here."</p> + +<p>She took Don Luis' hand and pressed a long kiss upon it, while François +murmured:</p> + +<p>"You saved mother . . . . You saved us both . . . ."</p> + +<p>Don Luis interrupted him:</p> + +<p>"Will you give me pleasure, François? Well, don't thank me. If you +really want to thank somebody, there, thank your friend All's Well. He +does not look as if he had played a very important part in the piece. +And yet, compared with the scoundrel who persecuted you, he was the good +genius, always discreet, intelligent, modest and silent."</p> + +<p>"So are you!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am neither modest nor silent; and that's why I admire All's Well. +Here, All's Well, come along with me and, for goodness' sake, stop +sitting up! You might have to do it all night, for they will be shedding +tears together for hours, the mother and son . . . ."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> +<span class="smalltext">THE GOD-STONE</span></h2> + + +<p>The <i>Crystal Stopper</i> was running on the surface of the water. Don Luis +sat talking, with Stéphane, Patrice and All's Well, who were gathered +round him:</p> + +<p>"What a swine that Vorski is!" he said. "I've seen that breed of monster +before, but never one of his calibre."</p> + +<p>"Then, in that case . . ." Patrice Belval objected.</p> + +<p>"In that case?" echoed Don Luis.</p> + +<p>"I repeat what I've said already. You hold a monster in your hands and +you let him go free! To say nothing of its being highly immoral, think +of all the harm that he can do, that he inevitably will do! It's a heavy +responsibility to take upon yourself, that of the crimes which he will +still commit."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so too, Stéphane?" asked Don Luis.</p> + +<p>"I'm not quite sure what I think," replied Stéphane, "because, to save +François, I was prepared to make any concession. But, all the same +. . ."</p> + +<p>"All the same, you would rather have had another solution?"</p> + +<p>"Frankly, yes. So long as that man is alive and free, Madame d'Hergemont +and her son will have everything to fear from him."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span>"But what other solution was there? I promised him his liberty in return +for François' immediate safety. Ought I to have promised him only his +life and handed him over to the police?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said Captain Belval.</p> + +<p>"Very well. But, in that case, the police would institute enquiries, and +by discovering the fellow's real identity bring back to life the husband +of Véronique d'Hergemont and the father of François. Is that what you +want?"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" cried Stéphane, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," confessed Patrice Belval, a little uneasily. "No, that +solution is no better; but what astonishes me is that you, Don Luis, did +not hit upon the right one, the one which would have satisfied us all."</p> + +<p>"There was only one solution," Don Luis Perenna said, plainly. "There +was only one."</p> + +<p>"Which was that?"</p> + +<p>"Death."</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Then Don Luis resumed:</p> + +<p>"My friends, I did not form you into a court simply as a joke; and you +must not think that your parts as judges are played because the trial +seems to you to be over. It is still going on; and the court has not +risen. That is why I want you to answer me honestly: do you consider +that Vorski deserves to die?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," declared Patrice.</p> + +<p>And Stéphane approved:</p> + +<p>"Yes, beyond a doubt."</p> + +<p>"My friends," Don Luis continued, "your verdict is not sufficiently +solemn. I beseech you to utter it formally and conscientiously, as +though you were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> in the presence of the culprit. I ask you once more: +what penalty did Vorski deserve?"</p> + +<p>They raised their hands and, one after the other, answered:</p> + +<p>"Death."</p> + +<p>Don Luis whistled. One of the Moors ran up.</p> + +<p>"Two pairs of binoculars, Hadji."</p> + +<p>The man brought the glasses and Don Luis handed them to Stéphane and +Patrice:</p> + +<p>"We are only a mile from Sarek," he said. "Look towards the point: the +boat should have started."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Patrice, presently.</p> + +<p>"Do you see her, Stéphane?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, only . . ."</p> + +<p>"Only what?"</p> + +<p>"There's only one passenger."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Patrice, "only one passenger."</p> + +<p>They put down their binoculars and one of them said:</p> + +<p>"Only one has got away: Vorski evidently. He must have killed Otto, his +accomplice."</p> + +<p>"Unless Otto, his accomplice, has killed him," chuckled Don Luis.</p> + +<p>"What makes you say that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, remember the prophecy made to Vorski in his youth: 'Your wife will +die on the cross and you will be killed by a friend.'"</p> + +<p>"I doubt if a prediction is enough."</p> + +<p>"I have other proofs, though."</p> + +<p>"What proofs?"</p> + +<p>"They, my friends, form part of the last problem we shall have to +elucidate together. For instance, what is your idea of the manner in +which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> I substituted Elfride Vorski for Madame d'Hergemont?"</p> + +<p>Stéphane shook his head:</p> + +<p>"I confess that I never understood."</p> + +<p>"And yet it's so simple! When a gentleman in a drawing-room, in a white +tie and a tail-coat, performs conjuring-tricks or guesses your thoughts, +you say to yourself, don't you, that there must be some artifice beneath +it all, the assistance of a confederate? Well, you need seek no farther +where I'm concerned."</p> + +<p>"What, you had a confederate?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly."</p> + +<p>"But who was he?"</p> + +<p>"Otto."</p> + +<p>"Otto? But you never left us! You never spoke to him, surely?"</p> + +<p>"How could I have succeeded without his help? In reality, I had two +confederates in this business, Elfride and Otto, both of whom betrayed +Vorski, either out of revenge or out of greed. While you, Stéphane, were +luring Vorski past the Fairies' Dolmen, I accosted Otto. We soon struck +a bargain, at the cost of a few bank-notes and in return for a promise +that he would come out of the adventure safe and sound. Moreover I +informed him that Vorski had pouched the sisters Archignat's fifty +thousand francs."</p> + +<p>"How did you know that?" asked Stéphane.</p> + +<p>"Through my confederate number one, through Elfride, whom I continued to +question in a whisper while you were looking out for Vorski's coming and +who also, in a few brief words, told me what she knew of Vorski's +past."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>"When all is said, you only saw Otto that once."</p> + +<p>"Two hours later, after Elfride's death and after the fireworks in the +hollow oak, we had a second interview, under the Fairies' Dolmen. Vorski +was asleep, stupefied with drink, and Otto was mounting guard. You can +imagine that I seized the opportunity to obtain particulars of the +business and to complete my information about Vorski with the details +which Otto for two years had been secretly collecting about a chief whom +he detested. Then he unloaded Vorski's and Conrad's revolvers, or rather +he removed the bullets, while leaving the cartridges. Then he handed me +Vorski's watch and note-book, as well as an empty locket and a +photograph of Vorski's mother which Otto had stolen from him some months +before, things which helped me next day to play the wizard with the +aforesaid Vorski in the crypt where he found me. That is how Otto and I +collaborated."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Patrice, "but still you didn't ask him to kill +Vorski?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"In that case, how are we to know that . . ."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that Vorski did not end by discovering our collaboration, +which is one of the obvious causes of his defeat? And do you imagine +that Master Otto did not foresee this contingency? You may be sure that +there was no doubt of this: Vorski, once unfastened from his tree, would +have made away with his accomplice, both from motives of revenge and in +order to recover the sisters Archignat's fifty thousand francs. Otto got +the start of him. Vorski was there, helpless, lifeless, an easy prey. He +struck him a blow. I will go farther and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> say that Otto, who is a +coward, did not even strike him a blow. He will simply have left Vorski +on his tree. And so the punishment is complete. Are you appeased now, my +friends? Is your craving for justice satisfied?"</p> + +<p>Patrice and Stéphane were silent, impressed by the terrible vision which +Don Luis was conjuring up before their eyes.</p> + +<p>"There," he said, laughing, "I was right not to make you pronounce +sentence over there, when we were standing at the foot of the oak, with +the live man in front of us! I can see that my two judges might have +flinched a little at that moment. And so would my third judge, eh, All's +Well, you sensitive, tearful fellow? And I am like you, my friends. We +are not people who condemn and execute. But, all the same, think of what +Vorski was, think of his thirty murders and his refinements of cruelty +and congratulate me on having, in the last resort, chosen blind destiny +as his judge and the loathsome Otto as his responsible executioner. The +will of the gods be done!"</p> + +<p>The Sarek coast was making a thinner line on the horizon. It disappeared +in the mist in which sea and sky were merged.</p> + +<p>The three men were silent. All three were thinking of the isle of the +dead, laid waste by one man's madness, the isle of the dead where soon +some visitor would find the inexplicable traces of the tragedy, the +entrances to the tunnels, the cells with their "death-chambers," the +hall of the God-Stone, the mortuary crypts, Elfride's body, Conrad's +body, the skeletons of the sisters Archignat and, right at the end of +the island, near the Fairies' Dolmen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> where the prophecy of the thirty +coffins and the four crosses was written for all to read, Vorski's great +body, lonely and pitiable, mangled by the ravens and owls.</p> + +<hr class="thin" /> + +<p>A villa near Arcachon, in the pretty village of Les Moulleaux, whose +pine-trees run down to the shores of the gulf.</p> + +<p>Véronique is sitting in the garden. A week's rest and happiness have +restored the colour to her comely face and assuaged all evil memories. +She is looking with a smile at her son, who, standing a little way off, +is listening to and questioning Don Luis Perenna. She also looks at +Stéphane; and their eyes meet gently.</p> + +<p>It is easy to see that the affection in which they both hold the boy is +a link which unites them closely and which is strengthened by their +secret thoughts and their unuttered feelings. Not once has Stéphane +recalled the avowals which he made in the cell, under the Black Heath; +but Véronique has not forgotten them; and the profound gratitude which +she feels for the man who brought up her son is mingled with a special +emotion and an agitation of which she unconsciously savours the charm.</p> + +<p>That day, Don Luis, who, on the evening when the <i>Crystal Stopper</i> +brought them all to the Villa des Moulleaux, had taken the train for +Paris, arrived unexpectedly at lunch-time, accompanied by Patrice +Belval; and during the hour that they have been sitting in their +rocking-chairs in the garden, the boy, his face all pink with +excitement, has never ceased to question his rescuer:</p> + +<p>"And what did you do next? . . . But how did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> you know? . . . And what +put you on the track of that?"</p> + +<p>"My darling," says Véronique, "aren't you afraid of boring Don Luis?"</p> + +<p>"No, madame," replies Don Luis, rising, going up to Véronique and +speaking in such a way that the boy cannot hear, "no, François is not +boring me; and in fact I like answering his questions. But I confess +that he perplexes me a little and that I am afraid of saying something +awkward. Tell me, how much exactly does he know of the whole story?"</p> + +<p>"As much as I know myself, except Vorski's name, of course."</p> + +<p>"But does he know the part which Vorski played?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but with certain differences. He thinks that Vorski is an escaped +prisoner who picked up the legend of Sarek and, in order to get hold of +the God-Stone, proceeded to carry out the prophecy touching it. I have +kept some of the lines of the prophecy from François."</p> + +<p>"And the part played by Elfride? Her hatred for you? The threats she +made you?"</p> + +<p>"Madwoman's talk, I told François, of which I myself did not understand +the meaning."</p> + +<p>Don Luis smiled:</p> + +<p>"The explanation is a little arbitrary; and I have a notion that +François quite well understands that certain parts of the tragedy remain +and must remain obscure to him. The great thing, don't you think, is +that he should not know that Vorski was his father?"</p> + +<p>"He does not know and he never will."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span>"And then—and this is what I was coming to—what name will he bear +himself?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Whose son will he believe himself to be? For you know as well as I do +that the legal reality is this, that François Vorski died fifteen years +ago, drowned in a shipwreck, and his grandfather with him. And Vorski +died last year, stabbed by a fellow-prisoner. Neither of them is alive +in the eyes of the law. So . . ."</p> + +<p>Véronique nodded her head and smiled:</p> + +<p>"So I don't know. The position seems to me, as you say, incapable of +explanation. But everything will come out all right."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because you're here to do it."</p> + +<p>It was his turn to smile:</p> + +<p>"I can no longer take credit for the actions which I perform or the +steps which I take. Everything is arranging itself <i>a priori</i>. Then why +worry?"</p> + +<p>"Am I not right to?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, gravely. "The woman who has suffered all that you have +must not be subjected to the least additional annoyance. And nothing +shall happen to her after this, I swear. So what I suggest to you is +this: long ago, you married against your father's wish a very distant +cousin, who died after leaving you a son, François. This son your +father, to be revenged upon you, kidnapped and brought to Sarek. At your +father's death, the name of d'Hergemont became extinct and there is +nothing to recall the events of your marriage."</p> + +<p>"But my name remains. Legally, in the official records, I am Véronique +d'Hergemont."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span>"Your maiden name disappears under your married name."</p> + +<p>"You mean under that of Vorski."</p> + +<p>"No, because you did not marry that fellow Vorski, but one of your +cousins called . . ."</p> + +<p>"Called what?"</p> + +<p>"Jean Maroux. Here is a stamped certificate of your marriage to Jean +Maroux, a marriage mentioned in your official records, as this other +document shows."</p> + +<p>Véronique looked at Don Luis in amazement:</p> + +<p>"But why? Why that name?"</p> + +<p>"Why? So that your son may be neither d'Hergemont, which would have +recalled past events, nor Vorski, which would have recalled the name of +a traitor. Here is his birth-certificate, as François Maroux."</p> + +<p>She repeated, all blushing and confused:</p> + +<p>"But why did you choose just that name?"</p> + +<p>"It seemed easy for François. It's the name of Stéphane, with whom +François will go on living for some time. We can say that Stéphane was a +relation of your husband's; and this will explain the intimacy +generally. That is my plan. It presents, believe me, no possible danger. +When one is confronted by an inexplicable and painful position like +yours, one must needs employ special means and resort to drastic and, I +admit, very illegal measures. I did so without scruple, because I have +the good fortune to dispose of resources which are not within +everybody's reach. Do you approve of what I have done?"</p> + +<p>Véronique bent her head:</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "yes."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>He half-rose from his seat:</p> + +<p>"Besides," he added, "if there should be any drawbacks, the future will +no doubt take upon itself the burden of removing them. It would be +enough, for instance—there is no indiscretion, is there, in alluding to +the feelings which Stéphane entertains for François' mother?—it would +be enough if, one day or another, for reasons of common-sense, or +reasons of gratitude, François' mother were moved to accept the homage +of those feelings. How much simpler everything will be if François +already bears the name of Maroux! How much more easily the past will be +abolished, both for the outside world and for François, who will no +longer be able to pry into the secret of bygone events which there will +be nothing to recall to memory. It seemed to me that these were rather +weighty arguments. I am glad to see that you share my opinion."</p> + +<p>Don Luis bowed to Véronique and, without insisting any further, without +appearing to notice her confusion, turned to François and explained:</p> + +<p>"I'm at your orders now, young man. And, since you don't want to leave +anything unexplained, let's go back to the God-Stone and the scoundrel +who coveted its possession. Yes, the scoundrel," repeated Don Luis, +seeing no reason not to speak of Vorski with absolute frankness, "and +the most terrible scoundrel that I have ever met with, because he +believed in his mission; in short, a sick-brained man, a lunatic . . ."</p> + +<p>"Well, first of all," François observed, "what I don't understand is +that you waited all night to capture him, when he and his accomplices +were sleeping under the Fairies' Dolmen."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>"Well done, youngster," said Don Luis, laughing, "you have put your +finger on a weak point! If I had acted as you suggest, the tragedy would +have been finished twelve or fifteen hours earlier. But think, would you +have been released? Would the scoundrel have spoken and revealed your +hiding-place? I don't think so. To loosen his tongue I had to keep him +simmering. I had to make him dizzy, to drive him mad with apprehension +and anguish and to convince him by means of a mass of proofs, that he +was irretrievably defeated. Otherwise he would have held his tongue and +we might perhaps not have found you. . . . . Besides, at that time, my +plan was not very clear, I did not quite know how to wind up; and it was +not until much later that I thought not of submitting him to violent +torture—I am incapable of that—but of tying him to that tree on which +he wanted to let your mother die. So that, in my perplexity and +hesitation, I simply yielded, in the end, to the wish—the rather +puerile wish, I blush to confess—to carry out the prophecy to the end, +to see how the missionary would behave in the presence of the ancient +Druid, in short to amuse myself. After all, the adventure was so dark +and gloomy that a little fun seemed to me essential. And I laughed like +blazes. That was wrong. I admit it and I apologize."</p> + +<p>The boy was laughing too. Don Luis, who was holding him between his +knees, kissed him and asked:</p> + +<p>"Do you forgive me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, on condition that you answer two more questions. The first is not +important."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span>"Ask away."</p> + +<p>"It's about the ring. Where did you get that ring which you put first on +mother's finger and afterwards on Elfride's?"</p> + +<p>"I made it that same night, in a few minutes, out of an old wedding-ring +and some coloured stones."</p> + +<p>"But the scoundrel recognized it as having belonged to his mother."</p> + +<p>"He thought he recognized it; and he thought it because the ring was +like the other."</p> + +<p>"But how did you know that? And how did you learn the story?"</p> + +<p>"From himself."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean that?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do! From words that escaped him while he was sleeping under +the Fairies' Dolmen. A drunkard's nightmare. Bit by bit he told the +whole story of his mother. Elfride knew a good part of it besides. You +see how simple it is and how my luck stood by me!"</p> + +<p>"But the riddle of the God-Stone is not simple," François cried, "and +you deciphered it! People have been trying for centuries and you took a +few hours!"</p> + +<p>"No, a few minutes, François. It was enough for me to read the letter +which your grandfather wrote about it to Captain Belval. I sent your +grandfather by post all the explanations as to the position and the +marvellous nature of the God-Stone."</p> + +<p>"Well," cried the boy, "it's those explanations that I'm asking of you, +Don Luis. This is my last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> question, I promise you. What made people +believe in the power of the God-Stone? And what did that so-called power +consist of exactly?"</p> + +<p>Stéphane and Patrice drew up their chairs. Véronique sat up and +listened. They all understood that Don Luis had waited until they were +together before rending the veil of the mystery before their eyes.</p> + +<p>He began to laugh:</p> + +<p>"You mustn't hope for anything sensational," he said. "A mystery is +worth just as much as the darkness in which it is shrouded; and, as we +have begun by dispelling the darkness, nothing remains but the fact +itself in its naked reality. Nevertheless the facts in this case are +strange and the reality is not denuded of a certain grandeur."</p> + +<p>"It must needs be so," said Patrice Belval, "seeing that the reality +left so miraculous a legend in the isle of Sarek and even all over +Brittany."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Don Luis, "and a legend so persistent that it influences us +to this day and that not one of you has escaped the obsession of the +miraculous."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" protested Patrice. "I don't believe in miracles."</p> + +<p>"No more do I," said the boy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do, you believe in them, you accept miracles as possible. If +not, you would long ago have seen the whole truth."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>Don Luis picked a magnificent rose from a tree by his side and asked +François:</p> + +<p>"Is it possible for me to transform this rose, whose proportions, as it +is, are larger than those a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> rose often attains, into a flower double +the size and this rose-tree into a shrub twice as tall?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said François.</p> + +<p>"Then why did you admit, why did you all admit that Maguennoc could +achieve that result, merely by digging up earth in certain parts of the +island, at certain fixed hours? That was a miracle; and you accepted it +without hesitation, unconsciously."</p> + +<p>Stéphane objected:</p> + +<p>"We accept what we saw with our eyes."</p> + +<p>"But you accepted it as a miracle, that is to say, as a phenomenon which +Maguennoc produced by special and, truth to tell, by supernatural means. +Whereas I, when I read this detail in M. d'Hergemont's letter, at +once—what shall I say?—caught on. I at once established the connection +between those monstrous blossoms and the name borne by the Calvary of +the flowers. And my conviction was immediate: 'No, Maguennoc is not a +wizard. He simply cleared a piece of uncultivated land around the +Calvary; and all he had to do, to produce abnormal flowers, was to bring +along a layer of mould. So the God-Stone is underneath; the God-Stone +which, in the middle-ages, produced the same abnormal flowers; the +God-Stone, which, in the days of the Druids, healed the sick and +strengthened children.'"</p> + +<p>"Therefore," said Patrice, "there is a miracle."</p> + +<p>"There is a miracle if we accept the supernatural explanation. There is +a natural phenomenon if we look for it and if we find the physical cause +capable of giving rise to the apparent miracle."</p> + +<p>"But those physical causes don't exist! They are not present."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span>"They exist, because you have seen monstrous flowers."</p> + +<p>"Then there is a stone," asked Patrice, almost chaffingly, "which can +naturally give health and strength? And that stone is the God-Stone?"</p> + +<p>"There is not a particular, individual stone. But there are stones, +blocks of stone, rocks, hills and mountains of rock, which contain +mineral veins formed of various metals, oxides of uranium, silver, lead, +copper, nickel, cobalt and so on. And among these metals are some which +emit a special radiation, endowed with peculiar properties known as +radioactivity. These veins are veins of pitchblende which are found +hardly anywhere in Europe except in the north of Bohemia and which are +worked near the little town of Joachimsthal. And those radioactive +bodies are uranium, thorium, helium and chiefly, in the case which we +are considering . . ."</p> + +<p>"Radium," François interrupted.</p> + +<p>"You've said it, my boy: radium. Phenomena of radioactivity occur more +or less everywhere; and we may say that they are manifested throughout +nature, as in the healing action of thermal springs. But plainly +radioactive bodies like radium possess more definite properties. For +instance, there is no doubt that the rays and the emanation of radium +exercise a power over the life of plants, a power similar to that caused +by the passage of an electric current. In both cases, the stimulation of +the nutritive centres makes the elements required by the plant more easy +to assimilate and promotes its growth. In the same way, there is no +doubt that the radium rays are capable of exercising a physiological +action<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> on living tissues, by producing more or less profound +modifications, destroying certain cells and contributing to develop +other cells and even to control their evolution. Radiotherapy claims to +have healed or improved numerous cases of rheumatism of the joints, +nervous troubles, ulceration, eczema, tumours and adhesive cicatrices. +In short radium is a really effective therapeutic agent."</p> + +<p>"So," said Stéphane, "you regard the God-Stone . . ."</p> + +<p>"I regard the God-Stone as a block of radiferous pitchblende originating +from the Joachimsthal lodes. I have long known the Bohemian legend which +speaks of a miraculous stone that was once removed from the side of a +hill; and, when I was travelling in Bohemia, I saw the hole left by the +stone. It corresponds pretty accurately with the dimensions of the +God-Stone."</p> + +<p>"But," Stéphane objected, "radium is contained in rocks only in the form +of infinitesimal particles. Remember that, after a mass of fourteen +hundred tons of rock have been duly mined and washed and treated, there +remains at the end of it all only a filtrate of some fifteen grains of +radium. And you attribute a miraculous power to the God-Stone, which +weighs two tons at most!"</p> + +<p>"But it evidently contains radium in appreciable quantities. Nature has +not pledged herself to be always niggardly and invariably to dilute the +radium. She was pleased to accumulate in the God-Stone a generous supply +which enabled it to produce the apparently extraordinary phenomena which +we know of . . . not forgetting that we have to allow for popular +exaggeration."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span>Stéphane seemed to be yielding to conviction. Nevertheless he said:</p> + +<p>"One last point. Apart from the God-Stone, there was the little chip of +stone which Maguennoc found in the leaden sceptre, the prolonged touch +of which burnt his hand. According to you, this was a particle of +radium?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly. And it is this perhaps that most clearly reveals the +presence and the power of radium in all this adventure. When Henri +Becquerel, the great physicist, kept a tube containing a salt of radium +in his waistcoat-pocket, his skin became covered in a few days with +suppurating ulcers. Curie repeated the experiment, with the same result. +Maguennoc's case was more serious, because he held the particle of +radium in his hand. A wound formed which had a cancerous appearance. +Scared by all that he knew and all that he himself had said about the +miraculous stone which burns like hell-fire and 'gives life or death,' +he chopped off his hand."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Stéphane, "but where did that particle of pure radium +come from? It can't have been a chip of the God-Stone, because, once +again, however rich a mineral may be, radium is incorporated in it, not +in isolated grains, but in a soluble form, which has to be dissolved and +afterwards collected, by a series of mechanical operations, into a +solution rich enough to enable successive crystallizations and +concentrations to isolate the active product which the solution +contains. All this and a number of other later operations demand an +enormous plant, with workshops, laboratories, expert chemists, in short, +a very different state of civilization, you must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> admit, from the state +of barbarism in which our ancestors the Celts were immersed."</p> + +<p>Don Luis smiled and tapped the young man on the shoulder:</p> + +<p>"Hear, hear, Stéphane! I am glad to see that François' friend and tutor +has a far-seeing and logical mind. The objection is perfectly valid and +suggested itself to me at once. I might reply by putting forward some +quite legitimate theory, I might presume a natural means of isolating +radium and imagine that, in a geological fault occurring in the granite, +at the bottom of a big pocket containing radiferous ore, a fissure has +opened through which the waters of the river slowly trickle, carrying +with them infinitesimal quantities of radium; that the waters so charged +flow for a long time in a narrow channel, combine again, become +concentrated and, after centuries upon centuries, filter through in +little drops, which evaporate at once, and form at the point of +emergence a tiny stalactite, exceedingly rich in radium, the tip of +which is broken off one day by some Gallic warrior. But is there any +need to seek so far and to have recourse to hypotheses? Cannot we rely +on the unaided genius and the inexhaustible resources of nature? Does it +call for a more wonderful effort on her part to evolve by her own +methods a particle of pure radium than to make a cherry ripen or to make +this rose bloom . . . or to give life to our delightful All's Well? What +do you say, young François? Do we agree?"</p> + +<p>"We always agree," replied the boy.</p> + +<p>"So you don't unduly regret the miracle of the God-Stone?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the miracle still exists!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span>"You're right, François, it still exists and a hundred times more +beautiful and dazzling than before. Science does not kill miracles: it +purifies them and ennobles them. What was that crafty, capricious, +wicked, incomprehensible little power attached to the tip of a magic +wand and acting at random, according to the ignorant fancy of a +barbarian chief or Druid, what was it, I ask you, beside the beneficent, +logical, reliable and quite as miraculous power which we behold to-day +in a pinch of radium?"</p> + +<p>Don Luis suddenly interrupted himself and began to laugh:</p> + +<p>"Come, come, I'm allowing myself to be carried away and singing an ode +to science! Forgive me, madame," he added, rising and going up to +Véronique, "and tell me that I have not bored you too much with my +explanations. I haven't, have I? Not too much? Besides, it's finished +. . . or nearly finished. There is only one more point to make clear, +one decision to take."</p> + +<p>He sat down beside her:</p> + +<p>"It's this. Now that we have won the God-Stone, in other words, an +actual treasure, what are we going to do with it?"</p> + +<p>Véronique spoke with a heartfelt impulse:</p> + +<p>"Oh, as to that, don't let us speak of it! I don't want anything that +may come from Sarek, or anything that's found in the Priory. We will +work."</p> + +<p>"Still, the Priory belongs to you."</p> + +<p>"No, no, Véronique d'Hergemont no longer exists and the Priory no longer +belongs to any one. Let it all be put up to auction. I don't want +anything of that accursed past."</p> + +<p>"And how will you live?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span>"As I used to by my work. I am sure that François approves, don't you, +darling?"</p> + +<p>And, with an instinctive movement, turning to Stéphane, as though he had +a certain right to give his opinion, she added:</p> + +<p>"You too approve, don't you, dear Stéphane?"</p> + +<p>"Entirely," he said.</p> + +<p>She at once went on:</p> + +<p>"Besides, though I don't doubt my father's feelings of affection, I have +no proof of his wishes towards me."</p> + +<p>"I have the proofs," said Don Luis.</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Patrice and I went back to Sarek. In a writing-desk in Maguennoc's +room, in a secret drawer, we found a sealed, but unaddressed envelope, +and opened it. It contained a bond worth ten thousand francs a year and +a sheet of paper which read as follows:</p> + +<p>"'After my death, Maguennoc will hand this bond to Stéphane Maroux, to +whom I confide the charge of my grandson, François. When François is +eighteen years of age, the bond will be his to do what he likes with. I +hope and trust, however, that he will seek his mother and find her and +that she will pray for my soul. I bless them both.'</p> + +<p>"Here is the bond," said Don Luis, "and here is the letter. It is dated +April of this year."</p> + +<p>Véronique was astounded. She looked at Don Luis and the thought occurred +to her that all this was perhaps merely a story invented by that strange +man to place her and her son beyond the reach of want. It was a passing +thought. When all was considered, it was a natural consequence. +Every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span>thing said, M. d'Hergemont's action was very reasonable; and, +foreseeing the difficulties that would crop up after his death, it was +only right that he should think of his grandson. She murmured:</p> + +<p>"I have not the right to refuse."</p> + +<p>"You have so much the less right," said Don Luis, "in that the +transaction excludes you altogether. Your father's wishes affect +François and Stéphane directly. So we are agreed. There remains the +God-Stone; and I repeat my question. What are we to do with it? To whom +does it belong?"</p> + +<p>"To you," said Véronique, definitely.</p> + +<p>"To me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to you. You discovered it and you have given it a real +signification."</p> + +<p>"I must remind you," said Don Luis, "that this block of stone possesses, +beyond a doubt, an incalculable value. However great the miracles +wrought by nature may be, it is only through a wonderful concourse of +circumstances that she was able to perform the miracle of collecting so +much precious matter in so small a volume. There are treasures and +treasures there."</p> + +<p>"So much the better," said Véronique, "you will be able to make a better +use of them than any one else."</p> + +<p>Don Luis thought for a moment and added:</p> + +<p>"You are quite right; and I confess that I prepared for this climax. +First, because my right to the God-Stone seemed to me to be proved by +adequate titles of ownership; and, next, because I have need of that +block of stone. Yes, upon my word, the tombstone of the Kings of Bohemia +has not ex<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span>hausted its magic power; there are plenty of nations left on +whom that power might produce as great an effect as on our ancestors the +Gauls; and, as it happens, I am tackling a formidable undertaking in +which an assistance of this kind will be invaluable to me. In a few +years, when my task is completed, I will bring the God-Stone back to +France and present it to a national laboratory which I intend to found. +In this way science will purge any evil that the God-Stone may have done +and the horrible adventure of Sarek will be atoned for. Do you approve, +madame?"</p> + +<p>She gave him her hand:</p> + +<p>"With all my heart."</p> + +<p>There was a fairly long pause. Then Don Luis said:</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, a horrible adventure, too terrible for words. I have had some +gruesome adventures in my life which have left painful memories behind +them. But this outdoes them all. It exceeds anything that is possible in +reality or human in suffering. It was so excessively logical as to +become illogical; and this because it was the act of a madman . . . and +also because it came to pass at a season of madness and bewilderment. It +was the war which facilitated the safe silent committal of an obscure +crime prepared and executed by a monster. In times of peace, monsters +have not the time to realize their stupid dreams. To-day, in that +solitary island, this particular monster found special, abnormal +conditions . . ."</p> + +<p>"Please don't let us talk about all this," murmured Véronique, in a +trembling voice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span>Don Luis kissed her hand and then took All's Well and lifted him in his +arms:</p> + +<p>"You're right. Don't let's talk about it, or else tears would come and +All's Well would be sad. Therefore, All's Well, my delightful All's +Well, let us talk no more of the dreadful adventure. But all the same +let us recall certain episodes which were beautiful and picturesque. For +instance, Maguennoc's garden with the gigantic flowers; you will +remember it as I shall, won't you, All's Well? And the legend of the +God-Stone, the idyll of the Celtic tribes wandering with the memorial +stone of their kings, the stone all vibrant with radium, emitting an +incessant bombardment of vivifying and miraculous atoms; all that, All's +Well, possesses a certain charm, doesn't it? Only, my most exquisite +All's Well, if I were a novelist and if it were my duty to tell the +story of Coffin Island, I should not trouble too much about the horrid +truth and I should give you a much more important part. I should do away +with the intervention of that phrase-mongering humbug of a Don Luis and +you would be the fearless and silent rescuer. You would fight the +abominable monster, you would thwart his machinations and, in the end, +you, with your marvellous instinct, would punish vice and make virtue +triumph. And it would be much better so, because none would be more +capable than you, my delightful All's Well, of demonstrating by a +thousand proofs, each more convincing than the other, that in this life +of ours all things come right and all's well."</p> + + +<p class="center newchapter">THE END</p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<p class="center bigtext"><b>Popular Copyright Novels</b></p> + +<p class="center"><i>AT MODERATE PRICES</i></p> + +<p class="center">Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of A. L. Burt Company's Popular +Copyright Fiction</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.</p> +<p class="title"><b>After House, The.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Ailsa Paige.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Alton of Somasco.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Amateur Gentleman, The.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Anna, the Adventuress.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Anne's House of Dreams.</b> By L. M. Montgomery.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Around Old Chester.</b> By Margaret Deland.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Athalie.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>At the Mercy of Tiberius.</b> By Augusta Evans Wilson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Auction Block, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Aunt Jane of Kentucky.</b> By Eliza C. Hall.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Awakening of Helena Richie.</b> By Margaret Deland.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Bab: a Sub-Deb.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Barrier, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Barbarians.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Bargain True, The.</b> By Nalbro Bartley.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Bar 20.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Bar 20 Days.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Bars of Iron, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Beasts of Tarzan, The.</b> By Edgar Rice Burroughs.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Beloved Traitor, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Beltane the Smith.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Betrayal, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Beyond the Frontier.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Big Timber.</b> By Bertrand W. Sinclair.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Black Is White.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Blind Man's Eyes, The.</b> By Wm. MacHarg and Edwin Balmer.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Bob, Son of Battle.</b> By Alfred Ollivant.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Boston Blackie.</b> By Jack Boyle.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Boy with Wings, The.</b> By Berta Ruck.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Brandon of the Engineers.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Broad Highway, The.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Brown Study, The.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Bruce of the Circle, A.</b> By Harold Titus.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Buck Peters, Ranchman.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Business of Life, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Cabbages and Kings.</b> By O. Henry.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cabin Fever.</b> By B. M. Bower.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Calling of Dan Matthews, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cape Cod Stories.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cap'n Abe, Storekeeper.</b> By James A. Cooper.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cap'n Dan's Daughter.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cap'n Eri.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cap'n Jonah's Fortune.</b> By James A. Cooper.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cap'n Warren's Wards.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Chain of Evidence, A.</b> By Carolyn Wells.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Chief Legatee, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cinderella Jane.</b> By Marjorie B. Cooke.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cinema Murder, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>City of Masks, The.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cleek of Scotland Yard.</b> By T. W. Hanshew.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cleek, The Man of Forty Faces.</b> By Thomas W. Hanshew.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cleek's Government Cases.</b> By Thomas W. Hanshew.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Clipped Wings.</b> By Rupert Hughes.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Clue, The.</b> By Carolyn Wells.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Clutch of Circumstance, The.</b> By Marjorie Benton Cooke.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Coast of Adventure, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Coming of Cassidy, The.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Coming of the Law, The.</b> By Chas. A. Seltzer.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Conquest of Canaan, The.</b> By Booth Tarkington.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Conspirators, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Court of Inquiry, A.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cow Puncher, The.</b> By Robert J. C. Stead.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Crimson Gardenia, The, and Other Tales of Adventure.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cross Currents.</b> By Author of "Pollyanna."</p> +<p class="title"><b>Cry in the Wilderness, A.</b> By Mary E. Waller.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Danger, And Other Stories.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Dark Hollow, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Dark Star, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Daughter Pays, The.</b> By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Day of Days, The.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Depot Master, The.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Desired Woman, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Destroying Angel, The.</b> By Louis Jos. Vance.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Devil's Own, The.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Double Traitor, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Empty Pockets.</b> By Rupert Hughes.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Eyes of the Blind, The.</b> By Arthur Somers Roche.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Eye of Dread, The.</b> By Payne Erskine.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Eyes of the World, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright</p> +<p class="title"><b>Extricating Obadiah.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Felix O'Day.</b> By F. Hopkinson Smith.</p> +<p class="title"><b>54-40 or Fight.</b> By Emerson Hough.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Fighting Chance, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Fighting Shepherdess, The.</b> By Caroline Lockhart</p> +<p class="title"><b>Financier, The.</b> By Theodore Dreiser.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Flame, The.</b> By Olive Wadsley.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Flamsted Quarries.</b> By Mary E. Wallar.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Forfeit, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Four Million, The.</b> By O. Henry.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Fruitful Vine, The.</b> By Robert Hichens.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Further Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Girl of the Blue Ridge, A.</b> By Payne Erskine.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Girl from Keller's, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Girl Philippa, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Girls at His Billet, The.</b> By Berta Ruck.</p> +<p class="title"><b>God's Country and the Woman.</b> By James Oliver Curwood.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Going Some.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Golden Slipper, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Golden Woman, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Greater Love Hath No Man.</b> By Frank L. Packard.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Greyfriars Bobby.</b> By Eleanor Atkinson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Gun Brand, The.</b> By James B. Hendryx.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Halcyone.</b> By Elinor Glyn.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Hand of Fu-Manchu, The.</b> By Sax Rohmer.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Havoc.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Heart of the Desert The.</b> By Honoré Willsie.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Heart of the Hills, The.</b> By John Fox, Jr.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Heart of the Sunset.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Heart of Thunder Mountain, The.</b> By Edfrid A. Bingham.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Her Weight in Gold.</b> By Geo. B. McCutcheon.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Hidden Children, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Hidden Spring, The.</b> By Clarence B. Kelland.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Hillman, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Hills of Refuge, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> +<p class="title"><b>His Official Fiancee.</b> By Berta Ruck.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Honor of the Big Snows.</b> By James Oliver Curwood.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Hopalong Cassidy.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Hound from the North, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>House of the Whispering Pines, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Hugh Wynne, Free Quaker.</b> By S. Weir Mitchell, M.D.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>I Conquered.</b> By Harold Titus.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Illustrious Prince, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>In Another Girl's Shoes.</b> By Berta Ruck.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Indifference of Juliet, The.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Infelice.</b> By Augusta Evans Wilson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Initials Only.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Inner Law, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Innocent.</b> By Marie Corelli.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu, The.</b> By Sax Rohmer.</p> +<p class="title"><b>In the Brooding Wild.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Intriguers, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Iron Trail, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Iron Woman, The.</b> By Margaret Deland.</p> +<p class="title"><b>I Spy.</b> By Natalie Sumner Lincoln.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Japonette.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Jean of the Lazy A.</b> By B. M. Bower.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Jeanne of the Marshes.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Jennie Gerhardt.</b> By Theodore Dreiser.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Judgment House, The.</b> By Gilbert Parker.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Keeper of the Door, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Keith of the Border.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Kent Knowles: Quahaug.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Kingdom of the Blind, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>King Spruce.</b> By Holman Day.</p> +<p class="title"><b>King's Widow, The.</b> By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Knave of Diamonds, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Ladder of Swords.</b> By Gilbert Parker.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Lady Betty Across the Water.</b> By C. N. & A. M. Williamson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Land-Girl's Love Story, A.</b> By Berta Ruck.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Landloper, The.</b> By Holman Day.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Land of Long Ago, The.</b> By Eliza Calvert Hall.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Land of Strong Men, The.</b> By A. M. Chisholm.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Last Trail, The.</b> By Zane Grey.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Laugh and Live.</b> By Douglas Fairbanks.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Laughing Bill Hyde.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Laughing Girl, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Law Breakers, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Lifted Veil, The.</b> By Basil King.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Lighted Way, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Lin McLean.</b> By Owen Wister.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Lonesome Land.</b> By B. M. Bower.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Lone Wolf, The.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Long Ever Ago.</b> By Rupert Hughes.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Lonely Stronghold, The.</b> By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Long Live the King.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Long Roll, The.</b> By Mary Johnston.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Lord Tony's Wife.</b> By Baroness Orczy.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Lost Ambassador.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Lost Prince, The.</b> By Frances Hodgson Burnett.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Lydia of the Pines.</b> By Honoré Willsie.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Maid of the Forest, The.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Maid of the Whispering Hills, The.</b> By Vingie E. Roe.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Maids of Paradise, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Major, The.</b> By Ralph Connor.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Maker of History, A.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Malefactor, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Man from Bar 20, The.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Man in Grey, The.</b> By Baroness Orczy.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Man Trail, The.</b> By Henry Oyen.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Man Who Couldn't Sleep, The.</b> By Arthur Stringer.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Man with the Club Foot, The.</b> By Valentine Williams.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Mary-'Gusta.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Mary Moreland.</b> By Marie Van Vorst.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Mary Regan.</b> By Leroy Scott.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Master Mummer, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Men Who Wrought, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Mischief Maker, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Missioner, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Miss Million's Maid.</b> By Berta Ruck.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Molly McDonald.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Money Master, The.</b> By Gilbert Parker.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Money Moon, The.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Mountain Girl, The.</b> By Payne Erskine.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Moving Finger, The.</b> By Natalie Sumner Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Mr. Bingle.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Mr. Pratt.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Mr. Pratt's Patients.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Mrs. Belfame.</b> By Gertrude Atherton.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Mrs. Red Pepper.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> +<p class="title"><b>My Lady Caprice.</b> By Jeffrey Farnol.</p> +<p class="title"><b>My Lady of the North.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> +<p class="title"><b>My Lady of the South.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Mystery of the Hasty Arrow, The.</b> By Anna K. Green.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Nameless Man, The.</b> By Natalie Sumner Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Ne'er-Do-Well, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Nest Builders, The.</b> By Beatrice Forbes-Robertson Hale.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Net, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>New Clarion.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Night Operator, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Night Riders, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Nobody.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Okewood of the Secret Service.</b> By the Author of "The Man with the Club Foot."</p> +<p class="title"><b>One Way Trail, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Open, Sesame.</b> By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Otherwise Phyllis.</b> By Meredith Nicholson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Outlaw, The.</b> By Jackson Gregory.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Paradise Auction.</b> By Nalbro Bartley.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Pardners.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Parrot & Co.</b> By Harold MacGrath.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Partners of the Night.</b> By Leroy Scott.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Partners of the Tide.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Passionate Friends, The.</b> By H. G. Wells.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail, The.</b> By Ralph Connor.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Paul Anthony, Christian.</b> By Hiram W. Hays.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Pawns Count, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>People's Man, A.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Perch of the Devil.</b> By Gertrude Atherton.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Peter Ruff and the Double Four.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Pidgin Island.</b> By Harold MacGrath.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Place of Honeymoon, The.</b> By Harold MacGrath.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Pool of Flame, The.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Postmaster, The.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Prairie Wife, The.</b> By Arthur Stringer.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Price of the Prairie, The.</b> By Margaret Hill McCarter.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Prince of Sinners, A.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Promise, The.</b> By J. B. Hendryx.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Proof of the Pudding, The.</b> By Meredith Nicholson.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Rainbow's End, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Ranch at the Wolverine, The.</b> By B. M. Bower.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Ranching for Sylvia.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Ransom.</b> By Arthur Somers Roche.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Reason Why, The.</b> By Elinor Glyn.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Reclaimers, The.</b> By Margaret Hill McCarter.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Red Mist, The.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Red Pepper Burns.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Red Pepper's Patients.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary, The.</b> By Anne Warner.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Restless Sex, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu, The.</b> By Sax Rohmer.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Return of Tarzan, The.</b> By Edgar Rice Burroughs.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Riddle of Night, The.</b> By Thomas W. Hanshew.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Rim of the Desert, The.</b> By Ada Woodruff Anderson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Rise of Roscoe Paine, The.</b> By J. C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Rising Tide, The.</b> By Margaret Deland.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Rocks of Valpré, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Rogue by Compulsion, A.</b> By Victor Bridges.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Room Number 3.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Rose in the Ring, The.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Rose of Old Harpeth, The.</b> By Maria Thompson Daviess.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Round the Corner in Gay Street.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Second Choice.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Second Violin, The.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Secret History.</b> By C. N. & A. M. Williamson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Secret of the Reef, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Seven Darlings, The.</b> By Gouverneur Morris.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Shavings.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Shepherd of the Hills, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Sheriff of Dyke Hole, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Sherry.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Side of the Angels, The.</b> By Basil King.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Silver Horde, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Sin That Was His, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Sixty-first Second, The.</b> By Owen Johnson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Soldier of the Legion, A.</b> By C. N. & A. M. Williamson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Son of His Father, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Son of Tarzan, The.</b> By Edgar Rice Burroughs.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Source, The.</b> By Clarence Buddington Kelland.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Speckled Bird, A.</b> By Augusta Evans Wilson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Spirit in Prison, A.</b> By Robert Hichens.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Spirit of the Border, The.</b> (New Edition.) By Zane Grey.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Spoilers, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Steele of the Royal Mounted.</b> By James Oliver Curwood.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Still Jim.</b> By Honoré Willsie.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Story of Foss River Ranch, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Story of Marco, The.</b> By Eleanor H. Porter.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Strange Case of Cavendish, The.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Strawberry Acres.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Sudden Jim.</b> By Clarence B. Kelland.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Tales of Sherlock Holmes.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Tarzan of the Apes.</b> By Edgar R. Burroughs.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar.</b> By Edgar Rice Burroughs.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Tempting of Tavernake, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Tess of the D'Urbervilles.</b> By Thos. Hardy.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Thankful's Inheritance.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>That Affair Next Door.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.</p> +<p class="title"><b>That Printer of Udell's.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Their Yesterdays.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Thirteenth Commandment, The.</b> By Rupert Hughes.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Three of Hearts, The.</b> By Berta Ruck.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Three Strings, The.</b> By Natalie Sumner Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Threshold, The.</b> By Marjorie Benton Cooke.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Throwback, The.</b> By Alfred Henry Lewis.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Tish.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.</p> +<p class="title"><b>To M. L. G.; or, He Who Passed.</b> Anon.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Trail of the Axe, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Trail to Yesterday, The.</b> By Chas. A. Seltzer.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Treasure of Heaven, The.</b> By Marie Corelli.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Triumph, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> +<p class="title"><b>T. Tembarom.</b> By Frances Hodgson Burnett.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Turn of the Tide.</b> By Author of "Pollyanna."</p> +<p class="title"><b>Twenty-fourth of June, The.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Twins of Suffering Creek, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Two-Gun Man, The.</b> By Chas. A. Seltzer.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Uncle William.</b> By Jeannette Lee.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Under Handicap.</b> By Jackson Gregory.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Under the Country Sky.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Unforgiving Offender, The.</b> By John Reed Scott.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Unknown Mr. Kent, The.</b> By Roy Norton.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Unpardonable Sin, The.</b> By Major Rupert Hughes.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Up From Slavery.</b> By Booker T. Washington.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Valiants of Virginia, The.</b> By Hallie Ermine Rives.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Valley of Fear, The.</b> By Sir A. Conan Doyle.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Vanished Messenger, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Vanguards of the Plains.</b> By Margaret Hill McCarter.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Vashti.</b> By Augusta Evans Wilson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Virtuous Wives.</b> By Owen Johnson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Visioning, The.</b> By Susan Glaspell.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Waif-o'-the-Sea.</b> By Cyrus Townsend Brady.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Wall of Men, A.</b> By Margaret H. McCarter.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Watchers of the Plans, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Way Home, The.</b> By Basil King.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Way of an Eagle, The.</b> By E. M. Dell.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Way of the Strong, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Way of These Women, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> +<p class="title"><b>We Can't Have Everything.</b> By Major Rupert Hughes.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Weavers, The.</b> By Gilbert Parker.</p> +<p class="title"><b>When a Man's a Man.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.</p> +<p class="title"><b>When Wilderness Was King.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Where the Trail Divides.</b> By Will Lillibridge.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Where There's a Will.</b> By Mary R. Rinehart.</p> +<p class="title"><b>White Sister, The.</b> By Marion Crawford.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Who Goes There?</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Why Not.</b> By Margaret Widdemer.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Window at the White Cat, The.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Winds of Chance, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Wings of Youth, The.</b> By Elizabeth Jordan.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Winning of Barbara Worth, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Wire Devils, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Winning the Wilderness.</b> By Margaret Hill McCarter.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Wishing Ring Man, The.</b> By Margaret Widdemer.</p> +<p class="title"><b>With Juliet in England.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Wolves of the Sea.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Woman Gives, The.</b> By Owen Johnson.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Woman Haters, The.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Woman in Question, The.</b> By John Reed Scott.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Woman Thou Gavest Me, The.</b> By Hall Caine.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Woodcarver of 'Lympus, The.</b> By Mary E. Waller.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Wooing of Rosamond Fayre, The.</b> By Berta Ruck.</p> +<p class="title"><b>World for Sale, The.</b> By Gilbert Parker.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Years for Rachel, The.</b> By Berta Ruck.</p> +<p class="title"><b>Yellow Claw, The.</b> By Sax Rohmer.</p> +<p class="title"><b>You Never Know Your Luck.</b> By Gilbert Parker.</p> + +<p class="newletter"><b>Zeppelin's Passenger, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Transcriber's Note: The following typographical errors present in the +original edition have been corrected.</p> + +<p>In Chapter I, "But the tree letters were visible" was changed to "But +the three letters were visible", and "though an ever-thickening mist" +was changed to "through an ever-thickening mist".</p> + +<p>In Chapter III, a missing period was added after "spluttered Honorine", +and "You musn't stay" was changed to "You mustn't stay".</p> + +<p>In Chapter IV, "Then . . . then. . . it's happening" was changed to +"Then . . . then . . . it's happening", and "slackened spend when she +was level" was changed to "slackened speed when she was level".</p> + +<p>In Chapter V, a quotation mark was added after "They: the people of +old.", and "that killed M. Antoine, Marie le Goff and the others" was +changed to "that killed M. Antoine, Marie Le Goff and the others".</p> + +<p>In Chapter VI, quotation marks were added before "Did you put them under +there?" and "and I am not a bit afraid", and after "Then what is it?".</p> + +<p>In Chapter VII, "one of the cells probably the last" was changed to "one +of the cells, probably the last", and a missing period was added after +"Yes, Madeleine Ferrand".</p> + +<p>In Chapter VIII, "Last night . . or rather this morning" was changed to +"Last night . . . or rather this morning", and "painted Perenna is such +strange colours" was changed to "painted Perenna in such strange +colours".</p> + +<p>In Chapter X, a quotation mark was removed before "Véronique received +her answer", "None come" was changed to "None came", a quotation mark +was added after "my boat is hanging at the foot of the cliff.", and +"We'll land at Pont-L'Abbé" was changed to "We'll land at Pont-l'Abbé".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XII, a quotation mark was removed after "Its feathered end +was still quivering."</p> + +<p>In Chapter XIV, "The other joined him" was changed to "The others joined +him", and a quotation mark was added after "At any rate, it's a sacred +stone".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XV, a quotation mark was added before "She is dead", +"yatching-cap" was changed to "yachting-cap", a comma was changed to a +period after "There's no hypocrisy about you", and "Is is agreed" was +changed to "Is it agreed".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XVI, "ascertain Véronique d'Hergemont's whereabout" was +changed to "ascertain Véronique d'Hergemont's whereabouts", and "The +worthy man envolved the prophecy from his own consciousness" was changed +to "The worthy man evolved the prophecy from his own consciousness".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XVII, "The ancient Druid, whom we may call either Don Luis +Perenna or Arséne Lupin" was changed to "The ancient Druid, whom we may +call either Don Luis Perenna or Arsène Lupin".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XVIII, a period was changed to a comma after "one after the +other", and quotation marks were added after "the boat should have +started" and "he chopped off his hand".</p> + +<p>In the advertisements, <b>Bruce of the Circle A</b> was changed to <b>Bruce of +the Circle, A</b>, in the entry for <b>The Nameless Man</b> "Nataile Sumner +Lincoln" was changed to "Natalie Sumner Lincoln", and in the entry for +<b>The World for Sale</b> "Gilbert-Parker" was changed to "Gilbert Parker".</p></div> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET OF SAREK***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 34939-h.txt or 34939-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/9/3/34939">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/9/3/34939</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Secret of Sarek + + +Author: Maurice Leblanc + + + +Release Date: January 13, 2011 [eBook #34939] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET OF SAREK*** + + +E-text prepared by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 34939-h.htm or 34939-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/34939/34939-h/34939-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/34939/34939-h.zip) + + + + + +THE SECRET OF SAREK + +by + +MAURICE LEBLANC + +Translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos + + +[Illustration: "We're Done For! They Are Aiming At Us!"] + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +FRONTISPIECE + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers New York + +Published by arrangement with The Macaulay Company + +Copyright, 1920 +By The Macaulay Company + +Printed in U. S. A. + + + + +FOREWORD + + +The war has led to so many upheavals that not many people now remember +the Hergemont scandal of seventeen years ago. Let us recall the details +in a few lines. + +One day in July 1902, M. Antoine d'Hergemont, the author of a series of +well-known studies on the megalithic monuments of Brittany, was walking +in the Bois with his daughter Veronique, when he was assaulted by four +men, receiving a blow in the face with a walking-stick which felled him +to the ground. + +After a short struggle and in spite of his desperate efforts, +Veronique, the beautiful Veronique, as she was called by her friends, +was dragged away and bundled into a motor-car which the spectators of +this very brief scene saw making off in the direction of Saint-Cloud. + +It was a plain case of kidnapping. The truth became known next morning. +Count Alexis Vorski, a young Polish nobleman of dubious reputation but +of some social prominence and, by his own account, of royal blood, was +in love with Veronique d'Hergemont and Veronique with him. Repelled and +more than once insulted by the father, he had planned the incident +entirely without Veronique's knowledge or complicity. + +Antoine d'Hergemont, who, as certain published letters showed, was a +man of violent and morose disposition and who, thanks to his capricious +temper, his ferocious egoism and his sordid avarice, had made his +daughter exceedingly unhappy, swore openly that he would take the most +ruthless revenge. + +He gave his consent to the wedding, which took place two months later, +at Nice. But in the following year a series of sensational events +transpired. Keeping his word and cherishing his hatred, M. d'Hergemont +in his turn kidnapped the child born of the Vorski marriage and set sail +in a small yacht which he had bought not long before. + +The sea was rough. The yacht foundered within sight of the Italian +coast. The four sailors who formed the crew were picked up by a +fishing-boat. According to their evidence M. d'Hergemont and the child +had disappeared amid the waves. + +When Veronique received the proof of their death, she entered a +Carmelite convent. + +These are the facts which, fourteen years later, were to lead to the +most frightful and extraordinary adventure, a perfectly authentic +adventure, though certain details, at first sight, assume a more or less +fabulous aspect. But the war has complicated existence to such an extent +that events which happen outside it, such as those related in the +following narrative, borrow something abnormal, illogical and at times +miraculous from the greater tragedy. It needs all the dazzling light of +truth to restore to those events the character of a reality which, when +all is said, is simple enough. + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I THE DESERTED CABIN 11 + II ON THE EDGE OF THE ATLANTIC 25 + III VORSKI'S SON 43 + IV THE POOR PEOPLE OF SAREK 67 + V "FOUR WOMEN CRUCIFIED" 87 + VI ALL'S WELL 113 + VII FRANCOIS AND STEPHANE 133 + VIII ANGUISH 149 + IX THE DEATH-CHAMBER 167 + X THE ESCAPE 181 + XI THE SCOURGE OF GOD 200 + XII THE ASCENT OF GOLGOTHA 221 + XIII "ELOI, ELOI, LAMA SABACHTHANI!" 243 + XIV THE ANCIENT DRUID 262 + XV THE HALL OF THE UNDERGROUND SACRIFICES 283 + XVI THE HALL OF THE KINGS OF BOHEMIA 309 + XVII "CRUEL PRINCE, OBEYING DESTINY" 328 + XVIII THE GOD-STONE 349 + + + + + +THE SECRET OF SAREK + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE DESERTED CABIN + + +Into the picturesque village of Le Faouet, situated in the very heart of +Brittany, there drove one morning in the month of May a lady whose +spreading grey cloak and the thick veil that covered her face failed to +hide her remarkable beauty and perfect grace of figure. + +The lady took a hurried lunch at the principal inn. Then, at about +half-past eleven, she begged the proprietor to look after her bag for +her, asked for a few particulars about the neighbourhood and walked +through the village into the open country. + +The road almost immediately branched into two, of which one led to +Quimper and the other to Quimperle. Selecting the latter, she went down +into the hollow of a valley, climbed up again and saw on her right, at +the corner of another road, a sign-post bearing the inscription, +"Locriff, 3 kilometers." + +"This is the place," she said to herself. + +Nevertheless, after casting a glance around her, she was surprised not +to find what she was looking for and wondered whether she had +misunderstood her instructions. + +There was no one near her nor any one within sight, as far as the eye +could reach over the Breton country-side, with its tree-lined meadows +and undulating hills. Not far from the village, rising amid the budding +greenery of spring, a small country house lifted its grey front, with +the shutters to all the windows closed. At twelve o'clock, the +angelus-bells pealed through the air and were followed by complete peace +and silence. + +Veronique sat down on the short grass of a bank, took a letter from her +pocket and smoothed out the many sheets, one by one. + +The first page was headed: + + "DUTREILLIS' AGENCY. + + _"Consulting Rooms._ + _"Private Enquiries._ + _"Absolute Discretion Guaranteed."_ + +Next came an address: + + _"Madame Veronique,_ + _"Dressmaker,_ + _"BESANCON."_ + +And the letter ran: + + "MADAM, + + "You will hardly believe the pleasure which it gave me + to fulfill the two commissions which you were good + enough to entrust to me in your last favour. I have + never forgotten the conditions under which I was able, + fourteen years ago, to give you my practical + assistance at a time when your life was saddened by + painful events. It was I who succeeded in obtaining + all the facts relating to the death of your honoured + father, M. Antoine d'Hergemont, and of your beloved + son Francois. This was my first triumph in a career + which was to afford so many other brilliant + victories. + + "It was I also, you will remember, who, at your + request and seeing how essential it was to save you + from your husband's hatred and, if I may add, his + love, took the necessary steps to secure your + admission to the Carmelite convent. Lastly, it was I + who, when your retreat to the convent had shown you + that a life of religion did not agree with your + temperament, arranged for you a modest occupation as a + dressmaker at Besancon, far from the towns where the + years of your childhood and the months of your + marriage had been spent. You had the inclination and + the need to work in order to live and to escape your + thoughts. You were bound to succeed; and you + succeeded. + + "And now let me come to the fact, to the two facts in + hand. + + "To begin with your first question: what has become, + amid the whirlwind of war, of your husband, Alexis + Vorski, a Pole by birth, according to his papers, and + the son of a king, according to his own statement? I + will be brief. After being suspected at the + commencement of the war and imprisoned in an + internment-camp near Carpentras, Vorski managed to + escape, went to Switzerland, returned to France and + was re-arrested, accused of spying and convicted of + being a German. At the moment when it seemed + inevitable that he would be sentenced to death, he + escaped for the second time, disappeared in the Forest + of Fontainebleau and in the end was stabbed by some + person unknown. + + "I am telling you the story quite crudely, Madam, well + knowing your contempt for this person, who had + deceived you abominably, and knowing also that you + have learnt most of these facts from the newspapers, + though you have not been able to verify their absolute + genuineness. + + "Well, the proofs exist. I have seen them. There is no + doubt left. Alexis Vorski lies buried at + Fontainebleau. + + "Permit me, in passing, Madam, to remark upon the + strangeness of this death. You will remember the + curious prophecy about Vorski which you mentioned to + me. Vorski, whose undoubted intelligence and + exceptional energy were spoilt by an insincere and + superstitious mind, readily preyed upon by + hallucinations and terrors, had been greatly impressed + by the prediction which overhung his life and which he + had heard from the lips of several people who + specialize in the occult sciences: + + "'Vorski, son of a king, you will die by the hand of a + friend and your wife will be crucified!' + + "I smile, Madam, as I write the last word. Crucified! + Crucifixion is a torture which is pretty well out of + fashion; and I am easy as regards yourself. But what + do you think of the dagger-stroke which Vorski + received in accordance with the mysterious orders of + destiny? + + "But enough of reflections. I now come . . ." + +Veronique dropped the letter for a moment into her lap. M. Dutreillis' +pretentious phrasing and familiar pleasantries wounded her fastidious +reserve. Also she was obsessed by the tragic image of Alexis Vorski. A +shiver of anguish passed through her at the hideous memory of that man. +She mastered herself, however, and read on: + + "I now come to my other commission, Madam, in your + eyes the more important of the two, because all the + rest belongs to the past. + + "Let us state the facts precisely. Three weeks ago, on + one of those rare occasions when you consented to + break through the praiseworthy monotony of your + existence, on a Thursday evening when you took your + assistants to a cinema-theatre, you were struck by a + really incomprehensible detail. The principal film, + entitled 'A Breton Legend,' represented a scene which + occurred, in the course of a pilgrimage, outside a + little deserted road-side hut which had nothing to do + with the action. The hut was obviously there by + accident. But something really extraordinary attracted + your attention. On the tarred boards of the old door + were three letters, drawn by hand: 'V. d'H.,' and + those three letters were precisely your signature + before you were married, the initials with which you + used to sign your intimate letters and which you have + not used once during the last fourteen years! + Veronique d'Hergemont! There was no mistake possible. + Two capitals separated by the small 'd' and the + apostrophe. And, what is more, the bar of the letter + 'H.', carried back under the three letters, served as + a flourish, exactly as it used to do with you! + + "It was the stupefaction due to this surprising + coincidence that decided you, Madam, to invoke my + assistance. It was yours without the asking. And you + knew, without any telling, that it would be effective. + + "As you anticipated, Madam, I have succeeded. And here + again I will be brief. + + "What you must do, Madam, is to take the night express + from Paris which brings you the next morning to + Quimperle. From there, drive to Le Faouet. If you have + time, before or after your luncheon, pay a visit to + the very interesting Chapel of St. Barbe, which stands + perched on the most fantastic site and which gave rise + to the 'Breton Legend' film. Then go along the Quimper + road on foot. At the end of the first ascent, a little + way short of the parish-road which leads to Locriff, + you will find, in a semicircle surrounded by trees, + the deserted hut with the inscription. It has nothing + remarkable about it. The inside is empty. It has not + even a floor. A rotten plank serves as a bench. The + roof consists of a worm-eaten framework, which admits + the rain. Once more, there is no doubt that it was + sheer accident that placed it within the range of the + cinematograph. I will end by adding that the 'Breton + Legend' film was taken in September last, which means + that the inscription is at least eight months old. + + "That is all, Madam. My two commissions are completed. + I am too modest to describe to you the efforts and the + ingenious means which I employed in order to + accomplish them in so short a time, but for which you + will certainly think the sum of five hundred francs, + which is all that I propose to charge you for the + work done, almost ridiculous. + + "I beg to remain, + "Madam, &c." + +Veronique folded up the letter and sat for a few minutes turning over +the impressions which it aroused in her, painful impressions, like all +those revived by the horrible days of her marriage. One in particular +had survived and was still as powerful as at the time when she tried to +escape it by taking refuge in the gloom of a convent. It was the +impression, in fact the certainty, that all her misfortunes, the death +of her father and the death of her son, were due to the fault which she +had committed in loving Vorski. True, she had fought against the man's +love and had not decided to marry him until she was obliged to, in +despair and to save M. d'Hergemont from Vorski's vengeance. +Nevertheless, she had loved that man. Nevertheless, at first, she had +turned pale under his glance: and this, which now seemed to her an +unpardonable example of weakness, had left her with a remorse which time +had failed to weaken. + +"There," she said, "enough of dreaming. I have not come here to shed +tears." + +The craving for information which had brought her from her retreat at +Besancon restored her vigour; and she rose resolved to act. + +"A little way short of the parish-road which leads to Locriff . . . a +semicircle surrounded by trees," said Dutreillis' letter. She had +therefore passed the place. She quickly retraced her steps and at once +perceived, on the right, the clump of trees which had hidden the cabin +from her eyes. She went nearer and saw it. + +It was a sort of shepherd's or road-labourer's hut, which was crumbling +and falling to pieces under the action of the weather. Veronique went up +to it and perceived that the inscription, worn by the rain and sun, was +much less clear than on the film. But the three letters were visible, as +was the flourish; and she even distinguished, underneath, something +which M. Dutreillis had not observed, a drawing of an arrow and a +number, the number 9. + +Her emotion increased. Though no attempt had been made to imitate the +actual form of her signature, it certainly was her signature as a girl. +And who could have affixed it there, on a deserted cabin, in this +Brittany where she had never been before? + +Veronique no longer had a friend in the world. Thanks to a succession of +circumstances, the whole of her past girlhood had, so to speak, +disappeared with the death of those whom she had known and loved. Then +how was it possible for the recollection of her signature to survive +apart from her and those who were dead and gone? And, above all, why was +the inscription here, at this spot? What did it mean? + +Veronique walked round the cabin. There was no other mark visible there +or on the surrounding trees. She remembered that M. Dutreillis had +opened the door and had seen nothing inside. Nevertheless she determined +to make certain that he was not mistaken. + +The door was closed with a mere wooden latch, which moved on a screw. +She lifted it; and, strange to say, she had to make an effort, not a +physical so much as a moral effort, an effort of will, to pull the door +towards her. It seemed to her that this little act was about to usher +her into a world of facts and events which she unconsciously dreaded. + +"Well," she said, "what's preventing me?" + +She gave a sharp pull. + +A cry of horror escaped her. There was a man's dead body in the cabin. +And, at the moment, at the exact second when she saw the body, she +became aware of a peculiar characteristic: one of the dead man's hands +was missing. + +It was an old man, with a long, grey, fan-shaped beard and long white +hair falling about his neck. The blackened lips and a certain colour of +the swollen skin suggested to Veronique that he might have been +poisoned, for no trace of an injury showed on his body, except the arm, +which had been severed clean above the wrist, apparently some days +before. His clothes were those of a Breton peasant, clean, but very +threadbare. The corpse was seated on the ground, with the head resting +against the bench and the legs drawn up. + +These were all things which Veronique noted in a sort of unconsciousness +and which were rather to reappear in her memory at a later date, for, at +the moment, she stood there all trembling, with her eyes staring before +her, and stammering: + +"A dead body! . . . A dead body! . . ." + +Suddenly she reflected that she was perhaps mistaken and that the man +was not dead. But, on touching his forehead, she shuddered at the +contact of his icy skin. + +Nevertheless this movement roused her from her torpor. She resolved to +act and, since there was no one in the immediate neighbourhood, to go +back to Le Faouet and inform the authorities. She first examined the +corpse for any clue which could tell her its identity. + +The pockets were empty. There were no marks on the clothes or linen. +But, when she shifted the body a little in order to make her search, it +came about that the head drooped forward, dragging with it the trunk, +which fell over the legs, thus uncovering the lower side of the bench. + +Under this bench, she perceived a roll consisting of a sheet of very +thin drawing-paper, crumpled, buckled and almost wrung into a twist. She +picked up the roll and unfolded it. But she had not finished doing so +before her hands began to tremble and she stammered: + +"Oh, God! . . . Oh, my God! . . ." + +She summoned all her energies to try and enforce upon herself the calm +needed to look with eyes that could see and a brain that could +understand. + +The most that she could do was to stand there for a few seconds. And +during those few seconds, through an ever-thickening mist that seemed to +shroud her eyes, she was able to make out a drawing in red, representing +four women crucified on four tree-trunks. + +And, in the foreground, the first woman, the central figure, with the +body stark under its clothing and the features distorted with the most +dreadful pain, but still recognizable, the crucified woman was herself! +Beyond the least doubt, it was she herself, Veronique d'Hergemont! + +Besides, above the head, the top of the post bore, after the ancient +custom, a scroll with a plainly legible inscription. And this was the +three initials, underlined with the flourish, of Veronique's maiden +name, "V. d'H.", Veronique d'Hergemont. + +A spasm ran through her from head to foot. She drew herself up, turned +on her heel and, reeling out of the cabin, fell on the grass in a dead +faint. + + * * * * * + +Veronique was a tall, energetic, healthy woman, with a wonderfully +balanced mind; and hitherto no trial had been able to affect her fine +moral sanity or her splendid physical harmony. It needed exceptional and +unforeseen circumstances such as these, added to the fatigue of two +nights spent in railway-travelling, to produce this disorder in her +nerves and will. + +It did not last more than two or three minutes, at the end of which her +mind once more became lucid and courageous. She stood up, went back to +the cabin, picked up the sheet of drawing-paper and, certainly with +unspeakable anguish, but this time with eyes that saw and a brain that +understood, looked at it. + +She first examined the details, those which seemed insignificant, or +whose significance at least escaped her. On the left was a narrow column +of fifteen lines, not written, but composed of letters of no definite +formation, the down-strokes of which were all of the same length, the +object being evidently merely to fill up. However, in various places, a +few words were visible. And Veronique read: + + "Four women crucified." + +Lower down: + + "Thirty coffins." + +And the bottom line of all ran: + + "The God-Stone which gives life or death." + +The whole of this column was surrounded by a frame consisting of two +perfectly straight lines, one ruled in black, the other in red ink; and +there was also, likewise in red, above it, a sketch of two sickles +fastened together with a sprig of mistletoe under the outline of a +coffin. + +The right-hand side, by far the more important, was filled with the +drawing, a drawing in red chalk, which gave the whole sheet, with its +adjacent column of explanations, the appearance of a page, or rather of +a copy of a page, from some large, ancient illuminated book, in which +the subjects were treated rather in the primitive style, with a complete +ignorance of the rules of drawing. + +And it represented four crucified women. Three of them showed in +diminishing perspective against the horizon. They wore Breton costumes +and their heads were surmounted by caps which were likewise Breton but +of a special fashion that pointed to local usage and consisted chiefly +of a large black bow, the two wings of which stood out as in the bows of +the Alsatian women. And in the middle of the page was the dreadful thing +from which Veronique could not take her terrified eyes. It was the +principal cross, the trunk of a tree stripped of its lower branches, +with the woman's two arms stretched to right and left of it. + +The hands and feet were not nailed but were fastened by cords which +were wound as far as the shoulders and the upper part of the tied legs. +Instead of the Breton costume, the woman wore a sort of winding-sheet +which fell to the ground and lengthened the slender outline of a body +emaciated by suffering. + +The expression on the face was harrowing, an expression of resigned +martyrdom and melancholy grace. And it was certainly Veronique's face, +especially as it looked when she was twenty years of age and as +Veronique remembered seeing it at those gloomy hours when a woman gazes +in a mirror at her hopeless eyes and her overflowing tears. + +And about the head was the very same wave of her thick hair, flowing to +the waist in symmetrical curves: + +And above it the inscription, "V. d'H." + +Veronique long stayed thinking, questioning the past and gazing into the +darkness in order to link the actual facts with the memory of her youth. +But her mind remained without a glimmer of light. Of the words which she +had read, of the drawing which she had seen, nothing whatever assumed +the least meaning for her or seemed susceptible of the least +explanation. + +She examined the sheet of paper again and again. Then, slowly, still +pondering on it, she tore it into tiny pieces and threw them to the +wind. When the last scrap had been carried away, her decision was taken. +She pushed back the man's body, closed the door and walked quickly +towards the village, in order to ensure that the incident should have +the legal conclusion which was fitting for the moment. + +But, when she returned an hour later with the mayor of Le Faouet, the +rural constable and a whole group of sightseers attracted by her +statements, the cabin was empty. The corpse had disappeared. + +And all this was so strange, Veronique felt so plainly that, in the +disordered condition of her ideas, it was impossible for her to answer +the questions put to her, or to dispel the suspicions and doubts which +these people might and must entertain of the truth of her evidence, the +cause of her presence and even her very sanity, that she forthwith +ceased to make any effort or struggle. The inn-keeper was there. She +asked him which was the nearest village that she would reach by +following the road and if, by so doing, she would come to a +railway-station which would enable her to return to Paris. She retained +the names of Scaer and Rosporden, ordered a carriage to bring her bag +and overtake her on the road and set off, protected against any ill +feeling by her great air of elegance and by her grave beauty. + +She set off, so to speak, at random. The road was long, miles and miles +long. But such was her haste to have done with these incomprehensible +events and to recover her tranquillity and to forget what had happened +that she walked with great strides, quite oblivious of the fact that +this wearisome exertion was superfluous, since she had a carriage +following her. + +She went up hill and down dale and hardly thought at all, refusing to +seek the solution of all the riddles that were put to her. It was the +past which was reascending to the surface of her life; and she was +horribly afraid of that past, which extended from her abduction by +Vorski to the death of her father and her child. She wanted to think of +nothing but the simple, humble life which she had contrived to lead at +Besancon. There were no sorrows there, no dreams, no memories; and she +did not doubt but that, amid the little daily habits which enfolded her +in the modest house of her choice, she would forget the deserted cabin, +the mutilated body of the man and the dreadful drawing with its +mysterious inscription. + +But, a little while before she came to the big market-town of Scaer, as +she heard the bell of a horse trotting behind her, she saw, at the +junction of the road that led to Rosporden, a broken wall, one of the +remnants of a half-ruined house. + +And on this broken wall, above an arrow and the number 10, she again +read the fateful inscription, "V. d'H." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +ON THE EDGE OF THE ATLANTIC + + +Veronique's state of mind underwent a sudden alteration. Even as she had +fled resolutely from the threat of danger that seemed to loom up before +her from the evil past, so she was now determined to pursue to the end +the dread road which was opening before her. + +This change was due to a tiny gleam which flashed abruptly through the +darkness. She suddenly realized the fact, a simple matter enough, that +the arrow denoted a direction and that the number 10 must be the tenth +of a series of numbers which marked a course leading from one fixed +point to another. + +Was it a sign set up by one person with the object of guiding the steps +of another? It mattered little. The main thing was that there was here a +clue capable of leading Veronique to the discovery of the problem which +interested her: by what prodigy did the initials of her maiden name +reappear amid this tangle of tragic circumstances? + +The carriage sent from Le Faouet overtook her. She stepped in and told +the driver to go very slowly to Rosporden. + +She arrived in time for dinner; and her anticipations had not misled +her. Twice she saw her signature, each time before a division in the +road, accompanied by the numbers 11 and 12. + +Veronique slept at Rosporden and resumed her investigations on the +following morning. + +The number 12, which she found on the wall of a church-yard, sent her +along the road to Concarneau, which she had almost reached before she +saw any further inscriptions. She fancied that she must have been +mistaken, retraced her steps and wasted a whole day in useless +searching. + +It was not until the next day that the number 13, very nearly +obliterated, directed her towards Fouesnant. Then she abandoned this +direction, to follow, still in obedience to the signs, some +country-roads in which she once more lost her way. + +At last, four days after leaving Le Faouet, she found herself facing the +Atlantic, on the great beach of Beg-Meil. + +She spent two nights in the village without gathering the least reply to +the discreet questions which she put to the inhabitants. At last, one +morning, after wandering among the half-buried groups of rocks which +intersect the beach and upon the low cliffs, covered with trees and +copses, which hem it in, she discovered, between two oaks stripped of +their bark, a shelter built of earth and branches which must at one time +have been used by custom-house officers. A small menhir stood at the +entrance. The menhir bore the inscription, followed by the number 17. No +arrow. A full stop underneath; and that was all. + +In the shelter were three broken bottles and some empty meat-tins. + +"This was the goal," thought Veronique. "Some one has been having a +meal here. Food stored in advance, perhaps." + +Just then she noticed that, at no great distance, by the edge of a +little bay which curved like a shell amid the neighbouring rocks, a boat +was swinging to and fro, a motor-boat. And she heard voices coming from +the village, a man's voice and a woman's. + +From the place where she stood, all that she could see at first was an +elderly man carrying in his arms half-a-dozen bags of provisions, potted +meats and dried vegetables. He put them on the ground and said: + +"Well, had a pleasant journey, M'ame Honorine?" + +"Fine!" + +"And where have you been?" + +"Why, Paris . . . a week of it . . . running errands for my master." + +"Glad to be back?" + +"Of course I am." + +"And you see, M'ame Honorine, you find your boat just where she was. I +came to have a look at her every day. This morning I took away her +tarpaulin. Does she run as well as ever?" + +"First-rate." + +"Besides, you're a master pilot, you are. Who'd have thought, M'ame +Honorine, that you'd be doing a job like this?" + +"It's the war. All the young men in our island are gone and the old ones +are fishing. Besides, there's no longer a fortnightly steamboat service, +as there used to be. So I go the errands." + +"What about petrol?" + +"We've plenty to go on with. No fear of that." + +"Well, good-bye for the present, M'ame Honorine. Shall I help you put +the things on board?" + +"Don't you trouble; you're in a hurry." + +"Well, good-bye for the present," the old fellow repeated. "Till next +time, M'ame Honorine. I'll have the parcels ready for you." + +He went away, but, when he had gone a little distance, called out: + +"All the same, mind the jagged reefs round that blessed island of yours! +I tell you, it's got a nasty name! It's not called Coffin Island, the +island of the thirty coffins, for nothing! Good luck to you, M'ame +Honorine!" + +He disappeared behind a rock. + +Veronique had shuddered. The thirty coffins! The very words which she +had read in the margin of that horrible drawing! + +She leant forward. The woman had come a few steps nearer the boat and, +after putting down some more provisions which she had been carrying, +turned round. + +Veronique now saw her full-face. She wore a Breton costume; and her +head-dress was crowned by two black wings. + +"Oh," stammered Veronique, "that head-dress in the drawing . . . the +head-dress of the three crucified women!" + +The Breton woman looked about forty. Her strong face, tanned by the sun +and the cold, was bony and rough-hewn but lit up by a pair of large, +dark, intelligent, gentle eyes. A heavy gold chain hung down upon her +breast. Her velvet bodice fitted her closely. + +She was humming in a very low voice as she took up her parcels and +loaded the boat, which made her kneel on a big stone against which the +boat was moored. When she had done, she looked at the horizon, which was +covered with black clouds. She did not seem anxious about them, however, +and, loosing the painter, continued her song, but in a louder voice, +which enabled Veronique to hear the words. It was a slow melody, a +children's lullaby; and she sang it with a smile which revealed a set of +fine, white teeth. + + "And the mother said, + Rocking her child a-bed: + + 'Weep not. If you do, + The Virgin Mary weeps with you. + + Babes that laugh and sing + Smiles to the Blessed Virgin bring. + + Fold your hands this way + And to sweet Mary pray.'" + +She did not complete the song. Veronique was standing before her, with +her face drawn and very pale. + +Taken aback, the other asked: + +"What's the matter?" + +Veronique, in a trembling voice, replied: + +"That song! Who taught it you? Where do you get it from? . . . It's a +song my mother used to sing, a song of her own country, Savoy . . . . +And I have never heard it since . . . since she died . . . . So I want +. . . I should like . . ." + +She stopped. The Breton woman looked at her in silence, with an air of +stupefaction, as though she too were on the point of asking questions. +But Veronique repeated: + +"Who taught it you?" + +"Some one over there," the woman called Honorine answered, at last. + +"Over there?" + +"Yes, some one on my island." + +Veronique said, with a sort of dread: + +"Coffin Island?" + +"That's just a name they call it by. It's really the Isle of Sarek." + +They still stood looking at each other, with a look in which a certain +doubt was mingled with a great need of speech and understanding. And at +the same time they both felt that they were not enemies. + +Veronique was the first to continue: + +"Excuse me, but, you see, there are things which are so puzzling . . ." + +The Breton woman nodded her head in approval and Veronique continued: + +"So puzzling and so disconcerting! . . . For instance, do you know why +I'm here? I must tell you. Perhaps you alone can explain . . . It's like +this: an accident--quite a small accident, but really it all began with +that--brought me to Brittany for the first time and showed me, on the +door of an old, deserted, road-side cabin, the initials which I used to +sign when I was a girl, a signature which I have not used for fourteen +or fifteen years. As I went on, I discovered the same inscription many +times repeated, with each time a different consecutive number. That was +how I came here, to the beach at Beg-Meil and to this part of the +beach, which appeared to be the end of a journey foreseen and arranged +by . . . I don't know whom." + +"Is your signature here?" asked Honorine, eagerly. "Where?" + +"On that stone, above us, at the entrance to the shelter." + +"I can't see from here. What are the letters?" + +"V. d'H." + +The Breton woman suppressed a movement. Her bony face betrayed profound +emotion, and, hardly opening her lips, she murmured: + +"Veronique . . . Veronique d'Hergemont." + +"Ah," exclaimed the younger woman, "so you know my name, you know my +name!" + +Honorine took Veronique's two hands and held them in her own. Her +weather-beaten face lit up with a smile. And her eyes grew moist with +tears as she repeated: + +"Mademoiselle Veronique! . . . Madame Veronique! . . . So it's you, +Veronique! . . . O Heaven, is it possible! The Blessed Virgin Mary be +praised!" + +Veronique felt utterly confounded and kept on saying: + +"You know my name . . . you know who I am . . . . Then you can explain +all this riddle to me?" + +After a long pause, Honorine replied: + +"I can explain nothing. I don't understand either. But we can try to +find out together . . . . Tell me, what was the name of that Breton +village?" + +"Le Faouet." + +"Le Faouet. I know. And where was the deserted cabin?" + +"A mile and a quarter away." + +"Did you look in?" + +"Yes; and that was the most terrible thing of all. Inside the cabin was +. . ." + +"What was in the cabin?" + +"First of all, the dead body of a man, an old man, dressed in the local +costume, with long white hair and a grey beard . . . . Oh, I shall never +forget that dead man! . . . He must have been murdered, poisoned, I +don't know what . . . ." + +Honorine listened greedily, but the murder seemed to give her no clue +and she merely asked: + +"Who was it? Did they have an inquest?" + +"When I came back with the people from Le Faouet, the corpse had +disappeared." + +"Disappeared? But who had removed it?" + +"I don't know." + +"So that you know nothing?" + +"Nothing. Except that, the first time, I found in the cabin a drawing +. . . a drawing which I tore up; but its memory haunts me like a +nightmare that keeps on recurring. I can't get it out of my mind . . . . +Listen, it was a roll of paper on which some one had evidently copied an +old picture and it represented . . . Oh, a dreadful, dreadful thing, +four women crucified! And one of the women was myself, with my name +. . . . And the others wore a head-dress like yours." + +Honorine had squeezed her hands with incredible violence: + +"What's that you say?" she cried. "What's that you say? Four women +crucified?" + +"Yes; and there was something about thirty coffins, consequently about +your island." + +The Breton woman put her hands over Veronique's lips to silence them: + +"Hush! Hush! Oh, you mustn't speak of all that! No, no, you mustn't +. . . . You see, there are devilish things . . . which it's a sacrilege +to talk about . . . . We must be silent about that . . . . Later on, +we'll see . . . another year, perhaps . . . . Later on . . . . Later on +. . . ." + +She seemed shaken by terror, as by a gale which scourges the trees and +overwhelms all living things. And suddenly she fell on her knees upon +the rock and muttered a long prayer, bent in two, with her hands before +her face, so completely absorbed that Veronique asked her no more +questions. + +At last she rose and, presently, said: + +"Yes, this is all terrifying, but I don't see that it makes our duty any +different or that we can hesitate at all." + +And, addressing Veronique, she said, gravely: + +"You must come over there with me." + +"Over there, to your island?" replied Veronique, without concealing her +reluctance. + +Honorine again took her hands and continued, still in that same, rather +solemn tone which appeared to Veronique to be full of secret and +unspoken thoughts: + +"Your name is truly Veronique d'Hergemont?" + +"Yes." + +"Who was your father?" + +"Antoine d'Hergemont." + +"You married a man called Vorski, who said he was a Pole?" + +"Yes, Alexis Vorski." + +"You married him after there was a scandal about his running off with +you and after a quarrel between you and your father?" + +"Yes." + +"You had a child by him?" + +"Yes, a son, Francois." + +"A son that you never knew, in a manner of speaking, because he was +kidnapped by your father?" + +"Yes." + +"And you lost sight of the two after a shipwreck?" + +"Yes, they are both dead." + +"How do you know?" + +It did not occur to Veronique to be astonished at this question, and she +replied: + +"My personal enquiries and the police enquiries were both based upon the +same indisputable evidence, that of the four sailors." + +"Who's to say they weren't telling lies?" + +"Why should they tell lies?" asked Veronique, in surprise. + +"Their evidence may have been bought; they may have been told what to +say." + +"By whom?" + +"By your father." + +"But what an idea! . . . Besides, my father was dead!" + +"I say once more: how do you know that?" + +This time Veronique appeared stupefied: + +"What are you hinting?" she whispered. + +"One minute. Do you know the names of those four sailors?" + +"I did know them, but I don't remember them." + +"You don't remember that they were Breton names?" + +"Yes, I do. But I don't see that . . ." + +"If you never came to Brittany, your father often did, because of the +books he used to write. He used to stay in Brittany during your mother's +lifetime. That being so, he must have had relations with the men of the +country. Suppose that he had known the four sailors a long time, that +these men were devoted to him or bribed by him and that he engaged them +specially for that adventure. Suppose that they began by landing your +father and your son at some little Italian port and that then, being +four good swimmers, they scuttled and sank their yacht in view of the +coast. Just suppose it." + +"But the men are living!" cried Veronique, in growing excitement. "They +can be questioned." + +"Two of them are dead; they died a natural death a few years ago. The +third is an old man called Maguennoc; you will find him at Sarek. As for +the fourth, you may have seen him just now. He used the money which he +made out of that business to buy a grocer's shop at Beg-Meil." + +"Ah, we can speak to him at once!" cried Veronique, eagerly. "Let's go +and fetch him." + +"Why should we? I know more than he does." + +"You know? You know?" + +"I know everything that you don't. I can answer all your questions. Ask +me what you like." + +But Veronique dared not put the great question to her, the one which was +beginning to quiver in the darkness of her consciousness. She was afraid +of a truth which was perhaps not inconceivable, a truth of which she +seemed to catch a faint glimpse; and she stammered, in mournful accents: + +"I don't understand, I don't understand . . . . Why should my father +have behaved like that? Why should he wish himself and my poor child to +be thought dead?" + +"Your father had sworn to have his revenge." + +"On Vorski, yes; but surely not on me, his daughter? . . . . And such a +revenge!" + +"You loved your husband. Once you were in his power, instead of running +away from him, you consented to marry him. Besides, the insult was a +public one. And you know what your father was, with his violent, +vindictive temperament and his rather . . . his rather unbalanced +nature, to use his own expression." + +"But since then?" + +"Since then! Since then! He felt remorseful as he grew older, what with +his affection for the child . . . and he tried everywhere to find you. +The journeys I have taken, beginning with my journey to the Carmelites +at Chartres! But you had left long ago . . . and where for? Where were +you to be found?" + +"You could have advertised in the newspapers." + +"He did try advertising, once, very cautiously, because of the scandal. +There was a reply. Some one made an appointment and he kept it. Do you +know who came to meet him? Vorski, Vorski, who was looking for you too, +who still loved you . . . and hated you. Your father became frightened +and did not dare act openly." + +Veronique did not speak. She felt very faint and sat down on the stone, +with her head bowed. + +Then she murmured: + +"You speak of my father as though he were still alive to-day." + +"He is." + +"And as though you saw him often." + +"Daily." + +"And on the other hand"--Veronique lowered her voice--"on the other hand +you do not say a word of my son. And that suggests a horrible thought: +perhaps he did not live? Perhaps he is dead since? Is that why you do +not mention him?" + +She raised her head with an effort. Honorine was smiling. + +"Oh, please, please," Veronique entreated, "tell me the truth! It is +terrible to hope more than one has a right to. Do tell me." + +Honorine put her arm round Veronique's neck: + +"Why, my poor, dear lady, would I have told you all this if my handsome +Francois had been dead?" + +"He is alive, he is alive?" cried Veronique, wildly. + +"Why, of course he is and in the best of health! Oh, he's a fine, sturdy +little chap, never fear, and so steady on his legs! And I have every +right to be proud of him, because it's I who brought him up, your little +Francois." + +She felt Veronique, who was leaning on her shoulder, give way to +emotions which were too much for her and which certainly contained as +much suffering as joy; and she said: + +"Cry, my dear lady, cry; it will do you good. It's a better sort of +crying than it was, eh? Cry, until you've forgotten all your old +troubles. I'm going back to the village. Have you a bag of any kind at +the inn? They know me there. I'll bring it back with me and we'll be +off." + +When the Breton woman returned, half an hour later, she saw Veronique +standing and beckoning to her to hurry and heard her calling: + +"Quick, quick! Heavens, what a time you've been! We have not a minute to +lose." + +Honorine, however, did not hasten her pace and did not reply. Her rugged +face was without a smile. + +"Well, are we going to start?" asked Veronique, running up to her. +"There's nothing to delay us, is there, no obstacle? What's the matter? +You seem quite changed." + +"No, no." + +"Then let's be quick." + +Honorine, with her assistance, put the bag and the provisions on board. +Then, suddenly standing in front of Veronique, she said: + +"You're quite sure, are you, that the woman on the cross, as she was +shown in the drawing, was yourself?" + +"Absolutely. Besides, there were my initials above the head." + +"That's a strange thing," muttered Honorine, "and it's enough to +frighten anybody." + +"Why should it be? It must have been someone who used to know me and who +amused himself by . . . It's merely a coincidence, a chance fancy +reviving the past." + +"Oh, it's not the past that's worrying me! It's the future." + +"The future?" + +"Remember the prophecy." + +"I don't understand." + +"Yes, yes, the prophecy made about you to Vorski." + +"Ah, you know?" + +"I know. And it is so horrible to think of that drawing and of other +much more dreadful things which you don't know of." + +Veronique burst out laughing: + +"What! Is that why you hesitate to take me with you, for, after all, +that's what we're concerned with?" + +"Don't laugh. People don't laugh when they see the flames of hell before +them." + +Honorine crossed herself, closing her eyes as she spoke. Then she +continued: + +"Of course . . . you scoff at me . . . you think I'm a superstitious +Breton woman, who believes in ghosts and jack-o'-lanterns. I don't say +you're altogether wrong. But there, there! There are some truths that +blind one. You can talk it over with Maguennoc, if you get on the right +side of him." + +"Maguennoc?" + +"One of the four sailors. He's an old friend of your boy's. He too +helped to bring him up. Maguennoc knows more about it than the most +learned men, more than your father. And yet . . ." + +"What?" + +"And yet Maguennoc tried to tempt fate and to get past what men are +allowed to know." + +"What did he do?" + +"He tried to touch with his hand--you understand, with his own hand: he +confessed it to me himself--the very heart of the mystery." + +"Well?" said Veronique, impressed in spite of herself. + +"Well, his hand was burnt by the flames. He showed me a hideous sore: I +saw it with my eyes, something like the sore of a cancer; and he +suffered to that degree . . ." + +"Yes?" + +"That it forced him to take a hatchet in his left hand and cut off his +right hand himself." + +Veronique was dumbfounded. She remembered the corpse at Le Faouet and +she stammered: + +"His right hand? You say that Maguennoc cut off his right hand?" + +"With a hatchet, ten days ago, two days before I left . . . . I dressed +the wound myself . . . . Why do you ask?" + +"Because," said Veronique, in a husky voice, "because the dead man, the +old man whom I found in the deserted cabin and who afterwards +disappeared, had lately lost his right hand." + +Honorine gave a start. She still wore the sort of scared expression and +betrayed the emotional disturbance which contrasted with her usually +calm attitude. And she rapped out: + +"Are you sure? Yes, yes, you're right, it was he, Maguennoc . . . . He +had long white hair, hadn't he? And a spreading beard? . . . Oh, how +abominable!" + +She restrained herself and looked around her, frightened at having +spoken so loud. She once more made the sign of the cross and said, +slowly, almost under her breath: + +"He was the first of those who have got to die . . . he told me so +himself . . . and old Maguennoc had eyes that read the book of the +future as easily as the book of the past. He could see clearly where +another saw nothing at all. 'The first victim will be myself, Ma'me +Honorine. And, when the servant has gone, in a few days it will be the +master's turn.'" + +"And the master was . . . ?" asked Veronique, in a whisper. + +Honorine drew herself up and clenched her fists violently: + +"I'll defend him! I will!" she declared. "I'll save him! Your father +shall not be the second victim. No, no, I shall arrive in time! Let me +go!" + +"We are going together," said Veronique, firmly. + +"Please," said Honorine, in a voice of entreaty, "please don't be +persistent. Let me have my way. I'll bring your father and your son to +you this very evening, before dinner." + +"But why?" + +"The danger is too great, over there, for your father . . . and +especially for you. Remember the four crosses! It's over there that they +are waiting . . . . Oh, you mustn't go there! . . . The island is under +a curse." + +"And my son?" + +"You shall see him to-day, in a few hours." + +Veronique gave a short laugh: + +"In a few hours! Woman, you must be mad! Here am I, after mourning my +son for fourteen years, suddenly hearing that he's alive; and you ask +me to wait before I take him in my arms! Not one hour! I would rather +risk death a thousand times than put off that moment." + +Honorine looked at her and seemed to realize that Veronique's was one of +those resolves against which it is useless to fight, for she did not +insist. She crossed herself for the third time and said, simply: + +"God's will be done." + +They both took their seats among the parcels which encumbered the narrow +space. Honorine switched on the current, seized the tiller and skilfully +steered the boat through the rocks and sandbanks which rose level with +the water. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +VORSKI'S SON + + +Veronique smiled as she sat to starboard on a packing-case, with her +face turned towards Honorine. Her smile was anxious still and undefined, +full of reticence and flickering as a sunbeam that tries to pierce the +last clouds of the storm; but it was nevertheless a happy smile. + +And happiness seemed the right expression for that wonderful face, +stamped with dignity and with that particular modesty which gives to +some women, whether stricken by excessive misfortune or preserved by +love, the habit of gravity, combined with an absence of all feminine +affectation. + +Her black hair, touched with grey at the temples, was knotted very low +down on the neck. She had the dead-white complexion of a southerner and +very light blue eyes, of which the white seemed almost of the same +colour, pale as a winter sky. She was tall, with broad shoulders and a +well-shaped bust. + +Her musical and somewhat masculine voice became light and cheerful when +she spoke of the son whom she had found again. And Veronique could speak +of nothing else. In vain the Breton woman tried to speak of the problems +that harassed her and kept on interrupting Veronique: + +"Look here, there are two things which I cannot understand. Who laid the +trail with the clues that brought you from Le Faouet to the exact spot +where I always land? It almost makes one believe that someone had been +from Le Faouet to the Isle of Sarek. And, on the other hand, how did old +Maguennoc come to leave the island? Was it of his own free will? Or was +it his dead body that they carried? If so, how?" + +"Is it worth troubling about?" Veronique objected. + +"Certainly it is. Just think! Besides me, who once a fortnight go either +to Beg-Meil or Pont-l'Abbe in my motor-boat for provisions, there are +only two fishing-boats, which always go much higher up the coast, to +Audierne, where they sell their catch. Then how did Maguennoc get +across? Then again, did he commit suicide? But, if so, how did his body +disappear?" + +But Veronique protested: + +"Please don't! It doesn't matter for the moment. It'll all be cleared +up. Tell me about Francois. You were saying that he came to Sarek . . ." + +Honorine yielded to Veronique's entreaties: + +"He arrived in poor Maguennoc's arms, a few days after he was taken from +you. Maguennoc, who had been taught his lesson by your father, said that +a strange lady had entrusted him with the child; and he had it nursed by +his daughter, who has since died. I was away, in a situation with a +Paris family. When I came home again, Francois had grown into a fine +little fellow, running about the moors and cliffs. It was then that I +took service with your father, who had settled in Sarek. When +Maguennoc's daughter died, we took the child to live with us." + +"But under what name?" + +"Francois, just Francois. M. d'Hergemont was known as Monsieur Antoine. +Francois called him grandfather. No one ever made any remark upon it." + +"And his character?" asked Veronique, with some anxiety. + +"Oh, as far as that's concerned, he's a blessing!" replied Honorine. +"Nothing of his father about him . . . nor of his grandfather either, as +M. d'Hergemont himself admits. A gentle, lovable, most willing child. +Never a sign of anger; always good-tempered. That's what got over his +grandfather and made M. d'Hergemont come round to you again, because his +grandson reminded him so of the daughter he had cast off. 'He's the very +image of his mother,' he used to say. 'Veronique was gentle and +affectionate like him, with the same fond and coaxing ways.' And then he +began his search for you, with me to help him; for he had come to +confide in me." + +Veronique beamed with delight. Her son was like her! Her son was bright +and kind-hearted! + +"But does he know about me?" she said. "Does he know that I'm alive?" + +"I should think he did! M. d'Hergemont tried to keep it from him at +first. But I soon told him everything." + +"Everything?" + +"No. He believes that his father is dead and that, after the shipwreck +in which he, I mean Francois, and M. d'Hergemont disappeared, you became +a nun and have been lost sight of since. And he is so eager for news, +each time I come back from one of my trips! He too is so full of hope! +Oh, you can take my word for it, he adores his mother! And he's always +singing that song you heard just now, which his grandfather taught him." + +"My Francois, my own little Francois!" + +"Ah, yes, he loves you! There's Mother Honorine. But you're mother, just +that. And he's in a great hurry to grow up and finish his schooling, so +that he may go and look for you." + +"His schooling? Does he have lessons?" + +"Yes, with his grandfather and, since two years ago, with such a nice +fellow that I brought back from Paris, Stephane Maroux, a wounded +soldier covered with medals and restored to health after an internal +operation. Francois dotes on him." + +The boat was running quickly over the smooth sea, in which it ploughed a +furrow of silvery foam. The clouds had dispersed on the horizon. The +evening boded fair and calm. + +"More, tell me more!" said Veronique, listening greedily. "What does my +boy wear?" + +"Knickerbockers and short socks, with his calves bare; a thick flannel +shirt with gilt buttons; and a flat knitted cap, like his big friend, M. +Stephane; only his is red and suits him to perfection." + +"Has he any friends besides M. Maroux?" + +"All the growing lads of the island, formerly. But with the exception of +three or four ship's boys, all the rest have left the island with their +mothers, now that their fathers are at the war, and are working on the +mainland, at Concarneau or Lorient, leaving the old people at Sarek by +themselves. We are not more than thirty on the island now." + +"Whom does he play with? Whom does he go about with?" + +"Oh, as for that, he has the best of companions!" + +"Really? Who is it?" + +"A little dog that Maguennoc gave him." + +"A dog?" + +"Yes; and the funniest dog you ever saw: an ugly ridiculous-looking +thing, a cross between a poodle and a fox-terrier, but so comical and +amusing! Oh, there's no one like Master All's Well!" + +"All's Well?" + +"That's what Francois calls him; and you couldn't have a better name for +him. He always looks happy and glad to be alive. He's independent, too, +and he disappears for hours and even days at a time; but he's always +there when he's wanted, if you're feeling sad, or if things aren't going +as you might like them to. All's Well hates to see any one crying or +scolding or quarrelling. The moment you cry, or pretend to cry, he comes +and squats on his haunches in front of you, sits up, shuts one eye, +half-opens the other and looks so exactly as if he was laughing that you +begin to laugh yourself. 'That's right, old chap,' says Francois, +'you're quite right: all's well. There's nothing to take on about, is +there?' And, when you're consoled, All's Well just trots away. His task +is done." + +Veronique laughed and cried in one breath. Then she was silent for a +long time, feeling more and more gloomy and overcome by a despair which +overwhelmed all her gladness. She thought of all the happiness that she +had missed during the fourteen years of her childless motherhood, +wearing her mourning for a son who was alive. All the cares that a +mother lavishes upon the little creature new-born into the world, all +the pride that she feels at seeing him grow and hearing him speak, all +that delights a mother and uplifts her and makes her heart overflow with +daily renewed affection: all this she had never known. + +"We are half-way across," said Honorine. + +They were running in sight of the Glenans Islands. On their right, the +headland of Penmarch, whose coast-line they were following at a distance +of fifteen miles, marked a darker line which was not always +differentiated from the horizon. + +And Veronique thought of her sad past, of her mother, whom she hardly +remembered, of her childhood spent with a selfish, disagreeable father, +of her marriage, ah, above all of her marriage! She recalled her first +meetings with Vorski, when she was only seventeen. How frightened she +had been from the very beginning of that strange and unusual man, whom +she dreaded while she submitted to his influence, as one does at that +age submit to the influence of anything mysterious and incomprehensible! + +Next came the hateful day of the abduction and the other days, more +hateful still, that followed, the weeks during which he had kept her +imprisoned, threatening her and dominating her with all his evil +strength, and the promise of marriage which he had forced from her, a +pledge against which all the girl's instincts and all her will revolted, +but to which it seemed to her that she was bound to agree after so great +a scandal and also because her father was giving his consent. + +Her brain rebelled against the memories of her years of married life. +Never that! Not even in the worst hours, when the nightmares of the past +haunt one like spectres, never did she consent to revive, in the +innermost recesses of her mind, that degrading past, with its +mortifications, wounds and betrayals, and the disgraceful life led by +her husband, who, shamelessly, with cynical pride, gradually revealed +himself as the man he was, drinking, cheating at cards, robbing his boon +companions, a swindler and blackmailer, giving his wife the impression, +which she still retained and which made her shudder, of a sort of evil +genius, cruel and unbalanced. + +"Have done with dreams, Madame Veronique," said Honorine. + +"It's not so much dreams and memories as remorse," she replied. + +"Remorse, Madame Veronique? You, whose life has been one long +martyrdom?" + +"A martyrdom that was a punishment." + +"But all that is over and done with, Madame Veronique, seeing that you +are going to meet your son and your father again. Come, come, you must +think of nothing but being happy." + +"Happy? Can I be happy again?" + +"I should think so! You'll soon see! . . . Look, there's Sarek." + +Honorine took from a locker under her seat a large shell which she used +as a trumpet, after the manner of the mariners of old, and, putting her +lips to the mouthpiece and puffing out her cheeks, she blew a few +powerful notes, which filled the air with a sound not unlike the lowing +of an ox. + +Veronique gave her a questioning look. + +"It's him I'm calling," said Honorine. + +"Francois? You're calling Francois?" + +"Yes, it's the same every time I come back. He comes scrambling from the +top of the cliffs where we live and runs down to the jetty." + +"So I shall see him?" exclaimed Veronique, turning very pale. + +"You will see him. Fold your veil double, so that he may not know you +from your photographs. I'll speak to you as I would to a stranger who +has come to look at Sarek." + +They could see the island distinctly, but the foot of the cliffs was +hidden by a multitude of reefs. + +"Ah, yes, there's no lack of rocks! They swarm like a shoal of herring!" +cried Honorine, who had been obliged to switch off the motor and was +using two short paddles. "You know how calm the sea was just now. It's +never calm here." + +Thousands and thousands of little waves were dashing and clashing +against one another and waging an incessant and implacable war upon the +rocks. The boat seemed to be passing through the backwater of a torrent. +Nowhere was a strip of blue or green sea visible amid the bubbling foam. +There was nothing but white froth, whipped up by the indefatigable swirl +of the forces which desperately assailed the pointed teeth of the reefs. + +"And it's like that all round the island," said Honorine, "so much so +that you may say that Sarek isn't accessible except in a small boat. Ah, +the Huns could never have established a submarine base on our island! To +make quite sure and remove all doubts, some officers came over from +Lorient, two years ago, because of a few caves on the west, which can +only be entered at low tide. It was waste of time. There was nothing +doing here. Just think, it's like a sprinkle of rocks all around; and +pointed rocks at that, which get at you treacherously from underneath. +And, though these are the most dangerous, perhaps it is the others that +are most to be feared, the big ones which you see and have got their +name and their history from all sorts of crimes and shipwrecks. Oh, as +to those! . . ." + +Her voice grew hollow. With a hesitating hand, which seemed afraid of +the half-completed gesture, she pointed to some reefs which stood up in +powerful masses of different shapes, crouching animals, crenellated +keeps, colossal needles, sphynx-heads, jagged pyramids, all in black +granite stained with red, as though soaked in blood. + +And she whispered: + +"Oh, as to those, they have been guarding the island for centuries and +centuries, but like wild beasts that only care for doing harm and +killing. They . . . they . . . no, it's better never to speak about them +or even think of them. They are the thirty wild beasts. Yes, thirty, +Madame Veronique, there are thirty of them . . . ." + +She made the sign of the cross and continued, more calmly: + +"There are thirty of them. Your father says that Sarek is called the +island of the thirty coffins because the people instinctively ended in +this case by confusing the two words _ecueils_ and _cercueils_.[1] +Perhaps . . . . It's very likely . . . . But, all the same, they are +thirty real coffins, Madame Veronique; and, if we could open them, we +should be sure to find them full of bones and bones and bones. M. +d'Hergemont himself says that Sarek comes from the word Sarcophagus, +which, according to him, is the learned way of saying coffin. Besides, +there's more than that . . . ." + +[Footnote 1: "Reefs" and "coffins."--_Translator's Note._] + +Honorine broke off, as though she wanted to think of something else, +and, pointing to a reef of rocks, said: + +"Look, Madame Veronique, past that big one right in our way there, you +will see, through an opening, our little harbour and, on the quay, +Francois in his red cap." + +Veronique had been listening absent-mindedly to Honorine's explanations. +She leant her body farther out of the boat, in order to catch sight the +sooner of her son, while the Breton woman, once more a victim to her +obsession, continued, in spite of herself: + +"There's more than that. The Isle of Sarek--and that is why your father +came to live here--contains a collection of dolmens which have nothing +remarkable about them, but which are peculiar for one reason, that they +are all nearly alike. Well, how many of them do you think there are? +Thirty! Thirty, like the principal reefs. And those thirty are +distributed round the islands, on the cliffs, exactly opposite the +thirty reefs; and each of them bears the same name as the reef that +corresponds to it: Dol-er-H'roeck, Dol-Kerlitu and so on. What do you +say to that?" + +She had uttered these names in the same timid voice in which she spoke +of all these things, as if she feared to be heard by the things +themselves, to which she was attributing a formidable and sacred life. + +"What do you say to that, Madame Veronique? Oh, there's plenty of +mystery about it all; and, once more, it's better to hold one's tongue! +I'll tell you about it when we've left here, right away from the island, +and when your little Francois is in your arms, between your father and +you." + +Veronique sat silent, gazing into space at the spot to which Honorine +had pointed. With her back turned to her companion and her two hands +gripping the gunwale, she stared distractedly before her. It was there, +through that narrow opening, that she was to see her child, long lost +and now found; and she did not want to waste a single second after the +moment when she would be able to catch sight of him. + +They reached the rock. One of Honorine's paddles grazed its side. They +skirted and came to the end of it. + +"Oh," said Veronique, sorrowfully, "he is not there!" + +"Francois not there? Impossible!" cried Honorine. + +She in her turn saw, three or four hundred yards in front of them, the +few big rocks on the beach which served as a jetty. Three women, a +little girl and some old seafaring men were waiting for the boat, but no +boy, no red cap. + +"That's strange," said Honorine, in a low voice. "It's the first time +that he's failed to answer my call." + +"Perhaps he's ill?" Veronique suggested. + +"No, Francois is never ill." + +"What then?" + +"I don't know." + +"But aren't you afraid?" asked Veronique, who was already becoming +frightened. + +"For him, no . . . but for your father. Maguennoc said that I oughtn't +to leave him. It's he who is threatened." + +"But Francois is there to defend him; and so is M. Maroux, his tutor. +Come, answer me: what do you imagine?" + +After a moment's pause, Honorine shrugged her shoulders. + +"A pack of nonsense! I get absurd, yes, absurd things into my head. +Don't be angry with me. I can't help it: it's the Breton in me. Except +for a few years, I have spent all my life here, with legends and stories +in the very air I breathed. Don't let's talk about it." + +The Isle of Sarek appears in the shape of a long and undulating +table-land, covered with ancient trees and standing on cliffs of medium +height than which nothing more jagged could be imagined. It is as though +the island were surrounded by a reef of uneven, diversified lacework, +incessantly wrought upon by the rain, the wind, the sun, the snow, the +frost, the mist and all the water that falls from the sky or oozes from +the earth. + +The only accessible point is on the eastern side, at the bottom of a +depression where a few houses, mostly abandoned since the war, +constitute the village. A break in the cliffs opens here, protected by +the little jetty. The sea at this spot is perfectly calm. + +Two boats lay moored to the quay. + +Before landing, Honorine made a last effort: + +"We're there, Madame Veronique, as you see. Now is it really worth your +while to get out? Why not stay where you are? I'll bring your father and +your son to you in two hours' time and we'll have dinner at Beg-Meil or +at Pont-l'Abbe. Will that do?" + +Veronique rose to her feet and leapt on to the quay without replying. +Honorine joined her and insisted no longer: + +"Well, children, where's young Francois? Hasn't he come?" + +"He was here about twelve," said one of the women. "Only he didn't +expect you until to-morrow." + +"That's true enough . . . but still he must have heard me blow my horn. +However, we shall see." + +And, as the man helped her to unload the boat, she said: + +"I shan't want all this taken up to the Priory. Nor the bags either. +Unless . . . Look here, if I am not back by five o'clock, send a +youngster after me with the bags." + +"No, I'll come myself," said one of the seamen. + +"As you please, Correjou. Oh, by the way, where's Maguennoc?" + +"Maguennoc's gone. I took him across to Pont-l'Abbe myself." + +"When was that, Correjou?" + +"Why, the day after you went, Madame Honorine." + +"What was he going over for?" + +"He told us he was going . . . I don't know where . . . . It had to do +with the hand he lost . . . . a pilgrimage . . . ." + +"A pilgrimage? To Le Faouet, perhaps? To St. Barbe's Chapel?" + +"That's it . . . that's it exactly: St. Barbe's Chapel, that's what he +said." + +Honorine asked no more. She could no longer doubt that Maguennoc was +dead. She moved away, accompanied by Veronique, who had lowered her +veil; and the two went along a rocky path, cut into steps, which ran +through the middle of an oak-wood towards the southernmost point of the +island. + +"After all," said Honorine, "I am not sure--and I may as well say +so--that M. d'Hergemont will consent to leave. He treats all my stories +as crotchets, though there's plenty of things that astonish even him +. . . ." + +"Does he live far from here?" asked Veronique. + +"It's forty minutes' walk. As you will see, it's almost another island, +joined to the first. The Benedictines built an abbey there." + +"But he's not alone there, is he, with Francois and M. Maroux?" + +"Before the war, there were two men besides. Lately, Maguennoc and I +used to do pretty well all the work, with the cook, Marie Le Goff." + +"She remained, of course, while you were away?" + +"Yes." + +They reached the top of the cliffs. The path, which followed the coast, +rose and fell in steep gradients. On every hand were old oaks with their +bunches of mistletoe, which showed among the as yet scanty leaves. The +sea, grey-green in the distance, girded the island with a white belt. + +Veronique continued: + +"What do you propose to do, Honorine?" + +"I shall go in by myself and speak to your father. Then I shall come +back and fetch you at the garden-gate; and in Francois' eyes you will +pass for a friend of his mother's. He will guess the truth gradually." + +"And you think that my father will give me a good welcome?" + +"He will receive you with open arms, Madame Veronique," cried the Breton +woman, "and we shall all be happy, provided . . . provided nothing has +happened . . . It's so funny that Francois doesn't run out to meet me! +He can see our boat from every part of the island . . . as far off as +the Glenans almost." + +She relapsed into what M. d'Hergemont called her crotchets; and they +pursued their road in silence. Veronique felt anxious and impatient. + +Suddenly Honorine made the sign of the cross: + +"You do as I'm doing, Madame Veronique," she said. "The monks have +consecrated the place, but there's lots of bad, unlucky things remaining +from the old days, especially in that wood, the wood of the Great Oak." + +The old days no doubt meant the period of the Druids and their human +sacrifices; and the two women were now entering a wood in which the +oaks, each standing in isolation on a mound of moss-grown stones, had a +look of ancient gods, each with his own altar, his mysterious cult and +his formidable power. + +Veronique, following Honorine's example, crossed herself and could not +help shuddering as she said: + +"How melancholy it is! There's not a flower on this desolate plateau." + +"They grow most wonderfully when one takes the trouble. You shall see +Maguennoc's, at the end of the island, to the right of the Fairies' +Dolmen . . . a place called the Calvary of the Flowers." + +"Are they lovely?" + +"Wonderful, I tell you. Only he goes himself to get the mould from +certain places. He prepares it. He works it up. He mixes it with some +special leaves of which he knows the effect." And she repeated, "You +shall see Maguennoc's flowers. There are no flowers like them in the +world. They are miraculous flowers . . . ." + +After skirting a hill, the road descended a sudden declivity. A huge +gash divided the island into two parts, the second of which now +appeared, standing a little higher, but very much more limited in +extent. + +"It's the Priory, that part," said Honorine. + +The same jagged cliffs surrounded the smaller islet with an even steeper +rampart, which itself was hollowed out underneath like the hoop of a +crown. And this rampart was joined to the main island by a strip of +cliff fifty yards long and hardly thicker than a castle-wall, with a +thin, tapering crest which looked as sharp as the edge of an axe. + +There was no thoroughfare possible along this ridge, inasmuch as it was +split in the middle with a wide fissure, for which reason the abutments +of a wooden bridge had been anchored to the two extremities. The bridge +started flat on the rock and subsequently spanned the intervening +crevice. + +They crossed it separately, for it was not only very narrow but also +unstable, shaking under their feet and in the wind. + +"Look, over there, at the extreme point of the island," said Honorine, +"you can see a corner of the Priory." + +The path that led to it ran through fields planted with small fir-trees +arranged in quincunxes. Another path turned to the right and disappeared +from view in some dense thickets. + +Veronique kept her eyes upon the Priory, whose low-storied front was +lengthening gradually, when Honorine, after a few minutes, stopped +short, with her face towards the thickets on the right, and called out: + +"Monsieur Stephane!" + +"Whom are you calling?" asked Veronique. "M. Maroux?" + +"Yes, Francois' tutor. He was running towards the bridge: I caught sight +of him through a clearing . . . Monsieur Stephane! . . . But why doesn't +he answer? Did you see a man running?" + +"No." + +"I declare it was he, with his white cap. At any rate, we can see the +bridge behind us. Let us wait for him to cross." + +"Why wait? If anything's the matter, if there's a danger of any kind, +it's at the Priory." + +"You're right. Let's hurry." + +They hastened their pace, overcome with forebodings; and then, for no +definite reason, broke into a run, so greatly did their fears increase +as they drew nearer to the reality. + +The islet grew narrower again, barred by a low wall which marked the +boundaries of the Priory domain. At that moment, cries were heard, +coming from the house. + +Honorine exclaimed: + +"They're calling! Did you hear? A woman's cries! It's the cook! It's +Marie Le Goff! . . ." + +She made a dash for the gate and grasped the key, but inserted it so +awkwardly that she jammed the lock and was unable to open it. + +"Through the gap!" she ordered. "This way, on the right!" + +They rushed along, scrambled through the wall and crossed a wide grassy +space filled with ruins, in which the winding and ill-marked path +disappeared at every moment under trailing creepers and moss. + +"Here we are! Here we are!" shouted Honorine. "We're coming!" + +And she muttered: + +"The cries have stopped! It's dreadful! Oh, poor Marie Le Goff!" + +She grasped Veronique's arm: + +"Let's go round. The front of the house is on the other side. On this +side the doors are always locked and the window-shutters closed." + +But Veronique caught her foot in some roots, stumbled and fell to her +knees. When she stood up again, the Breton woman had left her and was +hurrying round the left wing. Unconsciously, Veronique, instead of +following her, made straight for the house, climbed the step and was +brought up short by the door, at which she knocked again and again. + +The idea of going round, as Honorine had done, seemed to her a waste of +time which nothing could ever make good. However, realising the +futility of her efforts, she was just deciding to go, when once more +cries sounded from inside the house and above her head. + +It was a man's voice, which Veronique seemed to recognize as her +father's. She fell back a few steps. Suddenly one of the windows on the +first floor opened and she saw M. d'Hergemont, his features distorted +with inexpressible terror, gasping: + +"Help! Help! Oh, the monster! Help!" + +"Father! Father!" cried Veronique, in despair. "It's I!" + +He lowered his head for an instant, appeared not to see his daughter and +made a quick attempt to climb over the balcony. But a shot rang out +behind him and one of the window-panes was blown into fragments. + +"Murderer, murderer!" he shouted, turning back into the room. + +Veronique, mad with fear and helplessness, looked around her. How could +she rescue her father? The wall was too high and offered nothing to +cling to. Suddenly, she saw a ladder, lying twenty yards away, beside +the wall of the house. With a prodigious effort of will and strength, +she managed to carry the ladder, heavy though it was, and to set it up +under the open window. + +At the most tragic moment in life, when the mind is no more than a +seething confusion, when the whole body is shaken by the tremor of +anguish, a certain logic continues to connect our ideas: and Veronique +wondered why she had not heard Honorine's voice and what could have +delayed her coming. + +She also thought of Francois. Where was Francois? Had he followed +Stephane Maroux in his inexplicable flight? Had he gone in search of +assistance? And who was it that M. d'Hergemont had apostrophized as a +monster and a murderer? + +The ladder did not reach the window; and Veronique at once became aware +of the effort which would be necessary if she was to climb over the +balcony. Nevertheless she did not hesitate. They were fighting up there; +and the struggle was mingled with stifled shouts uttered by her father. +She went up the ladder. The most that she could do was to grasp the +bottom rail of the balcony. But a narrow ledge enabled her to hoist +herself on one knee, to put her head through and to witness the tragedy +that was being enacted in the room. + +At that moment, M. d'Hergemont had once more retreated to the window and +even a little beyond it, so that she almost saw him face to face. He +stood without moving, haggard-eyed and with his arms hanging in an +undecided posture, as though waiting for something terrible to happen. +He stammered: + +"Murderer! Murderer! . . . Is it really you? Oh, curse you! Francois! +Francois!" + +He was no doubt calling upon his grandson for help; and Francois no +doubt was also exposed to some attack, was perhaps wounded, was possibly +dead! + +Veronique summoned up all her strength and succeeded in setting foot on +the ledge. + +"Here I am! Here I am!" she meant to cry. + +But her voice died away in her throat. She had seen! She saw! Facing +her father, at a distance of five paces, against the opposite wall of +the room, stood some one pointing a revolver at M. d'Hergemont and +deliberately taking aim. And that some one was . . . oh, horror! +Veronique recognized the red cap of which Honorine had spoken, the +flannel shirt with the gilt buttons. And above all she beheld, in that +young face convulsed with hideous emotions, the very expression which +Vorski used to wear at times when his instincts, hatred and ferocity, +gained the upper hand. + +The boy did not see her. His eyes were fixed on the mark which he +proposed to hit; and he seemed to take a sort of savage joy in +postponing the fatal act. + +Veronique herself was silent. Words or cries could not possibly avert +the peril. What she had to do was to fling herself between her father +and her son. She clutched hold of the railings, clambered up and climbed +through the window. + +It was too late. The shot was fired. M. d'Hergemont fell with a groan of +pain. + +And, at the same time, at that very moment, while the boy still had his +arm outstretched and the old man was sinking into a huddled heap, a door +opened at the back. Honorine appeared; and the abominable sight struck +her, so to speak, full in the face. + +"Francois!" she screamed. "You! You!" + +The boy sprang at her. The woman tried to bar his way. There was not +even a struggle. The boy took a step back, quickly raised his weapon and +fired. + +Honorine's knees gave way beneath her and she fell across the +threshold. And, as he jumped over her body and fled, she kept on +repeating: + +"Francois . . . . Francois . . . . No, it's not true! . . . Oh, can it +be possible? . . . Francois . . . ." + +There was a burst of laughter outside. Yes, the boy had laughed. +Veronique heard that horrible, infernal laugh, so like Vorski's laugh; +and it all agonized her with the same anguish which used to sear her in +Vorski's days! + +She did not run after the murderer. She did not call out. + +A faint voice beside her was murmuring her name: + +"Veronique . . . . Veronique . . . ." + +M. d'Hergemont lay on the ground, staring at her with glassy eyes which +were already filled with death. + +She knelt down by his side; but, when she tried to unbutton his +waistcoat and his bloodstained shirt, in order to dress the wound of +which he was dying, he gently pushed her hand aside. She understood that +all aid was useless and that he wished to speak to her. She stooped +still lower. + +"Veronique . . . forgive . . . Veronique . . . ." + +It was the first utterance of his failing thoughts. + +She kissed him on the forehead and wept: + +"Hush, father . . . . Don't tire yourself . . . ." + +But he had something else to say; and his mouth vainly emitted syllables +which did not form words and to which she listened in despair. His life +was ebbing away. His mind was fading into the darkness. Veronique glued +her ear to the lips which exhausted themselves in a supreme effort and +she caught the words: + +"Beware . . . beware . . . the God-Stone . . . ." + +Suddenly he half raised himself. His eyes flashed as though lit by the +last flicker of an expiring flame. Veronique received the impression +that her father, as he looked at her, now understood nothing but the +full significance of her presence and foresaw all the dangers that +threatened her; and, speaking in a hoarse and terrified but quite +distinct voice, he said: + +"You mustn't stay . . . . It means death if you stay . . . . Escape this +island . . . . Go . . . Go . . . ." + +His head fell back. He stammered a few more words which Veronique was +just able to grasp: + +"Oh, the cross! . . . The four crosses of Sarek! . . . My daughter . . . +my daughter . . . crucified! . . ." + +And that was all. + +There was a great silence, a vast silence which Veronique felt weighing +upon her like a burden that grows heavier second after second. + +"You must escape from this island," a voice repeated. "Go, quickly. Your +father bade you, Madame Veronique." + +Honorine was beside her, livid in the face, with her two hands clasping +a napkin, rolled into a plug and red with blood, which she held to her +chest. + +"But I must look after you first!" cried Veronique. "Wait a moment +. . . . Let me see . . . ." + +"Later on . . . they'll attend to me presently," spluttered Honorine. +"Oh, the monster! . . . If I had only come in time! But the door below +was barricaded . . . ." + +"Do let me see to your wound," Veronique implored. "Lie down." + +"Presently . . . . First Marie Le Goff, the cook, at the top of the +staircase . . . . She's wounded too . . . mortally perhaps . . . . Go +and see." + +Veronique went out by the door at the back, the one through which her +son had made his escape. There was a large landing here. On the top +steps, curled into a heap, lay Marie Le Goff, with the death-rattle in +her throat. + +She died almost at once, without recovering consciousness, the third +victim of the incomprehensible tragedy. As foretold by old Maguennoc, M. +d'Hergemont had been the second victim. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE POOR PEOPLE OF SAREK + + +Honorine's wound was deep but did not seem likely to prove fatal. When +Veronique had dressed it and moved Marie Le Goff's body to the room +filled with books and furnished like a study in which her father was +lying, she closed M. d'Hergemont's eyes, covered him with a sheet and +knelt down to pray. But the words of prayer would not come to her lips +and her mind was incapable of dwelling on a single thought. She felt +stunned by the repeated blows of misfortune. She sat down in a chair, +holding her head in her hands. Thus she remained for nearly an hour, +while Honorine slept a feverish sleep. + +With all her strength she rejected her son's image, even as she had +always rejected Vorski's. But the two images became mingled together, +whirling around her and dancing before her eyes like those lights which, +when we close our eyelids tightly, pass and pass again and multiply and +blend into one. And it was always one and the same face, cruel, +sardonic, hideously grinning. + +She did not suffer, as a mother suffers when mourning the loss of a son. +Her son had been dead these fourteen years; and the one who had come to +life again, the one for whom all the wells of her maternal affection +were ready to gush forth, had suddenly become a stranger and even worse: +Vorski's son! How indeed could she have suffered? + +But ah, what a wound inflicted in the depths of her being! What an +upheaval, like those cataclysms which shake the whole of a peaceful +country-side! What a hellish spectacle! What a vision of madness and +horror! What an ironical jest, a jest of the most hideous destiny! Her +son killing her father at the moment when, after all these years of +separation and sorrow, she was on the point of embracing them both and +living with them in sweet and homely intimacy! Her son a murderer! Her +son dispensing death and terror broadcast! Her son levelling that +ruthless weapon, slaying with all his heart and soul and taking a +perverse delight in it! + +The motives which might explain these actions interested her not at all. +Why had her son done these things? Why had his tutor, Stephane Maroux, +doubtless an accomplice, possibly an instigator, fled before the +tragedy? These were questions which she did not seek to solve. She +thought only of the frightful scene of carnage and death. And she asked +herself if death was not for her the only refuge and the only ending. + +"Madame Veronique," whispered Honorine. + +"What is it?" asked Veronique, roused from her stupor. + +"Don't you hear?" + +"What?" + +"A ring at the bell below. They must be bringing your luggage." + +She sprang to her feet. + +"But what am I to say? How can I explain? . . . If I accuse that boy +. . ." + +"Not a word, please. Let me speak to them." + +"You're very weak, my poor Honorine." + +"No, no, I'm feeling better." + +Veronique went downstairs, crossed a broad entrance-hall paved with +black and white flags and drew the bolts of a great door. + +It was, as they expected, one of the sailors: + +"I knocked at the kitchen-door first," said the man. "Isn't Marie Le +Goff there? And Madame Honorine?" + +"Honorine is upstairs and would like to speak to you." + +The sailor looked at her, seemed impressed by this young woman, who +looked so pale and serious, and followed her without a word. + +Honorine was waiting on the first floor, standing in front of the open +door: + +"Ah, it's you, Correjou? . . . Now listen to me . . . and no silly talk, +please." + +"What's the matter, M'ame Honorine? Why, you're wounded! What is it?" + +She stepped aside from the doorway and, pointing to the two bodies under +their winding-sheets, said simply: + +"Monsieur Antoine and Marie Le Goff . . . both of them murdered." + +The man's face became distorted. He stammered: + +"Murdered . . . you don't say so . . . . Why?" + +"I don't know; we arrived after it happened." + +"But . . . young Francois? . . . Monsieur Stephane? . . ." + +"Gone . . . . They must have been killed too." + +"But . . . but . . . Maguennoc?" + +"Maguennoc? Why do you speak of Maguennoc?" + +"I speak of Maguennoc, I speak of Maguennoc . . . because, if he's alive +. . . this is a very different business. Maguennoc always said that he +would be the first. Maguennoc only says things of which he's certain. +Maguennoc understands these things thoroughly." + +Honorine reflected and then said: + +"Maguennoc has been killed." + +This time Correjou lost all his composure: and his features expressed +that sort of insane terror which Veronique had repeatedly observed in +Honorine. He made the sign of the cross and said, in a low whisper: + +"Then . . . then . . . it's happening, Ma'me Honorine? . . . Maguennoc +said it would . . . . Only the other day, in my boat, he was saying, 'It +won't be long now . . . . Everybody ought to get away.'" + +And suddenly the sailor turned on his heel and made for the staircase. + +"Stay where you are, Correjou," said Honorine, in a voice of command. + +"We must get away. Maguennoc said so. Everybody has got to go." + +"Stay where you are," Honorine repeated. + +Correjou stopped, undecidedly. And Honorine continued: + +"We are agreed. We must go. We shall start to-morrow, towards the +evening. But first we must attend to Monsieur Antoine and to Marie Le +Goff. Look here, you go to the sisters Archignat and send them to keep +watch by the dead. They are bad women, but they are used to doing that. +Say that two of the three must come. Each of them shall have double the +ordinary fee." + +"And after that, Ma'me Honorine?" + +"You and all the old men will see to the coffins; and at daybreak we +will bury the bodies in consecrated ground, in the cemetery of the +chapel." + +"And after that, Ma'me Honorine?" + +"After that, you will be free and the others too. You can pack up and be +off." + +"But you, Ma'me Honorine?" + +"I have the boat. That's enough talking. Are we agreed?" + +"Yes, we're agreed. It means one more night to spend here. But I suppose +that nothing fresh will happen between this and to-morrow? . . ." + +"Why no, why no . . . Go, Correjou. Hurry. And above all don't tell the +others that Maguennoc is dead . . . or we shall never keep them here." + +"That's a promise, Ma'me Honorine." + +The man hastened away. + +An hour later, two of the sisters Archignat appeared, two skinny, +shrivelled old hags, looking like witches in their dirty, greasy caps +with the black-velvet bows. Honorine was taken to her own room on the +same floor, at the end of the left wing. + +And the vigil of the dead began. + + * * * * * + +Veronique spent the first part of the night beside her father's body and +then went and sat with Honorine, whose condition seemed to grow worse. +She ended by dozing off and was wakened by the Breton woman, who said to +her, in one of those accesses of fever in which the brain still retains +a certain lucidity: + +"Francois must be hiding . . . and M. Stephane too . . . The island has +safe hiding-places, which Maguennoc showed them. We shan't see them, +therefore; and no one will know anything about them." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Quite. So listen to me. To-morrow, when everybody has left Sarek and +when we two are alone, I shall blow the signal with my horn and he will +come here." + +Veronique was horrified: + +"But I don't want to see him!" she exclaimed, indignantly. "I loathe +him! . . . Like my father, I curse him! . . . Have you forgotten? He +killed my father, before our eyes! He killed Marie Le Goff! He tried to +kill you! . . . No, what I feel for him is hatred and disgust! The +monster!" + +The Breton woman took her hand, as she had formed a habit of doing, and +murmured: + +"Don't condemn him yet . . . . He did not know what he was doing." + +"What do you mean? He didn't know? Why, I saw his eyes, Vorski's eyes!" + +"He did not know . . . he was mad." + +"Mad? Nonsense!" + +"Yes, Madame Veronique. I know the boy. He's the kindest creature on +earth. If he did all this, it was because he went mad suddenly . . . he +and M. Stephane. They must both be weeping in despair now." + +"It's impossible. I can't believe it." + +"You can't believe it because you know nothing of what is happening +. . . and of what is going to happen . . . . But, if you did know . . . +Oh, there are things . . . there are things!" + +Her voice was no longer audible. She was silent, but her eyes remained +wide open and her lips moved without uttering a sound. + +Nothing occurred until the morning. At five o'clock Veronique heard them +nailing down the coffins; and almost immediately afterwards the door of +the room in which she sat was opened and the sisters Archignat entered +like a whirlwind, both greatly excited. + +They had heard the truth from Correjou, who, to give himself courage, +had taken a drop too much to drink and was talking at random: + +"Maguennoc is dead!" they screamed. "Maguennoc is dead and you never +told us! Give us our money, quick! We're going!" + +The moment they were paid, they ran away as fast as their legs would +carry them; and, an hour later, some other women, informed by them, came +hurrying to drag their men from their work. They all used the same +words: + +"We must go! We must get ready to start! . . . It'll be too late +afterwards. The two boats can take us all." + +Honorine had to intervene with all her authority and Veronique was +obliged to distribute money. And the funeral was hurriedly conducted. +Not far away was an old chapel, carefully restored by M. d'Hergemont, +where a priest came once a month from Pont-l'Abbe to say mass. Beside it +was the ancient cemetery of the abbots of Sarek. The two bodies were +buried here; and an old man, who in ordinary times acted as sacristan, +mumbled the blessing. + +All the people seemed smitten with madness. Their voices and movements +were spasmodic. They were obsessed with the fixed idea of leaving the +island and paid no attention to Veronique, who knelt a little way off, +praying and weeping. + +It was all over before eight o'clock. Men and women made their way down +across the island. Veronique, who felt as though she were living in a +nightmare world where events followed upon one another without logic and +with no connected sequence, went back to Honorine, whose feeble +condition had prevented her from attending her master's funeral. + +"I'm feeling better," said the Breton woman. "We shall go to-day or +to-morrow and we shall go with Francois." + +Veronique protested angrily; but Honorine repeated: + +"With Francois, I tell you, and with M. Stephane. And as soon as +possible. I also want to go . . . and to take you with me . . . and +Francois too. There is death in the island. Death is the master here. We +must leave Sarek. We shall all go." + +Veronique did not wish to thwart her. But at nine o'clock hurried steps +were heard outside. It was Correjou, coming from the village. On +reaching the door he shouted: + +"They've stolen your motor-boat, Ma'me Honorine! She's disappeared!" + +"Impossible!" said Honorine. + +But the sailor, all out of breath, declared: + +"She's disappeared. I suspected something this morning early. But I +expect I had had a glass too much; I did not give it another thought. +Others have since seen what I did. The painter has been cut . . . . It +happened during the night. And they've made off. No one saw or heard +them." + +The two women exchanged glances; and the same thought occurred to both +of them: Francois and Stephane Maroux had taken to flight. + +Honorine muttered between her teeth: + +"Yes, yes, that's it: he understands how to work the boat." + +Veronique perhaps felt a certain relief at knowing that the boy had gone +and that she would not see him again. But Honorine, seized with a +renewed fear, exclaimed: + +"Then . . . then what are we to do?" + +"You must leave at once, Ma'me Honorine. The boats are ready . . . +everybody's packing up. There'll be no one in the village by eleven +o'clock." + +Veronique interposed: + +"Honorine's not in a condition to travel." + +"Yes, I am; I'm better," the Breton woman declared. + +"No, it would be ridiculous. Let us wait a day or two . . . . Come back +in two days, Correjou." + +She pushed the sailor towards the door. He, for that matter, was only +too anxious to go: + +"Very well," he said, "that'll do: I'll come back the day after +to-morrow. Besides, we can't take everything with us. We shall have to +come back now and again to fetch our things . . . . Good-bye, Ma'me +Honorine; take care of yourself." + +And he ran outside. + +"Correjou! Correjou!" + +Honorine was sitting up in bed and calling to him in despair: + +"No, no, don't go away, Correjou! . . . Wait for me and carry me to your +boat." + +She listened; and, as the man did not return, she tried to get up: + +"I'm frightened," she said. "I don't want to be left alone." + +Veronique held her down: + +"You're not going to be left alone, Honorine. I shan't leave you." + +There was an actual struggle between the two women; and Honorine, pushed +back on her bed by main force, moaned, helplessly: + +"I'm frightened . . . . I'm frightened . . . . The island is accursed +. . . . It's tempting Providence to remain behind . . . . Maguennoc's +death was a warning . . . . I'm frightened . . . ." + +She was more or less delirious, but still retained a half-lucidity which +enabled her to intersperse a few intelligible and reasonable remarks +among the incoherent phrases which revealed her superstitious Breton +soul. + +She gripped Veronique by her two shoulders and declared: + +"I tell you, the island's cursed. Maguennoc confessed as much himself +one day: 'Sarek is one of the gates of hell,' he said. 'The gate is +closed now, but, on the day when it opens, every misfortune you can +think of will be upon it like a squall.'" + +She calmed herself a little, at Veronique's entreaty, and continued, in +a lower voice, which grew fainter as she spoke: + +"He loved the island, though . . . as we all do. At such times he would +speak of it in a way which I did not understand: 'The gate is a double +one, Honorine, and it also opens on Paradise.' Yes, yes, the island was +good to live in . . . . We loved it . . . . Maguennoc made flowers grow +on it . . . . Oh, those flowers! They were enormous: three times as tall +. . . and as beautiful . . ." + +The minutes passed slowly. The bedroom was at the extreme left of the +house, just above the rocks which overhung the sea and separated from +them only by the width of the road. + +Veronique sat down at the window, with her eyes fixed on the white waves +which grew still more troubled as the wind blew more strongly. The sun +was rising. In the direction of the village she saw nothing except a +steep headland. But, beyond the belt of foam studded with the black +points of the reefs, the view embraced the deserted plains of the +Atlantic. + +Honorine murmured, drowsily: + +"They say that the gate is a stone . . . and that it comes from very far +away, from a foreign country. It's the God-Stone. They also say that +it's a precious stone . . . the colour of gold and silver mixed . . . . +The God-Stone . . . . The stone that gives life or death . . . . +Maguennoc saw it . . . . He opened the gate and put his arm through +. . . . And his hand . . . his hand was burnt to a cinder." + +Veronique felt oppressed. Fear was gradually overcoming her also, like +the oozing and soaking of stagnant water. The horrible events of the +last few days, of which she had been a terrified witness, seemed to +evoke others yet more dreadful, which she anticipated like an inevitable +hurricane that is bound to carry off everything in its headlong course. + +She expected them. She had no doubt that they would come, unloosed by +the fatal power which was multiplying its terrible assaults upon her. + +"Don't you see the boats?" asked Honorine. + +"No," she said, "you can't see them from here." + +"Yes, you can: they are sure to come this way. They are heavy boats: and +there's a wider passage at the point." + +The next moment, Veronique saw the bow of a boat project beyond the end +of the headland. The boat lay low in the water, being very heavily +laden, crammed with crates and parcels on which women and children were +seated. Four men were rowing lustily. + +"That's Correjou's," said Honorine, who had left her bed, half-dressed. +"And there's the other: look." + +The second boat came into view, equally burdened. Only three men were +rowing, with a woman to help them. + +Both boats were too far away--perhaps seven or eight hundred yards--to +allow the faces of the occupants to be seen. And no sound of voices rose +from those heavy hulls with their cargoes of wretchedness, which were +fleeing from death. + +"Oh dear, oh dear!" moaned Honorine. "If only they escape this hell!" + +"What can you be afraid of, Honorine? They are in no danger." + +"Yes, they are, as long as they have not left the island." + +"But they have left it." + +"It's still the island all around the island. It's there that the +coffins lurk and lie in wait." + +"But the sea is not rough." + +"There's more than the sea. It's not the sea that's the enemy." + +"Then what is?" + +"I don't know . . . . I don't know . . . ." + +The two boats veered round at the southern point. Before them lay two +channels, which Honorine pointed out by the name of two reefs, the +Devil's Rock and the Sarek Tooth. + +It at once became evident that Correjou had chosen the Devil's Channel. + +"They're touching it," said Honorine. "They are there. Another hundred +yards and they are safe." + +She almost gave a chuckle: + +"Ah, all the devil's machinations will be thwarted, Madame Veronique! I +really believe that we shall be saved, you and I and all the people of +Sarek." + +Veronique remained silent. Her depression continued and was all the more +overwhelming because she could attribute it only to vague presentiments +which she was powerless to fight against. She had drawn an imaginary +line up to which the danger threatened, would continue to threaten, and +where it still persisted; and this line Correjou had not yet reached. + +Honorine was shivering with fever. She mumbled: + +"I'm frightened . . . . I'm frightened . . . ." + +"Nonsense," declared Veronique, pulling herself together, "It's absurd! +Where can the danger come from?" + +"Oh," cried the Breton woman, "what's that? What does it mean?" + +"What? What is it?" + +They had both pressed their foreheads to the panes and were staring +wildly before them. Down below, something had so to speak shot out from +the Devil's Rock. And they at once recognized the motor-boat which they +had used the day before and which according to Correjou had disappeared. + +"Francois! Francois!" cried Honorine, in stupefaction. "Francois and +Monsieur Stephane!" + +Veronique recognized the boy. He was standing in the bow of the +motor-boat and making signs to the people in the two rowing-boats. The +men answered by waving their oars, while the women gesticulated. In +spite of Veronique's opposition, Honorine opened both halves of the +window; and they could hear the sound of voices above the throbbing of +the motor, though they could not catch a single word. + +"What does it mean?" repeated Honorine. "Francois and M. Stephane! . . . +Why did they not make for the mainland?" + +"Perhaps," Veronique explained, "they were afraid of being observed and +questioned on landing." + +"No, they are known, especially Francois, who often used to go with me. +Besides, the identity-papers are in the boat. No, they were waiting +there, hidden behind the rock." + +"But, Honorine, if they were hiding, why do they show themselves now?" + +"Ah, that's just it, that's just it! . . . I don't understand . . . and +it strikes me as odd . . . . What must Correjou and the others think?" + +The two boats, of which the second was now gliding in the wake of the +first, had almost stopped. All the passengers seemed to be looking round +at the motor-boat, which came rapidly in their direction and slackened +speed when she was level with the second boat. In this way, she +continued on a line parallel with that of the two boats and fifteen or +twenty yards away. + +"I don't understand . . . . I don't understand," muttered Honorine. + +The motor had been cut off and the motor-boat now very slowly reached +the space that separated the two fish-boats. + +And suddenly the two women saw Francois stoop and then stand up again +and draw his right arm back, as though he were going to throw something. + +And at the same time Stephane Maroux acted in the same way. + +Then the unexpected, terrifying thing happened. + +"Oh!" cried Veronique. + +She hid her eyes for a second, but at once raised her head again and saw +the hideous sight in all its horror. + +Two things had been thrown across the little space, one from the bow, +flung by Francois, the other from the stern, flung by Stephane Maroux. + +And two bursts of fire at once shot up from the two boats, followed by +two whirls of smoke. + +The explosions re-echoed. For a moment, nothing of what happened amid +that black cloud was visible. Then the curtain parted, blown aside by +the wind, and Veronique and Honorine saw the two boats swiftly sinking, +while their occupants jumped into the sea. + +The sight, the infernal sight, did not last long. They saw, standing on +one of the buoys that marked the channel, a woman holding a child in her +arms, without moving: then some motionless bodies, no doubt killed by +the explosion; then two men fighting, mad perhaps. And all this went +down with the boats. + +A few eddies, some black specks floating on the surface; and that was +all. + +Honorine and Veronique, struck dumb with terror, had not uttered a +single word. The thing surpassed the worst that their anguished minds +could have conceived. + +When it was all over, Honorine put her hand to her head and, in a hollow +voice which Veronique was never to forget, said: + +"My head's bursting. Oh, the poor people of Sarek! They were my friends, +the friends of my childhood; and I shall never see them again . . . . +The sea never gives up its dead at Sarek: it keeps them. It has its +coffins all ready: thousands and thousands of hidden coffins . . . . Oh, +my head is bursting! . . . I shall go mad . . . mad like Francois, my +poor Francois!" + +Veronique did not answer. She was grey in the face. With clutching +fingers she clung to the balcony, gazing downwards as one gazes into an +abyss into which one is about to fling oneself. What would her son do? +Would he save those people, whose shouts of distress now reached her +ears, would he save them without delay? One may have fits of madness; +but the attacks pass away at the sight of certain things. + +The motor-boat had backed at first to avoid the eddies. Francois and +Stephane, whose red cap and white cap were still visible, were standing +in the same positions at the bow and the stern; and they held in their +hands . . . what? The two women could not see clearly, because of the +distance, what they held in their hands. It looked like two rather long +sticks. + +"Poles, to help them," suggested Veronique. + +"Or guns," said Honorine. + +The black specks were still floating. There were nine of them, the nine +heads of the survivors, whose arms also the two women saw moving from +time to time and whose cries for help they heard. + +Some were hurriedly moving away from the motor-boat, but four were +swimming towards it; and, of those four, two could not fail to reach it. + +Suddenly Francois and Stephane made the same movement, the movement of +marksmen taking aim. + +There were two flashes, followed by the sound of a single report. + +The heads of the two swimmers disappeared. + +"Oh, the monsters!" stammered Veronique, almost swooning and falling on +her knees. + +Honorine, beside her, began screaming: + +"Francois! Francois!" + +Her voice did not carry, first because it was too weak and then the wind +was in her face. But she continued: + +"Francois! Francois!" + +She next stumbled across the room and into the corridor, in search of +something, and returned to the window, still shouting: + +"Francois! Francois!" + +She had ended by finding the shell which she used as a signal. But, on +lifting it to her mouth, she found that she could produce only dull and +indistinct sounds from it: + +"Oh, curse the thing!" she cried, flinging the shell away. "I have no +strength left . . . . Francois! Francois!" + +She was terrible to look at, with her hair all in disorder and her face +covered with the sweat of fever. Veronique implored her: + +"Please, Honorine, please!" + +"But look at them, look at them!" + +The motor-boat was drifting forward down below, with the two marksmen at +their posts, holding their guns ready for murder. + +The survivors fled. Two of them hung back in the rear. + +These two were aimed at. Their heads disappeared from view. + +"But look at them!" Honorine said, explosively, in a hoarse voice. +"They're hunting them down! They're killing them like game! . . . Oh, +the poor people of Sarek! . . ." + +Another shot. Another black speck vanished. + +Veronique was writhing in despair. She shook the rails of the balcony, +as she might have shaken the bars of a cage in which she was imprisoned. + +"Vorski! Vorski!" she groaned, stricken by the recollection of her +husband. "He's Vorski's son!" + +Suddenly she felt herself seized by the throat and saw, close to her own +face, the distorted face of the Breton woman. + +"He's your son!" spluttered Honorine. "Curse you! You are the monster's +mother and you shall be punished for it!" + +And she burst out laughing and stamping her feet, in an overpowering fit +of hilarity. + +"The cross, yes, the cross! You shall be crucified, with nails through +your hands! . . . What a punishment, nails through your hands!" + +She was mad. + +Veronique released herself and tried to hold the other motionless: but +Honorine, filled with malicious rage, threw her off, making her lose +balance, and began to climb into the balcony. + +She remained standing outside the window, lifting up her arms and once +more shouting: + +"Francois! Francois!" + +The first floor was not so high on this side of the house, owing to the +slope of the ground. Honorine jumped into the path below, crossed it, +pushed her way through the shrubs that lined it and ran to the ridge of +rocks which formed the cliff and overhung the sea. + +She stopped for a moment, thrice called out the name of the child whom +she had reared and flung herself headlong into the deep. + +In the distance, the man-hunt drew to a finish. + +The heads sank one by one. The massacre was completed. + +Then the motor-boat with Francois and Stephane on board fled towards the +coast of Brittany, towards the beaches of Beg-Meil and Concarneau. + +Veronique was left alone on Coffin Island. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +"FOUR WOMEN CRUCIFIED" + + +Veronique was left alone on Coffin Island. Until the sun sank among the +clouds that seemed, on the horizon, to rest upon the sea, she did not +move, but sat huddled against the window, with her head buried in her +two arms resting on the sill. + +The dread reality passed through the darkness of her mind like pictures +which she strove not to see, but which at times became so clearly +defined that she imagined herself to be living through those atrocious +scenes again. + +Still she sought no explanation of all this and formed no theories as to +all the motives which might have thrown a light upon the tragedy. She +admitted the madness of Francois and of Stephane Maroux, being unable to +suppose any other reasons for such actions as theirs. And, believing the +two murderers to be mad, she did not even try to attribute to them any +projects or definite wishes. + +Moreover, Honorine's madness, of which she had, so to speak, observed +the outbreak, impelled her to look upon all that had happened as +provoked by a sort of mental upset to which all the people of Sarek had +fallen victims. She herself at moments felt that her brain was reeling, +that her ideas were fading away in a mist, that invisible ghosts were +hovering around her. + +She dozed off into a sleep which was haunted by these images and in +which she felt so wretched that she began to sob. Also it seemed to her +that she could hear a slight noise which, in her benumbed wits, assumed +a hostile significance. Enemies were approaching. She opened her eyes. + +A couple of yards in front of her, sitting upon its haunches, was a +queer animal, covered with long mud-coloured hair and holding its +fore-paws folded like a pair of arms. + +It was a dog; and she at once remembered Francois' dog, of which +Honorine had spoken as a dear, devoted, comical creature. She even +remembered his name, All's-Well. + +As she uttered this name in an undertone, she felt an angry impulse and +was almost driving away the animal endowed with such an ironical +nickname. All's-Well! And she thought of all the victims of the horrible +nightmare, of all the dead people of Sarek, of her murdered father, of +Honorine killing herself, of Francois going mad. All's-Well, forsooth! + +Meanwhile the dog did not stir. He was sitting up as Honorine had +described, with his head a little on one side, one eye closed, the +corners of his mouth drawn back to his ears and his arms crossed in +front of him; and there was really something very like a smile flitting +over his face. + +Veronique now remembered: this was the manner in which All's-Well +displayed his sympathy for those in trouble. All's-Well could not bear +the sight of tears. When people wept, he sat up until they in their turn +smiled and petted him. + +Veronique did not smile, but she pressed him against her and said: + +"No, my poor dog, all's not well; on the contrary, all's as bad as it +can be. No matter: we must live, mustn't we, and we mustn't go mad +ourselves like the others?" + +The necessities of life obliged her to act. She went down to the +kitchen, found some food and gave the dog a good share of it. Then she +went upstairs again. + +Night had fallen. She opened, on the first floor, the door of a bedroom +which at ordinary times must have been unoccupied. She was weighed down +with an immense fatigue, caused by all the efforts and violent emotions +which she had undergone. She fell asleep almost at once. All's Well lay +awake at the foot of her bed. + +Next morning she woke late, with a curious feeling of peace and +security. It seemed to her that her present life was somehow connected +with her calm and placid life at Besancon. The few days of horror which +she had passed fell away from her like distant events whose return she +had no need to fear. The men and women who had gone under in the great +horror became to her mind almost like strangers whom one has met and +does not expect to see again. Her heart ceased bleeding. Her sorrow for +them did not reach the depths of her soul. + +It was due to the unforeseen and undisturbed rest, the consoling +solitude. And all this seemed to her so pleasant that, when a steamer +came and anchored on the spot of the disaster, she made no signal. No +doubt yesterday, from the mainland, they had seen the flash of the +explosions and heard the report of the shots. Veronique remained +motionless. + +She saw a boat put off from the steamer and supposed that they were +going to land and explore the village. But not only did she dread an +enquiry in which her son might be involved: she herself did not wish to +be found, to be questioned, to have her name, her identity, her story +discovered and to be brought back into the infernal circle from which +she had escaped. She preferred to wait a week or two, to wait until +chance brought within hailing-distance of the island some fishing-boat +which could pick her up. + +But no one came to the Priory. The steamer put off; and nothing +disturbed her isolation. + +And so she remained for three days. Fate seemed to have reconsidered its +intention of making fresh assaults upon her. She was alone and her own +mistress. All's Well, whose company had done her a world of good, +disappeared. + +The Priory domain occupied the whole end of the island, on the site of a +Benedictine abbey, which had been abandoned in the fifteenth century and +gradually fallen into ruin and decay. + +The house, built in the eighteenth century by a wealthy Breton +ship-owner out of the materials of the old abbey and the stones of the +chapel, was in no way interesting either outside or in. Veronique, for +that matter, did not dare to enter any of the rooms. The memory of her +father and son checked her before the closed doors. + +But, on the second day, in the bright spring sunshine, she explored the +park. It extended to the point of the island and, like the sward in +front of the house, was studded with ruins and covered with ivy. She +noticed that all the paths ran towards a steep promontory crowned with a +clump of enormous oaks. When she reached the spot, she found that these +oaks stood round a crescent-shaped clearing which was open to the sea. + +In the centre of the clearing was a cromlech with a rather short, oval +table upheld by two supports of rock, which were almost square. The spot +possessed an impressive magnificence and commanded a boundless view. + +"The Fairies' Dolmen, of which Honorine spoke," thought Veronique. "I +cannot be far from the Calvary and Maguennoc's flowers." + +She walked round the megalith. The inner surface of the two uprights +bore a few illegible engraved signs. But the two outer surfaces facing +the sea formed as it were two smooth slabs prepared to receive an +inscription; and here she saw something that caused her to shudder with +anguish. On the right, deeply encrusted, was an unskilful, primitive +drawing of four crosses with four female figures writhing upon them. On +the left was a column of lines of writing, whose characters, +inadequately carved in the stone, had been almost obliterated by the +weather, or perhaps even deliberately effaced by human hands. A few +words remained, however, the very words which Veronique had read on the +drawing which she found beside Maguennoc's corpse: + +"Four women crucified . . . . Thirty coffins . . . . The God-Stone which +gives life or death." + +Veronique moved away, staggering. The mystery was once more before her, +as everywhere in the island, and she was determined to escape from it +until the moment when she could leave Sarek altogether. + +She took a path which started from the clearing and led past the last +oak on the right. This oak appeared to have been struck by lightning, +for all that remained of it was the trunk and a few dead branches. + +Farther on, she went down some stone steps, crossed a little meadow in +which stood four rows of menhirs and stopped suddenly with a stifled +cry, a cry of admiration and amazement, before the sight that presented +itself to her eyes. + +"Maguennoc's flowers," she whispered. + +The last two menhirs of the central alley which she was following stood +like the posts of a door that opened upon the most glorious spectacle, a +rectangular space, fifty yards long at most, which was reached by a +short descending flight of steps and bordered by two rows of menhirs all +of the same height and placed at accurately measured intervals, like the +columns of a temple. The nave and side-aisles of this temple were paved +with wide, irregular, broken granite flag-stones, which the grass, +growing in the cracks, marked with patterns similar to those of the lead +which frames the pieces of a stained-glass window. + +In the middle was a small bed of flowers thronging around an ancient +stone crucifix. But such flowers! Flowers which the wildest imagination +or fancy never conceived, dream-flowers, miraculous flowers, flowers out +of all proportion to ordinary flowers! + +Veronique recognized all of them; and yet she stood dumbfounded at their +size and splendour. There were flowers of many varieties, but few of +each variety. It was like a nosegay made to contain every colour, every +perfume and every beauty that flowers can possess. + +And the strangest thing was that these flowers, which do not usually +bloom at the same time and which open in successive months, were all +growing and blossoming together! On one and the same day, these flowers, +all perennial flowers whose time does not last much more than two or +three weeks, were blooming and multiplying, full and heavy, vivid, +sumptuous, proudly borne on their sturdy stems. + +There were spiderworts, there were ranunculi, tiger-lilies, columbines, +blood-red potentillas, irises of a brighter violet than a bishop's +cassock. There were larkspurs, phlox, fuchsias, monk's-hoods, +montbretias. And, above all this, to Veronique's intense emotion, above +the dazzling flower-bed, standing a little higher in a narrow border +around the pedestal of the crucifix, with all their blue, white and +violet clusters seeming to lift themselves so as to touch the Saviour's +very form, were veronicas! + +She was faint with emotion. As she came nearer, she had read on a little +label fastened to the pedestal these two words. + +"Mother's flowers." + + * * * * * + +Veronique did not believe in miracles. She was obliged to admit that the +flowers were wonderful, beyond all comparison with the flowers of our +climes. But she refused to think that this anomaly was not to be +explained except by supernatural causes or by magic recipes of which +Maguennoc held the secret. No, there was some reason, perhaps a very +simple one, of which events would afford a full explanation. + +Meanwhile, amid the beautiful pagan setting, in the very centre of the +miracle which it seemed to have wrought by its presence, the figure of +Christ Crucified rose from the mass of flowers which offered Him their +colours and their perfumes. Veronique knelt and prayed. + +Next day and the day after, she returned to the Calvary of the Flowers. +Here the mystery that surrounded her on every side had manifested itself +in the most charming fashion; and her son played a part in it that +enabled Veronique to think of him, before her own flowers, without +hatred or despair. + +But, on the fifth day, she perceived that her provisions were becoming +exhausted; and in the middle of the afternoon she went down to the +village. + +There she noticed that most of the houses had been left open, so certain +had their owners been, on leaving, of coming back again and taking what +they needed in a second trip. + +Sick at heart, she dared not cross the thresholds. There were geraniums +on the window-ledges. Tall clocks with brass pendulums were ticking off +the time in the empty rooms. She moved away. + +In a shed near the quay, however, she saw the sacks and boxes which +Honorine had brought with her in the motor-boat. + +"Well," she thought, "I shan't starve. There's enough to last me for +weeks; and by that time . . ." + +She filled a basket with chocolate, biscuits, a few tins of preserved +meat, rice and matches; and she was on the point of returning to the +Priory, when it occurred to her that she would continue her walk to the +other end of the island. She would fetch her basket on the way back. + +A shady road climbed upwards on the right. The landscape seemed to be +the same: the same flat stretches of moorland, without ploughed fields +or pastures; the same clumps of ancient oaks. The island also became +narrower, with no obstacle to block the view of the sea on either side +or of the Penmarch headland in the distance. + +There was also a hedge which ran from one cliff to the other and which +served to enclose a property, a shabby property, with a straggling, +dilapidated, tumbledown house upon it, some out-houses with patched +roofs and a dirty, badly-kept yard, full of scrap-iron and stacks of +firewood. + +Veronique was already retracing her steps, when she stopped in alarm and +surprise. It seemed to her that she heard some one moan. She listened, +striving to plumb the vast silence, and once again the same sound, but +this time more distinctly, reached her ears; and there were others: +cries of pain, cries for help, women's cries. Then had not all the +inhabitants taken to flight? She had a feeling of joy mingled with some +sorrow, to know that she was not alone in Sarek, and of fear also, at +the thought that events would perhaps drag her back again into the fatal +cycle of death and horror. + +So far as Veronique was able to judge, the noise came not from the +house, but from the buildings on the right of the yard. This yard was +closed with a simple gate which she had only to push and which opened +with the creaking sound of wood upon wood. + +The cries in the out-house at once increased in number. The people +inside had no doubt heard Veronique approach. She hastened her steps. + +Though the roof of the out-buildings was gone in places, the walls were +thick and solid, with old arched doors strengthened with iron bars. +There was a knocking against one of these doors from the inside, while +the cries became more urgent: + +"Help! Help!" + +But there was a dispute; and another, less strident voice grated: + +"Be quiet, Clemence, can't you? It may be them!" + +"No, no, Gertrude, it's not! I don't hear them! . . . Open the door, +will you? The key ought to be there." + +Veronique, who was seeking for some means of entering, now saw a big key +in the lock. She turned it; and the door opened. + +She at once recognized the sisters Archignat, half-dressed, gaunt, +evil-looking, witch-like. They were in a wash-house filled with +implements; and Veronique saw at the back, lying on some straw, a third +woman, who was bewailing her fate in an almost inaudible voice and who +was obviously the third sister. + +At that moment, one of the first two collapsed from exhaustion; and the +other, whose eyes were bright with fever, seized Veronique by the arm +and began to gasp: + +"Did you see them, tell me? . . . Are they there? . . . How is it they +didn't kill you? . . . They are the masters of Sarek since the others +went off . . . . And it's our turn next . . . . We've been locked in +here now for six days . . . . Listen, it was on the day when everybody +left. We three came here, to the wash-house, to fetch our linen, which +was drying. And then _they_ came . . . . We didn't hear them . . . . One +never does hear them . . . . And then, suddenly, the door was locked on +us . . . . A slam, a turn of the key . . . and the thing was done +. . . . We had bread, apples and best of all, brandy . . . . We didn't +do so badly . . . . Only, were they going to come back and kill us? Was +it our turn next? . . . Oh, my dear good lady, how we strained our ears! +And how we trembled with fear! . . . My eldest sister's gone crazy +. . . . Hark, you can hear her raving . . . . The other, Clemence, has +borne all she can . . . . And I . . . I . . . Gertrude . . ." + +Gertrude had plenty of strength left, for she was twisting Veronique's +arm: + +"And Correjou? He came back, didn't he, and went away again? Why didn't +anyone come to look for us? It would have been easy enough: everybody +knew where we were; and we called out at the least sound. So what does +it all mean?" + +Veronique hesitated what to reply. Still, why should she conceal the +truth? + +She replied: + +"The two boats went down." + +"What?" + +"The two boats sank in view of Sarek. All on board were drowned. It was +opposite the Priory . . . after leaving the Devil's Passage." + +Veronique said no more, so as to avoid mentioning the names of Francois +and his tutor or speaking of the part which these two had played. But +Clemence now sat up, with distorted features. She had been leaning +against the door and raised herself to her knees. + +Gertrude murmured: + +"And Honorine?" + +"Honorine is dead." + +"Dead!" + +The two sisters both cried out at once. Then they were silent and looked +at each other. The same thought struck them both. They seemed to be +reflecting. Gertrude was moving her fingers as though counting. And the +terror on their two faces increased. + +Speaking in a very low voice, as though choking with fear, Gertrude, +with her eyes fixed on Veronique, said: + +"That's it . . . that's it . . . I've got the total . . . . Do you know +how many there were in the boats, without my sisters and me? Do you +know? Twenty . . . . Well, reckon it up: twenty . . . and Maguennoc, who +was the first to die . . . and M. Antoine, who died afterwards . . . and +little Francois and M. Stephane, who vanished, but who are dead too +. . . and Honorine and Marie Le Goff, both dead . . . . So reckon it up: +that makes twenty-six, twenty-six . . . The total's correct, isn't it? +. . . Now take twenty-six from thirty . . . . You understand, don't you? +The thirty coffins: they have to be filled . . . . So twenty-six from +thirty . . . leaves four, doesn't it?" + +She could no longer speak; her tongue faltered. Nevertheless the +terrible syllables came from her mouth; and Veronique heard her +stammering: + +"Eh? Do you understand? . . . That leaves four . . . us four . . . the +three sisters Archignat, who were kept behind and locked up . . . and +yourself . . . . So--do you follow me?--the three crosses--you know, the +'four women crucified'--the number's there . . . it's our four selves +. . . there's no one besides us on the island . . . four women . . . ." + +Veronique had listened in silence. She broke out into a slight +perspiration. + +She shrugged her shoulders, however: + +"Well? And then? If there's no one except ourselves on the island, what +are you afraid of?" + +"_Them_, of course! _Them!_" + +Veronique lost her patience: + +"But if everybody has gone!" she exclaimed. + +Gertrude took fright: + +"Speak low. Suppose they heard you!" + +"But who?" + +"_They_: the people of old." + +"The people of old?" + +"Yes, those who used to make sacrifices . . . the people who killed men +and women . . . to please their gods." + +"But that's a thing of the past! The Druids: is that what you mean? +Come, come; there are no Druids nowadays." + +"Speak quietly! Speak quietly! There are still . . . there are evil +spirits . . ." + +"Then they're ghosts?" asked Veronique, horror-stricken by these +superstitions. + +"Ghosts, yes, but ghosts of flesh and blood . . . with hands that lock +doors and keep you imprisoned . . . creatures that sink boats, the same, +I tell you, that killed M. Antoine, Marie Le Goff and the others . . . +that killed twenty-six of us . . . ." + +Veronique did not reply. There was no reply to make. She knew, she knew +only too well who had killed M. d'Hergemont, Marie Le Goff and the +others and sunk the two boats. + +"What time was it when the three of you were locked in?" she asked. + +"Half-past ten . . . . We had arranged to meet Correjou in the village +at eleven." + +Veronique reflected. It was hardly possible that Francois and Stephane +should have had time to be at half-past ten in this place and an hour +later to be behind the rock from which they had darted out upon the two +boats. Was it to be presumed that one or more of their accomplices were +left on the island? + +"In any case," she said, "you must come to a decision. You can't remain +in this state. You must rest yourselves, eat something . . . ." + +The second sister had risen to her feet. She said, in the same hollow +and violent tones as her sister: + +"First of all, we must hide . . . and be able to defend ourselves +against _them_." + +"What do you mean?" asked Veronique. + +She too, in spite of herself, felt this need of a refuge against a +possible enemy. + +"What do I mean? I'll tell you. The thing has been talked about a lot in +the island, especially this year; and Maguennoc decided that, at the +first attack, everybody should take shelter in the Priory." + +"Why in the Priory?" + +"Because we could defend ourselves there. The cliffs are perpendicular. +You're protected on every side." + +"What about the bridge?" + +"Maguennoc and Honorine thought of everything. There's a little hut +fifteen yards to the left of the bridge. That's the place they hit on to +keep their stock of petrol in. Empty three or four cans over the bridge, +strike a match . . . and the thing's done. You're just as in your own +home. You can't be got at and you can't be attacked." + +"Then why didn't they come to the Priory instead of taking to flight in +the boats?" + +"It was safer to escape in the boats. But we no longer have the choice." + +"And when shall we start?" + +"At once. It's daylight still; and that's better than the dark." + +"But your sister, the one on her back?" + +"We have a barrow. We've got to wheel her. There's a direct road to the +Priory, without passing through the village." + +Veronique could not help looking with repugnance upon the prospect of +living in close intimacy with the sisters Archignat. She yielded, +however, swayed by a fear which she was unable to overcome: + +"Very well," she said. "Let's go. I'll take you to the Priory and come +back to the village to fetch some provisions." + +"Oh, you mustn't be away long!" protested one of the sisters. "As soon +as the bridge is cut, we'll light a bonfire on Fairies' Dolmen Hill and +they'll send a steamer from the mainland. To-day the fog is coming up; +but to-morrow . . ." + +Veronique raised no objection. She now accepted the idea of leaving +Sarek, even at the cost of an enquiry which would reveal her name. + +They started, after the two sisters had swallowed a glass of brandy. The +madwoman sat huddled in the wheel-barrow, laughing softly and uttering +little sentences which she addressed to Veronique as though she wanted +her to laugh too: + +"We shan't meet them yet . . . . They're getting ready . . . ." + +"Shut up, you old fool!" said Gertrude. "You'll bring us bad luck." + +"Yes, yes, we shall see some sport . . . . It'll be great fun . . . . I +have a cross of gold hung round my neck . . . and another cut into the +skin of my head . . . . Look! . . . Crosses everywhere . . . . One ought +to be comfortable on the cross . . . . One ought to sleep well there +. . . ." + +"Shut up, will you, you old fool?" repeated Gertrude, giving her a box +on the ear. + +"All right, all right! . . . But it's they who'll hit you; I see them +hiding! . . ." + +The path, which was pretty rough at first, reached the table-land formed +by the west cliffs, which were loftier, but less rugged and worn away +than the others. The woods were scarcer; and the oaks were all bent by +the wind from the sea. + +"We are coming to the heath which they call the Black Heath," said +Clemence Archignat. + +"_They_ live underneath." + +Veronique once more shrugged her shoulders: + +"How do you know?" + +"We know more than other people," said Gertrude. "They call us witches; +and there's something in it. Maguennoc himself, who knew a great deal, +used to ask our advice about anything that had to do with healing, lucky +stones, the herbs you gather on St. John's Eve . . ." + +"Mugwort and vervain," chuckled the madwoman. "They are picked at +sunset." + +"Or tradition too," continued Gertrude. "We know what's been said in the +island for hundreds of years; and it's always been said that there was a +whole town underneath, with streets and all, in which _they_ used to +live of old. And there are some left still, I've seen them myself." + +Veronique did not reply. + +"Yes, my sister and I saw one. Twice, when the June moon was six days +old. He was dressed in white . . . and he was climbing the Great Oak to +gather the sacred mistletoe . . . with a golden sickle. The gold +glittered in the moonlight. I saw it, I tell you, and others saw it too +. . . . And he's not the only one. There are several of them left over +from the old days to guard the treasure . . . . Yes, as I say, the +treasure . . . . They say it's a stone which works miracles, which can +make you die if you touch it and which makes you live if you lie down on +it. That's all true, Maguennoc told us so, all perfectly true. _They_ of +old guard the stone, the God-Stone, and _they_ are to sacrifice all of +us this year . . . . yes, all of us, thirty dead people for the thirty +coffins . . . ." + +"Four women crucified," crooned the madwoman. + +"And it will be soon. The sixth day of the moon is near at hand. We must +be gone before _they_ climb the Great Oak to gather the mistletoe. Look, +you can see the Great Oak from here. It's in the wood on this side of +the bridge. It stands out above the others." + +"_They_ are hiding behind it," said the madwoman, turning round in her +wheel-barrow. "_They_ are waiting for us." + +"That'll do; and don't you stir . . . . As I was saying, you see the +Great Oak . . . over there . . . beyond the end of the heath. It is +. . . it is . . ." + +She dropped the wheel-barrow, without finishing her sentence. + +"Well?" asked Clemence. "What's the matter?" + +"I've seen something," stammered Gertrude. "Something white, moving +about." + +"Something? What do you mean? _They_ don't show themselves in broad +daylight! You've gone cross-eyed." + +They both looked for a moment and then went on again. Soon the Great Oak +was out of sight. + +The heath which they were now crossing was wild and rough, covered with +stones lying flat like tombstones and all pointing in the same +direction. + +"It's _their_ burying-ground," whispered Gertrude. + +They said nothing more. Gertrude repeatedly had to stop and rest. +Clemence had not the strength to push the wheel-barrow. They were both +of them tottering on their legs; and they gazed into the distance with +anxious eyes. + +They went down a dip in the ground and up again. The path joined that +which Veronique had taken with Honorine on the first day; and they +entered the wood which preceded the bridge. + +Presently the growing excitement of the sisters Archignat made +Veronique understand that they were approaching the Great Oak; and she +saw it standing on a mound of earth and roots, bigger than the others +and separated from them by wider intervals. She could not help thinking +that it was possible for several men to hide behind that massive trunk +and that perhaps several were hiding there now. + +Notwithstanding their fears, the sisters had quickened their pace; and +they kept their eyes turned from the fatal tree. + +They left it behind. Veronique breathed more freely. All danger was +passed; and she was just about to laugh at the sisters Archignat, when +one of them, Clemence, spun on her heels and dropped with a moan. + +At the same time something fell to the ground, something that had struck +Clemence in the back. It was an axe, a stone axe. + +"Oh, the thunder-stone, the thunder-stone!" cried Gertrude. + +She looked up for a second, as if, in accordance with the inveterate +popular belief, she believed that the axe came from the sky and was an +emanation of the thunder. + +But, at that moment, the madwoman, who had got out of her barrow, leapt +from the ground and fell head forward. Something else had whizzed +through the air. The madwoman was writhing with pain. Gertrude and +Veronique saw an arrow which had been driven through her shoulder and +was still vibrating. + +Then Gertrude fled screaming. + +Veronique hesitated. Clemence and the madwoman were rolling about on +the ground. The madwoman giggled: + +"Behind the oak! They're hiding . . . I see them." + +Clemence stammered: + +"Help! . . . Lift me up . . . carry me . . . I'm terrified!" + +But another arrow whizzed past them and fell some distance farther. + +Veronique now also took to her heels, urged not so much by panic, though +this would have been excusable, as by the eager longing to find a weapon +and defend herself. She remembered that in her father's study there was +a glass case filled with guns and revolvers, all bearing the word +"loaded," no doubt as a warning to Francois; and it was one of these +that she wished to seize in order to face the enemy. She did not even +turn round. She was not interested to know whether she was being +pursued. She ran for the goal, the only profitable goal. + +Being lighter and swifter of foot, she overtook Gertrude, who panted: + +"The bridge . . . . We must burn it . . . . The petrol's there . . . ." + +Veronique did not reply. Breaking down the bridge was a secondary matter +and would even have been an obstacle to her plan of taking a gun and +attacking the enemy. + +But, when she reached the bridge, Gertrude whirled about in such a way +that she almost fell down the precipice. An arrow had struck her in the +back. + +"Help! Help!" she screamed. "Don't leave me!" + +"I'm coming back," replied Veronique, who had not seen the arrow and +thought that Gertrude had merely caught her foot in running. "I'm coming +back, with two guns. You join me." + +She imagined in her mind that, once they were both armed, they would go +back to the wood and rescue the other sisters. Redoubling her efforts, +therefore, she reached the wall of the estate, ran across the grass and +went up to her father's study. Here she stopped to recover her breath; +and, after she had taken the two guns, her heart beat so fast that she +had to go back at a slower pace. + +She was astonished at not meeting Gertrude, at not seeing her. She +called her. No reply. And it was not till then that the thought occurred +to her that Gertrude had been wounded like her sisters. + +She once more broke into a run. But, when she came within sight of the +bridge, she heard shrill cries pierce through the buzzing in her ears +and, on coming into the open opposite the sharp ascent that led to the +wood of the Great Oak, she saw . . . + +What she saw rivetted her to the entrance to the bridge. On the other +side, Gertrude was sprawling upon the ground, struggling, clutching at +the roots, digging her nails into the grass and slowly, slowly, with an +imperceptible and uninterrupted movement, moving along the slope. + +And Veronique became aware that the unfortunate woman was fastened under +the arms and round the waist by a cord which was hoisting her up, like a +bound and helpless prey, and which was pulled by invisible hands above. + +Veronique raised one of the guns to her shoulder. But at what enemy was +she to take aim? What enemy was she to fight? Who was hiding behind the +trees and stones that crowned the hill like a rampart? + +Gertrude slipped between those stones, between those trees. She had +ceased screaming, no doubt she was exhausted and swooning. She +disappeared from sight. + +Veronique had not moved. She realized the futility of any venture or +enterprise. By rushing into a contest in which she was beaten beforehand +she would not be able to rescue the sisters Archignat and would merely +offer herself to the conqueror as a new and final victim. + +Besides, she was overcome with fear. Everything was happening in +accordance with the ruthless logic of facts of which she did not grasp +the meaning but which all seemed connected like the links of a chain. +She was afraid, afraid of those beings, afraid of those ghosts, +instinctively and unconsciously afraid, afraid like the sisters +Archignat, like Honorine, like all the victims of the terrible scourge. + +She stooped, so as not to be seen from the Great Oak, and, bending +forward and taking the shelter offered by some bramble-bushes, she +reached the little hut of which the sisters Archignat had spoken, a sort +of summer-house with a pointed roof and coloured tiles. Half the +summer-house was filled with cans of petrol. + +From here she overlooked the bridge, on which no one could step without +being seen by her. But no one came down from the wood. + +Night fell, a night of thick fog silvered by the moon which just +allowed Veronique to see the opposite side. + +After an hour, feeling a little reassured, she made a first trip with +two cans which she emptied on the outer beams of the bridge. + +Ten times, with her ears pricked up, carrying her gun slung over her +shoulder and prepared at any moment to defend herself, she repeated the +journey. She poured the petrol a little at random, groping her way and +yet as far as possible selecting the places where her sense of touch +seemed to tell her that the wood was most rotten. + +She had a box of matches, the only one that she had found in the house. +She took out a match and hesitated a moment, frightened at the thought +of the great light it would make: + +"Even so," she reflected, "if it could be seen from the mainland . . . +But, with this fog . . ." + +Suddenly she struck the match and at once lit a paper torch which she +had prepared by soaking it in petrol. + +A great flame blazed and burnt her fingers. Then she threw the paper in +a pool of petrol which had formed in a hollow and fled back to the +summer-house. + +The fire flared up immediately and, at one flash, spread over the whole +part which she had sprinkled. The cliffs on the two islands, the strip +of granite that united them, the big trees around, the hill, the wood of +the Great Oak and the sea at the bottom of the ravine: these were all +lit up. + +"_They_ know where I am . . . . _They_ are looking at the summer-house +where I am hiding," thought Veronique, keeping her eyes fixed on the +Great Oak. + +But not a shadow passed through the wood. Not a sound of voices reached +her ears. Those concealed above did not leave their impenetrable +retreat. + +In a few minutes, half the bridge collapsed, with a great crash and a +gush of sparks. But the other half went on burning; and at every moment +a piece of timber tumbled into the precipice, lighting up the depths of +the night. + +Each time that this happened, Veronique had a sense of relief and her +overstrung nerves grew relaxed. A feeling of security crept over her and +became more and more justified as the gulf between her and her enemies +widened. Nevertheless she remained inside the summer-house and resolved +to wait for the dawn in order to make sure that no communication was +henceforth possible. + +The fog increased. Everything was shrouded in darkness. About the middle +of the night, she heard a sound on the other side, at the top of the +hill, so far as she could judge. It was the sound of wood-cutters +felling trees, the regular sound of an axe biting into branches which +were finally removed by breaking. + +Veronique had an idea, absurd though she knew it to be, that they were +perhaps building a foot-bridge; and she clutched her gun resolutely. + +About an hour later, she seemed to hear moans and even a stifled cry, +followed, for some time, by the rustle of leaves and the sound of steps +coming and going. This ceased. Once more there was a great silence which +seemed to absorb in space every stirring, every restless, every +quivering, every living thing. + +The numbness produced by the fatigue and hunger from which she was +beginning to suffer left Veronique little power of thought. She +remembered above all that, having failed to bring any provisions from +the village, she had nothing to eat. She did not distress herself, for +she was determined, as soon as the fog lifted--and this was bound to +happen before long--to light bonfires with the cans of petrol. She +reflected that the best place would be at the end of the island, at the +spot where the dolmen stood. + +But suddenly a dreadful thought struck her: had she not left her box of +matches on the bridge? She felt in her pockets but could not find it. +All search was in vain. + +This also did not perturb her unduly. For the time being, the feeling +that she had escaped the attacks of the enemy filled her with such +delight that it seemed to her that all the difficulties would disappear +of their own accord. + +The hours passed in this way, endlessly long hours, which the +penetrating fog and the cold made more painful as the morning +approached. + +Then a faint gleam overspread the sky. Things emerged from the gloom and +assumed their actual forms. And Veronique now saw that the bridge had +collapsed throughout its length. An interval of fifty yards separated +the two islands, which were only joined below by the sharp, pointed, +inaccessible ridge of the cliff. + +She was saved. + +But, on raising her eyes to the hill opposite, she saw, right at the +top of the slope, a sight that made her utter a cry of horror. Three of +the nearest trees of those which crowned the hill and belonged to the +wood of the Great Oak had been stripped of their lower branches. And, on +the three bare trunks, with their arms strained backward, with their +legs bound, under the tatters of their skirts, and with ropes drawn +tight beneath their livid faces, half-hidden by the black bows of their +caps, hung the three sisters Archignat. + +They were crucified. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ALL'S WELL + + +Walking erect, with a stiff and mechanical gait, without turning round +to look at the abominable spectacle, without recking of what might +happen if she were seen, Veronique went back to the Priory. + +A single aim, a single hope sustained her: that of leaving the Isle of +Sarek. She had had her fill of horror. Had she seen three corpses, three +women who had had their throats cut, or been shot, or even hanged, she +would not have felt, as she did now, that her whole being was in revolt. +But this, this torture, was too much. It involved an ignominy, it was an +act of sacrilege, a damnable performance which surpassed the bounds of +wickedness. + +And then she was thinking of herself, the fourth and last victim. Fate +seemed to be leading her towards that catastrophe as a person condemned +to death is pushed on to the scaffold. How could she do other than +tremble with fear? How could she fail to read a warning in the choice of +the hill of the Great Oak for the torture of the three sisters +Archignat? + +She tried to find comfort in words: + +"Everything will be explained. At the bottom of these hideous mysteries +are quite simple causes, actions apparently fantastic but in reality +performed by beings of the same species as myself, who behave as they +do from criminal motives and in accordance with a determined plan. No +doubt all this is only possible because of the war; the war brings about +a peculiar state of affairs in which events of this kind are able to +take place. But, all the same, there is nothing miraculous about it nor +anything inconsistent with the rules of ordinary life." + +Useless phrases! Vain attempts at argument which her brain found +difficulty in following! In reality, upset as she was by violent nervous +shocks, she came to think and feel like all those people of Sarek whose +death she had witnessed. She shared their weakness, she was shaken by +the same terrors, besieged by the same nightmares, unbalanced by the +persistence within her of the instincts of bygone ages and lingering +superstitions ever ready to rise to the surface. + +Who were these invisible beings who persecuted her? Whose mission was it +to fill the thirty coffins of Sarek? Who was it that was wiping out all +the inhabitants of the luckless island? Who was it that lived in +caverns, gathering at the fateful hours the sacred mistletoe and the +herbs of St. John, using axes and arrows and crucifying women? And in +view of what horrible task, of what monstrous duty? In accordance with +what inconceivable plans? Were they spirits of darkness, malevolent +genii, priests of a dead religion, sacrificing men, women and children +to their blood-thirsty gods? + +"Enough, enough, or I shall go mad!" she said, aloud. "I must go! That +must be my only thought: to get away from this hell!" + +But it was as though destiny were taking special pains to torture her! +On beginning her search for a little food, she suddenly noticed, in her +father's study, at the back of a cupboard, a drawing pinned to the wall, +representing the same scene as the roll of paper which she had found +near Maguennoc's body in the deserted cabin. + +A portfolio full of drawings lay on one of the shelves in the cupboard. +She opened it. It contained a number of sketches of the same scene, +likewise in red chalk. Each of them bore above the head of the first +woman the inscription, "V. d'H." One of them was signed, "Antoine +d'Hergemont." + +So it was her father who had made the drawing on Maguennoc's paper! It +was her father who had tried in all these sketches to give the tortured +woman a closer and closer resemblance to his own daughter! + +"Enough, enough!" repeated Veronique. "I won't think, I won't reflect!" + +Feeling very faint, she pursued her search but found nothing with which +to stay her hunger. + +Nor did she find anything that would allow her to light a fire at the +point of the island, though the fog had lifted and the signals would +certainly have been observed. + +She tried rubbing two flints against each other, but she did not +understand how to go to work and she did not succeed. + +For three days she kept herself alive with water and wild grapes +gathered among the ruins. Feverish and utterly exhausted, she had fits +of weeping which nearly every time produced the sudden appearance of +All's Well; and her physical suffering was such that she felt angry with +the poor dog for having that ridiculous name and drove him away. All's +Well, greatly surprised, squatted on his haunches farther off and began +to sit up again. She felt exasperated with him, as though he could help +being Francois' dog! + +The least sound made her shake from head to foot and covered her with +perspiration. What were the creatures in the Great Oak doing? From which +side were they preparing to attack her? She hugged herself nervously, +shuddering at the thought of falling into those monsters' hands, and +could not keep herself from remembering that she was a beautiful woman +and that they might be tempted by her good looks and her youth. + +But, on the fourth day, a great hope uplifted her. She had found in a +drawer a powerful reading-glass. Taking advantage of the bright +sunshine, she focussed the rays upon a piece of paper which ended by +catching fire and enabling her to light a candle. + +She believed that she was saved. She had discovered quite a stock of +candles, which allowed her, to begin with, to keep the precious flame +alive until the evening. At eleven o'clock, she took a lantern and went +towards the summer-house, intending to set fire to it. It was a fine +night and the signal would be perceived from the coast. + +Fearing to be seen with her light, fearing above all the tragic vision +of the sisters Archignat, whose tragic Calvary was flooded by the +moonlight, she took, on leaving the Priory, another road, more to the +left and bordered with thickets. She walked anxiously, taking care not +to rustle the leaves or stumble over the roots. When she reached open +country, not far from the summer-house, she felt so tired that she had +to sit down. Her head was buzzing. Her heart almost refused to beat. + +She could not see the place of execution from here either. But, on +turning her eyes, despite herself, in the direction of the hill, she +received the impression that something resembling a white figure had +moved. It was in the very heart of the wood, at the end of an avenue +which intersected the thick mass of trees on that side. + +The figure appeared again, in the full moonlight; and Veronique saw, +notwithstanding the considerable distance, that it was the figure of a +person clad in a robe and perched amid the branches of a tree which +stood alone and higher than the others. + +She remembered what the sisters Archignat had said: + +"The sixth day of the moon is near at hand. _They_ will climb the Great +Oak and gather the sacred mistletoe." + +And she now remembered certain descriptions which she had read in books +and different stories which her father had told her; and she felt as if +she were present at one of those Druid ceremonies which had appealed to +her imagination as a child. But at the same time she felt so weak that +she was not convinced that she was awake or that the strange sight +before her eyes was real. Four other figures formed a group at the foot +of the tree and raised their arms as though to catch the bough ready to +fall. A light flashed above. The high-priest's golden sickle had cut off +the bunch of mistletoe. + +Then the high-priest climbed down from the oak; and all five figures +glided along the avenue, skirted the wood and reached the top of the +knoll. + +Veronique, who was unable to take her haggard eyes from those creatures, +bent forward and saw the three corpses hanging each from its tree of +torment. At the distance where she stood, the black bows of the caps +looked like crows. The figures stopped opposite the victims as though to +perform some incomprehensible rite. At last the high-priest separated +himself from the group and, holding the bunch of mistletoe in his hand, +came down the hill and went towards the spot where the first arch of the +bridge was anchored. + +Veronique was almost fainting. Her wavering eyes, before which +everything seemed to dance, fastened on to the glittering sickle which +swung from side to side on the priest's chest, below his long white +beard. What was he going to do? Though the bridge no longer existed, +Veronique was convulsed with anguish. Her legs refused to carry her. She +lay down on the ground, keeping her eyes fixed upon the terrifying +sight. + +On reaching the edge of the chasm, the priest again stopped for a few +seconds. Then he stretched out the arm in which he carried the mistletoe +and, preceded by the sacred plant as by a talisman which altered the +laws of nature in his favour, he took a step forward above the yawning +gulf. + +And he walked thus in space, all white in the moonlight. + +What happened Veronique did not know, nor was she quite sure what had +been happening, if she had not been the sport of an hallucination, nor +at what stage of the strange ceremony this hallucination had originated +in her enfeebled brain. + +She waited with closed eyes for events which did not take place and +which, for that matter, she did not even try to foresee. But other, more +real things preoccupied her mind. Her candle was going out inside the +lantern. She was aware of this; and yet she had not the strength to pull +herself together and return to the Priory. And she said to herself that, +if the sun should not shine again within the next few days, she would +not be able to light the flame and that she was lost. + +She resigned herself, weary of fighting and realizing that she was +defeated beforehand in this unequal contest. The only ending that was +not to be endured was that of being captured. But why not abandon +herself to the death that offered, death from starvation, from +exhaustion? If you suffer long enough, there must come a moment when the +suffering decreases and when you pass, almost unconsciously, from life, +which has grown too cruel, to death, which Veronique was gradually +beginning to desire. + +"That's it, that's it," she murmured. "To go from Sarek or to die: it's +all the same. What I want is to get away." + +A sound of leaves made her open her eyes. The flame of the candle was +expiring. But behind the lantern All's Well was sitting, beating the air +with his fore-paws. + +And Veronique saw that he carried a packet of biscuits, fastened round +his neck by a string. + + * * * * * + +"Tell me your story, you dear old All's Well," said Veronique, next +morning, after a good night's rest in her bedroom at the Priory. "For, +after all, I can't believe that you came to look for me and bring me +food of your own accord. It was an accident, wasn't it? You were +wandering in that direction, you heard me crying and you came to me. But +who tied that little box of biscuits round your neck? Does it mean that +we have a friend in the island, a friend who takes an interest in us? +Why doesn't he show himself? Speak and tell me, All's Well." + +She kissed the dog and went on: + +"And whom were those biscuits intended for? For your master, for +Francois? Or for Honorine? No? Then for Monsieur Stephane perhaps?" + +The dog wagged his tail and moved towards the door. He really seemed to +understand. Veronique followed him to Stephane Maroux's room. All's Well +slipped under the tutor's bed. There were three more cardboard boxes of +biscuits, two packets of chocolate and two tins of preserved meat. And +each parcel was supplied with a string ending in a wide loop, from which +All's Well must have released his head. + +"What does it mean?" asked Veronique, bewildered. "Did you put them under +there? But who gave them to you? Have we actually a friend in the +island, who knows us and knows Stephane Maroux? Can you take me to him? +He must live on this side of the island, because there is no means of +communicating with the other and you can't have been there." + +Veronique stopped to think. But, in addition to the provisions stowed +away by All's Well, she also noticed a small canvas-covered satchel +under the bed; and she wondered why Stephane Maroux had hidden it. She +thought that she had the right to open it and to look for some clue to +the part played by the tutor, to his character, to his past perhaps, to +his relations with M. d'Hergemont and Francois: + +"Yes," she said, "it is my right and even my duty." + +Without hesitation, she took a pair of big scissors and forced the frail +lock. + +The satchel contained nothing but a manuscript-book, with a rubber band +round it. But, the moment she opened the book, she stood amazed. + +On the first page was her own portrait, her photograph as a girl, with +her signature in full and the inscription: + + "To my friend Stephane." + +"I don't understand, I don't understand," she murmured. "I remember the +photograph: I must have been sixteen. But how did I come to give it to +him? I must have known him!" + +Eager to learn more, she read the next page, a sort of preface worded as +follows: + + "Veronique, I wish to lead my life under your eyes. In + undertaking the education of your son, of that son + whom I ought to loathe, because he is the son of + another, but whom I love because he is your son, my + intention is that my life shall be in full harmony + with the secret feeling that has swayed it so long. + One day, I have no doubt, you will resume your place + as Francois' mother. On that day you will be proud of + him. I shall have effaced all that may survive in him + of his father and I shall have exalted all the fine + and noble qualities which he inherits from you. The + aim is great enough for me to devote myself to it body + and soul. I do so with gladness. Your smile shall be + my reward." + +Veronique's heart was flooded with a singular emotion. Her life was lit +with a calmer radiance; and this new mystery, which she was unable to +fathom any more than the others, was at least, like that of Maguennoc's +flowers, gentle and comforting. + +As she continued to turn the pages, she followed her son's education +from day to day. She beheld the pupil's progress and the master's +methods. The pupil was engaging, intelligent, studious, zealous loving, +sensitive, impulsive and at the same time thoughtful. The master was +affectionate, patient and borne up by some profound feeling which showed +through every line of the manuscript. + +And, little by little, there was a growing enthusiasm in the daily +confession, which expressed itself in terms less and less restrained: + + "Francois, my dearly-beloved son--for I may call you + so, may I not?--Francois, your mother lives once again + in you. Your eyes are pure and limpid as hers. Your + soul is grave and simple as her soul. You are + unacquainted with evil; and one might almost say that + you are unacquainted with good, so closely is it + blended with your beautiful nature." + +Some of the child's exercises were copied into the book, exercises in +which he spoke of his mother with passionate affection and with the +persistent hope that he would soon see her again. + + "We shall see her again, Francois," Stephane added, + "and you will then understand better what beauty means + and light and the charm of life and the delight of + beholding and admiring." + +Next came anecdotes about Veronique, minor details which she herself did +not remember or which she thought that she alone knew: + + "One day, at the Tuileries--she was only sixteen--a + circle was formed round her . . . by people who looked + at her and wondered at her loveliness. Her girl + friends laughed, happy at seeing her admired . . . . + + "Open her right hand, Francois. You will see a long, + white scar in the middle of the palm. When she was + quite a little girl, she ran the point of an iron + railing into her hand . . . ." + +But the last pages were not written for the boy and had certainly not +been read by him. The writer's love was no longer disguised beneath +admiring phrases. It displayed itself without reserve, ardent, exalted, +suffering, quivering with hope, though always respectful. + +Veronique closed the book. She could read no more. + +"Yes, I confess, All's Well," she said to the dog, who was already +sitting up, "my eyes are wet with tears. Devoid of feminine weaknesses +as I am, I will tell you what I would say to nobody else: that really +touches me. Yes, I must try to recall the unknown features of the man +who loves me like this . . . some friend of my childhood whose +affection I never suspected and whose name has not left even a trace in +my memory." + +She drew the dog to her: + +"Two kind hearts, are they not, All's Well? Neither the master nor the +pupil is capable of the crimes which I saw them commit. If they are the +accomplices of our enemies here, they are so in spite of themselves and +without knowing it. I cannot believe in philtres and incantations and +plants which deprive you of your reason. But, all the same, there is +something, isn't there, you dear little dog? The boy who planted +veronicas round the Calvary of Flowers and who wrote, 'Mother's +flowers,' is not guilty, is he? And Honorine was right, when she spoke +of a fit of madness, and he will come back to look for me, won't he? +Stephane and he are sure to come back." + +The hours that went by were full of soothing quiet. Veronique was no +longer lonely. The present had no terrors for her; and she had faith in +the future. + +Next morning, she said to All's Well, whom she had locked up to prevent +his running away: + +"Will you take me there now my man? Where? Why, to the friend, of +course, who sent provisions to Stephane Maroux. Come along." + +All's Well was only waiting for Veronique's permission. He dashed off in +the direction of the grassy sward that led to the dolmen; and he stopped +half way. Veronique came up with him. He turned to the right and took a +path which brought them to a huddle of ruins near the edge of the +cliffs. Then he stopped again. + +"Is it here?" asked Veronique. + +The dog lay down flat. In front of him, at the foot of two blocks of +stones leaning against each other and covered with the same growth of +ivy, was a tangle of brambles with under it a little passage like the +entrance to a rabbit-warren. All's Well slipped in, disappeared and then +returned in search of Veronique, who had to go back to the Priory and +fetch a bill-hook to cut down the brambles. + +She managed in half an hour to uncover the top step of a staircase, +which she descended, feeling her way and preceded by All's Well, and +which took her to a long tunnel, cut in the body of the rock and lighted +on the left by little openings. She raised herself on tip-toe and saw +that these openings overlooked the sea. + +She walked on the level for ten minutes and then went down some more +steps. The tunnel grew narrower. The openings, which all looked towards +the sky, no doubt so as not to be seen from below, now gave light from +both the right and the left. Veronique began to understand how All's +Well was able to communicate with the other part of the island. The +tunnel followed the narrow strip of cliff which joined the Priory estate +to Sarek. The waves lapped the rocks on either side. + +They next climbed by steps under the knoll of the Great Oak. Two tunnels +opened at the top. All's Well chose the one on the left, which continued +to skirt the sea. + +Then on the right there were two more passages, both quite dark. The +island appeared to be riddled in this way with invisible communications; +and Veronique felt something clutch at her heart as she reflected that +she was making for the part which the sisters Archignat had described as +the enemy's subterranean domains, under the Black Heath. + +All's Well trotted in front of her, turning round from time to time to +see if she was following. + +"Yes, yes, dear, I'm coming," she whispered, "and I am not a bit afraid: +I am sure that you are leading me to a friend . . . a friend who has +taken shelter down here. But why has he not left his shelter? Why did +you not show him the way?" + +The passage had been chipped smooth throughout, with a rounded ceiling +and a very dry granite floor, which was amply ventilated by the +openings. There was not a mark, not a scratch of any kind on the walls. +Sometimes the point of a black flint projected. + +"Is it here?" asked Veronique, when All's Well stopped. + +The tunnel went no farther and widened into a chamber into which the +light filtered more thinly through a narrower window. + +All's Well seemed undecided. He listened, with his ears pricked up, +standing on his hind-legs and resting his fore-paws against the end wall +of the tunnel. + +Veronique noticed that the wall, at this spot, was not formed throughout +its length of the bare granite but consisted of an accumulation of +stones of unequal size set in cement. The work evidently belonged to a +different, doubtless more recent period. + +A regular partition-wall had been built, closing the underground +passage, which was probably continued on the other side. + +She repeated: + +"It's here, isn't it?" + +But she said nothing more. She had heard the stifled sound of a voice. + +She went up to the wall and presently gave a start. The voice was raised +higher. The sounds became more distinct. Some one, a child, was singing, +and she caught the words: + + "And the mother said, + Rocking her child abed: + + 'Weep not. If you do, + The Virgin Mary weeps with you.'" + +Veronique murmured: + +"The song . . . the song . . ." + +It was the same that Honorine had hummed at Beg-Meil. Who could be +singing it now? A child, imprisoned in the island? A boy friend of +Francois'? + +And the voice went on: + + "'Babes that laugh and sing + Smiles to the Blessed Virgin bring. + + Fold your hands this way + And to sweet Mary pray.'" + +The last verse was followed by a silence that lasted for a few minutes. +All's Well appeared to be listening with increasing attention, as though +something, which he knew of, was about to take place. + +Thereupon, just where he stood, there was a slight noise of stones +carefully moved. All's Well wagged his tail frantically and barked, so +to speak, in a whisper, like an animal that understands the danger of +breaking the silence. And suddenly, about his head, one of the stones +was drawn inward, leaving a fairly large aperture. + +All's Well leapt into the hole at a bound, stretched himself out and, +helping himself with his hind-legs, twisting and crawling, disappeared +inside. + +"Ah, there's Master All's Well!" said the young voice. "How are we, +Master All's Well? And why didn't we come and pay our master a visit +yesterday? Serious business, was it? A walk with Honorine? Oh, if you +could talk, my dear old chap, what stories you would have to tell! And, +first of all, look here . . ." + +Veronique, thrilled with excitement, had knelt down against the wall. +Was it her son's voice that she heard? Was she to believe that he was +back and in hiding? She tried in vain to see. The wall was thick; and +there was a bend in the opening. But how clearly each syllable uttered, +how plainly each intonation reached her ears! + +"Look here," repeated the boy, "why doesn't Honorine come to set me +free? Why don't you bring her here? You managed to find me all right. +And grandfather must be worried about me . . . . But _what_ an +adventure! . . . So you're still of the same mind, eh, old chap? All's +well, isn't it? All's as well as well can be!" + +Veronique could not understand. Her son--for there was no doubt that it +was Francois--her son was speaking as if he knew nothing of what had +happened. Had he forgotten? Had his memory lost every trace of the deeds +done during his fit of madness? + +"Yes, a fit of madness," thought Veronique, obstinately. "He was mad. +Honorine was quite right: he was undoubtedly mad. And his reason has +returned. Oh, Francois, Francois! . . ." + +She listened, with all her tense being and all her trembling soul, to +the words that might bring her so much gladness or such an added load of +despair. Either the darkness would close in upon her more thickly and +heavily than ever, or daylight was to pierce that endless night in which +she had been struggling for fifteen years. + +"Why, yes," continued the boy, "I agree with you, All's Well. But all +the same, I should be jolly glad if you could bring me some real proof +of it. On the one hand, there's no news of grandfather or Honorine, +though I've given you lots of messages for them; on the other hand, +there's no news of Stephane. And that's what alarms me. Where is he? +Where have they locked him up? Won't he be starving by now? Come, All's +Well, tell me: where did you take the biscuits yesterday? . . . But, +look here, what's the matter with you? You seem to have something on +your mind. What are you looking at over there? Do you want to go away? +No? Then what is it?" + +The boy stopped. Then, after a moment, in a much lower voice: + +"Did you come with some one?" he asked. "Is there anybody behind the +wall?" + +The dog gave a dull bark. Then there was a long pause, during which +Francois also must have been listening. + +Veronique's emotion was so great that it seemed to her that Francois +must hear the beating of her heart. + +He whispered: + +"Is that you, Honorine?" + +There was a fresh pause; and he continued: + +"Yes, I'm sure it's you . . . . I can hear you breathing . . . . Why +don't you answer?" + +Veronique was carried away by a sudden impulse. Certain gleams of light +had flashed upon her mind since she had understood that Stephane was a +prisoner, no doubt like Francois, therefore a victim of the enemy; and +all sorts of vague suppositions flitted through her brain. Besides, how +could she resist the appeal of that voice? Her son was asking her a +question . . . her son! + +"Francois . . . Francois!" she stammered. + +"Ah," he said, "there's an answer! I knew it! Is it you, Honorine?" + +"No, Francois," she said. + +"Then who is it?" + +"A friend of Honorine's." + +"I don't know you, do I?" + +"No . . . but I am your friend." + +He hesitated. Was he on his guard? + +"Why didn't Honorine come with you?" + +Veronique was not prepared for this question, but she at once realized +that, if the involuntary suppositions that were forcing themselves upon +her were correct, the boy must not yet be told the truth. + +She therefore said: + +"Honorine came back from her journey, but has gone away again." + +"Gone to look for me?" + +"That's it, that's it," she said, quickly. "She thought that you had +been carried away from Sarek and your tutor with you." + +"But grandfather?" + +"He's gone too: so have all the inhabitants of the island." + +"Ah! The old story of the coffins and the crosses, I suppose?" + +"Just so. They thought that your disappearance meant the beginning of +the disasters; and their fear made them take to flight." + +"But you, madame?" + +"I have known Honorine for a long time. I came from Paris with her to +take a holiday at Sarek. I have no reason to go away. All these +superstitions have no terrors for me." + +The child was silent. The improbability and inadequacy of the replies +must have been apparent to him: and his suspicions increased in +consequence. He confessed as much, frankly: + +"Listen, madame, there's something I must tell you. It's ten days since +I was imprisoned in this cell. During the first part of that time, I saw +and heard nobody. But, since the day before yesterday, every morning a +little wicket opens in the middle of my door and a woman's hand comes +through and gives a fresh supply of water. A woman's hand . . . so . . . +you see?" + +"So you want to know if that woman is myself?" + +"Yes, I am obliged to ask you." + +"Would you recognize that woman's hand?" + +"Yes, it is lean and bony, with a yellow arm." + +"Here's mine," said Veronique. "It can pass where All's Well did." + +She pulled up her sleeve; and by flexing her bare arm she easily passed +it through. + +"Oh," said Francois, at once, "that's not the hand I saw!" + +And he added, in a lower voice: + +"How pretty this one is!" + +Suddenly Veronique felt him take it in his own with a quick movement; +and he exclaimed: + +"Oh, it can't be true, it can't be true!" + +He had turned her hand over and was separating the fingers so as to +uncover the palm entirely. And he whispered: + +"The scar! . . . It's there! . . . The white scar! . . ." + +Then Veronique became greatly agitated. She remembered Stephane Maroux's +diary and certain details set down by him which Francois must have +heard. One of these details was this scar, which recalled an old and +rather serious injury. + +She felt the boy's lips pressed to her hand, first gently and then with +passionate ardour and a great flow of tears, and heard him stammering: + +"Oh, mother, mother darling! . . . My dear, dear mother! . . ." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +FRANCOIS AND STEPHANE + + +Long the mother and son remained thus, kneeling against the wall that +divided them, yet as close together as though they were able to see each +other with their frenzied eyes and to mingle their tears and kisses. +They spoke both at once, asking each other questions and answering them +at random. They were in a transport of delight. The life of each flowed +over into the other's life and became swallowed up in it. No power on +earth could now dissolve their union or break the bonds of love and +confidence which unite mothers and sons. + +"Yes, All's Well, old man," said Francois, "you may sit up as much and +as long as you like. We are really crying this time . . . and you will +be the first to get tired, for one doesn't mind shedding such tears as +these, does one, mother?" + +As for Veronique, her mind retained not a vestige of the terrible +visions which had dismayed it. Her son a murderer, her son killing and +massacring people: she no longer admitted any of that. She did not even +admit the excuse of madness. Everything would be explained in some other +way which she was not even in a hurry to understand. She thought only of +her son. He was there. His eyes saw her through the wall. His heart beat +against hers. He lived; and he was the same gentle, affectionate, pure +and charming child that her maternal dreams had pictured. + +"My son, my son!" she kept on repeating, as though she could not utter +those marvellous words often enough. "My son, it's you, it's you! I +believed you dead, a thousand times dead, more dead than it is possible +to be . . . . And you are alive! And you are here! And I am touching +you! O Heaven, can it be true! I have a son . . . and my son is alive! +. . ." + +And he, on his side, took up the refrain with the same passionate +fervour: + +"Mother! Mother! I have waited for you so long! . . . To me you were not +dead, but it was so sad to be a child and to have no mother . . . to see +the years go by and to waste them in waiting for you." + +For an hour they talked at random, of the past, of the present, of a +hundred subjects which at first appeared to them the most interesting +things in the world and which they forthwith dropped to ask each other +more questions and to try to know each other a little better and to +enter more deeply into the secret of their lives and the privacy of +their souls. + +It was Francois who first attempted to impart some little method to +their conversation: + +"Listen, mother; we have so much to say to each other that we must give +up trying to say it all to-day and even for days and days. Let us speak +now of what is essential and in the fewest possible words, for we have +perhaps not much time before us." + +"What do you mean?" said Veronique, instantly alarmed. "I have no +intention of leaving you!" + +"But, mother, if we are not to leave each other, we must first be +united. Now there are many obstacles to be overcome, even if it were +only the wall that separates us. Besides, I am very closely watched; and +I may be obliged at any moment to send you away, as I do All's Well, at +the first sound of footsteps approaching." + +"Watched by whom?" + +"By those who fell upon Stephane and me on the day when we discovered +the entrance to these caves, under the heath on the table-land, the +Black Heath." + +"Did you see them?" + +"No, it was too dark." + +"But who are they? Who are those enemies?" + +"I don't know." + +"You suspect, of course?" + +"The Druids?" he said, laughing. "The people of old of whom the legends +speak? Rather not! Ghosts? Not that either. They were just simply +creatures of to-day, creatures of flesh and blood." + +"They live down here, though?" + +"Most likely." + +"And you took them by surprise?" + +"No, on the contrary. They seemed even to be expecting us and to be +lying in wait for us. We had gone down a stone staircase and a very long +passage, lined with perhaps eighty caves, or rather eighty cells. The +doors, which were of wood, were open; and the cells overlooked the sea. +It was on the way back, as we were going up the staircase again in the +dark, that we were seized from one side, knocked down, bound, +blindfolded and gagged. The whole thing did not take a minute. I +suspect that we were carried back to the end of the long passage. When +I succeeded in removing my bonds and my bandage, I found that I was +locked in one of the cells, probably the last in the passage; and I have +been here ten days." + +"My poor darling, how you must have suffered!" + +"No, mother, and in any case not from hunger. There was a whole stack of +provisions in one corner and a truss of straw in another to lie on. So I +waited quietly." + +"For whom?" + +"You promise not to laugh, mother?" + +"Laugh at what, dear?" + +"At what I'm going to tell you?" + +"How can you think . . . ?" + +"Well, I was waiting for some one who had heard of all the stories of +Sarek and who promised grandfather to come." + +"But who was it?" + +The boy hesitated: + +"No, I am sure you will make fun of me, mother, I'll tell you later. +Besides, he never came . . . though I thought for a moment . . . Yes, +fancy, I had managed to remove two stones from the wall and to open this +hole of which my gaolers evidently didn't know. All of a sudden, I heard +a noise, someone scratching . . ." + +"It was All's Well?" + +"It was Master All's Well coming by the other road. You can imagine the +welcome he received! Only what astonished me was that nobody followed +him this way, neither Honorine nor grandfather. I had no pencil or paper +to write to them; but, after all, they had only to follow All's Well." + +"That was impossible," said Veronique, "because they believed you to be +far away from Sarek, carried off no doubt, and because your grandfather +had left." + +"Just so: why believe anything of the sort? Grandfather knew, from a +lately discovered document, where we were, for it was he who told us of +the possible entrance to the underground passage. Didn't he speak to you +about it?" + +Veronique had been very happy in listening to her son's story. As he had +been carried off and imprisoned, he was not the atrocious monster who +had killed M. d'Hergemont, Marie Le Goff, Honorine and Correjou and his +companions. The truth which she had already vaguely surmised now assumed +a more definite form and, though still thickly shrouded, was visible in +its essential part. Francois was not guilty. Some one had put on his +clothes and impersonated him, even as some one else, in the semblance of +Stephane, had pretended to be Stephane. Ah, what did all the rest +matter, the improbabilities and inconsistencies, the proofs and +certainties! Veronique did not even think about it. The only thing that +counted was the innocence of her beloved son. + +And so she still refused to tell him anything that would sadden him and +spoil his happiness; and she said: + +"No, I have not seen your grandfather. Honorine wanted to prepare him +for my visit, but things happened so hurriedly . . ." + +"And you were left alone on the island, poor mother? So you hoped to +find me here?" + +"Yes," she said, after a moment's hesitation. + +"Alone, but with All's Well, of course." + +"Yes. I hardly paid any attention to him during the first days. It was +not until this morning that I thought of following him." + +"And where does the road start from that brought you here?" + +"It's an underground passage the outlet of which is concealed between +two stones near Maguennoc's garden." + +"What! Then the two islands communicate?" + +"Yes, by the cliff underneath the bridge." + +"How strange! That's what neither Stephane not I guessed, nor anybody +else, for that matter . . . except our dear All's Well, when it came to +finding his master." + +He interrupted himself and then whispered: + +"Hark!" + +But, the next moment, he said: + +"No, it's not that yet. Still, we must hurry." + +"What am I to do?" + +"It's quite simple, mother. When I made this hole, I saw that it could +be widened easily enough, if it were possible also to take out the three +or four stones next to it. But these are firmly fixed; and we should +need an implement of some kind." + +"Well, I'll go and . . ." + +"Yes, do, mother. Go back to the Priory. To the left of the house, in a +basement, is a sort of workshop where Maguennoc kept his garden-tools. +You will find a small pick-axe there, with a very short handle. Bring it +me in the evening. I will work during the night; and to-morrow morning I +shall give you a kiss, mother." + +"Oh, it sounds too good to be true!" + +"I promise you I shall. Then all that we shall have to do will be to +release Stephane." + +"Your tutor? Do you know where he is shut up?" + +"I do almost know. According to the particulars which grandfather gave +us, the underground passages consist of two floors one above the other; +and the last cell of each is fitted as a prison. I occupy one of them. +Stephane should occupy the other, below mine. What worries me . . ." + +"What is it?" + +"Well, it's this: according to grandfather again, these two cells were +once torture-chambers . . . 'death chambers' was the word grandfather +used." + +"Oh, but how alarming!" + +"Why alarm yourself, mother? You see that they are not thinking of +torturing me. Only, on the off chance and not knowing what sort of fate +was in store for Stephane, I sent him something to eat by All's Well, +who is sure to have found a way of getting to him." + +"No," she said, "All's Well did not understand." + +"How do you know, mother?" + +"He thought you were sending him to Stephane Maroux's room and he heaped +it all under the bed." + +"Oh!" said the boy, anxiously. "What can have become of Stephane?" And +he at once added, "You see, mother, that we must hurry, if we would save +Stephane and save ourselves." + +"What are you afraid of?" + +"Nothing, if you act quickly." + +"But still . . ." + +"Nothing, I assure you. I feel certain that we shall get the better of +every obstacle." + +"And, if any others present themselves . . . dangers which we cannot +foresee? . . ." + +"It is then," said Francois, laughing, "that the man whom I am expecting +will come and protect us." + +"You see, my darling, you yourself admit the need of assistance . . . ." + +"Why, no, mother, I am trying to ease your mind, but nothing will +happen. Come, how would you have a son who has just found his mother +lose her again at once? It isn't possible. In real life, may be . . . +but we are not living in real life. We are absolutely living in a +romance; and in romances things always come right. You ask All's Well. +It's so, old chap, isn't it: we shall win and be united and live happy +ever after? That's what you think, All's Well? Then be off, old chap, +and take mother with you. I'm going to fill up the hole, in case they +come and inspect my cell. And be sure not to try and come in when the +hole is stopped, eh, All's Well? That's when the danger is. Go, mother, +and don't make a noise when you come back." + +Veronique was not long away. She found the pick-axe; and, forty minutes +after, brought it and managed to slip it into the cell. + +"No one has been yet," said Francois, "but they are certain to come soon +and you had better not stay. I may have a night's work before me, +especially as I shall have to stop because of likely visits. So I shall +expect you at seven o'clock to-morrow . . . . By the way, talking of +Stephane: I have been thinking it over. Some noises which I heard just +now confirmed my notion that he is shut up more or less underneath me. +The opening that lights my cell is too narrow for me to pass through. +Is there a fairly wide window at the place where you are now?" + +"No, but it can be widened by removing the little stones round it." + +"Capital. You will find in Maguennoc's workshop a bamboo ladder, with +iron hooks to it, which you can easily bring with you to-morrow morning. +Next, take some provisions and some rugs and leave them in a thicket at +the entrance to the tunnel." + +"What for, darling?" + +"You'll see. I have a plan. Good-bye, mother. Have a good night's rest +and pick up your strength. We may have a hard day before us." + +Veronique followed her son's advice. The next morning, full of hope, she +once more took the road to the cell. This time, All's Well, reverting to +his instincts of independence, did not come with her. + +"Keep quite still, mother," said Francois, in so low a whisper that she +could scarcely hear him. "I am very closely watched; and I think there's +some one walking up and down in the passage. However, my work is nearly +done; the stones are all loosened. I shall have finished in two hours. +Have you the ladder?" + +"Yes." + +"Remove the stones from the window . . . that will save time . . . for +really I am frightened about Stephane . . . . And be sure not to make a +noise . . . ." + +Veronique moved away. + +The window was not much more than three feet from the floor: and the +small stones, as she had supposed, were kept in place only by their own +weight and the way in which they were arranged. The opening which she +thus contrived to make was very wide; and she easily passed the ladder +which she had brought with her through and secured it by its iron hooks +to the lower ledge. + +She was some hundred feet or so above the sea, which lay all white +before her, guarded by the thousand reefs of Sarek. But she could not +see the foot of the cliff, for there was under the window a slight +projection of granite which jutted forward and on which the ladder +rested instead of hanging perpendicularly. + +"That will help Francois," she thought. + +Nevertheless, the danger of the undertaking seemed great; and she +wondered whether she herself ought not to take the risk, instead of her +son, all the more so as Francois might be mistaken, as Stephane's cell +was perhaps not there at all and as perhaps there was no means of +entering it by a similar opening. If so, what a waste of time! And what +a useless danger for the boy to run! + +At that moment she felt so great a need of self-devotion, so intense a +wish to prove her love for him by direct action, that she formed her +resolution without pausing to reflect, even as one performs immediately +a duty which there is no question of not performing. Nothing deterred +her: neither her inspection of the ladder, whose hooks were not wide +enough to grip the whole thickness of the ledge, nor the sight of the +precipice, which gave an impression that everything was about to fall +away from under her. She had to act; and she acted. + +Pinning up her skirt, she stepped across the wall, turned round, +supported herself on the ledge, groped with her foot in space and found +one of the rungs. Her whole body was trembling. Her heart was beating +furiously, like the clapper of a bell. Nevertheless she had the mad +courage to catch hold of the two uprights and go down. + +It did not take long. She knew that there were twenty rungs in all. She +counted them. When she reached the twentieth, she looked to the left and +murmured, with unspeakable joy: + +"Oh, Francois . . . my darling!" + +She had seen, three feet away at most, a recess, a hollow which appeared +to be the entrance to a cavity cut in the rock itself. + +"Stephane . . . Stephane," she called, but in so faint a voice that +Stephane Maroux, if he were there, could not hear her. + +She hesitated a few seconds, but her legs were giving way and she no +longer had the strength either to climb up again or to remain hanging +where she was. Taking advantage of a few irregularities in the rock and +thus shifting the ladder, at the risk of unhooking it, she succeeded, by +a sort of miracle of which she was quite aware, in catching hold of a +flint which projected from the granite and setting foot in the cave. +Then, with fierce energy, she made one supreme effort and, recovering +her balance with a jerk, she entered. + +She at once saw some one, fastened with cords, lying on a truss of +straw. + +The cave was small and not very deep, especially in the upper portion, +which pointed towards the sky rather than the sea and which must have +looked, from a distance, like a mere fold in the cliff. There was no +projection to bound it at the edge. The light entered freely. + +Veronique went nearer. The man did not move. He was asleep. + +She bent over him; though she did not recognize him for certain, it +seemed to her that a memory was emerging from that dim past in which all +the faces of our childhood gradually fade away. This one was surely not +unknown to her: a gentle visage, with regular features, fair hair flung +well back, a broad, white forehead and a slightly feminine countenance, +which reminded Veronique of the charming face of a convent friend who +had died before the war. + +She deftly unfastened the bonds with which the wrists were fastened +together. + +The man, without waking immediately, stretched his arms, as though +submitting himself to a familiar operation, not effected for the first +time, which did not necessarily interfere with his sleep. Presumably he +was released like this at intervals, perhaps in order to eat and at +night, for he ended by muttering: + +"So early? . . . But I'm not hungry . . . and it's still light!" + +This last reflection astonished the man himself. He opened his eyes and +at once sat up where he lay, so that he might see the person who was +standing in front of him, no doubt for the first time in broad daylight. + +He was not greatly surprised, for the reason that the reality could not +have been manifest to him at once. He probably thought that he was the +sport of a dream or an hallucination; and he said, in an undertone: + +"Veronique . . . Veronique . . ." + +She felt a little embarrassed by his gaze, but finished releasing his +bonds; and, when he distinctly felt her hand on his own hands and on his +imprisoned limbs, he understood the wonderful event which her presence +implied and he said, in a faltering voice: + +"You! You! . . . Can it be? . . . Oh, speak just one word, just one! +. . . Can it possibly be you?" He continued, almost to himself, "Yes, it +is she . . . it is certainly she . . . . She is here!" And, anxiously, +aloud, "You . . . at night . . . on the other nights . . . it wasn't you +who came then? It was another woman, wasn't it? An enemy? . . . Oh, +forgive me for asking you! . . . It's because . . . because I don't +understand . . . . How did you come here?" + +"I came this way," she said, pointing to the sea. + +"Oh," he said, "how wonderful!" + +He stared at her with dazed eyes, as he might have stared at some vision +descended from Heaven; and the circumstances were so unusual that he did +not think of suppressing the eagerness of his gaze. + +She repeated, utterly confused: + +"Yes, this way . . . . Francois suggested it." + +"I did not mention him," he said, "because, with you here, I felt sure +that he was free." + +"Not yet," she said, "but he will be in an hour." + +A long pause ensued. She interrupted it to conceal her agitation: + +"He will be free . . . . You shall see him . . . . But we must not +frighten him: there are things which he doesn't know." + +She perceived that he was listening not to the words uttered but to the +voice that uttered them and that this voice seemed to plunge him into a +sort of ecstasy, for he was silent and smiled. She thereupon smiled too +and questioned him, thus obliging him to answer: + +"You called me by my name at once. So you knew me? I also seem to . . . +Yes, you remind me of a friend of mine who died." + +"Madeleine Ferrand?" + +"Yes, Madeleine Ferrand." + +"Perhaps I also remind you of her brother, a shy schoolboy who used +often to visit the parlour at the convent and who used to look at you +from a distance." + +"Yes, yes," she declared. "I remember. We even spoke to each other +sometimes; you used to blush. Yes, that's it: your name was Stephane. +But how do you come to be called Maroux?" + +"Madeleine and I were not children of the same father." + +"Ah," she said, "that was what misled me!" + +She gave him her hand: + +"Well, Stephane," she said, "as we are old friends and have renewed our +acquaintance, let us put off all our remembrances until later. For the +moment, the most urgent matter is to get away. Have you the strength?" + +"The strength, yes: I have not had such a very bad time. But how are we +to go from here?" + +"By the same road by which I came, a ladder communicating with the upper +passage of cells." + +He was now standing up: + +"You had the courage, the pluck?" he asked, at last realizing what she +had dared to do. + +"Oh, it was not very difficult!" she declared. "Francois was so anxious! +He maintained that you were both occupying old torture-chambers . . . +death-chambers . . . ." + +It was as though these words aroused him violently from a dream and made +him suddenly see that it was madness to converse in such circumstances. + +"Go away!" he cried. "Francois is right! Oh, if you knew the risk you +are running. Please, please go!" + +He was beside himself, as though convulsed by the thought of an +immediate peril. She tried to calm him, but he entreated her: + +"Another second may be your undoing. Don't stay here . . . . I am +condemned to death and to the most terrible death. Look at the ground on +which we are standing, this sort of floor . . . . But it's no use +talking about it. Oh, please do go!" + +"With you," she said. + +"Yes, with me. But save yourself first." + +She resisted and said, firmly: + +"For us both to be saved, Stephane, we must above all things remain +calm. What I did just now we can do again only by calculating all our +actions and controlling our excitement. Are you ready?" + +"Yes," he said, overcome by her magnificent confidence. + +"Then follow me." + +She stepped to the very edge of the precipice and leant forward: + +"Give me your hand," she said, "to help me keep my balance." + +She turned round, flattened herself against the cliff and felt the +surface with her free hand. + +Not finding the ladder, she leant outward slightly. + +The ladder had become displaced. No doubt, when Veronique, perhaps with +too abrupt a movement, had set foot in the cave, the iron hook of the +right-hand upright had slipped and the ladder, hanging only by the other +hook, had swung like a pendulum. + +The bottom rungs were now out of reach. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ANGUISH + + +Had Veronique been alone, she would have yielded to one of those moods +of despondency which her nature, brave though it was, could not escape +in the face of the unrelenting animosity of fate. But in the presence of +Stephane, who she felt to be the weaker and who was certainly exhausted +by his captivity, she had the strength to restrain herself and announce, +as though mentioning quite an ordinary incident: + +"The ladder has swung out of our reach." + +Stephane looked at her in dismay: + +"Then . . . then we are lost!" + +"Why should we be lost?" she asked, with a smile. + +"There is no longer any hope of getting away." + +"What do you mean? Of course there is. What about Francois?" + +"Francois?" + +"Certainly. In an hour at most, Francois will have made his escape; and, +when he sees the ladder and the way I came, he will call to us. We shall +hear him easily. We have only to be patient." + +"To be patient!" he said, in terror. "To wait for an hour! But they are +sure to be here in less than that. They keep a constant watch." + +"Well, we will manage somehow." + +He pointed to the wicket in the door: + +"Do you see that wicket?" he said. "They open it each time. They will +see us through the grating." + +"There's a shutter to it. Let's close it." + +"They will come in." + +"Then we won't close it and we'll keep up our confidence, Stephane." + +"I'm frightened for you, not for myself." + +"You mustn't be frightened either for me or for yourself . . . . If the +worst comes to the worst, we are able to defend ourselves," she added, +showing him a revolver which she had taken from her father's rack of +arms and carried on her ever since. + +"Ah," he said, "what I fear is that we shall not even be called upon to +defend ourselves! They have other means." + +"What means?" + +He did not answer. He had flung a quick glance at the floor; and +Veronique for a moment examined its curious structure. + +All around, following the circumference of the walls, was the granite +itself, rugged and uneven. But outlined in the granite was a large +square. They could see, on each of the four sides, the deep crevice that +divided it from the rest. The timbers of which it consisted were worn +and grooved, full of cracks and gashes, but nevertheless massive and +powerful. The fourth side almost skirted the edge of the precipice, from +which it was divided by eight inches at most. + +"A trap-door?" she asked, with a shudder. + +"No, not that," he said. "It would be too heavy." + +"Then what?" + +"I don't know. Very likely it is nothing but a remnant of some past +contrivance which no longer works. Still . . ." + +"Still what?" + +"Last night . . . or rather this morning there was a creaking sound down +below there. It seemed to suggest attempts, but they stopped at once +. . . it's such a long time since! . . . No, the thing no longer works +and they can't make use of it." + +"Who's _they_?" + +Without waiting for his answer, she continued: + +"Listen, Stephane, we have a few minutes before us, perhaps fewer than +we think. Francois will be free at any moment now and will come to our +rescue. Let us make the most of the interval and tell each other the +things which both of us ought to know. Let us discuss matters quietly. +We are threatened with no immediate danger; and the time will be well +employed." + +Veronique was pretending a sense of security which she did not feel. +That Francois would make his escape she refused to doubt; but who could +tell that the boy would go to the window and notice the hook of the +hanging ladder? On failing to see his mother, would he not rather think +of following the underground tunnel and running to the Priory? + +However, she mastered herself, feeling the need of the explanation for +which she had asked, and, sitting down on a granite projection which +formed a sort of bench, she at once began to tell Stephane the events +which she had witnessed and in which she had played a leading part, from +the moment when her investigations led her to the deserted cabin +containing Maguennoc's dead body. + +Stephane listened to the terrifying narrative without attempting to +interrupt her but with an alarm marked by his gestures of abhorrence and +the despairing expression of his face. M. d'Hergemont's death in +particular seemed to crush him, as did Honorine's. He had been greatly +attached to both of them. + +"There, Stephane," said Veronique, when she had described the anguish +which she suffered after the execution of the sisters Archignat, the +discovery of the underground passage and her interview with Francois. +"That is all that I need absolutely tell you. I thought that you ought +to know what I have kept from Francois, so that we may fight our enemies +together." + +He shook his head: + +"Which enemies?" he said. "I, too, in spite of your explanations, am +asking the very question which you asked me. I have a feeling that we +are flung into the midst of a great tragedy which has continued for +years, for centuries, and in which we have begun to play our parts only +at the moment of the crisis, at the moment of the terrific cataclysm +prepared by generations of men. I may be wrong. Perhaps there is nothing +more than a disconnected series of sinister, weird and horrible +coincidences amid which we are tossed from side to side, without being +able to appeal to any other reasons than the whim of chance. In reality +I know no more than you do. I am surrounded by the same obscurity, +stricken by the same sorrows and the same losses. It's all just +insanity, extravagant convulsions, unprecedent shocks, the crimes of +savages, the fury of the barbaric ages." + +Veronique agreed: + +"Yes, of the barbaric ages; and that is what baffles me most and +impresses me so much! What is the connection between the present and the +past, between our persecutors of to-day and the men who lived in these +caves in days of old and whose actions are prolonged into our own time, +in a manner so impossible to understand? To what do they all refer, +those legends of which I know nothing except from Honorine's delirium +and the distress of the sisters Archignat?" + +They spoke low, with their ears always on the alert. Stephane listened +for sounds in the corridor, Veronique concentrated her attention on the +cliff, in the hope of hearing Francois' signal. + +"They are very complicated legends," said Stephane, "very obscure +traditions in which we must abandon any attempt to distinguish between +what is superstition and what might be truth. Out of this jumble of old +wives' tales, the very most that we can disentangle is two sets of +ideas, those referring to the prophecy of the thirty coffins and those +relating to the existence of a treasure, or rather of a miraculous +stone." + +"Then they take as a prophecy," said Veronique, "the words which I read +on Maguennoc's drawing and again on the Fairies' Dolmen?" + +"Yes, a prophecy which dates back to an indeterminate period and which +for centuries has governed the whole history and the whole life of +Sarek. The belief has always prevailed that a day would come when, +within a space of twelve months, the thirty principal reefs which +surround the island and which are called the thirty coffins would +receive their thirty victims, who were to die a violent death, and that +those thirty victims would include four women who were to die crucified. +It is an established and undisputed tradition, handed down from father +to son: and everybody believes in it. It is expressed in the line and +part of a line inscribed on the Fairies' Dolmen: 'Four women crucified,' +and 'For thirty coffins victims thirty times!'" + +"Very well; but people have gone on living all the same, normally and +peaceably. Why did the outburst of terror suddenly take place this +year?" + +"Maguennoc was largely responsible. Maguennoc was a fantastic and rather +mysterious person, a mixture of the wizard and the bone-setter, the +healer and the charlatan, who had studied the stars in their courses and +whom people liked to consult about the most remote events of the past as +well as the future. Now Maguennoc announced not long ago that 1917 would +be the fateful year." + +"Why?" + +"Intuition perhaps, presentiment, divination, or subconscious knowledge: +you can choose any explanation that you please. As for Maguennoc, who +did not despise the practices of the most antiquated magic, _he_ would +tell you that he knew it from the flight of a bird or the entrails of a +fowl. However, his prophecy was based on something more serious. He +pretended, quoting evidence collected in his childhood among the old +people of Sarek, that, at the beginning of the last century, the first +line of the inscription on the Fairies' Dolmen was not yet obliterated +and that it formed this, which would rhyme with 'Four women shall be +crucified on tree:' 'In Sarek's isle, in year fourteen and three.' The +year fourteen and three is the year seventeen; and the prediction became +more impressive for Maguennoc and his friends of late years, because the +total number was divided into two numbers and the war broke out in 1914. +From that day, Maguennoc grew more and more important and more and more +sure of the truth of his previsions. For that matter, he also grew more +and more anxious; and he even announced that his death, followed by the +death of M. d'Hergemont, would give the signal for the catastrophe. Then +the year 1917 arrived and produced a genuine terror in the island. The +events were close at hand." + +"And still," said Veronique, "and still it was all absurd." + +"Absurd, yes; but it all acquired a curiously disturbing significance on +the day when Maguennoc was able to compare the scraps of prophecy +engraved on the dolmen with the complete prophecy." + +"Then he succeeded in doing so?" + +"Yes. He discovered under the abbey ruins, in a heap of stones which had +formed a sort of protecting chamber round it, an old worn and tattered +missal, which had a few of its pages in good condition, however, and one +in particular, the one which you saw, or rather of which you saw a copy +in the deserted cabin." + +"A copy made by my father?" + +"By your father, as were all those in the cupboard in his study. M. +d'Hergemont, you must remember, was fond of drawing, of painting +water-colours. He copied the illuminated page, but of the prophecy that +accompanied the drawing he reproduced only the words inscribed on the +Fairies' Dolmen." + +"How do you account for the resemblance between the crucified woman and +myself?" + +"I never saw the original, which Maguennoc gave to M. d'Hergemont and +which your father kept jealously in his room. But M. d'Hergemont +maintained that the resemblance was there. In any case, he accentuated +it in his drawing, in spite of himself, remembering all that you had +suffered . . . and through his fault, he said." + +"Perhaps," murmured Veronique, "he was also thinking of the other +prophecy that was once made to Vorski: 'You will perish by the hand of a +friend and your wife will be crucified.' So I suppose the strange +coincidence struck him . . . and even made him write the initials of my +maiden name, 'V. d'H.', at the top." And she added, "And all this +happened in accordance with the wording of the inscription . . . ." + +They were both silent. How could they do other than think of that +inscription, of the words written ages ago on the pages of the missal +and on the stone of the dolmen? If destiny had as yet provided only +twenty-seven victims for the thirty coffins of Sarek, were the last +three not there, ready to complete the sacrifice, all three imprisoned, +all three captive and in the power of the sacrificial murderers? And if, +at the top of the knoll, near the Grand Oak, there were as yet but three +crosses, would the fourth not soon be prepared, to receive a fourth +victim? + +"Francois is a very long time," said Veronique, presently. + +She went to the edge and looked over. The ladder had not moved and was +still out of reach. + +"The others will soon be coming to my door," said Stephane. "I am +surprised that they haven't been yet." + +But they did not wish to confess their mutual anxiety; and Veronique put +a further question, in a calm voice: + +"And the treasure? The God-Stone?" + +"That riddle is hardly less obscure," said Stephane, "and also depends +entirely on the last line of the inscription: 'The God-Stone which gives +life or death.' What is this God-Stone? Tradition says that it is a +miraculous stone; and, according to M. d'Hergemont, this belief dates +back to the remotest periods. People at Sarek have always had faith in +the existence of a stone capable of working wonders. In the middle ages +they used to bring puny and deformed children and lay them on the stone +for days and nights together, after which the children got up strong and +healthy. Barren women resorted to this remedy with good results, as did +old men, wounded men and all sorts of degenerates. Only it came about +that the place of pilgrimage underwent changes, the stone, still +according to tradition, having been moved and even, according to some, +having disappeared. In the eighteenth century, people venerated the +Fairies' Dolmen and used still sometimes to expose scrofulous children +there." + +"But," said Veronique, "the stone also had harmful properties, for it +gave death as well as life?" + +"Yes, if you touched it without the knowledge of those whose business it +was to guard it and keep it sacred. But in this respect the mystery +becomes still more complicated, for there is the question also of a +precious stone, a sort of fantastic gem which shoots out flames, burns +those who wear it and makes them suffer the tortures of the damned." + +"That's what happened to Maguennoc, by Honorine's account," said +Veronique. + +"Yes," replied Stephane, "but here we are entering upon the present. So +far I have been speaking of the fabled past, the two legends, the +prophecy and the God-Stone. Maguennoc's adventure opens up the period of +the present day, which for that matter is hardly less obscure than the +ancient period. What happened to Maguennoc? We shall probably never +know. He had been keeping in the background for a week, gloomy and doing +no work, when suddenly he burst into M. d'Hergemont's study roaring, +'I've touched it! I'm done for! I've touched it! . . . I took it in my +hand . . . . It burnt me like fire, but I wanted to keep it . . . . Oh, +it's been gnawing into my bones for days! It's hell, it's hell!' And he +showed us the palm of his hand. It was all burnt, as though eaten up +with cancer. We tried to dress it for him, but he seemed quite mad and +kept rambling on, 'I'm the first victim . . . . the fire will go to my +heart . . . . And after me the others' turn will come . . . .' That same +evening, he cut off his hand with a hatchet. And a week later, after +infecting the whole island with terror, he went away." + +"Where did he go to?" + +"To the village of Le Faouet, on a pilgrimage to the Chapel of St. +Barbe, near the place where you found his dead body." + +"Who killed him, do you think?" + +"Undoubtedly one of the creatures who used to correspond by means of +signs written along the road, one of the creatures who live hidden in +the cells and who are pursuing some purpose which I don't understand." + +"Those who attacked you and Francois, therefore?" + +"Yes; and immediately afterwards, having stolen and put on our clothes, +played the parts of Francois and myself." + +"With what object?" + +"To enter the Priory more easily and then, if their attempt failed, to +balk enquiry." + +"But haven't you seen them since they have kept you here?" + +"I have seen only a woman, or rather caught a glimpse of her. She comes +at night. She brings me food and drink, unties my hands, loosens the +fastenings round my legs a little and comes back two hours after." + +"Has she spoken to you?" + +"Once only, on the first night, in a low voice, to tell me that, if I +called out or uttered a sound or tried to escape, Francois would pay the +penalty." + +"But, when they attacked you, couldn't you then make out . . . ?" + +"No, I saw no more than Francois did." + +"And the attack was quite unexpected?" + +"Yes, quite. M. d'Hergemont had that morning received two important +letters on the subject of the investigation which he was making into all +these facts. One of the letters, written by an old Breton nobleman +well-known for his royalist leanings, was accompanied by a curious +document which he had found among his great-grandfather's papers, a plan +of some underground cells which the Chouans used to occupy in Sarek. It +was evidently the same Druid dwellings of which the legends tell us. The +plan showed the entrance on the Black Heath and marked two stories, each +ending in a torture-chamber. Francois and I went out exploring together; +and we were attacked on our way back." + +"And you have made no discovery since?" + +"No, none at all." + +"But Francois spoke of a rescue which he was expecting, some one who had +promised his assistance." + +"Oh, a piece of boyish nonsense, an idea of Francois', which, as it +happened, was connected with the second letter which M. d'Hergemont +received that morning!" + +"And what was it about?" + +Stephane did not reply at once. Something made him think that they were +being spied on through the door. But, on going to the wicket, he saw no +one in the passage outside. + +"Ah," he said, "if we are to be rescued, the sooner it happens the +better. _They_ may come at any moment now." + +"Is any help really possible?" asked Veronique. + +"Well," Stephane answered, "we must not attach too much importance to +it, but it's rather curious all the same. You know, Sarek has often been +visited by officers or inspectors with a view to exploring the rocks and +beaches around the island, which were quite capable of concealing a +submarine base. Last time, the special delegate sent from Paris, a +wounded officer, Captain Patrice Belval,[2] became friendly with M. +d'Hergemont, who told him the legend of Sarek and the apprehension which +we were beginning to feel in spite of everything; it was the day after +Maguennoc went away. The story interested Captain Belval so much that he +promised to speak of it to one of his friends in Paris, a Spanish or +Portuguese nobleman, Don Luis Perenna,[2] an extraordinary person, it +would seem, capable of solving the most complicated mysteries and of +succeeding in the most reckless enterprises. A few days after Captain +Belval's departure, M. d'Hergemont received from Don Luis Perenna the +letter of which I spoke to you and of which he read us only the +beginning. 'Sir,' it said, 'I look upon the Maguennoc incident as more +than a little serious; and I beg you, at the least fresh alarm, to +telegraph to Patrice Belval. If I can rely upon certain indications, you +are standing on the brink of an abyss. But, even if you were at the +bottom of that abyss, you would have nothing to fear, if only I hear +from you in time. From that moment, I make myself responsible, whatever +happens, even though everything may seem lost and though everything may +be lost. As for the riddle of the God-Stone, it is simply childish and I +am astonished that, with the very ample data which you gave Belval, it +should for an instant be regarded as impossible of explanation. I will +tell you in a few words what has puzzled so many generations of mankind +. . . .'" + +[Footnote 2: See _The Golden Triangle_, by Maurice Leblanc.] + +"Well?" said Veronique, eager to know more. + +"As I said, M. d'Hergemont did not tell us the end of the letter. He +read it in front of us, saying, with an air of amazement, 'Can that be +it? . . . Why, of course, of course it is . . . . How wonderful!' And, +when we asked him, he said, 'I'll tell you all about it this evening, +when you come back from the Black Heath. Meanwhile you may like to know +that this most extraordinary man--it's the only word for him--discloses +to me, without more ado or further particulars, the secret of the +God-Stone and the exact spot where it is to be found. And he does it so +logically as to leave no room for doubt.'" + +"And in the evening?" + +"In the evening, Francois and I were carried off and M. d'Hergemont was +murdered." + +Veronique paused to think: + +"I should not be surprised," she said, "if they wanted to steal that +important letter from him. For, after all, the theft of the God-Stone +seems to me the only motive that can explain all the machinations of +which we are the victims." + +"I think so too: but M. d'Hergemont, on Don Luis Perenna's +recommendation, tore up the letter before our eyes." + +"So, after all, Don Luis Perenna has not been informed?" + +"No." + +"Yet Francois . . ." + +"Francois does not know of his grandfather's death and does not suspect +that M. d'Hergemont never heard of our disappearance and therefore never +sent a message to Don Luis Perenna. If he had done so, Don Luis, to +Francois' mind, must be on his way. Besides, Francois has another +reason for expecting something . . . ." + +"A serious reason?" + +"No. Francois is still very much of a child. He has read a lot of books +of adventure, which have worked upon his imagination. Now Captain Belval +told him such fantastic stories about his friend Perenna and painted +Perenna in such strange colours that Francois firmly believes Perenna to +be none other than Arsene Lupin. Hence his absolute confidence and his +certainty that, in case of danger, the miraculous intervention will take +place at the very minute when it becomes necessary." + +Veronique could not help smiling: + +"He is a child, of course; but children sometimes have intuitions which +we have to take into account. Besides, it keeps up his courage and his +spirits. How could he have endured this ordeal, at his age, if he had +not had that hope?" + +Her anguish returned. In a very low voice, she said: + +"No matter where the rescue comes from, so long as it comes in time and +so long as my son is not the victim of those dreadful creatures!" + +They were silent for a long time. The enemy, present, though invisible, +oppressed them with his formidable weight. He was everywhere; he was +master of the island, master of the subterranean dwellings, master of +the heaths and woods, master of the sea around them, master of the +dolmens and the coffins. He linked together the monstrous ages of the +past and the no less monstrous hours of the present. He was continuing +history according to the ancient rites and striking blows which had +been foretold a thousand times. + +"But why? With what object? What does it all mean?" asked Veronique, in +a disheartened tone. "What connection can there be between the people of +to-day and those of long ago? What is the explanation of the work +resumed by such barbarous methods?" + +And, after a further pause, she said, for in her heart of hearts, behind +every question and reply and every insoluble problem, the obsession +never ceased to torment her: + +"Ah, if Francois were here! If we were all three fighting together! What +has happened to him? What keeps him in his cell? Some obstacle which he +did not foresee?" + +It was Stephane's turn to comfort her: + +"An obstacle? Why should you suppose so? There is no obstacle. But it's +a long job . . . ." + +"Yes, yes, you are right; a long, difficult job. Oh, I'm sure that he +won't lose heart! He has such high spirits! And such confidence! 'A +mother and son who have been brought together cannot be parted again,' +he said. 'They may still persecute us, but separate us, never! We shall +win in the end.' He was speaking truly, wasn't he, Stephane? I've not +found my son again, have I, only to lose him? No, no, it would be too +unjust and it would be impossible . . ." + +Stephane looked at her, surprised to hear her interrupt herself. +Veronique was listening to something. + +"What is it?" asked Stephane. + +"I hear sounds," she said. + +He also listened: + +"Yes, yes, you're right." + +"Perhaps it's Francois," she said. "Perhaps it's up there." + +She moved to rise. He held her back: + +"No, it's the sound of footsteps in the passage." + +"In that case . . . in that case . . . ?" said Veronique. + +They exchanged distraught glances, forming no decision, not knowing what +to do. + +The sound came nearer. The enemy could not be suspecting anything, for +the steps were those of one who is not afraid of being heard. + +Stephane said, slowly: + +"They must not see me standing up. I will go back to my place. You must +fasten me again as best you can." + +They remained hesitating, as though cherishing the absurd hope that the +danger would pass of its own accord. Then, suddenly, releasing herself +from the sort of stupor that seemed to paralyse her, Veronique made up +her mind: + +"Quick! . . . Here they come! . . . Lie down!" + +He obeyed. In a few seconds, she had replaced the cords on and around +him as she had found them, but without tying them. + +"Turn your face to the rock," she said. "Hide your hands. Your hands +might betray you." + +"And you?" + +"I shall be all right." + +She stooped and stretched herself at full length against the door, in +which the spy-hole, barred with strips of iron, projected inwardly in +such a way as to hide her from sight. + +At the same moment, the enemy stopped outside. Notwithstanding the +thickness of the door, Veronique heard the rustle of a dress. + +And, above her, some one looked in. + +It was a terrible moment. The least indication would give the alarm. + +"Oh, why does she stay?" thought Veronique. "Is there anything to betray +my presence? My clothes? . . ." + +She thought that it was more likely Stephane, whose attitude did not +appear natural and whose bonds did not wear their usual aspect. + +Suddenly there was a movement outside, followed by a whistle and a +second whistle. + +Then from the far end of the passage came another sound of steps, which +increased in the solemn silence and stopped, like the first, behind the +door. Words were spoken. Those outside seemed to be concerting measures. + +Veronique managed to reach her pocket. She took out her revolver and put +her finger on the trigger. If any one entered, she would stand up and +fire shot after shot, without hesitating. Would not the least hesitation +have meant Francois' death? + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE DEATH-CHAMBER + + +Veronique's estimate was correct, provided that the door opened outwards +and that her enemies were at once revealed to view. She therefore +examined the door and suddenly observed that, against all logical +expectation, it had a large strong bolt at the bottom. Should she make +use of it? + +She had no time to weigh the advantages or drawbacks of this plan. She +had heard a jingle of keys and, almost at the same time, the sound of a +key grating in the lock. + +Veronique received a very clear vision of what was likely to happen. +When the assailants burst in, she would be thrust aside, she would be +hampered in her movements, her aim would be inaccurate and her shots +would miss, whereupon _they_ would shut the door again and promptly +hurry off to Francois' cell. The thought of it made her lose her head; +and her action was instinctive and immediate. First, she pushed the bolt +at the foot of the door. Next, half rising, she slammed the iron shutter +over the wicket. A latch clicked. It was no longer possible either to +enter or to look in. + +Then at once she realized the absurdity of her action, which had not +opposed any obstacle to the menace of the enemy. Stephane, leaping to +her side, said: + +"Good heavens, what have you done? Why, they saw that I was not moving +and they now know that I am not alone!" + +"Exactly," she answered, striving to defend herself. "They will try to +break down the door, which will give us the time we want." + +"The time we want for what?" + +"To make our escape." + +"Which way?" + +"Francois will call out to us. Francois will . . ." + +She did not complete her sentence. They now heard the sound of footsteps +moving swiftly down the passage. There was no doubt about it; the enemy, +without troubling about Stephane, whose flight appeared impossible, was +making for the upper floor of cells. Moreover, might he not suppose that +the two friends were acting in agreement and that it was the boy who was +in Stephane's cell and who had barred the door? + +Veronique therefore had precipitated events and given them a turn which +she had so many reasons to dread; and Francois, up above, would be +caught at the very moment when he was preparing to escape. + +She was utterly overwhelmed: + +"Why did I come here?" she muttered. "It would have been so simple to +wait! The two of us would have saved you to a certainty." + +One idea flashed through the confusion of her mind: had she not sought +to hasten Stephane's release because of what she knew of this man's love +for her? And was it not an unworthy curiosity that had prompted her to +make the attempt? A horrible idea, which she at once rejected, saying: + +"No, I had to come. It is fate which is persecuting us." + +"Don't believe it," said Stephane. "Everything will come right." + +"Too late!" said she, shaking her head. + +"Why? How do we know that Francois has not left his cell? You yourself +thought so just now . . . ." + +She did not reply. Her face became drawn and very pale. By virtue of her +sufferings she had acquired a kind of intuition of the evil that +threatened her. This evil now surrounded her on every hand. A second +series of ordeals was before her, more terrible than the first. + +"There's death all about us," she said. + +He tried to smile: + +"You are talking like the people of Sarek. You have the same fears . . ." + +"They were right to be afraid. And you yourself feel the horror of it +all." + +She rushed to the door, drew the bolt, tried to open it; but what could +she do against that massive, iron-clad door? + +Stephane seized her by the arm: + +"One moment . . . . Listen . . . . It sounds as if . . ." + +"Yes," she said, "it's up there that they are knocking . . . above our +heads . . . in Francois' cell . . . ." + +"Not at all, not at all: listen . . . ." + +There was a long silence; and then blows were heard in the thickness of +the cliff. The sound came from below them. + +"The same blows that I heard this morning," said Stephane, in dismay. +"The same attempt of which I spoke to you . . . . Ah, I understand! +. . ." + +"What? What do you mean?" + +The blows were repeated, at regular intervals, and then ceased, to be +followed by a dull, continuous sound, pierced by shriller creakings and +sudden cracks, like the straining of machinery newly started, or of one +of those capstans which are used for hoisting boats up a beach. + +Veronique listened, desperately expectant of what was coming, trying to +guess, seeking to find some clue in Stephane's eyes. He stood in front +of her, looking at her as a man, in the hour of danger, looks at the +woman he loves. + +And suddenly she staggered and had to press her hand against the wall. +It was as though the cave and indeed the whole cliff were bodily moving +from its place. + +"Oh," she murmured, "is it I who am trembling like this? Is it from fear +that I am shaking from head to foot?" + +Seizing Stephane's hands, she said: + +"Tell me! I want to know! . . ." + +He did not answer. There was no fear in his eyes bedewed with tears, +there was nothing but immense love and unbounded despair. He was +thinking only of her. + +Besides, was it necessary for him to explain what was happening? Did not +the reality itself become more and more apparent as the seconds passed? +A strange reality indeed, having no connection with commonplace facts, a +reality quite beyond anything that the imagination might invent in the +domain of evil, a strange reality which Veronique, who was beginning to +grasp its indication, still refused to believe. + +Acting like a trap-door, but like a trap-door working the reverse way, +the square of enormous joists which was set in the middle of the cave +rose, pivoting on the fixed axis by which it was hinged parallel with +the cliff. The almost imperceptible movement was that of an enormous lid +opening; and the thing already formed a sort of spring-board reaching +from the edge to the back of the cave, a spring-board with as yet a very +slight slope, on which it was easy enough to keep one's balance. + +At the first moment, Veronique thought that the enemy's object was to +crush them between the implacable floor and the granite of the ceiling. +But, almost immediately afterwards, she understood that the hateful +mechanism, by standing erect like a draw-bridge when hoisted up, was +intended to hurl them over the precipice. And it would carry out that +intention inexorably. The result was fatal and inevitable. Whatever they +might try, whatever efforts they might make to hold on, a minute would +come when the floor of that draw-bridge would be absolutely vertical, +forming an integral part of the perpendicular cliff. + +"It's horrible, it's horrible," she muttered. + +Their hands were still clasped. Stephane was weeping silent tears. + +Presently she moaned: + +"There's nothing to be done, is there?" + +"Nothing," he replied. + +"Still, there is room beyond that wooden floor. The cave is round. We +might . . ." + +"The space is too small. If we tried to stand between the sides of the +square and the wall, we should be crushed to death. That has all been +planned. I have often thought about it." + +"Then . . . ?" + +"We must wait." + +"For what? For whom?" + +"For Francois." + +"Oh, Francois!" she said, with a sob. "Perhaps he too is doomed . . . . +Or perhaps he is looking for us and will fall into some trap. In any +case, I shall not see him . . . . And he will know nothing . . . . And +he will not even have seen his mother before dying . . . ." + +She pressed Stephane's hands and said: + +"Stephane, if one of us escapes death--and I hope it may be you . . ." + +"It will be you," he said, in a tone of conviction. "I am even surprised +that the enemy should condemn you to the same torture as myself. But no +doubt he doesn't know that it's you who are here with me." + +"It surprises me too!" said Veronique. "A different torture is set aside +for me. But what does it matter, if I am not to see my son again! . . . +Stephane, I can safely leave him in your charge, can't I? I know all +that you have already done for him." + +The floor continued to rise very slowly, with an uneven vibration and +sudden jerks. The slope became more accentuated. A few minutes more and +they would no longer be able to speak freely and quietly. + +Stephane replied: + +"If I survive, I swear to fulfil my task to the end. I swear it in +memory . . ." + +"In memory of me," she said, in a firm voice, "in memory of the +Veronique whom you knew . . . and loved." + +He looked at her passionately: + +"So you know?" + +"Yes; and I tell you frankly, I have read your diary. I know your love +for me . . . and I accept it." She gave a sad smile. "That poor love +which you offered to the woman who was absent . . . and which you are +now offering to the woman who is about to die." + +"No, no," he said, eagerly, "don't believe that . . . . Salvation may be +near at hand . . . . I feel it. My love does not belong to the past but +to the future." + +He stooped to put his lips to her hands. + +"Kiss me," she said, offering him her forehead. + +Each of them had been obliged to place one foot on the brink of the +precipice, on the straight edge of granite which ran parallel with the +fourth side of the spring-board. + +They kissed gravely. + +"Hold me firmly," said Veronique. + +She leant back as far as she could, raising her head, and called in a +muffled voice: + +"Francois . . . . Francois . . . ." + +But there was no one at the upper opening, from which the ladder was +still hanging by one of its hooks, well out of reach. + +Veronique bent over the sea. At this spot, the swell of the cliff did +not project as much as elsewhere; and she saw, in between the +foam-topped reefs, a little pool of still water, very calm and so deep +that she could not see the bottom. She thought that death would be +gentler there than on the sharp-pointed rocks and, yielding to a sudden +longing to have done with it all and to avoid a lingering agony, she +said to Stephane: + +"Why wait for the end? Better die than suffer this torture." + +"No, no!" he exclaimed, horrified at the thought that Veronique might +disappear from his sight. + +"Then you are still hoping?" + +"Until the last second, since it's your life that's at stake." + +"I have no longer any hope." + +Nor was he borne up by hope; but he would have given anything to lull +Veronique's sufferings and to bear the whole weight of the supreme +ordeal himself. + +The floor continued to rise. The vibration had ceased and the slope +became much more marked, already reaching the bottom of the wicket, half +way up the door. Then there was a sound like a sudden stoppage of +machinery, followed by a violent jolt, and the whole wicket was covered. +It was becoming impossible for them to stand erect. + +They lay down on the slanting floor, bracing their feet against the +granite edge. + +Two more jerks occurred, each time pushing the upper end still higher. +The top of the inner wall was reached; and the enormous mechanism moved +slowly forward, along the ceiling, towards the opening of the cave. They +could see very plainly that it would fit this opening exactly and close +it hermetically, like a draw-bridge. The rock had been hewn in such a +way that the deadly task might be accomplished without leaving any +loophole for chance. + +They did not utter a word. With hands tight-clasped, they resigned +themselves to the inevitable. Their death was assuming the aspect of an +event decreed by destiny. The machine had been constructed far back in +the centuries and had no doubt been reconstructed, repaired and put in +order at a more recent date; and during those centuries, worked by +invisible executioners, it had caused the death of culprits, of guilty +men and innocent, of men of Armorica, Gaul, France or foreign lands. +Prisoners of war, sacrilegious monks, persecuted peasants, renegade +Chouans and soldiers of the Revolution; one by one the monster had +hurled them over the cliff. + +To-day it was their turn. + +They had not even the bitter solace of rage and hatred. Whom were they +to hate? They were dying in the deepest obscurity, with no hostile face +emerging from that implacable night. They were dying in the +accomplishment of a task unknown to themselves, to make up a total, so +to speak, and for the fulfilment of absurd prophecies, of imbecile +intentions, such as the orders given by the barbarian gods and +formulated by fanatical priests. They were--it was a thing unheard +of--the victims of some expiatory sacrifice, of some holocaust offered +to the divinities of a blood-thirsty creed! + +The wall stood behind them. In a few more minutes it would be +perpendicular. The end was approaching. + +Time after time Stephane had to hold Veronique back. An increasing +terror distracted her mind. She yearned to fling herself down. + +"Please, please," she stammered, "do let me . . . . I am suffering more +than I can bear." + +Had she not found her son again, she would have retained her +self-control to the end. But the thought of Francois was unsettling her. +The boy must also be a prisoner, they must be torturing him too and +immolating him, like his mother, on the altars of the execrable gods. + +"No, no, he will come," Stephane declared. "You will be saved . . . . I +will have it so . . . . I know it." + +She replied, wildly: + +"He is imprisoned as we are . . . . They are burning him with torches, +driving arrows into him, tearing his flesh . . . . Oh, my poor little +son! . . ." + +"He will come, dear, he told you he would. Nothing can separate a mother +and son who have been brought together again." + +"We have found each other in death; we shall be united in death. I wish +it might be at once! I don't want him to suffer!" + +The agony was too great. With an effort she released her hands from +Stephane's and made a movement to fling herself down. But she +immediately threw herself back against the draw-bridge, with a cry of +amazement which was echoed by Stephane. + +Something had passed before their eyes and disappeared again. It came +from the left. + +"The ladder!" exclaimed Stephane. "It's the ladder, isn't it?" + +"Yes, it's Francois," said Veronique, catching her breath with joy and +hope. "He is saved. He is coming to rescue us." + +At that moment, the wall of torment was almost upright, vibrating +implacably beneath their shoulders. The cave no longer existed behind +them. The depths had already claimed them; at most they were clinging to +a narrow ledge. + +Veronique leant outwards again. The ladder swung back and then became +stationary, fixed by its two hooks. + +Above them, at the opening in the cliff, was a boy's face; and the boy +was smiling and making gestures: + +"Mother, mother . . . quick!" + +The call was eager and urgent. The two arms were outstretched towards +the pair below. Veronique moaned: + +"Oh, it's you, it's you, my darling!" + +"Quick, mother, I'm holding the ladder! . . . Quick! . . . It's quite +safe!" + +"I'm coming, darling, I'm coming." + +She had seized the nearest upright. This time, with Stephane's +assistance, she had no difficulty in placing her foot on the bottom +rung. But she said: + +"And you, Stephane? You're coming with me, aren't you?" + +"I have plenty of time," he said. "Hurry." + +"No, you must promise." + +"I swear. Hurry." + +She climbed four rungs and stopped: + +"Are you coming, Stephane?" + +He had already turned towards the cliff and slipped his left hand into a +narrow fissure which remained between the draw-bridge and the rock. His +right hand reached the ladder and he was able to set foot on the lowest +rung. He too was saved. + +With what delight Veronique covered the rest of the distance! What +mattered the void below her, now that her son was there, waiting for her +to clasp him to her breast at last! + +"Here I am, here I am," she said. "Here I am, my darling." + +She swiftly put her head and shoulders in the window. He pulled her +through; and she climbed over the ledge. At last she was with her son. + +They flung themselves into each other's arms: + +"Oh, mother, mother, is it really true? Mother!" + +But she had no sooner closed her arms about him than she drew back a +little, she did not know why. An inexplicable discomfort checked her +first outburst. + +"Come here," she said, dragging him to the light of the window. "Come +and let me look at you." + +The boy did as she wished. She examined him for two or three seconds, no +longer, and suddenly, giving a start of terror, ejaculated: + +"Then it's you? It's you, the murderer?" + +Oh, horror! She was once more looking on the face of the monster who had +killed her father and Honorine before her eyes! + +"So you know me?" he chuckled. + +Veronique realised her mistake from the boy's very tone. This was not +Francois but the other, the one who had played his devilish part in the +clothes which Francois usually wore. + +He gave another chuckle: + +"Ah, you're beginning to see things as they are, ma'am! You know me now, +don't you?" + +The hateful face contracted, became wicked and cruel, animated by the +vilest expression. + +"Vorski! Vorski!" stammered Veronique. "It's Vorski I recognise in you." + +He burst out laughing: + +"Why not? Do you think I'm going to disown my father as you did?" + +"Vorski's son! His son!" Veronique repeated. + +"Lord bless me, yes, his son: why shouldn't I be? Surely the good fellow +had the right to have two sons! Me first and dear Francois next!" + +"Vorski's son!" Veronique exclaimed once more. + +"And one of the best, I tell you, ma'am, a worthy son of his father and +brought up on the highest principles. I've shown you as much already, +haven't I? But it's not finished, we're only at the beginning . . . . +Here, would you like me to give you a fresh proof? Just take a squint at +that stick-in-the-mud of a tutor! . . . No, but look how things go when +I take a hand in them." + +He sprang to the window. Stephane's head appeared. The boy picked up a +stone and struck with all his might, throwing him backwards. + +Veronique, who at the first moment had hesitated, not realising the +danger, now rushed and seized the boy's arm. It was too late. The head +vanished. The hooks of the ladder slipped off the ledge. There was a +loud cry, followed by the sound of a body falling into the water below. + +Veronique ran to the window. The ladder was floating on the part of the +little pool which she was able to see, lying motionless in its frame of +rocks. There was nothing to point to the place where Stephane had +fallen, not an eddy, not a ripple. + +She called out: + +"Stephane! Stephane! . . ." + +No reply, nothing but the great silence of space in which the winds are +still and the sea asleep. + +"You villain, what have you done?" she cried. + +"Don't take on, missus," he said. "Master Stephane brought up your kid +to be a duffer. Come it's a laughing matter, it is, really. Give us a +kiss, won't you, daddy's missus? But, I say, what a face you're pulling! +Surely you don't hate me as much as all that?" + +He went up to her, with his arms outstretched. Veronique swiftly covered +him with her revolver: + +"Be off, be off, or I'll kill you as I would a mad dog! Be off!" + +The boy's face became more inhuman than ever. He fell back step by step, +snarling: + +"Oh, I'll make you pay for this, my pretty lady! . . . What do you mean +by it? I come up to give you a kiss . . . I'm full of kindly feelings +. . . and you want to shoot me! You shall pay for it in blood . . . in +nice red flowing blood . . . blood . . . blood . . . ." + +He seemed to love the sound of the word. He repeated it time after time, +then once more gave a burst of evil laughter and fled down the tunnel +which led to the Priory, shouting: + +"The blood of your son, Mother Veronique! . . . The blood of your +darling Francois!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE ESCAPE + + +Shuddering, uncertain how to act next, Veronique listened till she no +longer heard the sound of his footsteps. What should she do? The murder +of Stephane had for a moment turned her thoughts from Francois; but she +now once more fell a prey to anguish. What had become of her son? Should +she go to him at the Priory and defend him against the dangers that +threatened him? + +"Come, come," she said, "I'm losing my head . . . . Let me think things +out . . . . A few hours ago, Francois was speaking to me through the +wall of his prison . . . for it was certainly he then, it was certainly +Francois who yesterday took my hand and covered it with his kisses +. . . . A mother cannot be deceived; and I was quivering with love and +tenderness . . . . But since . . . since this morning has he not left +his prison?" + +She stopped to think and then said, slowly: + +"That's it . . . that's what happened . . . . Stephane and I were +discovered below, on the floor underneath. The alarm was given at once. +The monster, Vorski's son, had gone up expressly to watch Francois. He +found the cell empty and, seeing the opening which had been made, +crawled out here. Yes, that's it . . . . If not, by what way did he +come? . . . When he got here, it occurred to him to run to the window, +knowing that it overlooked the sea and suspecting that Francois had +chosen it to make his escape. He at once saw the hooks of the ladder. +Then, on leaning over, he saw me, knew who I was and called out to me +. . . . And now . . . now he is on his way to the Priory, where he is +bound to meet Francois . . . ." + +Nevertheless Veronique did not stir. She had an instinct that the danger +lay not at the Priory but here, by the cells. And she wondered whether +Francois had really succeeded in escaping and whether, before his task +was done, he had not been surprised by the other and attacked by him. + +It was a horrible doubt! She stooped quickly and, perceiving that the +hole had been widened, tried to pass through it herself. But the outlet, +at most large enough for a child, was too narrow for her; and her +shoulders became fixed. She persisted in the attempt, however, tearing +her bodice and bruising her skin against the rock, and at last, by dint +of patience and wriggling, succeeded in slipping through. + +The cell was empty. But the door was open on the passages facing her; +and Veronique had an impression--merely an impression, for the window +admitted only a faint light--that some one was just leaving the cell +through the open door. And from this confused impression of something +that she had not absolutely seen she retained the certainty that it was +a woman who was hiding there, in the passage, a woman surprised by her +unexpected entrance. + +"It's their accomplice," thought Veronique. "She came up with the boy +who killed Stephane, and she has no doubt taken Francois away . . . . +Perhaps Francois is even there still, quite near me, while she's +watching me . . . ." + +Meanwhile Veronique's eyes were growing accustomed to the semidarkness +and she distinctly saw a woman's hand upon the door, which opened +inwardly. The hand was slowly pulling. + +"Why doesn't she shut it at once," Veronique wondered, "since she +obviously wants to put a barrier between us?" + +Veronique received her answer when she heard a pebble grating under the +door and interfering with its movement. If the pebble were not there, +the door would be closed. Without hesitating, Veronique went up, took +hold of a great iron handle and pulled it towards her. The hand +disappeared, but the opposition continued. There was evidently a handle +on the other side as well. + +Suddenly she heard a whistle. The woman was summoning assistance. And +almost at the same time, in the passage, at some distance from the +woman, there was a cry: + +"Mother! Mother!" + +Ah, with what deep emotion Veronique heard that cry! Her son, her real +son was calling to her, her son, still a captive but alive! Oh, the +superhuman delight of it! + +"I'm here, darling!" + +"Quick, mother! I'm tied up; and the whistle is their signal . . . +they'll be coming." + +"I'm here . . . . I shall save you before they come!" + +She had no doubt of the result. It seemed to her as though her strength +knew no limits and as though nothing could resist the exasperated +tension of her whole being. + +Her adversary was in fact weakening and giving ground by inches. The +opening became wider; and suddenly the contest was over. Veronique +walked through. + +The woman had already fled down the passage and was dragging the boy by +a rope in order to make him walk despite the cords with which he was +bound. It was a vain attempt and she abandoned it forthwith. Veronique +was close to her, with her revolver in her hand. + +The woman let go the boy and stood up in the light from the open cells. +She was dressed in white serge, with a knotted girdle round her waist. +Her arms were half bare. Her face was still young, but faded, thin and +wrinkled. Her hair was fair, interspersed with strands of white. Her +eyes gleamed with a feverish hatred. + +The two women looked at each other without a word, like two adversaries +who have met before and are about to fight again. Veronique almost +smiled, with a smile of mingled triumph and defiance. In the end she +said: + +"If you dare to lay a finger on my child, I'll kill you. Go! Be off!" + +The woman was not frightened. She seemed to be reflecting and to be +listening in the expectation of assistance. None come. Then she lowered +her eyes to Francois and made a movement as though to seize upon her +prey again. + +"Don't touch him!" Veronique exclaimed, violently. "Don't touch him, or +I fire!" + +The woman shrugged her shoulders and said, in measured accents: + +"No threats, please! If I had wanted to kill that child of yours, I +should have done so by now. But his hour has not come; and it is not by +my hand that he is to die." + +Veronique, trembling all over, could not help asking: + +"By whose hand is he to die?" + +"By my son's: you know . . . the one you've seen." + +"Is he your son, the murderer, the monster?" + +"He's the son of . . ." + +"Silence! Silence!" Veronique commanded. She understood that the woman +had been Vorski's mistress and feared that she would make some +disclosure in Francois' presence. "Silence: that name is not to be +spoken." + +"It will be when it has to be," said the woman. "Ah, I've suffered +enough through you, Veronique: it's your turn now; and you're only at +the beginning of it!" + +"Go!" cried Veronique, pointing her revolver. + +"Once more, no threats, please." + +"Go, or I fire! I swear it on the head of my son." + +The woman retreated, betraying a certain anxiety in spite of herself. +But she was seized with a fresh access of rage. Impotently she raised +her clenched fists and shouted, in a raucous, broken voice: + +"I will be revenged . . . You shall see. Veronique . . . . The cross--do +you understand?--the cross is ready . . . . You are the fourth . . . . +What, oh, what a revenge!" + +She shook her gnarled, bony fists. And she continued: + +"Oh, how I hate you! Fifteen years of hatred! But the cross will avenge +me . . . . I shall string you up on it myself . . . . The cross is ready +. . . you'll see . . . the cross is ready for you! . . ." + +She walked away slowly, holding herself erect under the threat of the +revolver. + +"Don't kill her, mother, will you?" whispered Francois, suspecting the +contest in his mother's mind. + +Veronique seemed to wake from a dream: + +"No, no," she replied, "don't be afraid . . . . And yet perhaps I ought +to . . ." + +"Oh, please let her be, mother, and let us go away." + +She lifted him in her arms, even before the woman was out of sight, +pressed him to her and carried him to the cell as though he weighed no +more than a little child. + +"Mother, mother," he said. + +"Yes, darling, your own mother; and no one shall take you from me again, +that I swear to you." + +Without troubling about the wounds inflicted by the stone she slipped, +this time almost at the first attempt, through the gap made by Francois, +drew him after her and then, but not before, released him from his +bonds. + +"There is no danger here," she said, "at least for the moment, because +they can hardly get at us except by the cell and I shall be able to +defend the entrance." + +Mother and son exchanged the fondest of embraces. There was now no +barrier to part their lips and their arms. They could see each other, +could gaze into each other's eyes. + +"How handsome you are, my darling!" said Veronique. + +She saw no resemblance between him and the boy murderer and was +astonished that Honorine could have taken one for the other. And she +felt as if she would never weary of admiring the breeding, the frankness +and the sweetness which she read in his face. + +"And you, mother," he said, "do you think that I ever pictured a mother +as beautiful as you? No, not even in my dreams, when you seemed as +lovely as a fairy. And yet Stephane often used to tell me . . ." + +She interrupted him: + +"We must hurry, dearest, and take refuge from their pursuit. We must +go." + +"Yes," he said, "and above all we must leave Sarek. I have invented a +plan of escape which is bound to succeed. But, first of all, Stephane: +what has become of him? I heard the sound of which I spoke to you +underneath my cell and I fear . . ." + +She dragged him along by the hand, without answering his question: + +"I have many things to tell you, darling, painful things which I must no +longer keep from you. But presently will do . . . . For the moment we +must take refuge in the Priory. That woman will go in search of help and +come after us." + +"But she was not alone, mother, when she entered my cell suddenly and +caught me in the act of digging at the wall. There was some one with +her." + +"A boy, wasn't it? A boy of your own size?" + +"I could hardly see. He and the woman fell upon me, bound me and carried +me into the passage. Then the woman left me for a moment and he went +back to the cell. He therefore knows about this tunnel by now and about +the exit in the Priory grounds." + +"Yes, I know. But we shall easily get the better of him; and we'll block +up the exit." + +"But there remains the bridge which joins the two islands," Francois +objected. + +"No," she said, "I burnt it down and the Priory is absolutely cut off." + +They were walking very quickly, Veronique pressing her pace, Francois a +little anxious at the words spoken by his mother. + +"Yes, yes," he said, "I see that there is a good deal which I don't know +and which you have kept from me, mother, in order not to frighten me. +For instance, when you burnt down the bridge . . . . It was with the +petrol set aside for the purpose, wasn't it, and as arranged with +Maguennoc in case of danger? So you were threatened too; and the first +attack was made on you, mother? . . . And then there was something that +woman said with such a hateful look on her face! . . . And then . . . +and then, above all, what has become of Stephane? They were whispering +about him just now in my cell . . . . All this worries me . . . . Then +again I don't see the ladder which you brought . . . ." + +"Please, dearest, don't let us wait a moment. The woman will have found +assistance . . . ." + +The boy stopped short: + +"Mother." + +"What? Do you hear anything?" + +"Some one walking." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Some one coming this way." + +"Oh," she said, in a hollow voice, "it's the murderer coming back from +the Priory!" + +She felt her revolver and prepared herself for anything that might +happen. But suddenly she pushed Francois towards a dark corner on her +left, formed by the entry to one of those tunnels, probably blocked, +which she had noticed when she came. + +"Get in there," she said. "We shall be all right here: he will not see +us." + +The sound approached. + +"Stand well back," she said, "and don't stir." + +The boy whispered: + +"What's that in your hand? A revolver? Mother, you're not going to +fire?" + +"I ought to, I ought to," said Veronique. "He's such a monster! . . . +It's as with his mother . . . I ought to have . . . we shall perhaps +regret it." And she added, almost unconsciously, "He killed your +grandfather." + +"Oh, mother, mother!" + +She supported him, to prevent his falling, and amid the silence she +heard the boy sobbing on her breast and stammering: + +"Never mind . . . don't fire, mother . . . ." + +"Here he comes, darling, here he comes; look at him." + +The other passed. He was walking slowly, a little bent, listening for +the least sound. He appeared to Veronique to be the exact same size as +her son; and this time, when she looked at him with more attention, she +was not so much surprised that Honorine and M. d'Hergemont had been +taken in, for there were really some points of resemblance, which would +have been accentuated by the fact that he was wearing the red cap stolen +from Francois. + +He walked on. + +"Do you know him?" asked Veronique. + +"No, mother." + +"Are you sure that you never saw him?" + +"Sure." + +"And it was he who fell upon you, with the woman, in your cell?" + +"I haven't a doubt of it, mother. He even hit me in the face, for no +reason, with absolute hatred." + +"Oh," she said, "this is all incomprehensible! When shall we escape this +awful nightmare?" + +"Quick, mother, the road's clear. Let's make the most of it." + +On returning to the light, she saw that he was very pale and felt his +hand in hers like a lump of ice. Nevertheless he looked up at her with a +smile of happiness. + +They set out again; and soon, after passing the strip of cliff that +joined the two islands and climbing the staircases, they emerged in the +open air, to the right of Maguennoc's garden. The daylight was beginning +to wane. + +"We are saved," said Veronique. + +"Yes," replied the boy, "but only on condition that they cannot reach us +by the same road. We shall have to bar it, therefore." + +"How?" + +"Wait for me here; I'll go and fetch some tools at the Priory." + +"Oh, don't let us leave each other, Francois!" + +"You can come with me, mother." + +"And suppose the enemy arrives in the meantime? No, we must defend this +outlet." + +"Then help me, mother." + +A rapid inspection showed them that one of the two stones which formed a +roof above the entrance was not very firmly rooted in its place. They +found no difficulty in first shifting and then clearing it. The stone +fell across the staircase and was at once covered by an avalanche of +earth and pebbles which made the passage, if not impracticable, at least +very hard to manage. + +"All the more so," said Francois, "as we shall stay here until we are +able to carry out my plan. And be easy, mother; it's a sound scheme and +we have nearly managed it." + +For that matter, they recognized above all, that rest was essential. +They were both of them worn out. + +"Lie down, mother . . . look, just here: there's a bed of moss under +this overhanging rock which makes a regular nest. You'll be as cosy as a +queen there and sheltered from the cold." + +"Oh, my darling, my darling!" murmured Veronique, overcome with +happiness. + +It was now the time for explanations; and Veronique did not hesitate to +give them. The boy's grief at hearing of the death of all those whom he +had known would be mitigated by the great joy which he felt at +recovering his mother. She therefore spoke without reserve, cradling him +in her lap, wiping away his tears, feeling plainly that she was enough +to make up for all the lost affections and friendships. He was +particularly afflicted by Stephane's death. + +"But is it quite certain?" he asked. "For, after all, there is nothing +to tell us that he is drowned. Stephane is a perfect swimmer; and so +. . . Yes, yes, mother, we must not despair . . . on the contrary +. . . . Look, here's a friend who always comes at the worst times, to +declare that everything is not lost." + +All's Well came trotting along. The sight of his master did not appear +to surprise him. Nothing unduly surprised All's Well. Events, to his +mind, always followed one another in a natural order which did not +disturb either his habits or his occupations. Tears alone seemed to him +worthy of special attention. And Veronique and Francois were not crying. + +"You see, mother? All's Well agrees with me; nothing is lost . . . . +But, upon my word, All's Well, you're a sharp little fellow! What would +you have said, eh, if we'd left the island without you?" + +Veronique looked at her son: + +"Left the island?" + +"Certainly: and the sooner the better. That's my plan. What do you say +to it?" + +"But how are we to get away?" + +"In a boat." + +"Is there one here?" + +"Yes, mine." + +"Where?" + +"Close by, at Sarek Point." + +"But how are we to get down? The cliff is perpendicular." + +"She's at the very place where the cliff is steepest, a place known as +the Postern. The name puzzled Stephane and myself. A postern suggests an +entrance, a gate. Well, we ended by learning that, in the middle ages, +at the time of the monks, the little isle on which the Priory stands was +surrounded by ramparts. It was therefore to be presumed that there was a +postern here which commanded an outlet on the sea. And in fact, after +hunting about with Maguennoc, we discovered, on the flat top of the +cliff, a sort of gully, a sandy depression reinforced at intervals by +regular walls made of big building-stones. A path winds down the middle, +with steps and windows on the side of the sea, and leads to a little +bay. That is the Postern outlet. We repaired it: and my boat is hanging +at the foot of the cliff." + +Veronique's features underwent a transformation: + +"Then we're safe now!" + +"There's no doubt of that." + +"And the enemy can't get there?" + +"How could he?" + +"He has the motor-boat at his disposal." + +"He has never been there, because he doesn't know of the bay nor of the +way down to it either: you can't see them from the open sea. Besides, +they are protected by a thousand sharp-pointed rocks." + +"And what's to prevent us from leaving at once?" + +"The darkness, mother. I'm a good mariner and accustomed to navigate +all the channels that lead away from Sarek, but I should not be at all +sure of not striking some reef or other. No, we must wait for daylight." + +"It seems so long!" + +"A few hours' patience, mother. And we are together, you and I! At break +of dawn, we'll take the boat and begin by hugging the foot of the cliff +till we are underneath the cells. Then we'll pick up Stephane, who of +course will be waiting for us on some strip of beach, and we'll all be +off, won't we, All's Well? We'll land at Pont-l'Abbe at twelve o'clock +or so. That's my plan." + +Veronique could not contain her delight and admiration. She was +astonished to find so young a boy giving proofs of such self-possession. + +"It's splendid, darling, and you're right in everything. Luck is +decidedly coming our way." + +The evening passed without incidents. An alarm, however, a noise under +the rubbish which blocked the underground passage and a ray of light +trickling through a slit obliged them to mount guard until the minute of +their departure. But it did not affect their spirits. + +"Why, of course I'm easy in my mind," said Francois. "From the moment +when I found you again, I felt that it was for good. Besides, if the +worst came to the worst, have we not a last hope left? Stephane spoke to +you about it, I expect. And it makes you laugh, my confidence in a +rescuer whom I have never seen . . . . Well, I tell you, mother, if I +were to see a dagger about to strike me, I should be certain, absolutely +certain, mind you, that a hand would come and ward off the blow." + +"Alas," she said, "that providential hand did not prevent all the +misfortunes of which I told you!" + +"It will keep off those which threaten my mother," declared the boy. + +"How? This unknown friend has not been warned." + +"He will come all the same. He doesn't need to be warned to know how +great the danger is. He will come. And, mother, promise me one thing: +whatever happens, you must have confidence." + +"I will have confidence, darling, I promise you." + +"And you will be right," he said, laughing, "for I shall be the leader. +And what a leader, eh, mother? Why, yesterday evening I foresaw that, to +carry the enterprise through successfully and so that my mother should +be neither cold nor hungry, in case we were not able to take the boat +this afternoon, we must have food and rugs! Well, they will be of use to +us to-night, seeing that for prudence's sake we mustn't abandon our post +here and sleep at the Priory. Where did you put the parcel, mother?" + +They ate gaily and with a good appetite. Then Francois wrapped his +mother up and tucked her in: and they both fell asleep, lying close +together, happy and unafraid. + +When the keen air of the morning woke Veronique, a belt of rosy light +streaked the sky. Francois was sleeping the peaceful sleep of a child +that feels itself protected and is untroubled by dreams. For a long time +she just sat gazing at him without wearying: and she was still looking +at him when the sun was high above the horizon. + +"To work, mother," he said, after he had opened his eyes and given her a +kiss. "No one in the tunnel? No. Then we have plenty of time to go on +board." + +They took the rugs and provisions and, with brisk steps, went towards +the descent leading to the Postern, at the extreme end of the island. +Beyond this point the rocks were heaped up in formidable confusion: and +the sea, though calm, lapped against them noisily. + +"I hope your boat's there still!" said Veronique. + +"Lean over a little, mother. You can see her down there, hanging in that +crevice. We have only to work the pulley to get her afloat. Oh, it's all +very well thought out, mother darling! We have nothing to fear . . . . +Only . . . only . . ." + +He had interrupted himself and was thinking. + +"What? What is it?" asked Veronique. + +"Oh, nothing! A slight delay." + +"But . . ." + +He began to laugh: + +"Really, for the leader of an expedition, it's rather humiliating, I +admit. Just fancy, I've forgotten one thing: the oars. They are at the +Priory." + +"But this is terrible!" cried Veronique. + +"Why? I'll run to the Priory and I shall be back in ten minutes." + +All Veronique's apprehensions returned: + +"And suppose they make their way out of the tunnel meanwhile?" + +"Come, come, mother," he laughed, "you promised to have confidence. To +get out of the tunnel would take them an hour's hard work; and we +should hear them. Besides, what's the use of talking, mother? I'll be +back at once." + +He ran off. + +"Francois! Francois!" + +He did not reply. + +"Oh," she thought, once more assailed by forebodings. "I had sworn not +to leave him for a second!" + +She followed him at a distance and stopped on a hillock between the +Fairies' Dolmen and the Calvary of the Flowers. From here she could see +the entrance to the tunnel and also saw her son jogging along the grass. + +He first went into the basement of the Priory. But the oars seemed not +to be there, for he came out almost at once and went to the main door, +which he opened and disappeared from sight. + +"One minute ought to be plenty for him," said Veronique to herself. "The +oars must be in the hall . . . or at any rate on the ground-floor +. . . . Say two minutes, at the outside." + +She counted the seconds while watching the entrance to the tunnel. + +But three minutes, four minutes, five minutes passed: and the front-door +did not open again. + +All Veronique's confidence vanished. She thought that it was mad of her +not to have gone with her son and that she ought never to have submitted +to a child's will. Without troubling about the tunnel or the dangers +from that side, she began to walk towards the Priory. But she had the +horrible feeling which people sometimes experience in dreams, when +their legs seem paralysed and when they are unable to move, while the +enemy advances to attack them. + +And suddenly, on reaching the Dolmen, she beheld a sight the meaning of +which was immediately clear to her. The ground at the foot of the oaks +round the right-hand part of the semi-circle was littered with lately +cut branches, which still bore their green leaves. + +She raised her eyes and stood stupefied and dismayed. + +One oak alone had been stripped. And on the huge trunk, bare to a height +of twelve or fifteen feet, there was a paper, transfixed by an arrow and +bearing the inscription, "V. d'H." + +"The fourth cross," Veronique faltered, "the cross marked with my name!" + +She supposed that, as her father was dead, the initials of her maiden +name must have been written by one of her enemies, the chief of them, no +doubt; and for the first time, under the influence of recent events, +remembering the woman and the boy who were persecuting her, she +involuntarily attributed a definite set of features to that enemy. + +It was a fleeting impression, an improbable theory, of which she was not +even conscious. She was overwhelmed by something much more terrible. She +suddenly understood that the monsters, those creatures of the heath and +the cells, the accomplices of the woman and the boy, must have been +there, since the cross was prepared. No doubt they had built a +foot-bridge and thrown it over the chasm to take the place of the bridge +to which she had set fire. They were masters of the Priory. And +Francois was once more in their hands! + +Then she rushed straight along, collecting all her strength. She in her +turn ran over the turf, dotted with ruins, that sloped towards the front +of the house. + +"Francois! Francois! Francois!" + +She called his name in a piercing voice. She announced her coming with +loud cries. Thus did she reach the Priory. + +One half of the door stood ajar. She pushed it and darted into the hall, +crying: + +"Francois! Francois!" + +The call rang from floor to attic and throughout the house, but remained +unanswered: + +"Francois! Francois!" + +She went upstairs, opening doors at random, running into her son's room, +into Stephane's, into Honorine's. She found nobody. + +"Francois! Francois! . . . Don't you hear me? Are they hurting you? +. . . Oh, Francois, do answer!" + +She went back to the landing. Opposite her was M. d'Hergemont's study. +She flung herself upon the door and at once recoiled, as though stricken +by a vision from hell. + +A man was standing there, with arms crossed and apparently waiting for +her. And it was the man whom she had pictured for an instant when +thinking of the woman and the boy. It was the third monster! + +She said, simply, but in a voice filled with inexpressible horror: + +"Vorski! . . . Vorski! . . ." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SCOURGE OF GOD + + +Vorski! Vorski! The unspeakable creature, the thought of whom filled her +with shame and horror, the monstrous Vorski, was not dead! The murder of +the spy by one of his colleagues, his burial in the cemetery at +Fontainebleau; all this was a fable, a delusion! The only real fact was +that Vorski was alive! + +Of all the visions that could have haunted Veronique's brain, there was +none so abominable as the sight before her; Vorski standing erect, with +his arms crossed and his head up, alive! Vorski alive! + +She would have accepted anything with her usual courage, but not this. +She had felt strong enough to face and defy no matter what enemy, but +not this one. Vorski stood for ignominious disgrace, for insatiable +wickedness, for boundless ferocity, for method mingled with madness in +crime. + +And this man loved her. + +She suddenly blushed. Vorski was staring with greedy eyes at the bare +flesh of her shoulders and arms, which showed through her tattered +bodice, and looking upon this bare flesh as upon a prey which nothing +could snatch from him. Nevertheless Veronique did not budge. She had no +covering within reach. She pulled herself together under the insult of +the man's desire and defied him with such a glance that he was +embarrassed and for a moment turned away his eyes. + +Then she cried, with an uncontrollable outburst of feeling: + +"My son! Where's Francois? I want to see him." + +"_Our_ son is sacred, madame," he replied. "He has nothing to fear from +his father." + +"I want to see him." + +He lifted his hand as one taking an oath: + +"You shall see him, I swear." + +"Dead, perhaps!" she said, in a hollow voice. + +"As much alive as you and I, madame." + +There was a fresh pause. Vorski was obviously seeking his words and +preparing the speech with which the implacable conflict between them was +to open. + +He was a man of athletic stature, with a powerful frame, legs slightly +bowed, an enormous neck swollen by great bundles of muscles and a head +unduly small, with fair hair plastered down and parted in the middle. +That in him which at one time produced an impression of brute strength, +combined with a certain distinction, had become with age the massive and +vulgar aspect of a professional wrestler posturing on the hustings at a +fair. The disquieting charm which once attracted the women had vanished; +and all that remained was a harsh and cruel expression of which he tried +to correct the hardness by means of an impassive smile. + +He unfolded his arms, drew up a chair and, bowing to Veronique, said: + +"Our conversation, madame, will be long and at times painful. Won't you +sit down?" + +He waited for a moment and, receiving no reply, without allowing himself +to be disconcerted, continued: + +"Perhaps you would rather first take some refreshment at the sideboard. +Would you care for a biscuit and a thimbleful of old claret or a glass +of champagne?" + +He affected an exaggerated politeness, the essentially Teutonic +politeness of the semibarbarians who are anxious to prove that they are +familiar with all the niceties of civilization and that they have been +initiated into every refinement of courtesy, even towards a woman whom +the right of conquest would permit them to treat more cavalierly. This +was one of the points of detail which in the past had most vividly +enlightened Veronique as to her husband's probable origin. + +She shrugged her shoulders and remained silent. + +"Very well," he said, "but you must then authorize me to stand, as +behooves a man of breeding who prides himself on possessing a certain +amount of _savoir faire_. Also pray excuse me for appearing in your +presence in this more than careless attire. Internment-camps and the +caves of Sarek are hardly places in which it is easy to renew one's +wardrobe." + +He was in fact wearing a pair of old patched trousers and a torn +red-flannel waistcoat. But over these he had donned a white linen robe +which was half-closed by a knotted girdle. It was a carefully studied +costume; and he accentuated its eccentricity by adopting theatrical +attitudes and an air of satisfied negligence. + +Pleased with his preamble, he began to walk up and down, with his hands +behind his back, like a man who is in no hurry and who is taking time +for reflection in very serious circumstances. Then he stopped and, in a +leisurely tone: + +"I think, madame, that we shall gain time in the end by devoting a few +indispensable minutes to a brief account of our past life together. +Don't you agree?" + +Veronique did not reply. He therefore began, in the same deliberate +tone: + +"In the days when you loved me . . ." + +She made a gesture of revolt. He insisted: + +"Nevertheless, Veronique . . ." + +"Oh," she said, in an accent of disgust, "I forbid you! . . . That name +from your lips! . . . I will not allow it . . . ." + +He smiled and continued, in a tone of condescension: + +"Don't be annoyed with me, madame. Whatever formula I employ, you may be +assured of my respect. I therefore resume my remarks. In the days when +you loved me, I was, I must admit, a heartless libertine, a debauchee, +not perhaps without a certain style and charm, for I always made the +most of my advantages, but possessing none of the qualities of a married +man. These qualities I should easily have acquired under your influence, +for I loved you to distraction. You had about you a purity that +enraptured me, a charm and a simplicity which I have never met with in +any woman. A little patience on your part, an effort of kindness would +have been enough to transform me. Unfortunately, from the very first +moment, after a rather melancholy engagement, during which you thought +of nothing but your father's grief and anger, from the first moment of +our marriage there was a complete and irretrievable lack of harmony +between us. You had accepted in spite of yourself the bridegroom who had +thrust himself upon you. You entertained for your husband no feeling +save hatred and repulsion. These are things which a man like Vorski does +not forgive. So many women and among them some of the proudest had given +me proof of my perfect delicacy that I had no cause to reproach myself. +That the little middle-class person that you were chose to be offended +was not my business. Vorski is one of those who obey their instincts and +their passions. Those instincts and passions failed to meet with your +approval. That, madame, was your affair; it was purely a matter of +taste. I was free; I resumed my own life. Only . . ." + +He interrupted himself for a few seconds and then went on: + +"Only, I loved you. And, when, a year later, certain events followed +close upon one another, when the loss of your son drove you into a +convent, I was left with my love unassuaged, burning and torturing me. +What my existence was you can guess for yourself; a series of orgies and +violent adventures in which I vainly strove to forget you, followed by +sudden fits of hope, clues which were suggested to me, in the pursuit of +which I flung myself headlong, only to relapse into everlasting +discouragement and loneliness. That was how I discovered the whereabouts +of your father and your son, that was how I came to know their retreat +here, to watch them, to spy upon them, either personally or with the aid +of people who were entirely devoted to me. In this way I was hoping to +reach yourself, the sole object of my efforts and the ruling motive of +all my actions, when war was declared. A week later, having failed in an +attempt to cross the frontier, I was imprisoned in an internment-camp." + +He stopped. His face became still harder; and he growled: + +"Oh, the hell that I went through there! Vorski! Vorski, the son of a +king, mixed up with all the waiters and pickpockets of the Fatherland! +Vorski a prisoner, scoffed at and loathed by all! Vorski unwashed and +eaten up with vermin! My God, how I suffered! . . . But let us pass on. +What I did, to escape from death, I was entitled to do. If some one else +was stabbed in my stead, if some one else was buried in my name in a +corner of France, I do not regret it. The choice lay between him and +myself; I made my choice. And it was perhaps not only my persistent love +of life that inspired my action; it was also--and this above all is a +new thing--an unexpected dawn which broke in the darkness and which was +already dazzling me with its glory. But this is my secret. We will speak +of it later, if you force me to. For the moment . . ." + +In the face of all this rhetoric delivered with the emphasis of an actor +rejoicing in his eloquence and applauding his own periods, Veronique had +retained her impassive attitude. Not one of those lying declarations was +able to touch her. She seemed to be thinking of other things. + +He went up to her and, to compel her attention, continued, in a more +aggressive tone: + +"You do not appear to suspect, madame, that my words are extremely +serious. They are, however, and they will become even more so. But, +before approaching more formidable matters and in the hope of avoiding +them altogether, I should like to make an appeal, not to your spirit of +conciliation, for there is no conciliation possible with you, but to +your reason, to your sense of reality. After all, you cannot be ignorant +of your present position, of the position of your son . . . ." + +She was not listening, he was absolutely convinced of it. Doubtless +absorbed by the thought of her son, she read not the least meaning into +the words that reached her ears. Nevertheless, irritated and unable to +conceal his impatience, he continued: + +"My offer is a simple one; and I hope and trust that you will not reject +it. In Francois' name and because of my feelings of humanity and +compassion, I ask you to link the present to the past of which I have +sketched the main features. From the social point of view, the bond that +unites us has never been shattered. You are still in name and in the +eyes of the law . . ." + +He ceased, stared at Veronique and then, clapping his hand violently on +her shoulder, shouted: + +"Listen, you baggage, can't you! It's Vorski speaking!" + +Veronique lost her balance, saved herself by catching at the back of a +chair and once more stood erect before her adversary, with her arms +folded and her eyes full of scorn. + +This time Vorski again succeeded in controlling himself. He had acted +under impulse and against his will. His voice retained an imperious and +malevolent intonation: + +"I repeat that the past still exists. Whether you like it or not, +madame, you are Vorski's wife. And it is because of this undeniable +fact that I am asking you, if you please, to consider yourself so +to-day. Let us understand each other; if I do not aim at obtaining your +love or even your friendship, I will not accept either that we should +return to our former hostile relations. I do not want the scornful and +distant wife that you have been. I want . . . I want a woman . . . a +woman who will submit herself . . . who will be the devoted, attentive, +faithful companion . . ." + +"The slave," murmured Veronique. + +"Yes," he exclaimed, "the slave; you have said it. I don't shrink from +words any more than I do from deeds. The slave; and why not? A slave +understands her duty, which is blindly to obey, bound hand and foot, +_perinde ac cadaver_; does the part appeal to you? Will you belong to me +body and soul? As for your soul, I don't care a fig about that. What I +want . . . what I want . . . you know well enough, don't you? What I +want is what I have never had. Your husband? Ha, ha, have I ever been +your husband? Look back into my life as I will, amid all my seething +emotions and delights, I do not find a single memory to remind me that +there was ever between us anything but the pitiless struggle of two +enemies. When I look at you, I see a stranger, a stranger in the past as +in the present. Well, since my luck has turned, since I once more have +you in my clutches, it shall not be so in the future. It shall not be so +to-morrow, nor even to-night, Veronique. I am the master; you must +accept the inevitable. Do you accept?" + +He did not wait for her answer and, raising his voice still higher, +roared: + +"Do you accept? No subterfuges or false promises. Do you accept? If so, +go on your knees, make the sign of the cross and say, in a firm voice, +'I accept. I will be a consenting wife. I will submit to all your orders +and to all your whims. You are the master.'" + +She shrugged her shoulders and made no reply. Vorski gave a start. The +veins in his forehead swelled up. However, he still contained himself: + +"Very well. For that matter, I was expecting this. But the consequences +of your refusal will be so serious for you that I propose to make one +last attempt. Perhaps, after all, your refusal is addressed to the +fugitive that I am, to the poor beggar that I seem to be; and perhaps +the truth will alter your ideas. That truth is dazzling and wonderful. +As I told you, an unforeseen dawn has broken through my darkness; and +Vorski, son of a king, is bathed in radiant light." + +He had a trick of speaking of himself in the third person which +Veronique knew of old and which was the sign of his insupportable +vanity. She also observed and recognized in his eyes a peculiar gleam +which was always there at moments of exaltation, a gleam which was +obviously due to his drinking habits but in which she seemed to see +besides a sign of temporary aberration. Was he not indeed a sort of +madman and had his madness not increased as the years passed? + +He continued, and this time Veronique listened. + +"I had therefore left here, at the time when the war broke out, a person +who is attached to me and who continued the work of watching your father +which I had begun. An accident revealed to us the existence of the +caves dug under the heath and also one of the entrances to the caves. It +was in this safe retreat that I took refuge after my last escape; and it +was here that I learnt, through some intercepted letters, of your +father's investigations into the secret of Sarek and the discoveries +which he had made. You can understand how my vigilance was redoubled! +Particularly because I found in all this story, as it became more and +more clear to me, the strangest coincidences and an evident connection +with certain details in my own life. Presently doubt was no longer +possible. Fate had sent me here to accomplish a task which I alone was +able to fulfil . . . and more, a task in which I alone had the right to +assist. Do you understand what I mean? Long centuries ago, Vorski was +predestined. Vorski was the man appointed by fate, Vorski's name was +written in the book of time. Vorski had the necessary qualities, the +indispensable means, the requisite titles . . . . I was ready, I set to +work without delay, conforming ruthlessly to the decrees of destiny. +There was no hesitation as to the road to be followed to the end; the +beacon was lighted. I therefore followed the path marked out for me. +Vorski has now only to gather the reward of his efforts. Vorski has only +to put out his hand. Within reach of his hand fortune, glory, unlimited +power. In a few hours, Vorski, son of a king, will be king of the world. +It is this kingdom that he offers you." + +He was becoming more and more declamatory, more and more of the emphatic +and pompous play-actor. + +He bent towards Veronique: + +"Will you be a queen, an empress, and soar above other women even as +Vorski will dominate other men? Queen by right of gold and power even as +you are already queen by right of beauty? Will you? . . . Vorski's +slave, but mistress of all those over whom Vorski holds sway? Will you? +. . . Understand me clearly; it is not a question of your making a +single decision; you have to choose between two. There is, mark you, the +alternative to your refusal. Either the kingdom which I am offering, or +else . . ." + +He paused and then, in a grating tone, completed his sentence: + +"Or else the cross!" + +Veronique shuddered. The dreadful word, the dreadful thing appeared once +more. And she now knew the name of the unknown executioner! + +"The cross!" he repeated, with an atrocious smile of content. "It is for +you to choose. On the one hand all the joys and honours of life. On the +other hand, death by the most barbarous torture. Choose. There is +nothing between the two alternatives. You must select one or the other. +And observe that there is no unnecessary cruelty on my part, no vain +ostentation of authority. I am only the instrument. The order comes from +a higher power than mine, it comes from destiny. For the divine will to +be accomplished, Veronique d'Hergemont must die and die on the cross. +This is explicitly stated. There is no remedy against fate. There is no +remedy unless one is Vorski and, like Vorski, is capable of every +audacity, of every form of cunning. If Vorski was able, in the forest of +Fontainebleau, to substitute a sham Vorski for the real one, if Vorski +thus succeeded in escaping the fate which condemned him, from his +childhood, to die by the knife of a friend, he can certainly discover +some stratagem by which the divine will is accomplished, while the woman +he loves is left alive. But in that case she will have to submit. I +offer safety to my bride or death to my foe. Which are you, my foe or my +bride? Which do you choose? Life by my side, with all the joys and +honours of life . . . or death?" + +"Death," Veronique replied, simply. + +He made a threatening gesture: + +"It is more than death. It is torture. Which do you choose?" + +"Torture." + +He insisted, malevolently: + +"But you are not alone! Pause to reflect! There is your son. When you +are gone, he will remain. In dying, you leave an orphan behind you. +Worse than that; in dying, you bequeath him to me. I am his father. I +possess full rights. Which do you choose?" + +"Death," she said, once more. + +He became incensed: + +"Death for you, very well. But suppose it means death for him? Suppose I +bring him here, before you, your Francois, and put the knife to his +throat and ask you for the last time, what will your answer be?" + +Veronique closed her eyes. Never before had she suffered so intensely, +and Vorski had certainly found the vulnerable spot. Nevertheless she +murmured: + +"I wish to die." + +Vorski flew into a rage, and, resorting straightway to insults, +throwing politeness and courtesy to the winds, he shouted: + +"Oh, the hussy, how she must hate me! Anything, anything, she accepts +anything, even the death of her beloved son, rather than yield to me! A +mother killing her son! For that's what it is; you're killing your son, +so as not to belong to me. You are depriving him of his life, so as not +to sacrifice yours to me. Oh, what hatred! No, no, it is impossible. I +don't believe in such hatred. Hatred has its limits. A mother like you! +No, no, there's something else . . . some love-affair, perhaps? No, no, +Veronique's not in love . . . What then? My pity, a weakness on my part? +Oh, how little you know me! Vorski show pity! Vorski show weakness! Why, +you've seen me at work! Did I flinch in the performance of my terrible +mission? Was Sarek not devastated as it was written? Were the boats not +sunk and the people not drowned? Were the sisters Archignat not nailed +to the ancient oak-trees? I, I flinch! Listen, when I was a child, with +these two hands of mine I wrung the necks of dogs and birds, with these +two hands I flayed goats alive and plucked the live chickens in the +poultry-yard. Pity indeed! Do you know what my mother called me? Attila! +And, when she was mystically inspired and read the future in these hands +of mine or on the tarot-cards, 'Attila Vorski,' that great seer would +say, 'you shall be the instrument of Providence. You shall be the sharp +edge of the blade, the point of the dagger, the bullet in the rifle, the +noose in the rope. Scourge of God! Scourge of God, your name is written +at full length in the books of time! It blazes among the stars that +shone at your birth. Scourge of God! Scourge of God!' And you, you hope +that my eyes will be wet with tears? Nonsense! Does the hangman weep? It +is the weak who weep, those who fear lest they be punished, lest their +crimes be turned against themselves. But I, I! Our ancestors feared but +one thing, that the sky should fall upon their heads. What have _I_ to +fear? I am God's accomplice! He has chosen me among all men. It is God +that has inspired me, the God of the fatherland, the old German God, for +whom good and evil do not count where the greatness of his sons is at +stake. The spirit of evil is within me. I love evil, I thirst after +evil. So you shall die, Veronique, and I shall laugh when I see you +suffering on the cross!" + +He was already laughing. He walked with great strides, stamping noisily +on the floor. He lifted his arms to the ceiling; and Veronique, +quivering with anguish, saw the red frenzy in his bloodshot eyes. + +He took a few more steps and then came up to her and, in a restrained +voice, snarling with menace: + +"On your knees, Veronique, and beseech my love! It alone can save you. +Vorski knows neither pity nor fear. But he loves you; and his love will +stop at nothing. Take advantage of it, Veronique. Appeal to the past. +Become the child that you once were; and perhaps one day I shall drag +myself at your feet. Veronique, do not repel me; a man like me is not to +be repelled. One who loves as I love you, Veronique, as I love you, is +not to be defied." + +She suppressed a cry. She felt his hated hands on her bare arms. She +tried to release herself; but he, much stronger than she, did not let +go and continued, in a panting voice: + +"Do not repel me . . . it is absurd . . . it is madness . . . . You must +know that I am capable of anything . . . Well? . . . The cross is +horrible . . . . To see your son dying before your eyes; is that what +you want? . . . Accept the inevitable. Vorski will save you. Vorski will +give you the most beautiful life . . . . Oh, how you hate me! But no +matter: I accept your hatred, I love your hatred, I love your disdainful +mouth . . . . I love it more than if it offered itself of its own accord +. . . ." + +He ceased speaking. An implacable struggle took place between them. +Veronique's arms vainly resisted his closer and closer grip. Her +strength was failing her; she felt helpless, doomed to defeat. Her knees +gave way beneath her. Opposite her and quite close, Vorski's eyes seemed +filled with blood; and she was breathing the monster's breath. + +Then, in her terror, she bit him with all her might; and, profiting by a +second of discomfiture, she released herself with one great effort, +leapt back, drew her revolver, and fired once and again. + +The two bullets whistled past Vorski's ears and sent fragments flying +from the wall behind him. She had fired too quickly, at random. + +"Oh, the jade!" he roared. "She nearly did for me." + +In a second he had his arms round her body and, with an irresistible +effort, bent her backwards, turned her round and laid her on a sofa. +Then he took a cord from his pocket and bound her firmly and brutally. + +There was a moment's respite and silence. Vorski wiped the perspiration +from his forehead, filled himself a tumbler of wine and drank it down at +a gulp. + +"That's better," he said, placing his foot on his victim, "and confess +that this is best all round. Each one in his place, my beauty; you +trussed like a fowl and I treading on you at my pleasure. Aha, we're no +longer enjoying ourselves so much! We're beginning to understand that +it's a serious matter. Ah, you needn't be afraid, you baggage: Vorski's +not the man to take advantage of a woman! No, no, that would be to play +with fire and to burn with a longing which this time would kill me. I'm +not such a fool as that. How should I forget you afterwards? One thing +only can make me forget and give me my peace of mind; your death. And, +since we understand each other on that subject, all's well. For it's +settled, isn't it; you want to die?" + +"Yes," she said, as firmly as before. + +"And you want your son to die?" + +"Yes," she said. + +He rubbed his hands: + +"Excellent! We are agreed; and the time is past for words that mean +nothing. The real words remain to be spoken, those which count; for you +admit that, so far, all that I have said is mere verbiage, what? Just as +all the first part of the adventure, all that you saw happening at +Sarek, is only child's play. The real tragedy is beginning, since you +are involved in it body and soul; and that's the most terrifying part, +my pretty one. Your beautiful eyes have wept, but it is tears of blood +that are wanted, you poor darling! But what would you have? Once again, +Vorski is not cruel. He obeys a higher power; and destiny is against +you. Your tears? Nonsense! You've got to shed a thousand times as many +as another. Your death? Fudge! You've got to die a thousand deaths +before you die for good. Your poor heart must bleed as never woman's and +mother's poor heart bled before. Are you ready, Veronique? You shall +hear really cruel words, to be followed perhaps by words more cruel +still. Oh, fate is not spoiling you, my pretty one! . . ." + +He poured himself out a second glass of wine and emptied it in the same +gluttonous fashion; then he sat down beside her and, stooping, said, +almost in her ear: + +"Listen, dearest, I have a confession to make to you. I was already +married when I met you. Oh, don't be upset! There are greater +catastrophes for a wife and greater crimes for a husband than bigamy. +Well, by my first wife I had a son . . . whom I think you know; you +exchanged a few amicable remarks with him in the passage of the cells +. . . . Between ourselves, he's a regular bad lot, that excellent +Raynold, a rascal of the worst, in whom I enjoy the pride of +discovering, raised to their highest degree, some of my best instincts +and some of my chief qualities. He is a second edition to myself, but he +already outstrips me and now and then alarms me. Whew, what a devil! At +his age, a little over fifteen, I was an angel compared with him. Now it +so happens that this fine fellow has to take the field against my other +son, against our dear Francois. Yes, such is the whim of destiny, which, +once again, gives orders and of which, once again, I am the +clear-sighted and subtle interpreter. Of course it is not a question of +a protracted and daily struggle. On the contrary, something short, +violent and decisive: a duel, for instance. That's it, a duel; you +understand, a serious duel. Not a turn with the fists, ending in a few +bruises; no, what you call a duel to the death, because one of the two +adversaries must be left, on the ground, because there must be a victor +and a victim, in short, a living combatant and a dead one." + +Veronique had turned her head a little and she saw that he was smiling. +Never before had she so plainly perceived the madness of that man, who +smiled at the thought of a mortal contest between two children both of +whom were his sons. The whole thing was so extravagant that Veronique, +so to speak, did not suffer. It was all outside the limits of suffering. + +"There is something better, Veronique," he said, gloating over every +syllable. "There's something better. Yes, destiny has devised a +refinement which I dislike, but to which, as a faithful servant, I have +to give effect. It has devised that you should be present at the duel. +Capital; you, Francois' mother, must see him fight. And, upon my word, I +wonder whether that apparent malevolence is not a mercy in disguise. Let +us say that you owe it to me, shall we, and that I myself am granting +you this unexpected, I will even say, this unjust favour? For, when all +is said, though Raynold is more powerful and experienced than Francois +and though, logically, Francois ought to be beaten, how it must add to +his courage and strength to know that he is fighting before his mother's +eyes! He will feel like a knight errant who stakes all his pride on +winning. He will be a son whose victory will save his mother . . . at +least, so he will think. Really the advantage is too great; and you can +thank me, Veronique, if this duel, as I am sure it will, does not--and I +am sure that it will not--make your heart beat a little faster . . . . +Unless . . . unless I carry out the infernal programme to the end +. . . . Ah, in that case, you poor little thing! . . ." + +He gripped her once more and, lifting her to her feet in front of him, +pressing his face against hers, he said, in a sudden fit of rage: + +"So you won't give in?" + +"No, no!" she cried. + +"You will never give in?" + +"Never! Never! Never!" she repeated, with increasing vehemence. + +"You hate me more than everything?" + +"I hate you more than I love my son." + +"You lie, you lie!" he snarled. "You lie! Nothing comes above your son!" + +"Yes, my hatred for you." + +All Veronique's passion of revolt, all the detestation which she had +succeeded in restraining now burst forth; and, indifferent to what might +come of it, she flung the words of hatred full in his face: + +"I hate you! I hate you! I would have my son die before my eyes, I would +witness his agony, anything rather than the horror of your sight and +presence. I hate you! You killed my father! You are an unclean murderer, +a halfwitted, savage idiot, a criminal lunatic! I hate you!" + +He lifted her with an effort, carried her to the window and threw her on +the ground, spluttering: + +"On your knees! On your knees! The punishment is beginning. You would +scoff at me, you hussy, would you? Well, you shall see!" + +He forced her to her knees and then, pushing her against the lower wall +and opening the window, he fastened her head to the rail of the balcony +by means of a cord round her neck and under her arms. He ended by +gagging her with a scarf: + +"And now look!" he cried. "The curtain's going up! Boy Francois doing +his exercises! . . . Oh, you hate me, do you? Oh, you would rather have +hell than a kiss from Vorski? Well, my darling, you shall have hell; and +I'm arranging a little performance for you, one of my own composing and +a highly original one at that! . . . Also, I may tell you, it's too late +now to change your mind. The thing's irrevocable. You may beg and +entreat for mercy as much as you like; it's too late! The duel, followed +by the cross; that's the programme. Say your prayers, Veronique, and +call on Heaven. Shout for assistance if it amuses you . . . . Listen, I +know that your brat is expecting a rescuer, a professor of clap-trap, a +Don Quixote of adventure. Let him come! Vorski will give him the +reception he deserves! The more the merrier! We shall see some fun! +. . . And, if the very gods join in the game and take up your defence, I +shan't care! It's no longer their business, it's my business. It's no +longer a question of Sarek and the treasure and the great secret and all +the humbug of the God-Stone! It's a question of yourself! You have spat +in Vorski's face and Vorski is taking his revenge. He is taking his +revenge! It is the glorious hour. What exquisite joy! . . . To do evil +as others do good, lavishly and profusely! To do evil! To kill, +torture, break, ruin and destroy! . . . Oh, the fierce delight of being +a Vorski!" + +He stamped across the room, striking the floor at each step and hustling +the furniture. His haggard eyes roamed in all directions. He would have +liked to begin his work of destruction at once, strangling some victim, +giving work to his greedy fingers, executing the incoherent orders of +his insane imagination. + +Suddenly, he drew a revolver and, brutishly, stupidly, fired bullets +into the mirrors, the pictures, the window-panes. + +And, still gesticulating, still capering about, an ominous and sinister +figure, he opened the door, bellowing: + +"Vorski's having his revenge! Vorski's having his revenge!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE ASCENT OF GOLGOTHA + + +Twenty or thirty minutes elapsed. Veronique was still alone. The cords +cut into her flesh; and the rails of the balcony bruised her forehead. +The gag choked her. Her knees, bent in two and doubled up beneath her, +carried the whole weight of her body. It was an intolerable position, an +unceasing torture . . . . Still, though she suffered, she was not very +clearly aware of it. She was unconscious of her physical suffering; and +she had already undergone such mental suffering that this supreme ordeal +did not awaken her drowsing senses. + +She hardly thought. Sometimes she said to herself that she was about to +die; and she already felt the repose of the after-life, as one +sometimes, amidst a storm, feels in advance the wide peace of the +harbour. Hideous things were sure to happen between the present moment +and the conclusion which would set her free; but her brain refused to +dwell on them; and her son's fate in particular elicited only momentary +thoughts, which were immediately dispersed. + +At heart, as there was nothing to enlighten her as to her frame of mind, +she was hoping for a miracle. Would the miracle occur in Vorski? +Incapable of generosity though he was, would not the monster hesitate +none the less in the presence of an utterly unnecessary crime? A father +does not kill his son, or at least the act must be brought about by +imperative reasons; and Vorski had no such reasons to allege against a +mere child whom he did not know and whom he could not hate except with +an artificial hatred. + +Her torpor was lulled by this hope of a miracle. All the sounds which +reechoed through the house, sounds of discussions, sounds of hurrying +footsteps, seemed to her to indicate not so much the preparations for +the events foretold as the sign of interruptions which would ruin all +Vorski's plans. Had not her dear Francois said that nothing could any +longer separate them from each other and that, at the moment when +everything might seem lost and even when everything would be really +lost, they must keep their faith intact? + +"My Francois," she repeated, "my darling Francois, you shall not die +. . . we shall see each other again . . . you promised me!" + +Out of doors, a blue sky, flecked with a few menacing clouds, hung +outspread above the tall oaks. In front of her, beyond that same window +at which her father had appeared to her, in the middle of the grass +which she had crossed with Honorine on the day of her arrival, a site +had been recently cleared and covered with sand, like an arena. Was it +here that her son was to fight? She received the sudden intuition that +it must be; and her heart contracted. + +"Francois," she said, "Francois, have no fear . . . . I shall save you +. . . . Oh, forgive me, Francois darling, forgive me! . . . All this is +a punishment for the wrong I once did . . . . It is the atonement +. . . . The son is atoning for the mother . . . . Forgive me, forgive +me! . . ." + +At that moment a door opened on the ground-floor and voices ascended +from the doorstep. She recognized Vorski's voice among them. + +"So it's understood," he said. "We shall each go our own way; you two on +the left, I on the right. You'll take this kid with you, I'll take the +other and we'll meet in the lists. You'll be the seconds, so to speak, +of yours and I'll be the second of mine, so that all the rules will be +observed." + +Veronique shut her eyes, for she did not wish to see her son, who would +no doubt be maltreated, led out to fight like a slave. She could hear +the creaking of two sets of footsteps following the two circular paths. +Vorski was laughing and speechifying. + +The groups turned and advanced in opposite directions. + +"Don't come any nearer," Vorski ordered. "Let the two adversaries take +their places. Halt, both of you. Good. And not a word, do you hear? If +either of you speaks, I shall cut him down without mercy. Are you ready? +Begin!" + +So the terrible thing was commencing. In accordance with Vorski's will, +the duel was about to take place before the mother, the son was about to +fight before her face. How could she do other than look? She opened her +eyes. + +She at once saw the two come to grips and hold each other off. But she +did not at once understand what she saw, or at least she failed to +understand its exact meaning. She saw the two boys, it was true; but +which of them was Francois and which was Raynold? + +"Oh," she stammered, "it's horrible! . . . And yet . . . no, I must be +mistaken . . . . It's not possible . . ." + +She was not mistaken. The two boys were dressed alike, in the same +velvet knickerbockers, the same white-flannel shirts, the same leather +belts. But each had his head wrapped in a red-silk scarf, with two holes +for the eyes, as in a highwayman's mask. + +Which was Francois? Which was Raynold? + +Now she remembered Vorski's inexplicable threat. This was what he meant +by the programme drawn up by himself, this was to what he alluded when +he spoke of a little play of his composing. Not only was the son +fighting before the mother, but she did not know which was her son. + +It was an infernal refinement of cruelty; Vorski himself had said so. No +agony could add to Veronique's agony. + +The miracle which she had hoped for lay chiefly in herself and in the +love which she bore her son. Because her son was fighting before her +eyes, she felt certain that her son could not die. She would protect him +against the blows and against the ruses of the foe. She would make the +dagger swerve, she would ward off death from the head which she adored. +She would inspire her boy with dauntless energy, with the will to +attack, with indefatigable strength, with the spirit that foretells and +seizes the propitious moment. But now that both of them were veiled, on +which was she to exercise her good influence, for which to pray, against +which to rebel? + +She knew nothing. There was no clue to enlighten her. One of them was +taller, slimmer and lither in his movements. Was this Francois? The +other was more thick-set, stronger and stouter in appearance. Was this +Raynold? She could not tell. Nothing but a glimpse of a face, or even a +fleeting expression, could have revealed the truth to her. But how was +she to pierce the impenetrable mask? + +And the fight continued, more terrible for her than if she had seen her +son with his face uncovered. + +"Bravo!" cried Vorski, applauding an attack. + +He seemed to be following the duel like a connoisseur, with the +affectation of impartiality displayed by a good judge of fighting who +above all things wants the best man to win. And yet it was one of his +sons that he had condemned to death. + +Facing her stood the two accomplices, both of them men with brutal +faces, pointed skulls and big noses with spectacles. One of them was +extremely thin; the other was also thin, but with a swollen paunch like +a leather bottle. These two did not applaud and remained indifferent, or +perhaps even hostile, to the sight before them. + +"Capital!" cried Vorski, approvingly. "Well parried! Oh, you're a couple +of sturdy fellows and I'm wondering to whom to award the palm." + +He pranced around the adversaries, urging them on in a hoarse voice in +which Veronique, remembering certain scenes in the past, seemed to +recognize the effects of drink. Nevertheless the poor thing made an +effort to stretch out her bound hands towards him; and she moaned under +her gag: + +"Mercy! Mercy! I can't bear it. Have pity!" + +It was impossible for her martyrdom to last. Her heart was beating so +violently that it shook her from head to foot; and she was on the point +of fainting when an incident occurred that gave her fresh life. One of +the boys, after a fairly stubborn tussle, had jumped back and was +swiftly bandaging his right wrist, from which a few drops of blood were +trickling. Veronique seemed to remember seeing in her son's hand the +small blue-and-white handkerchief which the boy was using. + +She was immediately and irresistibly convinced. The boy--it was the more +slender and agile of the two--had more grace than the other, more +distinction, greater elegance of movement. + +"It's Francois," she murmured. "Yes, yes, it's he . . . . It's you, +isn't it, my darling? I recognize you now . . . . The other is common +and heavy . . . . It's you, my darling! . . . Oh, my Francois, my +dearest Francois!" + +In fact, though both were fighting with equal fierceness, this one +displayed less savage fury and blind rage in his efforts. It was as +though he were trying not so much to kill his adversary as to wound him +and as though his attacks were directed rather to preserving himself +from the death that lay in wait for him. Veronique felt alarmed and +stammered, as though he could hear her: + +"Don't spare him, my darling! He's a monster, too! . . . Oh, dear, if +you're generous, you're lost! . . . Francois, Francois, mind what you're +doing!" + +The blade of the dagger had flashed over the head of the one whom she +called her son; and she had cried out, under her gag, to warn him. +Francois having avoided the blow, she felt persuaded that her cry had +reached his ears; and she continued instinctively to put him on his +guard and advise him: + +"Take a rest . . . . Get your breath . . . . Whatever you do, keep your +eyes on him . . . . He's getting ready to do something . . . . He's +going to rush at you . . . . Here he comes! Oh, my darling, another inch +and he would have stabbed you in the neck! . . . Be careful, darling, +he's treacherous . . . there's no trick too mean for him to play +. . . ." + +But the unhappy mother felt, however reluctant she might yet be to admit +it, that the one whom she called her son was beginning to lose strength. +Certain signs proclaimed a reduced power of resistance, while the other, +on the contrary, was gaining in eagerness and vigour. Francois retreated +until he reached the edge of the arena. + +"Hi, you, boy!" grinned Vorski. "You're not thinking of running away, +are you? Keep your nerve, damn it! Show some pluck! Remember the +conditions!" + +The boy rushed forward with renewed zest; and it was the other's turn to +fall back. Vorski clapped his hands, while Veronique murmured: + +"It's for me that he's risking his life. The monster must have told him, +'Your mother's fate depends on you. If you win, she's saved.' And he has +sworn to win. He knows that I am watching him. He guesses that I am +here. He hears me. Bless you, my darling!" + +It was the last phase of the duel. Veronique trembled all over, +exhausted by her emotion and by the too violent alternation of hope and +anguish. Once again her son lost ground and once again he leapt +forward. But, in the final struggle that followed, he lost his balance +and fell on his back, with his right arm caught under his body. + +His adversary at once stooped, pressed his knee on the other's chest and +raised his arm. The dagger gleamed in the air. + +"Help! Help!" Veronique gasped, choking under her gag. + +She flattened her breast against the wall, without thinking of the cords +which tortured her. Her forehead was bleeding, cut by the sharp corner +of the rail, and she felt that she was about to die of the death of her +son. Vorski had approached and stood without moving, with a merciless +look on his face. + +Twenty seconds, thirty seconds passed. With his outstretched left hand, +Francois checked his adversary's attempt. But the victorious arm sank +lower and lower, the dagger descended, the point was only an inch or two +from the neck. + +Vorski stooped. Just then, he was behind Raynold, so that neither +Raynold nor Francois could see him; and he was watching most +attentively, as though intending to intervene at some given moment. But +in whose favor would he intervene? Was it his plan to save Francois? + +Veronique no longer breathed; her eyes were enormously dilated; she hung +between life and death. + +The point of the dagger touched the neck and must have pricked the +flesh, but only very slightly, for it was still held back by Francois' +resistance. + +Vorski bent lower. He stood over the fighters and did not take his eyes +from the deadly point. Suddenly he took a pen-knife from his pocket, +opened it and waited. A few more seconds elapsed. The dagger continued +to descend. Then quickly he gashed Raynold's shoulder with the blade of +his knife. + +The boy uttered a cry of pain. His grip at once became relaxed; and, at +the same time, Francois, set free, his right arm released, half rose, +resumed the offensive and, without seeing Vorski or understanding what +had happened, in an instinctive impulse of his whole being escaped from +death and revolting against his adversary, struck him full in the face. +Raynold in his turn fell like a log. + +All this had certainly lasted no longer than ten seconds. But the +incident was so unexpected and took Veronique so greatly aback that, not +realizing, not knowing that she ought to rejoice, believing rather that +she was mistaken and that the real Francois was dead, murdered by +Vorski, the poor thing sank into a huddled heap and lost consciousness. + + * * * * * + +A long, long time elapsed. Then, gradually, Veronique became aware of +certain sensations. She heard the clock strike four; and she said: + +"It's two hours since Francois died. For it was he who died." + +She had not a doubt that the duel had ended in this way. Vorski would +never have allowed Francois to be the victor and his other son to be +killed. And so it was against her own child that she had sent up wishes +and for the monster that she had prayed! + +"Francois is dead," she repeated. "Vorski has killed him." + +The door opened and she heard Vorski's voice. He entered, with an +unsteady gait: + +"A thousand pardons, dear lady, but I think Vorski must have fallen +asleep. It's your father's fault, Veronique! He had hidden away in his +cellar some confounded Saumur which Conrad and Otto discovered and which +has fuddled me a bit! But don't cry; we shall make up for lost time +. . . . Besides everything must be settled by midnight. So . . ." + +He had come nearer; and he now exclaimed: + +"What! Did that rascal of a Vorski leave you tied up? What a brute that +Vorski is! And how uncomfortable you must be! . . . Hang it all, how +pale you are! I say, look here, you're not dead, are you? That would be +a nasty trick to play us!" + +He took Veronique's hand, which she promptly snatched away. + +"Capital! We still loathe our little Vorski! Then that's all right and +there's plenty of reserve strength. You'll hold out to the end, +Veronique." + +He listened: + +"What is it? Who's calling me? Is it you, Otto? Come up . . . . Well, +Otto, what news? I've been asleep, you know. That damned Saumur wine! +. . ." + +Otto, one of the two accomplices, entered the room at a run. He was the +one whose paunch bulged so oddly. + +"What news?" he exclaimed. "Why, this: I've seen some one on the +island!" + +Vorski began to laugh: + +"You're drunk, Otto. That damned Saumur wine . . ." + +"I'm not drunk. I saw . . . and so did Conrad . . ." + +"Oho," said Vorski, more seriously, "if Conrad was with you! Well, what +did you see?" + +"A white figure, which hid when we came along." + +"Where?" + +"Between the village and the heath, in a little wood of chestnut trees." + +"On the other side of the island then?" + +"Yes." + +"All right. We'll take our precautions." + +"How? There may be several of them." + +"I don't care if there are ten of them; it would make no difference. +Where's Conrad?" + +"By the foot-bridge which we put in the place of the bridge that was +burnt down. He's keeping watch from there." + +"Conrad is a clever one. When the bridge was burnt, we were kept on the +other side; if the foot-bridge is burnt, it'll produce the same +hindrance. Veronique, I really believe they're coming to rescue you. +It's the miracle you expected, the assistance you hoped for. But it's +too late, my beauty." + +He untied the bonds that fastened her to the balcony, carried her to the +sofa and loosened the gag slightly: + +"Sleep, my wench," he said. "Get what rest you can. You're only half-way +to Golgotha yet; and the last bit of the ascent will be the hardest." + +He went away jesting; and Veronique heard the two men exchange a few +sentences which proved to her that Otto and Conrad were only supers who +knew nothing of the business in hand: + +"Who's this wretched woman whom you're persecuting?" asked Otto. + +"That doesn't concern you." + +"Still, Conrad and I would like to know something about it." + +"Lord, why?" + +"Oh, just because!" + +"Conrad and you are a pair of fools," replied Vorski. "When I took you +into my service and helped you to escape with me, I told you all I could +of my plans. You accepted my conditions. It was your look-out. You've +got to see this thing through now." + +"And if we don't?" + +"If you don't, beware of the consequences. I don't like shirkers +. . . ." + +More hours passed. Nothing, it seemed to Veronique, could any longer +save her from the end for which she craved with all her heart. She no +longer hoped for the intervention of which Otto had spoken. In reality +she was not thinking at all. Her son was dead; and she had no other wish +than to join him without delay, even at the cost of the most dreadful +suffering. What did that suffering matter to her? There are limits to +the strength of those who are tortured; and she was so near to reaching +those limits that her agony would not last long. + +She began to pray. Once more the memory of the past forced itself on her +mind; and the fault which she had committed seemed to her the cause of +all the misfortunes heaped upon her. + +And, while praying, exhausted, harassed, in a state of nervous +extenuation which left her indifferent to anything that might happen, +she fell asleep. + +Vorski's return did not even rouse her. He had to shake her: + +"The hour is at hand, my girl. Say your prayers." + +He spoke low, so that his assistants might not hear what he said; and, +whispering in her ear, he told her things of long ago, insignificant +trifles which he dribbled out in a thick tone. At last he called out: + +"It's still too light, Otto. Go and see what you can find in the larder, +will you? I'm hungry." + +They sat down to table, but Vorski stood up again at once: + +"Don't look at me, my girl. Your eyes worry me. What do you expect? My +conscience doesn't worry me when I'm alone, but it gets worked up when a +fine pair of eyes like yours go right through me. Lower your lids, my +pretty one." + +He bound Veronique's eyes with a handkerchief which he knotted behind +her head. But this did not satisfy him; and he unhooked a muslin curtain +from the window, wrapped her whole head in it and wound it round her +neck. Then he sat down again to eat and drink. + +The three of them hardly spoke and said not a word of their trip across +the island, nor of the duel of the afternoon. In any case, these were +details which did not interest Veronique and which, even if she had paid +attention to them, would not have aroused her. Everything had become +indifferent to her. The words reached her ears but assumed no definite +meaning. She thought of nothing but dying. + +When it was dark, Vorski gave the signal for departure. + +"Then you're still determined?" asked Otto, in a voice betraying a +certain hostility. + +"More so than ever. What's your reason for asking?" + +"Nothing . . . . But, all the same . . ." + +"All the same what?" + +"Well, I may as well out with it, we only half like the job." + +"You don't mean to say so! And you only discover it now, my man, after +stringing up the sisters Archignat and treating it as a lark!" + +"I was drunk that day. You made us drink." + +"Well, get boozed if you want to, old cock. Here, take the +brandy-bottle. Fill your flask and shut up . . . . Conrad, is the +stretcher ready?" + +He turned to his victim: + +"A polite attention for you, my dear . . . . Two old stilts of your +brat's, fastened together with straps . . . . It's very practical and +comfortable." + +At half-past eight, the grim procession set out, with Vorski at the +head, carrying a lantern. The accomplices followed with the litter. + +The clouds which had been threatening all the afternoon had now gathered +and were rolling, thick and black, over the island. The night was +falling swiftly. A stormy wind was blowing and made the candle flicker +in the lantern. + +"Brrrr!" muttered Vorski. "Dismal work! A regular Golgotha evening." + +He swerved and grunted at the sight of a little black shape bounding +along by his side: + +"What's that? Look. It's a dog, isn't it?" + +"It's the boy's mongrel," said Otto. + +"Oh, of course, the famous All's Well! The brute's come in the nick of +time. Everything's going jolly well! Just wait a bit, you mangy beast!" + +He aimed a kick at the dog. All's Well avoided it and keeping out of +reach, continued to accompany the procession, giving a muffled bark at +intervals. + +It was a rough ascent; and every moment one of the three men, leaving +the invisible path that skirted the grass in front of the house and led +to the open space by the Fairies' Dolmen, tripped in the brambles or in +the runners of ivy. + +"Halt!" Vorski commanded. "Stop and take breath, my lads. Otto, hand us +your flask. My heart's turning upside down." + +He took a long pull: + +"Your turn, Otto . . . . What, don't you want to? What's the matter with +you?" + +"I'm thinking that there are people on the island who are looking for +us." + +"Let them look!" + +"And suppose they come by boat and climb that path in the cliffs which +the woman and the boy were trying to escape by this morning, the path we +found?" + +"What we have to fear is an attack by land, not by sea. Well, the +foot-bridge is burnt. There's no means of communication." + +"Unless they find the entrance to the cells, on the Black Heath, and +follow the tunnel to this place." + +"Have they found the entrance?" + +"I don't know." + +"Well, granting that they do find it, haven't we just blocked the exit +on this side, broken down the staircase, thrown everything topsy-turvy? +To clear it will take them half a day and more. Whereas at midnight the +thing'll be done and by daybreak we shall be far away from Sarek." + +"It'll be done, it'll be done; that is to say, we shall have one more +murder on our conscience. But . . ." + +"But what?" + +"What about the treasure?" + +"Ah, the treasure! You've got it out at last! Well, make your mind easy: +your shares of it are as good as in your pockets." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"Rather! Do you imagine that I'm staying here and doing all this dirty +work for fun?" + +They resumed their progress. After a quarter of an hour, a few drops of +rain began to fall. There was a clap of thunder. The storm still +appeared to be some distance away. + +They had difficulty in completing the rough ascent: and Vorski had to +help his companions. + +"At last!" he said. "We're there. Otto, hand me the flask. That's it. +Thanks." + +They had laid their victim at the foot of the oak which had had its +lower branches removed. A flash of light revealed the inscription, +"V. d'H." Vorski picked up a rope, which had been left there in +readiness, and set a ladder against the trunk of the tree: + +"We'll do as we did with the sisters Archignat," he said. "I'll pass the +cord over the big branch which we left intact. That will serve as a +pulley." + +He interrupted himself and jumped to one side. Something extraordinary +had just happened. + +"What's that?" he whispered. "What was it? Did you hear that whistling +sound?" + +"Yes," said Conrad, "it grazed my ear. One would have said it was a +bullet." + +"You're mad." + +"I heard it too," said Otto, "and it seems to me that it hit the tree." + +"What tree?" + +"The oak, of course! It was as though somebody had fired at us." + +"There was no report." + +"A stone, then; a stone that must have hit the oak." + +"We'll soon see," said Vorski. + +He turned his lantern and at once let fly an oath: + +"Damn it! Look, there, under the lettering." + +They looked. An arrow was fixed at the spot to which he pointed. Its +feathered end was still quivering. + +"An arrow!" gasped Conrad. "How is it possible? An arrow!" + +And Otto spluttered: + +"We're done for! It's us they were aiming at!" + +"The man who took aim at us can't be far off," Vorski observed. "Keep +your eyes open. We'll have a look." + +He swung the light in a circle which penetrated the surrounding +darkness. + +"Stop," said Conrad, eagerly. "A little more to the right. Do you see?" + +"Yes, yes, I see." + +Thirty yards from where they stood, in the direction of the Calvary of +the Flowers, just beyond the blasted oak, they saw something white, a +figure which was trying, at least so it seemed, to hide behind a clump +of bushes. + +"Not a word, not a movement," Vorski ordered. "Do nothing to let him +think that we've discovered him. Conrad, come with me. You, Otto, stay +here, with your revolver in your hand, and keep a good watch. If they +try to come near and to release her ladyship, fire two shots and we'll +run back at once. Is that understood?" + +"Quite." + +Vorski bent over Veronique and loosened the veil slightly. Her eyes and +mouth were still concealed by their bandages. She was breathing with +difficulty; the pulse was weak and slow. + +"We have time," he muttered, "but we must hurry if we want her to die +according to plan. In any case she doesn't seem to be in pain. She has +lost all consciousness." + +He put down the lantern and then softly, followed by his assistant, +stole towards the white figure, both of them choosing the places where +the shadow was densest. + +But he soon became aware, on the one hand, that the figure, which had +seemed stationary, was moving as he himself moved forward, so that the +space between them remained the same, and, on the other hand, that it +was escorted by a small black figure frisking by its side. + +"It's that filthy mongrel!" growled Vorski. + +He quickened his pace: the distance did not decrease. He ran: the figure +in front of him ran likewise. And the strangest part of it was that they +heard no sound of leaves disturbed or of ground trampled by the +mysterious person running ahead of them. + +"Damn it!" swore Vorski. "He's laughing at us. Suppose we fired at him, +Conrad?" + +"He's too far. The bullets wouldn't reach him." + +"All the same, we're not going to . . ." + +The unknown individual led them to the end of the island and then down +to the entrance of the tunnel, passed close to the Priory, skirted the +west cliff and reached the foot-bridge, some of the planks of which were +still smouldering. Then he branched off, passed back by the other side +of the house and went up the grassy slope. + +From time to time the dog barked gaily. + +Vorski could not control his rage. However hard he tried, he was unable +to gain an inch of ground: and the pursuit had lasted fifteen minutes. +He ended by vituperating the enemy: + +"Stop, can't you? Show yourself a man! . . . What are you trying to do? +Lead us into a trap? What for? . . . Is it her ladyship you're trying to +save? It's not worth while, in the state she's in. Oh, you damned, smart +bounder, if I could only get hold of you!" + +Suddenly Conrad seized him by the skirt of his robe. + +"What is it, Conrad?" + +"Look. He seems to be stopping." + +As Conrad suggested, the white figure for the first time was becoming +more and more clearly visible in the darkness and they were able to +distinguish, through the leaves of a thicket, its present attitude, with +the arms slightly opened, the back bowed, the legs bent and apparently +crossed on the ground. + +"He must have fallen," said Conrad. + +Vorski, after running forward, shouted: + +"Am I to shoot, you scum? I've got the drop on you. Hands up, or I +fire." + +Nothing stirred. + +"It's your own look-out! If you show fight, you're a dead man. I shall +count three and fire." + +He walked to twenty yards of the figure and counted, with outstretched +arm: + +"One . . . two . . . . Are you ready, Conrad? Fire!" + +The two bullets were discharged at the same time. + +There was a cry of distress. The figure seemed to collapse. The two men +rushed forward: + +"Ah, now you've got it, you rascal! I'll show you the stuff that +Vorski's made of! You've given me a pretty run, you oaf! Well, your +account's settled!" + +After the first few steps, he slackened his speed, for fear of a +surprise. The figure did not move; and Vorski, on coming close, saw that +it had the limp and misshapen look of a dead man, of a corpse. Nothing +remained but to fall upon it. This was what Vorski did, laughing and +jesting: + +"A good bag, Conrad! Let's pick up the game." + +But he was greatly surprised, on picking up the game, to feel in his +hands nothing but an almost impalpable quarry, consisting, to tell the +truth, of just a white robe, with no one inside it, the owner of the +robe having taken flight in good time, after hooking it to the thorns of +a thicket. As for the dog, he had disappeared. + +"Damn and blast it!" roared Vorski. "He's cheated us, the ruffian! But +why, hang it, why?" + +Venting his rage in the stupid fashion that was his habit, he was +stamping on the piece of stuff, when a thought struck him: + +"Why? Because, damn it, as I said just now, it's a trap: a trap to get +us away from her ladyship while his friends went for Otto! Oh, what an +ass I've been!" + +He started to go back in the dark and, as soon as he was able to see the +dolmen, he called out: + +"Otto! Otto!" + +"Halt! Who goes there?" answered Otto, in a scared voice. + +"It's me . . . . Damn you, don't fire!" + +"Who's there? You?" + +"Yes, yes, you fool." + +"But the two shots?" + +"Nothing . . . . A mistake . . . . We'll tell you about it . . . ." + +He was now close to the oak and, at once, taking up the lantern, turned +its rays upon his victim. She had not moved and lay stretched at the +foot of the tree, with her head wrapped in the veil. + +"Ah!" he said. "I breathe again! Hang it, how frightened I was!" + +"Frightened of what?" + +"Of their taking her from us, of course!" + +"Well, wasn't I here?" + +"Oh, you! You've got no more pluck than a louse . . . and, if they had +gone for you . . ." + +"I should have fired, at any rate. You'd have heard the signal." + +"May be. Well, did nothing happen?" + +"Nothing at all." + +"Her ladyship didn't carry on too much?" + +"She did at first. She moaned and groaned under her hood, until I lost +all patience." + +"And then?" + +"Oh, then! It didn't last long: I stunned her with a good blow of my +fist." + +"You brute!" exclaimed Vorski. "If you've killed her, you're a dead +man." + +He plumped down and glued his ear to his unfortunate victim's breast. + +"No," he said, presently, "her heart is still beating. But that may not +last long. To work, lads. It must all be over in ten minutes." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +"ELOI, ELOI, LAMA SABACHTHANI!" + + +The preparations were soon made; and Vorski himself took an active part +in them. Resting the ladder against the trunk of the tree, he passed one +end of the rope round his victim and the other over one of the upper +branches. Then, standing on the bottom rung, he instructed his +accomplices: + +"Here, all you've got to do now is to pull. Get her on her feet first +and one of you keep her from falling." + +He waited a moment. But Otto and Conrad were whispering to each other; +and he exclaimed: + +"Look here, hurry up, will you? . . . Remember I'm making a pretty easy +target, if they took it into their heads to send a bullet or an arrow at +me. Are you ready?" + +The two assistants did not reply. + +"Well, this is a bit thick! What's the matter with you? Otto! Conrad!" + +He leapt to the ground and shook them: + +"You're a pair of nice ones, you are! At this rate, we should still be +at it to-morrow morning . . . and the whole thing will miscarry . . . . +Answer me, Otto, can't you?" He turned the light full on Otto's face. +"Look here, what's all this about? Are you wriggling out of it? If so, +you'd better say so! And you, Conrad? Are you both going on strike?" + +Otto wagged his head: + +"On strike . . . that's saying a lot. But Conrad and I would like a word +or two of explanation?" + +"Explanation? What about, you pudding-head? About the lady we're +executing? About either of the two brats? It's no use taking that line, +my man. I said to you, when I first mentioned the business, 'Will you go +to work blindfold? There'll be a tough job and plenty of bloodshed. But +there's big money at the end of it.'" + +"That's the whole question," said Otto. + +"Say what you mean, you jackass!" + +"It's for you to say and repeat the terms of our agreement. What are +they?" + +"You know as well as I do." + +"Exactly, it's to remind you of them that I'm asking you to repeat +them." + +"I remember them exactly. I get the treasure; and out of the treasure I +pay you two hundred thousand francs between the two of you." + +"That's so and it's not quite so. We'll come back to that. Let's begin +by talking of this famous treasure. Here have we been grinding away for +weeks, wallowing in blood, living in a nightmare of every sort of crime +. . . and not a thing in sight!" + +Vorski shrugged his shoulders: + +"You're getting denser and denser, my poor Otto! You know there were +certain things to be done first. They're all done, except one. In a few +minutes, this will be finished too and the treasure will be ours!" + +"How do we know?" + +"Do you think I'd have done all that I have done, if I wasn't sure of +the result . . . as sure as I am that I'm alive? Everything has happened +in a certain given order. It was all predetermined. The last thing will +come at the hour foretold and will open the gate for me." + +"The gate of hell," sneered Otto, "as I heard Maguennoc call it." + +"Call it by that name or another, it opens on the treasure which I shall +have won." + +"Very well," said Otto, impressed by Vorski's tone of conviction, "very +well. I'm willing to believe you're right. But what's to tell us that we +shall have our share?" + +"You shall have your share for the simple reason that the possession of +the treasure will provide me with such indescribable wealth that I'm not +likely to risk having trouble with you two fellows for the sake of a +couple of hundred thousand francs." + +"So we have your word?" + +"Of course." + +"Your word that all the clauses of our agreement shall be respected." + +"Of course. What are you driving at?" + +"This, that you've begun to trick us in the meanest way by breaking one +of the clauses of the agreement." + +"What's that? What are you talking about? Do you realize whom you're +speaking to?" + +"I'm speaking to you, Vorski." + +Vorski laid violent hands on his accomplice: + +"What's this? You dare to insult me? To call me by my name, me, me?" + +"What of it, seeing that you've robbed me of what's mine by rights?" + +Vorski controlled himself and, in a voice trembling with anger: + +"Say what you have to say and be careful, my man, for you're playing a +dangerous game. Speak out." + +"It's this," said Otto. "Apart from the treasure, apart from the two +hundred thousand francs, it was arranged between us--you held up your +hand and took your oath on it--that any loose cash found by either of us +in the course of the business would be divided in equal shares: half for +you, half for Conrad and myself. Is that so?" + +"That's so." + +"Then pay up," said Otto, holding out his hand. + +"Pay up what? I haven't found anything." + +"That's a lie. While we were settling the sisters Archignat, you +discovered on one of them, tucked away in her bodice, the hoard which we +couldn't find in their house." + +"Well, that's a likely story!" said Vorski, in a tone which betrayed his +embarrassment. + +"It's absolutely the truth." + +"Prove it." + +"Just fish out that little parcel, tied up with string, which you've got +pinned inside your shirt, just there," said Otto, touching Vorski's +chest with his finger. "Fish it out and let's have a look at those fifty +thousand-franc notes." + +Vorski made no reply. He was dazed, like a man who does not understand +what is happening to him and who is trying to guess how his adversary +procured a weapon against him. + +"Do you admit it?" asked Otto. + +"Why not?" he rejoined. "I meant to square up later, in the lump." + +"Square up now. We'd rather have it that way." + +"And suppose I refuse?" + +"You won't refuse." + +"Suppose I do?" + +"In that case, look out for yourself!" + +"I have nothing to fear. There's only two of you." + +"There's three of us, at least." + +"Where's the third?" + +"The third is a gentleman who seems cleverer than most, from what Conrad +tells me: brrr! . . . The one who fooled you just now, the one with the +arrow and the white robe!" + +"You propose to call him?" + +"Rather!" + +Vorski felt that the game was not equal. The two assistants were +standing on either side of him and pressing him hard. He had to yield: + +"Here, you thief! Here, you robber!" he shouted, taking out the parcel +and unfolding the notes. + +"It's not worth while counting," said Otto, snatching the bundle from +him unawares. + +"Hi! . . ." + +"We'll do it this way: half for Conrad, half for me." + +"Oh, you blackguard! Oh, you double-dyed thief! I'll make you pay for +this. I don't care a button about the money. But to rob me as though +you'd decoyed me into a wood, so to speak! I shouldn't like to be in +your skin, my lad!" + +He continued to insult the other and then, suddenly, burst into a laugh, +a forced, malicious laugh: + +"After all, Otto, upon my word, well played! But where and how did you +come to know it? You'll tell me that, won't you? . . . Meanwhile, we've +not a minute to lose. We're agreed all round, aren't we? And you'll get +on with the work?" + +"Willingly, since you're taking the thing so well," said Otto. And he +added, obsequiously, "After all . . . you have a style about you, sir! +You're a fine gentleman, you are!" + +"And you, you're a varlet whom I pay. You've had your money, so hurry +up. The business is urgent." + + * * * * * + +The "business," as the frightful creatures called it, was soon done. +Climbing on his ladder, Vorski repeated his orders, which were executed +in docile fashion by Conrad and Otto. + +They raised the victim to her feet and then, keeping her upright, hauled +at the rope. Vorski seized the poor woman and, as her knees were bent, +violently forced them straight. Thus flattened against the trunk of the +tree, with her skirt tightened round her legs, her arms hanging to right +and left at no great distance from her body, she was bound round the +waist and under the arms. + +She seemed not to have recovered from her blow and uttered no sound of +complaint. Vorski tried to speak a few words, but spluttered them, +incapable of utterance. Then he tried to raise her head, but abandoned +the attempt, lacking the courage to touch her who was about to die: and +the head dropped low on the breast. + +He at once got down and stammered: + +"The brandy, Otto. Have you the flask? Oh, damn it, what a beastly +business!" + +"There's time yet," Conrad suggested. + +Vorski took a few sips and cried: + +"Time . . . for what? To let her off? Listen to me, Conrad. Rather than +let her off, I'd sooner . . . yes, I'd sooner die in her stead. Give up +my task? Ah, you don't know what my task or what my object is! Besides +. . ." + +He drank some more: + +"It's excellent brandy, but, to settle my heart, I'd rather have rum. +Have you any, Conrad?" + +"A drain at the bottom of a flask." + +"Hand it over." + +They had screened the lantern lest they should be seen; and they sat +close up to the tree, determined to keep silence. But this fresh drink +went to their heads. Vorski began to hold forth very excitedly: + +"You've no need of any explanations. The woman who's dying up there, +it's no use your knowing her name. It's enough if you know that she's +the fourth of the women who were to die on the cross and was specially +appointed by fate. But there's one thing I can say to you, now that +Vorski's triumph is about to shine forth before your eyes. In fact I +take a certain pride in telling you, for, while all that's happened so +far has depended on me and my will, the thing that's going to happen +directly depends on the mightiest of will, wills working for Vorski!" + +He repeated several times, as though smacking his lips over the name: + +"For Vorski . . . For Vorski!" + +And he stood up, impelled by the exuberance of his thoughts to walk up +and down and wave his arms: + +"Vorski, son of a king, Vorski, the elect of destiny, prepare yourself! +Your time has come! Either you are the lowest of adventurers and the +guiltiest of all the great criminals dyed in the blood of their +fellow-men, or else you are really the inspired prophet whom the gods +crown with glory. A superman or a highwayman: that is fate's decree. The +last heart-beats of the sacred victim sacrificed to the gods are marking +the supreme seconds. Listen to them, you two!" + +Climbing the ladder, he tried to hear those poor beats of an exhausted +heart. But the head, drooping to the left, prevented him from putting +his ear to the breast; and he dared not touch it. The silence was broken +only by a hoarse and irregular breath. + +He said, in a low whisper: + +"Veronique, do you hear me? Veronique . . . . Veronique . . . ." + +After a moment's hesitation: + +"I want you to know it . . . yes, I myself am terrified at what I'm +doing. But it's fate . . . . You remember the prophecy? 'Your wife shall +die on the cross.' Why, your very name, Veronique, demands it! . . . +Remember St. Veronica wiping Christ's face with a handkerchief and the +Saviour's sacred image remaining on the handkerchief . . . . Veronique, +you can hear me, surely? Veronique . . ." + +He ran down hurriedly, snatched the flask of rum from Conrad's hands and +emptied it at a draught. + +He was now seized with a sort of delirium which made him rave for a few +moments in a language which his accomplices did not understand. Then he +began to challenge the invisible enemy, to challenge the gods, to hurl +forth imprecations and blasphemies: + +"Vorski is the mightiest of all men, Vorski governs fate. The elements +and the mysterious powers of nature are compelled to obey him. +Everything will fall out as he has determined; and the great secret will +be declared to him in the mystic forms and according to the rules of the +Kabala. Vorski is awaited as the prophet. Vorski will be welcomed with +cries of joy and ecstasy; and one whom I know not, one whom I can only +half see, will come to meet him with palms and benedictions. Let the +unknown make ready! Let him arise from the darkness and ascend from +hell! Here stands Vorski. To the sound of bells, to the singing of +alleluias, let the fateful sign be revealed upon the face of the +heavens, while the earth opens and sends forth whirling flames!" + +He fell silent, as though he had descried in the air the signs which he +foretold. The hopeless death-rattle of the dying woman sounded from +overhead. The storm growled in the distance; and the black clouds were +rent by lightning. All nature seemed to be responding to the ruffian's +appeal. + +His grandiloquent speech and his play-acting made a great impression on +the two accomplices. + +"He frightens me," Otto muttered. + +"It's the rum," Conrad replied. "But all the same he's foretelling +terrible things." + +"Things which prowl round us," shouted Vorski, whose ears noticed the +least sound, "things which make part of the present moment and have been +bequeathed to us by the pageant of the centuries. It's like a +prodigious childbirth. And I tell the two of you, you will be the amazed +witnesses of these things! Otto and Conrad, be prepared as I am: the +earth will shake; and, at the very spot where Vorski is to win the +God-Stone, a column of fire will rise up to the sky." + +"He doesn't know what he's saying," mumbled Conrad. + +"And there he is on the ladder again," whispered Otto. "It'll serve him +right if he gets an arrow through him." + +But Vorski's exaltation knew no bounds. The end was at hand. Extenuated +by pain, the victim was in her death-agony. + +Beginning very low, so as to be heard by none save her, but raising his +voice gradually, Vorski said: + +"Veronique . . . . Veronique . . . . You are fulfilling your mission +. . . . You are nearing the top of the ascent . . . . All honour to you! +You deserve a share in my triumph . . . . All honour to you! Listen! You +hear it already, don't you? The artillery of the heavens is drawing +near. My enemies are vanquished; you can no longer hope for rescue! Here +is the last beat of your heart . . . . Here is your last cry: '_Eloi, +Eloi, lama sabachthani?_ My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?'" + +He screamed with laughter, like a man laughing at the most riotous +adventure. Then came silence. The roars of thunder ceased. Vorski bent +forward and suddenly, from the top of the ladder, shouted: + +"_Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani!_ The gods have forsaken her. Death has +done its work. The last of the four women is dead. Veronique is dead!" + +He was silent once again and then roared twice over: + +"Veronique is dead! Veronique is dead!" + +Once again there was a great, deep silence. + +And all of a sudden the earth shook, not with a vibration produced by +the thunder, but with a deep inner convulsion, which came from the very +bowels of the earth and was repeated several times, like a noise +reechoing through the woods and hills. + +And almost at the same time, close by, at the other end of the +semicircle of oaks, a fountain of fire shot forth and rose to the sky, +in a whirl of smoke in which flared red, yellow and violet flames. + +Vorski did not speak a word. His companions stood aghast. One of them +stammered: + +"It's the old rotten oak, the one which has already been struck by +lightning." + +Though the fire had disappeared almost instantly, the three men retained +the fantastic vision of the old oak, all aglow, vomiting flames and +smoke of many colours. + +"This is the entrance leading to the God-Stone," said Vorski, solemnly. +"Destiny has spoken, as I said it would: and it has spoken at the +bidding of me who was once its servant and who am now its master." + +He advanced, carrying the lantern. They were surprised to see that the +tree showed no trace of fire and that the mass of dry leaves, held as in +a bowl where a few lower branches were outspread, had not caught fire. + +"Yet another miracle," said Vorski. "It is all an inconceivable +miracle." + +"What are we going to do?" asked Conrad. + +"Go in by the entrance revealed to us . . . . Take the ladder, Conrad, +and feel with your hand in that heap of leaves. The tree is hollow and +we shall soon see . . ." + +"A tree can be as hollow as you please," said Otto, "but there are +always roots to it; and I can hardly believe in a passage through the +roots." + +"I repeat, we shall see. Move the leaves, Conrad, clear them away." + +"No, I won't," said Conrad, bluntly. + +"What do you mean, you won't? Why not?" + +"Have you forgotten Maguennoc? Have you forgotten that he tried to touch +the God-Stone and had to cut his hand off?" + +"But this isn't the God-Stone!" Vorski snarled. + +"How do you know? Maguennoc was always speaking of the gate of hell. +Isn't this what he meant when he talked like that?" + +Vorski shrugged his shoulders: + +"And you, Otto, are you afraid too?" + +Otto did not reply: and Vorski himself did not seem eager to risk the +attempt, for he ended by saying: + +"After all, there's no hurry. Let's wait till daylight comes. We will +cut down the tree with an axe: and that will show us better than +anything how things stand and how to go to work." + +They agreed accordingly. But, as the signal had been seen by others +besides themselves and as they must not allow themselves to be +forestalled, they resolved to sit down opposite the tree, under the +shelter offered by the huge table of the Fairies' Dolmen. + +"Otto," said Vorski, "go to the Priory, fetch us something to drink and +also bring an axe, some ropes and anything else that we're likely to +want." + +The rain was beginning to pour in torrents. They settled themselves +under the dolmen and each in turn kept watch while the other slept. + +Nothing happened during the night. The storm was very violent. They +could hear the waves roaring. Then gradually everything grew quiet. + +At daybreak they attacked the oak-tree, which they soon overthrew by +pulling upon the ropes. + +They now saw that, inside the tree itself, amid the rubbish and the dry +rot, a sort of trench had been dug, which extended through the mass of +sand and stones packed about the roots. + +They cleared the ground with a pick-axe. Some steps at once came into +sight: there was a sudden drop of earth: and they saw a staircase which +followed a perpendicular wall and led down into the darkness. They threw +the light of their lantern before them. A cavern opened beneath their +feet. + +Vorski was the first to venture down. The others followed him +cautiously. + +The steps, which at first consisted of earthen stairs reinforced by +flints, were presently hewn out of the rock. The cave which they entered +was in no way peculiar and seemed rather to be a vestibule. It +communicated, in fact, with a sort of crypt, which had a vaulted ceiling +and walls of rough masonry of unmortared stones. + +All around, like shapeless statues, stood twelve small menhirs, each of +which was surmounted by a horse's skull. Vorski touched one of these +skulls; it crumbled into dust. + +"No one has been to this crypt," he said, "for twenty centuries. We are +the first men to tread the floor of it, the first to behold the traces +of the past which it contains." + +He added, with increasing emphasis: + +"It is the mortuary-chamber of a great chieftain. They used to bury his +favourite horses with him . . . and his weapons too. Look, here are axes +. . . and a flint knife; and we also find the remains of certain funeral +rites, as this piece of charcoal shows and, over there, those charred +bones . . . ." + +His voice was husky with emotion. He muttered: "I am the first to enter +here. I was expected. A whole world awakens at my coming." + +Conrad interrupted him: + +"There are other doorways, another passage; and there's a sort of light +showing in the distance." + +A narrow corridor brought them to a second chamber, through which they +reached yet a third. The three crypts were exactly alike, with the same +masonry, the same upright stones, the same horses' skulls. + +"The tombs of three great chieftains," said Vorski. "They evidently lead +to the tomb of a king; and the chieftains must have been the king's +guards, after being his companions during his lifetime. No doubt it's +the next crypt." + +He hesitated to go farther, not from fear, but from excessive excitement +and a sense of inflamed vanity which he was enjoying to the full: + +"I am on the verge of knowledge," he declaimed, in dramatic tones. +"Vorski is approaching the goal and has only to put out his hand to be +regally rewarded for his labours and his struggles. The God-Stone is +there. For ages and ages men have sought to fathom the secret of the +island and not one has succeeded. Vorski came and the God-Stone is his. +So let it show itself to me and give me the promised power. There is +nothing between it and Vorski, nothing but my will. And I declare my +will! The prophet has risen out of the night. He is here. If there be, +in this kingdom of the dead, a shade whose duty it is to lead me to the +divine stone and place the golden crown upon my head, let that shade +arise! Here stands Vorski." + +He went in. + +The fourth room was much larger and shaped like a dome with a slightly +flattened summit. In the middle of the flattened part was a round hole, +no wider than the hole left by a very small flue; and from it there fell +a shaft of half-veiled light which formed a very plainly-defined disk on +the floor. + +The centre of this disk was occupied by a little block of stones set +together. And on this block, as though purposely displayed, lay a metal +rod. + +In other respects, this crypt did not differ from the first three. Like +them it was adorned with menhirs and horses' heads, like them it +contained traces of sacrifices. + +Vorski did not take his eyes off the metal rod. Strange to say, the +metal gleamed as though no dust had ever covered it. He put out his +hand. + +"No, no," said Conrad, quickly. + +"Why not?" + +"It may be the one Maguennoc touched and burnt his hand with." + +"You're mad." + +"Still . . ." + +"Oh, I'm not afraid of anything!" Vorski declared taking hold of the +rod. + +It was a leaden sceptre, very clumsily made, but nevertheless revealing +a certain artistic intention. Round the handle was a snake, here +encrusted in the lead, there standing out in relief. Its huge, +disproportionate head formed the pommel and was studded with silver +nails and little green pebbles transparent as emeralds. + +"Is it the God-Stone?" Vorski muttered. + +He handled the thing and examined it all over with respectful awe; and +he soon observed that the pommel shifted almost loose. He fingered it, +turned it to the left, to the right, until at length it gave a click and +the snake's head became unfastened. + +There was a space inside, containing a stone, a tiny, pale-red stone, +with yellow streaks that looked like veins of gold. + +"It's the God-Stone, it's the God-Stone!" said Vorski, greatly agitated. + +"Don't touch it!" Conrad repeated, filled with alarm. + +"What burnt Maguennoc will not burn me," replied Vorski, solemnly. + +And, in bravado, swelling with pride and delight, he kept the mysterious +stone in the hollow of his hand, which he clenched with all his +strength: + +"Let it burn me! I will let it! Let it sear my flesh! I shall be glad if +it will!" + +Conrad made a sign to him and put his finger to his lips. + +"What's the matter?" asked Vorski. "Do you hear anything?" + +"Yes," said the other. + +"So do I," said Otto. + +What they heard was a rhythmical, measured sound, which rose and fell +and made a sort of irregular music. + +"Why, it's close by!" mumbled Vorski. "It sounds as if it were in the +room." + +It was in the room, as they soon learnt for certain; and there was no +doubt that the sound was very like a snore. + +Conrad, who had ventured on this suggestion, was the first to laugh at +it; but Vorski said: + +"Upon my word, I'm inclined to think you're right. It _is_ a snore +. . . . There must be some one here then?" + +"It comes from over there," said Otto, "from that corner in the dark." + +The light did not extend beyond the menhirs. Behind each of them opened +a small, shadowy chapel. Vorski turned his lantern into one of these and +at once uttered a cry of amazement: + +"Some one . . . yes . . . there is some one . . . . Look . . . ." + +The two accomplices came forward. On a heap of rubble, piled up in an +angle of the wall, a man lay sleeping, an old man with a white beard and +long white hair. A thousand wrinkles furrowed the skin of his face and +hands. There were blue rings round his closed eyelids. At least a +century must have passed over his head. + +He was dressed in a patched and torn linen robe, which came down to his +feet. Round his neck and hanging over his chest was a string of those +sacred beads which the Gauls called serpents' eggs and which are +actually sea-eggs or sea-urchins. Within reach of his hand was a +handsome jadeite axe, covered with illegible symbols. On the ground, in +a row, lay sharp-edged flints, some large, flat rings, two ear-drops of +green jasper and two necklaces of fluted blue enamel. + +The old man went on snoring. + +Vorski muttered: + +"The miracle continues . . . . It's a priest . . . a priest like those +of the olden time . . . of the time of the Druids." + +"And then?" asked Otto. + +"Why, then he's waiting for me!" + +Conrad expressed his brutal opinion: + +"I suggest we break his head with his axe." + +But Vorski flew into a rage: + +"If you touch a single hair of his head, you're a dead man!" + +"Still . . ." + +"Still what?" + +"He may be an enemy . . . he may be the one whom we were pursuing last +night . . . . Remember . . . the white robe." + +"You're the biggest fool I ever met! Do you think that, at his age, he +could have kept us on the run like that?" + +He bent over and took the old man gently by the arm, saying: + +"Wake up! . . . It's I!" + +There was no answer. The man did not wake up. + +Vorski insisted. + +The man moved on his bed of stones, mumbled a few words and went to +sleep again. + +Vorski, growing a little impatient, renewed his attempts, but more +vigorously, and raised his voice: + +"I say, what about it? We can't hang about all day, you know. Come on!" + +He shook the old man more roughly. The man made a movement of +irritation, pushed away his importunate visitor, clung to sleep a few +seconds longer and, in the end, turned round wearily and, in an angry +voice, growled: + +"Oh, rats!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE ANCIENT DRUID + + +The three accomplices, who were perfectly acquainted with all the +niceties of the French language and familiar with every slang phrase, +did not for a moment mistake the true sense of that unexpected +exclamation. They were astounded. + +Vorski put the question to Conrad and Otto. + +"Eh? What does he say?" + +"What you heard . . . . That's right," said Otto. + +Vorski ended by making a fresh attack on the shoulder of the stranger, +who turned on his couch, stretched himself, yawned, seemed to fall +asleep again, and, suddenly admitting himself defeated, half sat up and +shouted: + +"When you've quite finished, please! Can't a man have a quiet snooze +these days, in this beastly hole?" + +A ray of light blinded his eyes: and he spluttered, in alarm: + +"What is it? What do you want with me?" + +Vorski put down his lantern on a projection in the wall; and the face +now stood clearly revealed. The old man, who had continued to vent his +ill temper in incoherent complaints, looked at his visitor, became +gradually calmer, even assumed an amiable and almost smiling expression +and, holding out his hand, exclaimed: + +"Well, I never! Why, it's you, Vorski! How are you, old bean?" + +Vorski gave a start. That the old man should know him and call him by +his name did not astonish him immensely, since he had the half-mystic +conviction that he was expected as a prophet might be. But to a prophet, +to a missionary clad in light and glory, entering the presence of a +stranger crowned with the double majesty of age and sacerdotal rank, it +was painful to be hailed by the name of "old bean!" + +Hesitating, ill at ease, not knowing with whom he was dealing, he asked: + +"Who are you? What are you here for? How did you get here?" + +And, when the other stared at him with a look of surprise, he repeated, +in a louder voice: + +"Answer me, can't you? Who are you?" + +"Who am I?" replied the old man, in a husky and bleating voice. "Who am +I? By Teutates, god of the Gauls, is it you who ask me that question? +Then you don't know me? Come, try and remember . . . . Good old +Segenax--eh, do you get me now--Velleda's father, good old Segenax, the +law-giver venerated by the Rhedons of whom Chateaubriand speaks in the +first volume of his _Martyrs_? . . . Ah, I see your memory's reviving!" + +"What are you gassing about!" cried Vorski. + +"I'm not gassing. I'm explaining my presence here and the regrettable +events which brought me here long ago. Disgusted by the scandalous +behaviour of Velleda, who had gone wrong with that dismal blighter +Eudorus, I became what we should call a Trappist nowadays, that is to +say, I passed a brilliant exam, as a bachelor of Druid laws. Since that +time, in consequence of a few sprees--oh, nothing to speak of: three or +four jaunts to Paris, where I was attracted by Mabille and afterwards by +the Moulin Rouge--I was obliged to accept the little berth which I fill +here, a cushy job, as you see: guardian of the God-Stone, a shirker's +job, what!" + +Vorski's amazement and uneasiness increased at each word. He consulted +his companions. + +"Break his head," Conrad repeated. "That's what I say: and I stick to +it." + +"And you, Otto?" + +"I think we ought to be on our guard." + +"Of course we must be on our guard." + +But the old Druid caught the word. Leaning on a staff, he helped himself +up and exclaimed: + +"What's the meaning of this? Be on your guard . . . against me! That's +really a bit thick! Treat me as a fake! Why, haven't you seen my axe, +with the pattern of the swastika? The swastika, the leading cabalistic +symbol, eh, what? . . . And this? What do you call this?" He lifted his +string of beads. "What do you call it? Horse-chestnuts? You've got some +cheek, you have, to give a name like that to serpents' eggs, 'eggs which +they form out of slaver and the froth of their bodies mingled and which +they cast into the air, hissing the while.' It's Pliny's own words I'm +quoting! You're not going to treat Pliny also as a fake, I hope! . . . +You're a pretty customer! Putting yourself on your guard against me, +when I have all my degrees as an ancient Druid, all my diplomas, all my +patents, all my certificates signed by Pliny and Chateaubriand! The +cheek of you! . . . Upon my word, you won't find many ancient Druids of +my sort, genuine, of the period, with the bloom of age upon them and a +beard of centuries! I a fake, I, who boast every tradition and who +juggle with the customs of antiquity! . . . Shall I dance the ancient +Druid dance for you, as I did before Julius Caesar? Would you like me +to?" + +And, without waiting for a reply, the old man, flinging aside his staff, +began to cut the most extravagant capers and to execute the wildest of +jigs with perfectly astounding agility. And it was the most laughable +sight to see him jumping and twisting about, with his back bent, his +arms outstretched, his legs shooting to right and left from under his +robe, his beard following the evolutions of his frisking body, while the +bleating voice announced the successive changes in the performance: + +"The ancient Druids' dance, or Caesar's delight! Hi-tiddly, hi-tiddly, +hi-ti, hi! . . . The mistletoe dance, vulgarly known as the tickletoe! +. . . The serpents' egg waltz, music by Pliny! Hullo there! Begone, dull +care! . . . The Vorska, or the tango of the thirty coffins! . . . The +hymn of the Red Prophet! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Glory be to the +prophet!" + +He continued his furious jig a little longer and then suddenly halted +before Vorski and, in a solemn tone, said: + +"Enough of this prattle! Let us talk seriously, I am commissioned to +hand you the God-Stone. Now that you are here, are you ready to take +delivery of the goods?" + +The three accomplices were absolutely flabbergasted. Vorski did not know +what to do, was unable to make out who the infernal fellow was: + +"Oh, shut up!" he shouted, angrily. "What do you want? What's your +object?" + +"What do you mean, my object? I've just told you; to hand you the +God-Stone!" + +"But by what right? In what capacity?" + +The ancient Druid nodded his head: + +"Yes, I see what you're after. Things are not happening in the least as +you thought they would. Of course, you came here feeling jolly spry, +glad and proud of the work you had done. Just think; furnishings for +thirty coffins, four women crucified, shipwrecks, hands steeped in +blood, murders galore. Those things are no small beer; and you were +expecting an imposing reception, with an official ceremony, solemn pomp +and state, antique choirs, processions of bards and minstrels, human +sacrifices and what not; the whole Gallic bag of tricks! Instead of +which, a poor beggar of a Druid, snoozing in a corner, who just simply +offers you the goods. What a come down, my lords! Can't be helped, +Vorski; we do what we can and every man acts according to the means at +his disposal. I'm not a millionaire, you know; and I've already advanced +you, in addition to the washing of a few white robes, some thirty francs +forty for Bengal lights, fountains of fire and a nocturnal earthquake." + +Vorski started, suddenly understanding and beside himself with rage: + +"What! So it was . . ." + +"Of course it was me! Who did you think it was? St. Augustine? Unless +you believed in an intervention of the gods and supposed that they took +the trouble last night to send an archangel to the island, arrayed in a +white robe, to lead you to the hollow oak! . . . Really, you're asking +too much!" + +Vorski clenched his fists. So the man in white whom he had pursued the +night before was no other than this impostor! + +"Oh," he growled, "I'm not fond of having my leg pulled!" + +"Having your leg pulled!" cried the old man. "You've got a cheek, old +chap! Who hunted me like a wild beast, till I was quite out of breath? +And who drove bullets through my best Sunday robe? I never knew such a +fellow! It'll teach me to put my back into a job again!" + +"That'll do!" roared Vorski. "That'll do. Once more and for the last +time . . . what do you want with me?" + +"I'm sick of telling you. I am commissioned to hand you the God-Stone." + +"Commissioned by whom?" + +"Oh, hanged if I know! I've always been brought up to believe that some +day a prince of Almain would appear at Sarek, one Vorski, who would slay +his thirty victims and to whom I was to make an agreed signal when his +thirtieth victim had breathed her last. Therefore, as I'm a slave to +orders, I got together my little parcel, bought two Bengal lights at +three francs seventy-five apiece at a hardware shop in Brest, _plus_ a +few choice crackers, and, at the appointed hour, took up my perch in my +observatory, taper in hand, all ready for work. When you started +howling, in the top of the tree, 'She's dead! She's dead!' I thought +that was the right moment, set fire to the lights and with my crackers +shook the bowels of the earth. There! Now you know all about it." + +Vorski stepped forward, with his fists raised to strike. That torrent of +words, that imperturbable composure, that calm, bantering voice put him +beside himself. + +"Another word and I'll knock you down!" he cried. "I've had enough of +it." + +"Is your name Vorski?" + +"Yes; and then?" + +"Are you a prince of Almain?" + +"Yes, yes; and then?" + +"Have you slain your thirty victims?" + +"Yes, yes, yes!" + +"Well, then you're my man. I have a God-Stone to hand you and I mean to +hand it you, come what may. That's the sort of hairpin I am. You've got +to pocket it, your miracle-stone." + +"But I don't care a hang for the God-Stone!" roared Vorski, stamping his +foot. "And I don't care a hang for you! I want nobody. The God-Stone! +Why, I've got it, it's mine. I've got it on me." + +"Let's have a look." + +"What do you call that?" said Vorski, taking from his pocket the little +stone disk which he had found in the pommel of the sceptre. + +"That?" asked the old man, with an air of surprise. "Where did you get +that from?" + +"From the pommel of this sceptre, when I unfastened it." + +"And what do you call it?" + +"It's a piece of the God-Stone." + +"You're mad." + +"Then what do you say it is?" + +"That's a trouser-button." + +"A what?" + +"A trouser-button." + +"How do you make that out?" + +"A trouser-button with the shaft broken off, a button of the sort which +the niggers in the Sahara wear. I've a whole set of them." + +"Prove it, damn you!" + +"I put it there." + +"What for?" + +"To take the place of the precious stone which Maguennoc sneaked, the +one which burnt him and obliged him to cut off his hand." + +Vorski was silent. He was nonplussed. He had no notion what to do next +or how to behave towards this strange adversary. + +The ancient Druid went up to him and, gently, in a fatherly voice: + +"No, my lad," he said, "you can't do without me, you see. I alone hold +the key of the safe and the secret of the casket. Why do you hesitate?" + +"I don't know you." + +"You baby! If I were suggesting something indelicate and incompatible +with your honour, I could understand your scruples. But my offer is one +of those which can't offend the nicest conscience. Well, is it a +bargain? No? Not yet? But, by Teutates, what more do you want, you +unbelieving Vorski? A miracle perhaps? Lord, why didn't you say so +before? Miracles, forsooth: I turn 'em out thirteen to the dozen. I work +a little miracle before breakfast every morning. Just think, a Druid! +Miracles? Why, I've got my shop full of 'em! I can't find room to sit +down for them. Where will you try first? Resurrection department? +Hair-restoring department? Revelation of the future department? You can +choose where you like. Look here, at what time did your thirtieth victim +breathe her last?" + +"How should I know?" + +"Eleven fifty-two. Your excitement was so great that it stopped your +watch. Look and see." + +It was ridiculous. The shock produced by excitement has no effect on the +watch of the man who experiences the excitement. Nevertheless, Vorski +involuntarily took out his watch: it marked eight minutes to twelve. He +tried to wind it up: it was broken. + +The ancient Druid, without giving him time to recover his breath and +reply, went on: + +"That staggers you, eh? And yet there's nothing simpler for a Druid who +knows his business. A Druid sees the invisible. He does more: he makes +anyone else see it if he wants to. Vorski, would you like to see +something that doesn't exist? What's your name? I'm not speaking of your +name Vorski, but of your real name, your governor's name." + +"Silence on that subject!" Vorski commanded. "It's a secret I've +revealed to nobody." + +"Then why do you write it down?" + +"I've never written it down." + +"Vorski, your father's name is written in red pencil on the fourteenth +page of the little note-book you carry on you. Look and see." + +Acting mechanically, like an automaton whose movements are controlled +by an alien will, Vorski took from his inside pocket a case containing a +small note-book. He turned the pages till he came to the fourteenth, +when he muttered, with indescribable dismay: + +"Impossible! Who wrote this? And you know what's written here?" + +"Do you want me to prove it to you?" + +"Once more, silence! I forbid you . . ." + +"As you please, old chap! All that I do is meant for your edification. +And it's no trouble to me! Once I start working miracles, I simply can't +stop. Here's another funny little trick. You carry a locket hanging from +a silver chain round your shirt, don't you?" + +"Yes," said Vorski, his eyes blazing with fever. + +"The locket consists of a frame, without the photograph which used to be +set in it." + +"Yes, yes, a portrait of . . ." + +"Of your mother, I know: and you lost it." + +"Yes, I lost it last year." + +"You mean you _think_ you've lost the portrait." + +"Nonsense, the locket is empty." + +"You _think_ the locket's empty. It's not. Look and see." + +Still moving mechanically, with his eyes starting from his head, Vorski +unfastened the button of his shirt and pulled out the chain. The locket +appeared. There was the portrait of a woman in a round gold frame. + +"It's she, it's she," he muttered, completely taken aback. + +"Quite sure?" + +"Yes." + +"Then what do you say to it all, eh? There's no fake about it, no +deception. The ancient Druid's a smart chap and you're coming with him, +aren't you?" + +"Yes." + +Vorski was beaten. The man had subjugated him. His superstitious +instincts, his inherited belief in the mysterious powers, his restless +and unbalanced nature, all imposed absolute submission on him. His +suspicion persisted, but did not prevent him from obeying. + +"Is it far?" he asked. + +"Next door, in the great hall." + +Otto and Conrad had been the astounded witnesses of this dialogue. +Conrad tried to protest. But Vorski silenced him: + +"If you're afraid, go away. Besides," he added, with an affectation of +assurance, "besides, we shall walk with our revolvers ready. At the +slightest alarm, fire." + +"Fire on me?" chuckled the ancient Druid. + +"Fire on any enemy, no matter who it may be." + +"Well, you go first, Vorski . . . . What, won't you?" + +He had brought them to the very end of the crypt, in the darkest shadow, +where the lantern showed them a recess hollowed at the foot of the wall +and plunging into the rocks in a downward direction. + +Vorski hesitated and then entered. He had to crawl on his hands and +knees in this narrow, winding passage, from which he emerged, a minute +later, on the threshold of a large hall. + +The others joined him. + +"The hall of the God-Stone," the ancient Druid declared, solemnly. + +It was lofty and imposing, similar in shape and size to the broad walk +under which it lay. The same number of upright stones, which seemed to +be the columns of an immense temple, stood in the same place and formed +the same rows as the menhirs on the walk overhead: stones hewn in the +same uncouth way, with no regard for art or symmetry. The floor was +composed of huge irregular flagstones, intersected with a network of +gutters and covered with round patches of dazzling light, falling from +above at some distance one from the other. + +In the centre, under Maguennoc's garden, rose a platform of unmortared +stones, fourteen or fifteen feet high, with sides about twenty yards +long. On the top was a dolmen with two sturdy supports and a long, oval +granite table. + +"Is that it?" asked Vorski, in a husky voice. + +Without giving a direct answer, the ancient Druid said: + +"What do you think of it? They were dabs at building, those ancestors of +ours! And what ingenuity they displayed! What precautions against prying +eyes and profane enquiries! Do you know where the light comes from? For +we are in the bowels of the island and there are no windows opening on +to the sky. The light comes from the upper menhirs. They are pierced +from the top to bottom with a channel which widens as it goes down and +which sheds floods of light below. In the middle of the day, when the +sun is shining, it's like fairyland. You, who are an artist, would shout +with admiration." + +"Then that's _it_?" Vorski repeated. + +"At any rate, it's a sacred stone," declared the ancient Druid, +impassively, "since it used to overlook the place of the underground +sacrifices, which were the most important of all. But there is another +one underneath, which is protected by the dolmen and which you can't see +from here; and that is the one on which the selected victims were +offered up. The blood used to flow from the platform and along all these +gutters to the cliffs and down to the sea." + +Vorski muttered, more and more excited: + +"Then that's it? If so, let's go on." + +"No need to stir," said the old man, with exasperating coolness. "It's +not that one either. There's a third; and to see that one you have only +to lift your head a little." + +"Where? Are you sure?" + +"Of course! Take a good look . . . above the upper table, yes, in the +very vault which forms the ceiling and which is like a mosaic made of +great flagstones . . . . You can twig it from here, can't you? A +flagstone forming a separate oblong, long and narrow like the lower +table and shaped like it . . . . They might be two sisters . . . . But +there's only one good one, stamped with the trademark . . . ." + +Vorski was disappointed. He had expected a more elaborate introduction +to a more mysterious hiding-place. + +"Is that the God-Stone?" he asked. "Why, it has nothing particular about +it." + +"From a distance, no; but wait till you see it close by. There are +coloured veins in it, glittering lodes, a special grain: in short, the +God-Stone. Besides, it's remarkable not so much for its substance as for +its miraculous properties." + +"What are the miracles in question?" asked Vorski. + +"It gives life and death, as you know, and it gives a lot of other +things." + +"What sort of things?" + +"Oh, hang it, you're asking me too much! I don't know anything about +it." + +"How do you mean, you don't know?" + +The ancient Druid leant over and, in a confidential tone: + +"Listen, Vorski," he said, "I confess that I have been boasting a bit +and that my function, though of the greatest importance--keeper of the +God-Stone, you know, a first-class berth--is limited by a power which in +a manner of speaking is higher than my own." + +"What power?" + +"Velleda's." + +Vorski eyed him with renewed uneasiness: + +"Velleda?" + +"Yes, or at least the woman whom I call Velleda, the last of the +Druidesses: I don't know her real name." + +"Where is she?" + +"Here." + +"Here?" + +"Yes, on the sacrificial stone. She's asleep." + +"What, she's asleep?" + +"She's been sleeping for centuries, since all time. I've never seen her +other than sleeping: a chaste and peaceful slumber. Like the Sleeping +Beauty, Velleda is waiting for him whom the gods have appointed to +awake her; and that is . . ." + +"Who?" + +"You, Vorski, you." + +Vorski knitted his brows. What was the meaning of this improbable story +and what was his impenetrable interlocutor driving at? + +The ancient Druid continued: + +"That seems to ruffle you! Come, there's no reason, just because your +hands are red with blood and because you have thirty coffins on your +mind, why you shouldn't have the right to act as Prince Charming. You're +too modest, my young friend. Look here, Velleda is marvellously +beautiful: I tell you, hers is a superhuman beauty. Ah, my fine fellow, +you're getting excited! What? Not yet?" + +Vorski hesitated. Really he was feeling the danger increase around him +and rise like a swelling wave that is about to break. But the old man +would not leave him alone: + +"One last word, Vorski; and I'm speaking low so that your friends shan't +hear me. When you wrapped your mother in her shroud, you left on her +fore-finger, in obedience to her formal wish, a ring which she had +always worn, a magic ring made of a large turquoise surrounded by a +circle of smaller turquoises set in gold. Am I right?" + +"Yes," gasped Vorski, taken aback, "yes, you're right: but I was alone +and it is a secret which nobody knew." + +"Vorski, if that ring is on Velleda's finger, will you trust me and will +you believe that your mother, in her grave, appointed Velleda to +receive you, that she herself might hand you the miraculous stone?" + +Vorski was already walking towards the tumulus. He quickly climbed the +first few steps. His head passed the level of the platform. + +"Oh," he said, staggering back, "the ring . . . the ring is on her +finger!" + +Between the two supports of the dolmen, stretched on the sacrificial +table and clad in a spotless gown that came down to her feet, lay the +Druidess. Her body and face were turned the other way; and a veil +hanging over her forehead hid her hair. Almost bare, her shapely arm lay +along the table. On the forefinger was a turquoise ring. + +"Is that your mother's ring all right?" asked the ancient Druid. + +"Yes, there's no doubt about it." + +Vorski had hurried across the space between himself and the dolmen and, +stooping, almost kneeling, was examining the turquoises. + +"The number is complete," he whispered. "One of them is cracked. Another +is half covered by the gold setting which has worked down over it." + +"You needn't be so cautious," said the old man. "She won't hear you; and +your voice can't wake her. What you had better do is to stand up and +pass your hand lightly over her forehead. That is the magic caress which +will rouse her from her slumber." + +Vorski stood up. Nevertheless he hesitated to approach the woman, who +inspired him with ungovernable fear and respect. + +"Don't come any nearer, you two," said the ancient Druid, addressing +Otto and Conrad. "When Velleda's eyes open, they must rest on no one +but Vorski and behold no other sight. Well, Vorski, are you afraid?" + +"No, I'm not afraid." + +"Only you're not feeling comfortable. It's easier to murder people than +to bring them to life, what? Come, show yourself a man! Put aside her +veil and touch her forehead. The God-Stone is within your reach. Act and +you will be the master of the world." + +Vorski acted. Standing against the sacrificial altar, he looked down +upon the Druidess. He bent over the motionless bust. The white gown rose +and fell to the regular rhythm of the breathing. With an undecided hand +he drew back the veil and then stooped lower, so that his other hand +might touch the uncovered forehead. + +But at that moment his action remained, so to speak, suspended and he +stood without moving, like a man who does not understand but is vainly +trying to understand. + +"Well, what's up, old chap?" exclaimed the Druid. "You look petrified. +Another squabble? Something gone wrong? Must I come and help you?" + +Vorski did not answer. He was staring wildly, with an expression of +stupefaction and affright which gradually changed into one of mad +terror. Drops of perspiration trickled over his face. His haggard eyes +seemed to be gazing upon the most horrible vision. + +The old man burst out laughing: + +"Lord love us, how ugly you are! I hope the last of the Druidesses won't +raise her divine eyelids and see that hideous mug of yours! Sleep, +Velleda, sleep your pure and dreamless sleep." + +Vorski stood muttering between his teeth incoherent words which conveyed +the menace of an increasing anger. The truth became partly revealed to +him in a series of flashes. A word rose to his lips which he refused to +utter, as though, in uttering it, he feared lest he should give life to +a being who was no more, to that woman who was dead, yes, dead though +she lay breathing before him: she could not but be dead, because he had +killed her. However, in the end and in spite of himself, he spoke; and +every syllable cost him intolerable suffering: + +"Veronique . . . . Veronique . . . ." + +"So you think she's like her?" chuckled the ancient Druid. "Upon my +word, may be you are right: there is a sort of family resemblance +. . . . I dare say, if you hadn't crucified the other with your own +hands and if you hadn't yourself received her last breath, you would be +ready to swear that the two women are one and the same person . . . and +that Veronique d'Hergemont is alive and that she's not even wounded +. . . not even a scar . . . not so much as the mark of the cords round +her wrists . . . . But just look, Vorski, what a peaceful face, what +comforting serenity! Upon my word, I'm beginning to believe that you +made a mistake and that it was another woman you crucified! Just think a +bit! . . . Hullo, you're going to go for me now! Come to my rescue, O +Teutates! The prophet wants to have my blood!" + +Vorski had drawn himself up and was now facing the ancient Druid. His +features, fashioned for hatred and fury, had surely never expressed +more of either than at this moment. The ancient Druid was not merely the +man who for an hour had been toying with him as with a child. He was the +man who had performed the most extraordinary feat and who suddenly +appeared to him as the most ruthless and dangerous foe. A man like that +must be got rid of on the spot, since the opportunity presented itself. + +"I'm done!" said the old man. "He's going to eat me up! Crikey, what an +ogre! . . . Help! Murder! Help! . . . Oh, look at his iron fingers! He's +going to strangle me! . . . Unless he uses a dagger . . . or a rope +. . . . No, a revolver! I prefer that, it's neater . . . . Fire away, +Alexis. Two of the seven bullets have already made holes in my best +Sunday robe. That leaves five. Fire away, Alexis." + +Each word aggravated Vorski's fury. He was eager to get the work over +and he shouted: + +"Otto . . . Conrad . . . are you ready?" + +He raised his arm. The two assistants likewise took aim. Four paces in +front of them stood the old man, laughingly pleading for mercy: + +"Please, kind gentlemen, have pity on a poor beggar . . . . I won't do +it again . . . . I'll be a good boy . . . . Kind gentlemen, please +. . . ." + +Vorski repeated: + +"Otto . . . Conrad . . . attention! . . . I'm counting three: one . . . +two . . . three . . . fire!" + +The three shots rang out together. The Druid whirled round with one leg +in the air, then drew himself up straight, opposite his adversaries, and +cried, in a tragic voice: + +"A hit, a palpable hit! Shot through the body! Dead, for a ducat! . . . +The ancient Druid's _kaput_! . . . A tragic development! Oh, the poor +old Druid, who was so fond of his joke!" + +"Fire!" roared Vorski. "Shoot, can't you, you idiots? Fire!" + +"Fire! Fire!" repeated the Druid. "Bang! Bang! A bull's eye! . . . Two! +. . . Three bull's eyes! . . . Your shot, Conrad: bang! . . . Yours, +Otto: bang!" + +The shots rattled and echoed through the great resounding hall. The +bewildered and furious accomplices were gesticulating before their +target, while the invulnerable old man danced and kicked, now almost +squatting on his heels, now leaping up with astounding agility: + +"Lord, what fun one can have in a cave! And what a fool you are, Vorski, +my own! You blooming old prophet! . . . What a mug! But, I say, however +could you take it all in? The Bengal lights! The crackers! And the +trouser-button! And your old mother's ring! . . . You silly juggins! +What a spoof!" + +Vorski stopped. He realized that the three revolvers had been made +harmless, but how? By what unprecedented marvel? What was at the bottom +of all this fantastic adventure? Who was that demon standing in front of +him? + +He flung away his useless weapon and looked at the old man. Was he +thinking of seizing him in his arms and crushing the life out of him? He +also looked at the woman and seemed ready to fall upon her. But he +obviously no longer felt equal to facing those two strange creatures, +who appeared to him to be remote from the world and from actuality. + +Then, quickly, he turned on his heel and, calling to his accomplices, +made for the crypts, followed by the ancient Druid's jeers: + +"Look at that now! He's slinging his hook! And the God-Stone, what about +it? What do you want me to do with it? . . . I say, isn't he showing a +clean pair of heels! . . . Hi! Are your trousers on fire? Yoicks, +tally-ho, tally-ho! Proph--et Proph--et! . . ." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE HALL OF THE UNDERGROUND SACRIFICES + + +Vorski had never known fear and he was perhaps not yielding to an actual +sense of fear in taking to flight now. But he no longer knew what he was +doing. His bewildered brain was filled with a whirl of contradictory and +incoherent ideas in which the intuition of an irretrievable and to some +extent supernatural defeat held the first place. + +Believing as he did in witchcraft and wonders, he had an impression that +Vorski, the man of destiny, had fallen from his mission and been +replaced by another chosen favourite of destiny. There were two +miraculous forces opposed to each other, one emanating from him, Vorski, +the other from the ancient Druid; and the second was absorbing the +first. Veronique's resurrection, the ancient Druid's personality, the +speeches, the jokes, the leaps and bounds, the actions, the +invulnerability of that spring-heeled individual, all this seemed to him +magical and fabulous; and it created, in these caves of the barbaric +ages, a peculiar atmosphere which stifled and demoralized him. + +He was eager to return to the surface of the earth. He wanted to breathe +and see. And what he wanted above all to see was the tree stripped of +its branches to which he had tied Veronique and on which Veronique had +expired. + +"For she _is_ dead," he snarled, as he crawled through the narrow +passage which communicated with the third and largest of the crypts. +"She _is_ dead. I know what death means. I have often held it in my +hands and I make no mistakes. Then how did that demon manage to bring +her to life again?" + +He stopped abruptly near the block on which he had picked up the +sceptre: + +"Unless . . ." he said. + +Conrad, following him, cried: + +"Hurry up, instead of chattering." + +Vorski allowed himself to be pulled along; but, as he went, he +continued: + +"Shall I tell you what I think, Conrad? Well, the woman he showed us, +the one asleep, wasn't that one at all. Was she even alive? Oh, the old +wizard is capable of anything! He'll have modelled a figure, a wax doll, +and given it her likeness." + +"You're mad. Get on!" + +"I'm not mad. That woman was not alive. The one who died on the tree is +properly dead. And you'll find her again up there, I warrant you. +Miracles, yes, but not such a miracle as that!" + +Having left their lantern behind them, the three accomplices kept +bumping against the wall and the upright stones. Their footsteps echoed +from vault to vault. Conrad never ceased grumbling: + +"I warned you . . . . We ought to have broken his head." + +Otto, out of breath with walking, said nothing. + +Thus, groping their way, they reached the lobby which preceded the +entrance-crypt; and they were not a little surprised to find that this +first hall was dark, though the passage which they had dug in the upper +part, under the roots of the dead oak, ought to have given a certain +amount of light. + +"That's funny," said Conrad. + +"Pooh!" said Otto. "We've only got to find the ladder hooked to the +wall. Here, I have it . . . here's a step . . . and the next . . . ." + +He climbed the rungs, but was pulled up almost at once: + +"Can't get any farther . . . . It's as if there had been a fall of +earth." + +"Impossible!" Vorski protested. "However, wait a bit, I was forgetting: +I have my pocket-lighter." + +He struck a light; and the same cry of anger escaped all three of them: +the whole of the top of the staircase and half the room was buried under +a heap of stones and sand, with the trunk of the dead oak fallen in the +middle. Not a chance of escape remained. + +Vorski gave way to a fit of despair and collapsed on the stairs: + +"We're tricked. It's that old brute who has played us this trick . . . +which shows that he's not alone." + +He bewailed his fate, raving, lacking the strength to continue the +unequal struggle. But Conrad grew angry: + +"I say, Vorski, this isn't like you, you know." + +"There's nothing to be done against that fellow." + +"Nothing to be done! In the first place, there's this, as I've told you +twenty times: wring his neck. Oh, why did I restrain myself?" + +"You couldn't even have laid a hand on him. Did any of our bullets touch +him?" + +"Our bullets . . . our bullets," muttered Conrad. "All this strikes me +as mighty queer. Hand me your lighter. I have another revolver, which +comes from the Priory: and I loaded it myself yesterday morning. I'll +soon see." + +He examined the weapon and was not long in discovering that the seven +cartridges which he had put in the cylinder had been replaced by seven +cartridges from which the bullets had been extracted and which could +therefore fire nothing except blank shots. + +"That explains it," he said, "and your ancient Druid is no more of a +wizard than I am. If our revolvers had been really loaded, we'd have +shot him down like a dog." + +But the explanation only increased Vorski's alarm: + +"And how did he unload them? At what moment did he manage to take our +revolvers from our pockets and put them back after drawing the charges? +I did not leave go of mine for an instant." + +"No more did I," Conrad admitted. + +"And I defy any one to touch it without my knowing. So what then? +Doesn't it prove that that demon has a special power? After all, we must +look at things as they are. He's a man who possesses secrets of his own +. . . and who has means at his disposal, means which . . ." + +Conrad shrugged his shoulders: + +"Vorski, this business has shattered you. You were within reach of the +goal and yet you let go at the first obstacle. You're turned into a +dish-cloth. Well, I don't bow my head like you. Tricked? Why so? If he +comes after us, there are three of us." + +"He won't come. He'll leave us here shut up in a burrow with no way out +of it." + +"Then, if he doesn't come, I'll go back there, I will! I've got my +knife; that's enough for me." + +"You're wrong, Conrad." + +"How am I wrong? I'm a match for any man, especially for that old +blighter; and he's only got a sleeping woman to help him." + +"Conrad, he's not a man and she's not a woman. Be careful." + +"I'm careful and I'm going." + +"You're going, you're going; but what's your plan?" + +"I've no plan. Or rather, if I have, it's to out that beggar." + +"All the same, mind what you're doing. Don't go for him bull-headed; try +to take him by surprise." + +"Well, of course!" said Conrad, moving away. "I'm not ass enough to risk +his attacks. Be easy, I've got the bounder!" + +Conrad's daring comforted Vorski. + +"After all," he said, when his accomplice was gone, "he's right. If that +old Druid didn't come after us, it's because he's got other ideas in his +head. He certainly doesn't expect us to return on the offensive; and +Conrad can very well take him by surprise. What do you say, Otto?" + +Otto shared his opinion: + +"He has only to bide his time," he replied. + +Fifteen minutes passed. Vorski gradually recovered his assurance. He had +yielded to the reaction, after an excess of hope followed by +disappointment too great for him to bear and also because of the +weariness and depression produced by his drinking-bout. But the fighting +spirit stimulated him once more; and he was anxious to have done with +his adversary. + +"I shouldn't be surprised," he said, "if Conrad had finished him off by +now." + +By this time he had acquired an exaggerated confidence which proved his +unbalanced state of mind; and he wanted to go back again at once. + +"Come along, Otto, it's the last trip. An old beggar to get rid of; and +the thing's done. You've got your dagger? Besides, it won't be wanted. +My two hands will do the trick." + +"And suppose that blasted Druid has friends?" + +"We'll see." + +He once more went towards the crypts, moving cautiously and watching the +opening of the passages which led from one to the other. No sound +reached their ears. The light in the third crypt showed them the way. + +"Conrad must have succeeded," Vorski observed. "If not, he would have +shirked the fight and come back to us." + +Otto agreed. + +"It's a good sign, of course, that we don't see him. The ancient Druid +must have had a bad time of it. Conrad is a scorcher." + +They entered the third crypt. Things were in the places where they had +left them: the sceptre on the block and the pommel, which Vorski had +unfastened, a little way off, on the ground. But, when he cast his eyes +towards the shadowy recess where the ancient Druid was sleeping when +they first arrived, he was astounded to see the old fellow, not exactly +at the same place, but between the recess and the exit to the passage. + +"Hang it, what's he doing?" he stammered, at once upset by that +unexpected presence. "One would think he was asleep!" + +The ancient Druid, in fact, appeared to be asleep. Only, why on earth +was he sleeping in that attitude, flat on his stomach, with his arms +stretched out on either side and his face to the floor? No man on his +guard, or at least aware that he was in some sort of danger, would +expose himself in this way to the enemy's attack. Moreover--Vorski's +eyes were gradually growing accustomed to the half-darkness of the end +crypt--moreover the white robe was marked with stains which looked red, +which undoubtedly were red. What did it mean? + +Otto said, in a low voice: + +"He's lying in a queer attitude." + +Vorski was thinking the same thing and put it more plainly: + +"Yes, the attitude of a corpse." + +"The attitude of a corpse," Otto agreed. "That's it, exactly." + +Vorski presently fell back a step: + +"Oh," he exclaimed, "can it be?" + +"What?" asked the other. + +"Between the two shoulders . . . . Look." + +"Well?" + +"The knife." + +"What knife?" + +"Conrad's," Vorski declared. "Conrad's dagger. I recognise it. Driven in +between the shoulders." And he added, with a shudder, "That's where the +red stains come from . . . . It's blood . . . blood flowing from the +wound." + +"In that case," Otto remarked, "he is dead?" + +"He's dead, yes, the ancient Druid is dead . . . . Conrad must have +surprised him and killed him . . . . The ancient Druid is dead." + +Vorski remained undecided for a while, ready to fall upon the lifeless +body and to stab it in his turn. But he dared no more touch it now that +it was dead than when it was alive; and all that he had the courage to +do was to run and wrench the dagger from the wound. + +"Ah," he cried, "you scoundrel, you've got what you deserve! And Conrad +is a champion. I shan't forget you, Conrad, be sure of that." + +"Where can Conrad be?" + +"In the hall of the God-Stone. Ah, Otto, I'm itching to get back to the +woman whom the ancient Druid put there and to settle her hash too!" + +"Then you believe that she's a live woman?" chuckled Otto. + +"And very much alive at that . . . like the ancient Druid! That wizard +was only a fake, with a few tricks of his own, perhaps, but no real +power. There's the proof!" + +"A fake, if you like," the accomplice objected. "But, all the same, he +showed you by his signals the way to enter these caves. Now what was his +object in that? And what was he doing here? Did he really know the +secret of the God-Stone, the way to get possession of it and exactly +where it is?" + +"You're right. It's all so many riddles," said Vorski, who preferred not +to examine the details of the adventure too closely. "But it's so many +riddles which'll answer themselves and which I'm not troubling about for +the moment, because it's no longer that creepy individual who's putting +them to me." + +For the third time they went through the narrow communicating passage. +Vorski entered the great hall like a conqueror, with his head high and a +confident glance. There was no longer any obstacle, no longer any enemy +to overcome. Whether the God-Stone was suspended between the stones of +the ceiling, or whether the God-Stone was elsewhere, he was sure to +discover it. There remained the mysterious woman who looked like +Veronique, but who could not be Veronique and whose real identity he was +about to unmask. + +"Always presuming that she's still there," he muttered. "And I very much +suspect that she's gone. She played her part in the ancient Druid's +obscure schemes: and the ancient Druid, thinking me out of the way +. . ." + +He stepped forward and climbed a few steps. + +The woman was there. She was there, lying on the lower table of the +dolmen, shrouded in veils as before. The arm no longer hung towards the +ground. There was only the hand emerging from the veils. The turquoise +ring was on the finger. + +"She hasn't moved," said Otto. "She's still asleep." + +"Perhaps she is asleep," said Vorski. "I'll watch her. Leave me alone." + +He went nearer. He still had Conrad's dagger in his hand: and perhaps it +was this that suggested killing to him, for his eyes fell upon the +weapon and it was not till then that he seemed to realise that he was +carrying it and that he might make use of it. + +He was not more than three paces from the woman, when he perceived that +the wrist which was uncovered was all bruised and as it were mottled +with black patches, which evidently came from the cords with which she +had been bound. Now the ancient Druid had remarked, an hour ago, that +the wrists showed no signs of a bruise! + +This detail confounded him anew, first, because it proved to him that +this was really the woman whom he had crucified, who had been taken down +and who was now before his eyes and, secondly, because he was suddenly +reentering the domain of miracles; and Veronique's arm appeared to him, +alternately, under two different aspects, as the arm of a living, +uninjured woman and as the arm of a lifeless, tortured victim. + +His trembling hand clutched the dagger, clinging to it, in a manner of +speaking, as the only instrument of salvation. Once more in his confused +brain the idea arose of striking, not to kill, because the woman must be +dead, but of striking the invisible enemy who persisted in thwarting him +and of conjuring all the evil spells at one blow. + +He raised his arm. He chose the spot. His face assumed an expression of +extreme savagery, lit up with the joy of murder. And suddenly he swooped +down, striking, like a madman, at random, ten times, twenty times, with +a frenzied unbridling of all his instincts. + +"Take that and die!" he spluttered. "Another! . . . Die! . . . And let's +have an end of this . . . . You are the evil genius that's been +resisting me . . . and now I'm killing you . . . . Die and leave me +free! . . . Die so that I shall be the only master!" + +He stopped to take breath. He was exhausted. And while his haggard eyes +stared blindly at the horrible spectacle of the lacerated corpse, he +received the strange impression that a shadow was placing itself between +him and the sunlight which came through the opening overhead. + +"Do you know what you remind me of?" said a voice. + +He was dumbfounded. The voice was not Otto's voice. And the voice +continued, while he stood with his head lowered and stupidly holding his +dagger planted in the dead woman's body: + +"Do you know what you remind me of, Vorski? You remind me of the bulls +of my country. Let me tell you that I am a Spaniard and a great +frequenter of the bull-ring. Well, when our bulls have gored some poor +old cab-horse that is only fit for the knacker's yard, they go back to +the body, from time to time, turn it over, gore it again, keep on +killing it and killing it. You're like them, Vorski. You're seeing red. +In order to defend yourself against the living enemy, you fall +desperately on the enemy who is no longer alive; and it is death itself +that you are trying to kill. What a silly beast you're making of +yourself!" + +Vorski raised his head. A man was standing in front of him, leaning +against one of the uprights of the dolmen. The man was of the average +height, with a slender, well-built figure, and seemed to be still young, +notwithstanding his hair, which was turning grey at the temples. He wore +a blue-serge jacket with brass buttons and a yachting-cap with a black +peak. + +"Don't trouble to rack your brains," he said. "You don't know me. Let me +introduce myself: Don Luis Perenna, grandee of Spain, a noble of many +countries and Prince of Sarek. Yes, don't be surprised: I've taken the +title of Prince of Sarek, having a certain right to it." + +Vorski looked at him without understanding. The man continued: + +"You don't seem very familiar with the Spanish nobility. Still, just +test your memory: I am the gentleman who was to come to the rescue of +the d'Hergemont family and the people of Sarek, the one whom your son +Francois was expecting with such simple faith . . . . Well, are you +there? . . . Look, your companion, the trusty Otto, he seems to +remember! . . . But perhaps my other name will convey more to you? It is +well and favourably known. Lupin . . . . Arsene Lupin . . . ." + +Vorski watched him with increasing terror and with a misgiving which +became more accentuated at each word and movement of this new adversary. +Though he recognized neither the man nor the man's voice, he felt +himself dominated by a will of which he had already felt the power and +lashed by the same sort of implacable irony. But was it possible? + +"Everything is possible," Don Luis Perenna went on, "including even what +you think. But I repeat, what a silly beast you're making of yourself! +Here are you playing the bold highwayman, the dashing adventurer; and +you're frightened the moment you set eyes on one of your crimes! As long +as it was just a matter of happy-go-lucky killing, you went straight +ahead. But the first little jolt throws you off the track. Vorski kills; +but whom has he killed? He has no idea. Is Veronique d'Hergemont dead or +alive? Is she fastened to the oak on which you crucified her? Or is she +lying here, on the sacrificial table? Did you kill her up there or down +here? You can't tell. You never even thought, before you stabbed, of +looking to see what you were stabbing. The great thing for you is to +slash away with all your might, to intoxicate yourself with the sight +and smell of blood and to turn live flesh into a hideous pulp. But look, +can't you, you idiot? When a man kills, he's not afraid of killing and +he doesn't hide the face of his victim. Look, you idiot!" + +He himself stopped over the corpse and unwrapped the veil around the +head. + +Vorski had closed his eyes. Kneeling, with his chest pressed against the +dead woman's legs, he remained without moving and kept his eyes +obstinately shut. + +"Are you there now?" chuckled Don Luis. "If you daren't look, it's +because you've guessed or because you're on the point of guessing, you +wretch: am I right? Your idiot brain is working it out: am I right? +There were two women in the Isle of Sarek and two only, Veronique and +the other . . . the other whose name was Elfride, I understand: am I +right? Elfride and Veronique, your two wives, one the mother of +Raynold, the other the mother of Francois. So, if it's not Francois' +mother whom you tied on the cross and whom you've just stabbed, then +it's Raynold's mother. If the woman lying here, with her wrists bruised +by the torture, is not Veronique, then she's Elfride. There's no mistake +possible: Elfride, your wife and your accomplice; Elfride, your willing +and subservient tool. And you know it so well that you would rather take +my word for it than risk a glance and see the livid face of that dead +woman, of your obedient accomplice tortured by yourself. You miserable +poltroon!" + +Vorski had hidden his head in his folded arms. He was not weeping. +Vorski could not weep. Nevertheless, his shoulders were jerking +convulsively; and his whole attitude expressed the wildest despair. + +This lasted for some time. Then the shaking of the shoulders ceased. +Still Vorski did not stir. + +"Upon my word, you move me to pity, you poor old buffer!" said Don Luis. +"Were you so fond of your Elfride as all that? She had become a habit, +what? A mascot? Well, what can I say? People as a rule aren't such fools +as you! They know what they're doing. They look before they leap! Hang +it all, they stop to think! Whereas you go floundering about in crime +like a new-born babe struggling in the water! No wonder you sink and go +to the bottom . . . . The ancient Druid, for instance: is he dead or +alive? Did Conrad stick a dagger into his back, or was I playing the +part of that diabolical personage? In short, are there an ancient Druid +and a Spanish grandee, or are the two individuals one and the same? +This is all a sealed book to you, my poor fellow. And yet you'll want an +explanation. Shall I help you?" + +If Vorski had acted without thinking, it was easy to see, when he raised +his head, that on this occasion he had taken time to reflect; that he +knew very well the desperate resolve which circumstances called upon him +to take. He was certainly ready for an explanation, as Don Luis +suggested, but he wanted it dagger in hand, with the implacable +intention of using it. Slowly, with his eyes fixed on Don Luis and +without concealing his purpose, he had freed his weapon and was rising +to his feet. + +"Take care," said Don Luis. "Your knife is faked as your revolver was. +It's made of tin-foil." + +Useless pleasantry! Nothing could either hasten or delay the methodical +impulse which urged Vorski to the supreme contest. He walked round the +sacred table and took up his stand in front of Don Luis. + +"You're sure it's you who have been thwarting all my plans these last +few days?" + +"The last twenty-four hours, no longer. I arrived at Sarek twenty-four +hours ago." + +"And you're determined to go on to the end?" + +"Yes; and farther still, if possible." + +"Why? And in what capacity?" + +"As a sportsman; and because you fill me with disgust." + +"So there's no arrangement to be made?" + +"No." + +"Would you refuse to go shares with me?" + +"Ah, now you're talking!" + +"You can have half, if you like." + +"I'd rather have the lot." + +"Meaning that the God-Stone . . ." + +"The God-Stone belongs to me." + +Further speech was idle. An adversary of that quality has to be made +away with; if not, he makes away with you. Vorski had to choose between +the two endings; there was not a third. + +Don Luis remained impassive, leaning against the pillar. Vorski towered +a head above him: and at the same time Vorski had the profound +impression that he was equally Don Luis' superior in every other +respect, in strength, muscular power and weight. In these conditions, +there was no need to hesitate. Moreover, it seemed out of the question +that Don Luis could even attempt to defend himself or to evade the blow +before the dagger fell. His parry was bound to come late unless he moved +at once. And he did not move. Vorski therefore struck his blow with all +certainty, as one strikes a quarry that is doomed beforehand. + +And yet--it all happened so quickly and so inexplicably that he could +not tell what occurred to bring about his defeat--and yet, three or four +seconds later, he was lying on the ground, disarmed, defeated, with his +two legs feeling as though they had been broken with a stick and his +right arm hanging limp and paining him till he cried out. + +Don Luis did not even trouble to bind him. With one foot on the big, +helpless body, half-bending over his adversary, he said: + +"For the moment, no speeches. I'm keeping one in reserve for you. It'll +strike you as a bit long, but it'll show you that I understand the whole +business from start to finish, that is to say, much better than you do. +There's one doubtful point: and you're going to clear it up. Where's +your son Francois d'Hergemont?" + +Receiving no reply, he repeated: + +"Where's Francois d'Hergemont?" + +Vorski no doubt considered that chance had placed an unexpected trump in +his hands and that the game was perhaps not absolutely lost, for he +maintained an obstinate silence. + +"You refuse to answer?" asked Don Luis. "One . . . two . . . three +times: do you refuse? . . . Very well!" + +He gave a low whistle. + +Four men appeared from a corner of the hall, four men with swarthy +faces, resembling Moors. Like Don Luis, they wore jackets and sailor's +caps with shiny peaks. + +A fifth person arrived almost immediately afterwards, a wounded French +officer, who had lost his right leg and wore a wooden leg in its place. + +"Ah, is that you, Patrice?" said Don Luis. + +He introduced him formally: + +"Captain Patrice Belval, my greatest friend; Mr. Vorski, a Hun." + +Then he asked: + +"No news, captain? You haven't found Francois?" + +"No." + +"We shall have found him in an hour and then we'll be off. Are all our +men on board?" + +"Yes." + +"Everything all right there?" + +"Quite." + +He turned to the three Moors: + +"Pick up the Hun," he ordered, "and carry him up to the dolmen outside. +You needn't bind him: he couldn't move a limb if he tried. Oh, one +minute!" + +He leant over Vorski's ear: + +"Before you start, have a good look at the God-Stone, between the flags +in the ceiling. The ancient Druid wasn't lying to you. It _is_ the +miraculous stone which people have been seeking for centuries . . . and +which I discovered from a distance . . . by correspondence. Say good-bye +to it, Vorski! You will never see it again, if indeed you are ever to +see anything in this world." + +He made a sign with his hand. + +The four Moors briskly took up Vorski and carried him to the back of the +hall, on the side opposite the communicating passage. + +Turning to Otto, who had stood throughout this scene without moving: + +"I see that you're a reasonable fellow, Otto, and that you understand +the position. You won't get up to any tricks?" + +"No." + +"Then we shan't touch you. You can come along without fear." + +He slipped his arm through Belval's and the two walked away, talking. + +They left the hall of the God-Stone through a series of three crypts, +each of which was on a higher level than the one before. The last of +them also led to a vestibule. At the far side of the vestibule, a ladder +stood against a lightly-built wall in which an opening had been newly +made. Through this they emerged into the open air, in the middle of a +steep path, cut into steps, which wound about as it climbed upwards in +the rock and which brought them to that part of the cliff to which +Francois had taken Veronique on the previous morning. It was the Postern +path. From above they saw, hanging from two iron davits, the boat in +which Veronique and her son had intended to take flight. Not far away, +in a little bay, was the long, tapering outline of a submarine. + +Turning their backs to the sea, Don Luis and Patrice Belval continued on +their way towards the semicircle of oaks and stopped near the Fairies' +Dolmen, where the Moors were waiting for them. They had set Vorski down +at the foot of the tree on which his last victim had died. Nothing +remained on the tree to bear witness to the abominable torture except +the inscription, "V. d'H." + +"Not too tired, Vorski?" asked Don Luis. "Legs feeling better?" + +Vorski gave a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders. + +"Yes, I know," said Don Luis. "You're pinning your faith to your last +card. Still, I would have you know that I also hold a few trumps and +that I have a rather artistic way of playing them. The tree behind you +should be more than enough to tell you so. Would you like another +instance? While you're getting muddled with all your murders and are no +longer sure of the number of your victims, I bring them to life again. +Look at that man coming from the Priory. Do you see him? He's wearing a +blue reefer with brass buttons, like myself. He's one of your dead men, +isn't he? You locked him up in one of the torture-chambers, intending +to cast him into the sea; and it was your sweet cherub of a Raynold who +hurled him down before Veronique's eyes. Do you remember? Stephane +Maroux his name was. He's dead, isn't he? No, not a bit of it! A wave of +my magic wand; and he's alive again. Here he is. I take him by the hand. +I speak to him." + +Going up to the newcomer, he shook hands with him and said: + +"You see, Stephane? I told you that it would be all over at twelve +o'clock precisely and that we should meet at the dolmen. Well, it is +twelve o'clock precisely." + +Stephane seemed in excellent health. He showed not a sign of a wound. +Vorski looked at him in dismay and stammered: + +"The tutor . . . . Stephane Maroux . . . ." + +"The man himself," said Don Luis. "What did you expect? Here again you +behaved like an idiot. The adorable Raynold and you throw a man into the +sea and don't even think of leaning over to see what becomes of him. I +pick him up . . . . And don't be too badly staggered, old chap. It's +only the beginning; and I have a few more tricks in my bag. Remember, +I'm a pupil of the ancient Druid's! . . . Well, Stephane, where do we +stand? What's the result of your search?" + +"Nothing." + +"Francois?" + +"Not to be found." + +"And All's Well? Did you send him on his master's tracks, as we +arranged?" + +"Yes, but he simply took me down the Postern path to Francois' boat." + +"There's no hiding-place on that side?" + +"Not one." + +Don Luis was silent and began to pace up and down before the dolmen. He +seemed to be hesitating at the last moment, before beginning the series +of actions upon which he had resolved. At last, addressing Vorski, he +said: + +"I have no time to waste. I must leave the island in two hours. What's +your price for setting Francois free at once?" + +"Francois fought a duel with Raynold," Vorski replied, "and was beaten." + +"You lie. Francois won." + +"How do you know? Did you see them fight?" + +"No, or I should have interfered. But I know who was the victor." + +"No one knows except myself. They were masked." + +"Then, if Francois is dead, it's all up with you." + +Vorski took time to think. The argument allowed of no debate. He put a +question in his turn: + +"Well, what do you offer me?" + +"Your liberty." + +"And with it?" + +"Nothing." + +"Yes, the God-Stone." + +"_Never!_" + +Don Luis shouted the word, accompanying it with a vehement gesture of +the hand, and he explained: + +"Never! Your liberty, yes, if the worst comes to the worst and because I +know you and know that, denuded of all resources, you will simply go and +get yourself hanged somewhere else. But the God-Stone would spell +safety, wealth, the power to do evil . . ." + +"That's exactly why I want it," said Vorski; "and, by telling me what +it's worth, you make me all the more difficult in the matter of +Francois." + +"I shall find Francois all right. It's only a question of patience; and +I shall stay two or three days longer, if necessary." + +"You will not find him; and, if you do, it will be too late." + +"Why?" + +"Because he has had nothing to eat since yesterday." + +This was said coldly and maliciously. There was a silence; and Don Luis +retorted: + +"In that case, speak, if you don't want him to die." + +"What do I care? Anything rather than fail in my task and stop midway +when I've got so far. The end is within sight: those who get in my way +must look out for themselves." + +"You lie. You won't let that boy die." + +"I let the other die right enough!" + +Patrice and Stephane made a movement of horror, while Don Luis laughed +frankly: + +"Capital! There's no hypocrisy about you. Plain and convincing +arguments. By Jingo, how beautiful to see a Hun laying bare his soul! +What a glorious mixture of vanity and cruelty, of cynicism and +mysticism! A Hun has always a mission to fulfil, even when he's +satisfied with plundering and murdering. Well, you're better than a Hun: +you're a Superhun!" + +And he added, still laughing: + +"So I propose to treat you as Superhun. Once more, will you tell me +where Francois is?" + +"No." + +"All right." + +He turned to the four Moors and said, very calmly: + +"Go ahead, lads." + +It was a matter of a second. With really extraordinary precision of +gesture and as though the act had been separated into a certain number +of movements, learnt and rehearsed beforehand like a military drill, +they picked up Vorski, fastened him to the rope which hung to the tree, +hoisted him up without paying attention to his cries, his threats or his +shouts and bound him firmly, as he had bound his victim. + +"Howl away, old chap," said Don Luis, serenely, "howl as much as you +like! You can only wake the sisters Archignat and the others in the +thirty coffins! Howl away, my lad! But, good Lord, how ugly you are! +What a face!" + +He took a few steps back, to appreciate the sight better: + +"Excellent! You look very well there; it couldn't be better. Even the +inscription fits: 'V. d'H.,' Vorski de Hohenzollern! For I presume that, +as the son of a king, you are allied to that noble house. And now, +Vorski, all you have to do is to lend me an attentive ear: I'm going to +make you the little speech I promised you." + +Vorski was wriggling on the tree and trying to burst his bonds. But, +since every effort merely served to increase his suffering, he kept +still and, to vent his fury, began to swear and blaspheme most hideously +and to inveigh against Don Luis: + +"Robber! Murderer! It's you that are the murderer, it's you that are +condemning Francois to death! Francois was wounded by his brother; it's +a bad wound and may be poisoned . . . ." + +Stephane and Patrice pleaded with Don Luis. Stephane expressed his +alarm: + +"You can never tell," he said. "With a monster like that, anything is +possible. And suppose the boy's ill?" + +"It's bunkum and blackmail!" Don Luis declared. "The boy's quite well." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Well enough, in any case, to wait an hour. In an hour the Superhun will +have spoken. He won't hold out any longer. Hanging loosens the tongue." + +"And suppose he doesn't hold out at all?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Suppose he himself expires, from too violent an effort, heart-failure, +a clot of blood to the head?" + +"Well?" + +"Well, his death would destroy the only hope we have of learning where +Francois is hidden, his death would be Francois' undoing!" + +But Don Luis was inflexible: + +"He won't die!" he cried. "Vorski's sort doesn't die of a stroke! No, +no, he'll talk, he'll talk within an hour. Just time enough to deliver +my lecture." + +Patrice Belval began to laugh in spite of himself: + +"Have you a lecture to deliver?" + +"Rather! And such a lecture!" exclaimed Don Luis. "The whole adventure +of the God-Stone! An historical treatise, a comprehensive view extending +from prehistoric times to the thirty murders committed by the Superhun! +By Jove, it's not every day that one has the opportunity of reading a +paper like that; and I wouldn't miss it for a kingdom! Mount the +platform, Don Luis, and fire away with your speech!" + +He took his stand opposite Vorski: + +"You lucky dog, you! You're in the front seats and you won't lose a +word. I expect you're glad, eh, to have a little light thrown upon your +darkness? We've been floundering about so long that it's time we had a +definite lead. I assure you I'm beginning not to know where I am. Just +think, a riddle which has lasted for centuries and centuries and which +you've merely muddled still further." + +"Thief! Robber!" snarled Vorski. + +"Insults? Why? If you're not comfortable, let's talk about Francois." + +"Never! He shall die." + +"Not at all, you'll talk. I give you leave to interrupt me. When you +want me to stop, all you've got to do is to whistle a tune: '_En +r'venant de la r'vue_,' or _Tipperary_. I'll at once send to see; and, +if you've told the truth, we'll leave you here quietly, Otto will untie +you and you can be off in Francois' boat. Is it agreed?" + +He turned to Stephane and Patrice Belval: + +"Sit down, my friends," he said, "for it will take rather long. But, if +I am to be eloquent, I need an audience . . . and an audience who will +also act as judges." + +"We're only two," said Patrice. + +"You're three." + +"With whom?" + +"Here's your third." + +It was All's Well. He came trotting along, without hurrying more than +usual. He frisked round Stephane, wagged his tail to Don Luis, as though +to say, "I know you: you and I are pals," and squatted on his +hind-quarters, with the air of one who does not wish to disturb people. + +"That's right, All's Well!" cried Don Luis. "You also want to hear all +about the adventure. Your curiosity does you honour; and I won't +disappoint you." + +Don Luis appeared to be delighted. He had an audience, a full bench of +judges. Vorski was writhing on his tree. It was an exquisite moment. + +He cut a sort of caper which must have reminded Vorski of the ancient +Druid's pirouettes and, drawing himself up, bowed, imitated a lecturer +taking a sip of water from a tumbler, rested his hands on an imaginary +table and at last began, in a deliberate voice: + +"Ladies and Gentlemen: + +"On the twenty-fifth of July, in the year seven hundred and thirty-two +B. C. . . ." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE HALL OF THE KINGS OF BOHEMIA + + +Don Luis interrupted himself after delivering his opening sentence and +stood enjoying the effect produced. Captain Belval, who knew his friend, +was laughing heartily. Stephane continued to look anxious. All's Well +had not budged. + +Don Luis continued: + +"Let me begin by confessing, ladies and gentlemen, that my object in +fixing my date so precisely was to some extent to stagger you. In +reality I could not tell you within a few centuries the exact date of +the scene which I shall have the honour of describing to you. But what I +can guarantee is that it is laid in that country of Europe which to-day +we call Bohemia and at the spot where the little industrial town of +Joachimsthal now stands. That, I hope, is fairly circumstantial. Well, +on the morning of the day when my story begins, there was great +excitement among one of those Celtic tribes which had settled a century +or two earlier between the banks of the Danube and the sources of the +Elbe, amidst the Hyrcanian forests. The warriors, assisted by their +wives, were striking their tents, collecting the sacred axes, the bows +and arrows, gathering up the pottery, the bronze and tin implements, +loading the horses and the oxen. + +"The chiefs were here, there and everywhere, attending to the smallest +details. There was neither tumult nor disorder. They started early in +the direction of a tributary of the Elbe, the Eger, which they reached +towards the end of the day. Here boats were waiting, guarded by a +hundred of the picked warriors who had been sent ahead. One of these +boats was conspicuous for its size and the richness of its decoration. A +long yellow cloth was stretched from side to side. The chief of chiefs, +the King, if you prefer, climbed on the stern thwart and made a speech +which I will spare you, because I do not wish to shorten my own, but +which may be summed up as follows: the tribe was emigrating to escape +the cupidity of the neighbouring populations. It is always sad to leave +the places where one has dwelt. But it made no difference to the men of +the tribe, because they were carrying with them their most valuable +possession, the sacred inheritance of their ancestors, the divinity that +protected them and made them formidable and great among the greatest, in +short, the stone that covered the tomb of their kings. + +"And the chief of chiefs, with a solemn gesture, drew the yellow cloth +and revealed a block of granite in the shape of a slab about two yards +by one, granular in appearance and dark in colour, with a few glittering +scales gleaming in its substance. + +"There was a single shout raised by the crowd of men and women; and all, +with outstretched arms, fell flat on their faces in the dust. + +"Then the chief of chiefs took up a metal sceptre with a jewelled +handle, which lay on the block of granite, brandished it on high and +spoke: + +"'The all-powerful staff shall not leave my hand until the miraculous +stone is in a place of safety. The all-powerful staff is born of the +miraculous stone. It also contains the fire of heaven, which gives life +or death. While the miraculous stone was the tomb of my forefathers, the +all-powerful staff never left their hands on days of disaster or of +victory. May the fire of heaven lead us! May the Sun-god light our way!' + +"He spoke: and the whole tribe set out upon its journey." + +Don Luis struck an attitude and repeated, in a self-satisfied tone: + +"He spoke: and the whole tribe set out upon its journey." + +Patrice Belval was greatly amused; and Stephane, infected by his +hilarity, began to feel more cheerful. But Don Luis now addressed his +remarks to them: + +"There's nothing to laugh at! All this is very serious. It's not a story +for children who believe in conjuring tricks and sleight of hand, but a +real history, all the details of which will, as you shall see, give rise +to precise, natural and, in a sense, scientific explanations. Yes, +ladies and gentlemen, scientific: I am not afraid of the word. We are +here on scientific ground; and Vorski himself will regret his cynical +merriment." + +Don Luis took a second sip of water and continued: + +"For weeks and months the tribe followed the course of the Elbe; and one +evening, on the stroke of half-past nine, reached the sea-board, in the +country which afterwards became the country of the Frisians. It +remained there for weeks and months, without finding the requisite +security. It therefore determined upon a fresh exodus. + +"This time it was a naval exodus. Thirty boats put out to sea--observe +this number thirty, which was that of the families composing the +tribe--and for weeks and months they wandered from shore to shore, +settling first in Scandinavia, next among the Saxons, driven off, +putting to sea again and continuing their voyage. And I assure you it +was really a strange, moving, impressive sight to see this vagrant tribe +dragging in its wake the tombstone of its kings and seeking a safe, +inaccessible and final refuge in which to conceal its idol, protect it +from the attack of its enemies, celebrate its worship and employ it to +consolidate the tribal power. + +"The last stage was Ireland; and it was here that, one day, after they +had dwelt in the green isle for half a century or perhaps a century, +after their manners had acquired a certain softening by contact with +nations which were already less barbarous, the grandson or +great-grandson of the great chief, himself a great chief, received one +of the emissaries whom he maintained in the neighbouring countries. This +one came from the continent. He had discovered the miraculous refuge. It +was an almost unapproachable island, protected by thirty rocks and +having thirty granite monuments to guard it. + +"Thirty! The fateful number! It was an obvious summons and command from +the mysterious deities. The thirty galleys were launched once more and +the expedition set forth. + +"It succeeded. They took the island by assault. The natives they simply +exterminated. The tribe settled down; and the tombstone of the Kings of +Bohemia was installed . . . in the very place which it occupies to-day +and which I showed to our friend Vorski. Here I must interpolate a few +historical data of the greatest significance. I will be brief." + +Adopting a professorial tone, Don Luis explained: + +"The island of Sarek, like all France and all the western part of +Europe, had been inhabited for thousands of years by a race known as the +Liguri, the direct descendants of the cave-dwellers part of whose +manners and customs they had retained. They were mighty builders, those +Liguri, who, in the neolithic period, perhaps under the influence of the +great civilizations of the east, had erected their huge blocks of +granite and built their colossal funeral chambers. + +"It was here that our tribe found and made great use of a system of +caves and natural crypts adapted by the patient hand of man and of a +cluster of enormous monuments which struck the mystic and superstitious +imagination of the Celts. + +"We find therefore that, after the first or wandering phase, there +begins for the God-Stone a period of rest and worship which we will call +the Druidical period. It lasted for a thousand or fifteen hundred years. +The tribe became mingled with the neighbouring tribes and probably lived +under the protection of some Breton king. But, little by little, the +ascendancy had passed from the chiefs to the priests; and these priests, +that is to say, the Druids, assumed an authority which increased in the +course of the generations that followed. + +"They owed this authority, beyond all doubt, to the miraculous stone. +True, they were the priests of a religion accepted by all and also the +instructors of Gallic childhood (it seems certain, incidentally, that +the cells under the Black Heath were those of a Druid convent, or rather +a sort of university); true, in obedience to the practices of the time, +they presided over human sacrifices and ordained the gathering of the +mistletoe, the vervain and all the magic herbs; but, before all, in the +island of Sarek, they were the guardians and the possessors of the stone +which gave life or death. Placed above the hall of the underground +sacrifices, it was at that time undoubtedly visible in the open air; and +I have every reason to believe that the Fairies' Dolmen, which we now +see here, then stood in the place known as the Calvary of the Flowers +and sheltered the God-Stone. It was there that ailing and crippled +persons and sickly children were laid to recover their health and +strength. It was on the sacred slab that barren women became fruitful, +on the sacred slab that old men felt their energies revive. + +"In my eyes it dominates the whole of the legendary and fabled past of +Brittany. It is the radiating centre of all the superstitions, all the +beliefs, all the fears and hopes of the country. By virtue of the stone +or of the magic sceptre which the archdruid wielded and with which he +burnt men's flesh or healed their sores at will, we see the beautiful +tales of romance springing spontaneously into being, tales of the +knights of the Round Table, tales of Merlin the wizard. The stone is at +the bottom of every mystery, at the heart of every symbol. It is +darkness and light in one, the great riddle and the great explanation." + +Don Luis uttered these last words with a certain exaltation. He smiled: + +"Don't let yourself be carried away, Vorski. We'll keep our enthusiasm +for the narrative of your crimes. For the moment, we are at the climax +of the Druidical period, a period which lasted far beyond the Druids +through long centuries during which, after the Druids had gone, the +miraculous stone was exploited by the sorcerers and soothsayers. And +thus we come gradually to the third period, the religious period, that +is to say, actually to the progressive decline of all that constituted +the glory of Sarek: pilgrimages, commemorative festivals and so forth. + +"The Church in fact was unable to put up with that crude fetish-worship. +As soon as she was strong enough, she was bound to fight against the +block of granite which attracted so many believers and perpetuated so +hateful a religion. The fight was an unequal one; and the past +succumbed. The dolmen was moved to where we stand, the slab of the kings +of Bohemia was buried under a layer of earth and a Calvary rose at the +very spot where the sacrilegious miracles were once wrought. + +"And, over and above that, there was the great oblivion! + +"Let me explain. The practices were forgotten. The rites were forgotten +and all that constituted the history of a vanished cult. But the +God-Stone was not forgotten. Men no longer knew where it was. In time +they even no longer knew what it was. But they never ceased to speak of +and believe in the existence of something which they called the +God-Stone. From mouth to mouth, from generation to generation, they +handed down on to one another fabulous and terrible stories, which +became farther and farther removed from reality, which formed a more and +more vague and, for that matter, a more and more frightful legend, but +which kept alive in their imaginations the recollection of the God-Stone +and, above all, its name. + +"This persistence of an idea in men's memories, this survival of a fact +in the annals of a country had the logical result that, from time to +time, some enquiring person would try to reconstruct the prodigious +truth. Two of these enquiring persons, Brother Thomas, a member of the +Benedictine Order, who lived in the middle of the fifteenth century, and +the man Maguennoc, in our own time, played an important part. Brother +Thomas was a poet and an illuminator about whom we possess not many +details, a very bad poet, to judge by his verses, but as an illuminator +ingenuous and not devoid of talent. He left a sort of missal in which he +related his life at Sarek Abbey and drew the thirty dolmens of the +island, the whole accompanied by instances, religious quotations and +predictions after the manner of Nostradamus. It was this missal, +discovered by Maguennoc aforesaid, that contained the famous page with +the crucified women and the prophecy relating to Sarek; it was this +missal that I myself found and consulted last night in Maguennoc's +bedroom. + +"He was an odd person, this Maguennoc, a belated descendant of the +sorcerers of old; and I strongly suspect him of playing the ghost on +more than one occasion. You may be sure that the white-robed, +white-bearded Druid whom people declared that they had seen on the sixth +day of the moon, gathering the mistletoe, was none other than Maguennoc. +He too knew all about the good old recipes, the healing herbs, the way +to work up the soil so as to make it yield enormous flowers. One thing +is certain, that he explored the mortuary crypts and the hall of the +sacrifices, that it was he who purloined the magic stone contained in +the knob of the sceptre and that he used to enter these crypts by the +opening through which we have just come, in the middle of the Postern +path, of which he was obliged each time to replace the screen of stones +and pebbles. It was he also who gave M. d'Hergemont the page from the +missal. Whether he confided the result of his last explorations to him +and how much exactly M. d'Hergemont knew does not matter now. Another +figure looms into sight, one who is henceforth the embodiment of the +whole affair and claims all our attention, an emissary dispatched by +fate to solve the riddle of the centuries, to carry out the orders of +the mysterious powers and to pocket the God-Stone. I am speaking of +Vorski." + +Don Luis swallowed his third glass of water and, beckoning to the +accomplice, said: + +"Otto, you had better give him a drink, if he's thirsty. Are you +thirsty, Vorski?" + +Vorski on his tree seemed exhausted, incapable of further effort or +resistance. Stephane and Patrice once more intervened on his behalf, +fearing an immediate consummation. + +"Not at all, not at all!" cried Don Luis. "He's all right and he'll hold +out until I've finished my speech, if it were only because he wants to +know. You're tremendously interested, aren't you, Vorski?" + +"Robber! Murderer!" spluttered the wretched man. + +"Splendid! So you still refuse to tell us where Francois is hidden?" + +"Murderer! Highwayman!" + +"Then stay where you are, old chap. As you please. There's nothing +better for the health than a little suffering. Besides, you have caused +so much suffering to others, you dirty scum!" + +Don Luis uttered these words harshly and in accents of anger which one +would hardly have expected from a man who had already beheld so many +crimes and battled with so many criminals. But then this last one was +out of all proportion. + +Don Luis continued: + +"About thirty-five years ago, a very beautiful woman, who came from +Bohemia but who was of Hungarian descent, visited the watering-places +that swarm around the Bavarian lakes and soon achieved a great +reputation as a fortune-teller palmist, seer and medium. She attracted +the attention of King Louis II, Wagner's friend, the man who built +Bayreuth, the crowned mad-man famed for his extravagant fancies. The +intimacy between the king and the clairvoyant lasted for some years. It +was a violent, restless intimacy, interrupted by the frequent whims of +the king; and it ended tragically on the mysterious evening when Louis +of Bavaria threw himself out of his boat into the Starnbergersee. Was it +really, as the official version stated, suicide following on a fit of +madness? Or was it a case of murder, as some have held? Why suicide? +Why murder? These are questions that have never been answered. But one +fact remains: the Bohemian woman was in the boat with Louis II and next +day was escorted to the frontier and expelled from the country after her +money and jewellery had been taken from her. + +"She brought back with her from this adventure a young monster, four +years old, Alex Vorski by name, which young monster lived with his +mother near the village of Joachimsthal in Bohemia. Here, in course of +time, she instructed him in all the practices of hypnotic suggestion, +extralucidity and trickery. Endowed with a character of unexampled +violence but a very weak intellect, a prey to hallucinations and +nightmares, believing in spells, in predictions, in dreams, in occult +powers, he took legends for history and falsehoods for reality. One of +the numerous legends of the mountains in particular had impressed his +imagination: it was the one that describes the fabulous power of a stone +which, in the dim recesses of the past, was carried away by evil genii +and which was one day to be brought back by the son of a king. The +peasants still show the cavity left by the stone in the side of a hill. + +"'The king's son is yourself,' his mother used to say. 'And, if you find +the missing stone, you will escape the dagger that threatens you and +will yourself become a king.' + +"This ridiculous prophecy and another, no less fantastic, in which the +Bohemian woman announced that her son's wife would perish on the cross +and that he himself would die by the hand of a friend, were among those +which exercised the most direct influence on Vorski when the fateful +hour struck. And I will go straight on to this fateful hour, without +saying any more of what our conversations of yesterday and last night +revealed to the three of us or of what we have been able to reconstruct. +There is no reason to repeat in full the story which you, Stephane, told +Veronique d'Hergemont in your cell. There is no need to inform you, +Patrice, you, Vorski, or you, All's Well, of events with which you are +familiar, such as your marriage, Vorski, or rather your two marriages, +first with Elfride and next with Veronique d'Hergemont, the kidnapping +of Francois by his grandfather, the disappearance of Veronique, the +searches which you set on foot to find her, your conduct at the outbreak +of the war and your life in the internment-camps. These are mere trifles +besides the events which are on the point of taking place. We have +cleared up the history of the God-Stone. It is the modern adventure, +which you, Vorski, have woven around the God-Stone, that we are now +about to unravel. + +"In the beginning it appears like this: Vorski is imprisoned in an +internment-camp near Pontivy in Brittany. He no longer calls himself +Vorski, but Lauterbach. Fifteen months before, after a first escape and +at the moment when the court martial was about to sentence him to death +as a spy, he escaped again, spent some time in the Forest of +Fontainebleau, there found one of his former servants, a man called +Lauterbach, a German like himself and like himself an escaped prisoner, +killed him, dressed the body in his clothes and made the face up in such +a way as to give him the appearance of his murderer, Vorski. The +military police were taken in and had the sham Vorski buried at +Fontainebleau. As for the real Vorski, he had the bad luck to be +arrested once more, under his new name of Lauterbach, and to be interned +in the camp at Pontivy. + +"So much for Vorski. On the other hand, Elfride, his first wife, the +formidable accomplice in all his crimes and herself a German--I have +some particulars about her and their past life in common which are of no +importance and need not be mentioned here--Elfride, I was saying, his +accomplice, was hidden with their son Raynold in the cells of Sarek. He +had left her there to spy on M. d'Hergemont and through him to ascertain +Veronique d'Hergemont's whereabouts. The reasons which prompted the +wretched woman's actions I do not know. It may have been blind devotion, +fear of Vorski, an instinctive love of evil-doing, hatred of the rival +who supplanted her. It doesn't matter. She has suffered the most +terrible punishment. Let us speak only of the part she played, without +seeking to understand how she had the courage to live for three years +underground, never going out except at night, stealing food for herself +and her son and patiently awaiting the day when she could serve and save +her lord and master. + +"I am also ignorant of the series of events that enabled her to take +action, nor do I know how Vorski and Elfride managed to communicate. But +what I know most positively is that Vorski's escape was long and +carefully prepared by his first wife. Every detail arranged. Every +precaution was taken. On the fourteenth of September of last year, +Vorski escaped, taking with him the two accomplices with whom he had +made friends during his captivity and whom he had, so to speak, +enrolled: the Otto and Conrad whom you know of. + +"It was an easy journey. At every cross-roads, an arrow, accompanied by +a number, one of a series, and surmounted by the initials 'V. d'H.,' +which initials were evidently selected by Vorski, pointed out the road +which he was to follow. At intervals, in a deserted cabin, some +provisions were hidden under a stone or in a truss of hay. The way led +through Guemene, Le Faouet and Rosporden and ended on the beach at +Beg-Meil. + +"Here Elfride and Raynold came by night to fetch the three fugitives in +Honorine's motor-boat and to land them near the Druid cells under the +Black Heath. They clambered up. Their lodgings were ready for them and, +as you have seen, were fairly comfortable. The winter passed; and +Vorski's plan, which as yet was very vague, became more precisely +outlined from day to day. + +"Strange to say, at the time of his first visit to Sarek, before the +war, he had not heard of the secret of the island. It was Elfride who +told him the legend of the God-Stone in the letters which she wrote to +him at Pontivy. You can imagine the effect produced by this revelation +on a man like Vorski. The God-Stone was bound to be the miraculous stone +wrested from the soil of his native land, the stone which was to be +discovered by the son of a king and which, from that time onward, would +give him power and royalty. Everything that he learnt later confirmed +his conviction. But the great fact that dominates his subterranean life +at Sarek was the discovery of Brother Thomas' prophecy in the course of +the last month. Fragments of this prophecy were lingering on every hand, +which he was able to pick up by listening to the conversations of the +fisherfolk in the evenings, lurking under the windows of the cottages or +on the roofs of the barns. Within mortal memory, the people of Sarek +have always feared some terrible events, connected with the discovery +and the disappearance of the invisible stone. There was likewise always +a question of wrecks and of women crucified. Besides, Vorski was +acquainted with the inscription on the Fairies' Dolmen, about the thirty +victims destined for the thirty coffins, the martyrdom of the four +women, the God-Stone which gives life or death. What a number of +disturbing coincidences for a mind as weak as his! + +"But the prophecy itself, found by Maguennoc in the illuminated missal, +constitutes the essential factor of the whole story. Remember that +Maguennoc had torn out the famous page and that M. d'Hergemont, who was +fond of drawing, had copied it several times and had unconsciously given +to the principal woman the features of his daughter Veronique. Vorski +became aware of the existence of the original and of one of the copies +when he saw Maguennoc one night looking at them by the light of his +lamp. Immediately, in the darkness, he contrived somehow to pencil in +his note-book the fifteen lines of this precious document. He now knew +and understood everything. He was dazzled by a blinding light. All the +scattered elements were gathered into a whole, forming a compact and +solid truth. There was no doubt possible: the prophecy concerned _him_! +And it was _his_ mission to realize it! + +"This, I repeat, is the essence of the whole matter. From that moment, +Vorski's path was lighted by a beacon. He held in his hand Ariadne's +clue of thread. The prophecy represented to him an unimpeachable text. +It was one of the Tables of the Law. It was the Bible. And yet think of +the stupidity, of the unspeakable silliness of those fifteen lines +scribbled at a venture, with no other motive than rhyme! Not a phrase +showing a sign of inspiration! Not a spark, not a gleam! Not a trace of +the sacred madness that uplifted the Delphian pythoness or provoked the +delirious visions of a Jeremiah or an Ezekiel! Nothing! Syllables, +rhymes! Nothing! Less than nothing! But quite enough to enlighten the +gentle Vorski and to make him burn with all the enthusiasm of a +neophyte! + +"Stephane, Patrice, listen to the prophecy of Brother Thomas. The +Superhun wrote it down on ten different pages of his note-book, so that +he might wear it ten times next to his skin and engrave it in the very +substance of his being. Here's one of the pages. Stephane, Patrice, +listen! Listen, O faithful Otto! And you yourself, Vorski, for the last +time listen to the doggerel of Brother Thomas! Listen as I read! + + "In Sarek's isle, in year fourteen and three, + There will be shipwrecks, terrors, grief and crimes, + Death-chambers, arrows, poison there will be + And woe, four women crucified on tree! + For thirty coffins victims thirty times. + + "Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain. + The father then, coming forth of Almain, + A cruel prince, obeying destiny, + By thousand deaths and lingering agony, + His wedded wife one night of June hath slain. + + "Fire and loud noise will issue from the earth + In secrecy where the great treasure lies + And man again will on the stone set eyes + Once stolen from wild men in byegone days + O'er the sea; the God-Stone which gives life or death." + +Don Luis Perenna had begun to read in emphatic tones, bringing out the +imbecility of the words and the triteness of the rhythm. He ended in a +hollow voice, without resonance, which died away in an anguished +silence. The whole adventure appeared in all its horror. + +He continued: + +"You understand how the facts are linked together, don't you Stephane, +you who were one of the victims and who knew or know the others? So do +you, Patrice, don't you? In the fifteenth century, a poor monk, with a +disordered imagination and a brain haunted by infernal visions, +expresses his dreams in a prophecy which we will describe as bogus, +which rests on no serious data, which consists of details depending on +the exigencies of the rhyme or rhythm and which certainly, both in the +poet's mind and from the standpoint of originality, possesses no more +value than if the poet had drawn the words at random out of a bag. The +story of the God-Stone, the legends and traditions, none of all this +provides him with the least element of prophecy. The worthy man evolved +the prophecy from his own consciousness, not intending any harm and +simply to add a text of some sort to the margin of the devilish drawing +which he had so painstakingly illuminated. And he is so pleased with it +that he takes the trouble to take a pointed implement and engrave a few +lines of it on one of the stones of the Fairies' Dolmen. + +"Well, four or five centuries later, the prophetic page falls into the +hands of a Superhun, a criminal lunatic, a madman eaten up with vanity. +What does the Superhun see in it? A diverting puerile fantasy? A +meaningless caprice? Not a bit of it! He regards it as a document of the +highest interest, one of those documents which the most Superhunnish of +his fellowcountrymen love to pore over, with this difference, that the +document to his mind possesses a miraculous origin. He looks upon it as +the Old and New Testament, the Scriptures which explain and expound the +Sarek law, the very gospel of the God-Stone. And this gospel designates +him, Vorski, him, the Superhun, as the Messiah appointed to execute the +decrees of Providence. + +"To Vorski, there is no possibility of mistake. No doubt he enjoys the +business, because it is a matter of stealing wealth and power. But this +question occupies a secondary position. He is above all obeying the +mystic impulse of a race which believes itself to be marked out by +destiny and which flatters itself that it is always fulfilling missions, +a mission of regeneration as well as a mission of pillage, arson and +murder. And Vorski reads his mission set out in full in Brother Thomas' +prophecy. Brother Thomas says explicitly what has to be done and names +him, Vorski, in the plainest terms, as the man of destiny. Is he not a +king's son, in other words a 'prince of Almain?' Does he not come from +the country where the stone was stolen from the 'wild men o'er the sea?' +Has he not also a wife who is doomed, in the seer's prophecies, to the +torture of the cross? Has he not two sons, one gentle and gracious as +Abel, and the other wicked and uncontrolled as Cain? + +"These proofs are enough for him. He now has his mobilization-papers, +his marching-orders in his pocket. The gods have indicated the objective +upon which he is to march; and he marches. True, there are a few living +people in his path. So much the better; it is all part of the programme. +For it is after all these living people have been killed and, moreover, +killed in the manner announced by Brother Thomas that the task will be +done, the God-Stone released and Vorski, the instrument of destiny, +crowned king. Therefore, let's turn up our sleeves, take our trusty +butcher's knife in hand, and get to work! Vorski will translate Brother +Thomas' nightmare into real life!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"CRUEL PRINCE, OBEYING DESTINY" + + +Don Luis once more addressed himself to Vorski: + +"We're agreed, aren't we, Kamerad? All that I'm saying exactly expresses +the truth?" + +Vorski had closed his eyes, his head was drooping, and the veins on his +temple were immoderately swollen. To prevent any interference by +Stephane, Don Luis exclaimed: + +"You will speak, my fine fellow! Ah, the pain is beginning to grow +serious, is it? The brain is giving way? . . . Remember, just one +whistle, a bar or two of _Tipperary_ and I interrupt my speech . . . . +You won't? You're not ripe yet? So much the worse for you! . . . And +you, Stephane, have no fear for Francois. I answer for everything. But +no pity for this monster, please! No, no and again no! Don't forget that +he prepared and contrived everything of his own free will! Don't forget +. . . But I'm getting angry. What's the use?" + +Don Luis unfolded the page of the note-book on which Vorski had written +down the prophecy and, holding it under his eyes, continued: + +"What remains to be said is not so important, once the general +explanation is accepted. Nevertheless, we must go into detail to some +slight extent, show the mechanism of the affair imagined and built up +by Vorski and lastly come to the part played by our attractive ancient +Druid . . . . So we are now in the month of June. This is the season +fixed for the execution of the thirty victims. It was evidently +appointed by Brother Thomas because the rhythm of his verse called for a +month in one syllable, just as the year fourteen and three was selected +because three rhymes with be and tree and just as Brother Thomas decided +upon the number of thirty victims because thirty is the number of the +Sarek reefs and coffins. But Vorski takes it as a definite command. +Thirty victims are needed in June '17. They will be provided. They will +be provided on condition that the twenty-nine inhabitants of Sarek--we +shall see presently that Vorski has his thirtieth victim handy--consent +to stay on the island and await their destruction. Well, Vorski suddenly +hears of the departure of Honorine and Maguennoc. Honorine will come +back in time. But how about Maguennoc? Vorski does not hesitate: he +sends Elfride and Conrad on his tracks, with instructions to kill him +and to wait. He hesitates the less because he believes, from certain +words which he has overheard, that Maguennoc has taken with him the +precious stone, the miraculous gem which must not be touched but which +must be left in its leaden sheath (this is the actual phrase used by +Maguennoc)! + +"Elfride and Conrad therefore set out. One morning, at an inn, Elfride +mixes poison with the coffee which Maguennoc is drinking (the prophecy +has stated that there will be poison). Maguennoc continues his journey. +But in an hour or two he is seized with intolerable pain and dies, +almost immediately, on the bank by the road-side. Elfride and Conrad +come up and go through his pockets. They find nothing, no gem, no +precious stone. Vorski's hopes have not been realized. All the same, the +corpse is there. What are they to do with it? For the time being, they +fling it into a half-demolished hut, which Vorski and his accomplices +had visited some months before. Here Veronique d'Hergemont discovers the +body . . . and an hour later fails to find it there. Elfride and Conrad, +keeping watch close at hand, have taken it away and hidden it, still for +the time being, in the cellars of a little empty country-house. + +"There's one victim accounted for. We may observe, in passing, that +Maguennoc's predictions relating to the order in which the thirty +victims are to be executed--beginning with himself--have no basis. The +prophecy doesn't mention such a thing. In any case, Vorski goes to work +at random. At Sarek he carries off Francois and Stephane Maroux and +then, both as a measure of precaution and in order to cross the island +without attracting attention and to enter the Priory more easily, he +dresses himself in Stephane's clothes, while Raynold puts on Francois'. +The job before them is an easy one. The only people in the house are an +old man, M. d'Hergemont, and a woman, Marie Le Goff. As soon as these +are got rid of, the rooms and Maguennoc's in particular will be +searched. Vorski, as yet unaware of the result of Elfride's expedition, +would not be surprised if Maguennoc had left the miraculous jewel at the +Priory. + +"The first to fall is the cook, Marie Le Goff, whom Vorski takes by the +throat and stabs with a knife. But it so happens that the ruffian's +face gets covered with blood; and, seized with one of those fits of +cowardice to which he is subject, he runs away, after loosing Raynold +upon M. d'Hergemont. + +"The fight between the boy and the old man is a long one. It is +continued through the house and, by a tragic chance, ends before +Veronique d'Hergemont's eyes. M. d'Hergemont is killed. Honorine arrives +at the same moment. She drops, making the fourth victim. + +"Matters now begin to go quickly. Panic sets in during the night. The +people of Sarek, frightened out of their wits, seeing that Maguennoc's +predictions are being fulfilled and that the hour of the disaster which +has so long threatened their island is about to strike, make up their +minds to go. This is what Vorski and his son are waiting for. Taking up +their position in the motor-boat which they have stolen, they rush after +the runaways and the abominable hunt begins, the great disaster foretold +by Brother Thomas: + +"'There will be shipwrecks, terrors, grief and crimes.' + +"Honorine, who witnesses the scene and whose brain is already greatly +upset, goes mad and throws herself from the cliff. + +"Thereupon we have a lull of a few days, during which Veronique +d'Hergemont explores the Priory and the island without being disturbed. +As a matter of fact, after their successful hunt, leaving only Otto, who +spends his time drinking in the cells, the father and son have gone off +in the boat to fetch Elfride and Conrad and to bring back Maguennoc's +body and fling it in the water within sight of Sarek, since Maguennoc +of necessity has one of the thirty coffins earmarked for his reception. + +"At that moment, that is when he returns to Sarek, Vorski's bag numbers +twenty-four victims. Stephane and Francois are prisoners, guarded by +Otto. The rest consists of four women reserved for crucifixion, +including the three sisters Archignat, all locked up in their +wash-house. It is their turn next. Veronique d'Hergemont tries to +release them, but it is too late. Waylaid by the band, shot at by +Raynold, who is an expert archer, the sisters Archignat are wounded by +arrows (for arrows, see the prophecy) and fall into the enemy's hands. +That same evening they are strung up on the three oaks, after Vorski has +first relieved them of the fifty thousand-franc notes which they carried +concealed on their persons. Total: twenty-nine victims. Who will be the +thirtieth? Who will be the fourth woman?" + +Don Luis paused and continued: + +"As to this, the prophecy speaks very plainly in two places, each of +which complements the other: + +"'Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain.' + +"And, a few lines lower down: + +"'His wedded wife one night in June hath slain.' + +"Vorski, from the moment when he became aware of this document, had +interpreted the two lines in his own fashion. Being, in fact, unable at +that time to dispose of Veronique, for whom he has vainly been hunting +all over France, he temporizes with the decrees of destiny. The fourth +woman to be tortured shall be a wife, but she shall be his first wife, +Elfride. And this will not be absolutely contrary to the prophecy, +which, if need be, can apply to the mother of Cain just as well as to +the mother of Abel. And observe that the other prophecy, that which was +communicated to him by word of mouth in the old days, also failed to +specify the woman who was to die: + +"'Vorski's wife shall perish on the cross.' + +"Which wife? Elfride. + +"So his dear, devoted accomplice is to perish. It's terrible for Vorski; +it breaks his heart. But the god Moloch must be obeyed; and, considering +that Vorski, to accomplish his task, decided to sacrifice his son +Raynold, it would be inexcusable if he refused to sacrifice his wife +Elfride. So all will be well. + +"But, suddenly, a dramatic incident occurs. While pursuing the sisters +Archignat, he sees and recognizes Veronique d'Hergemont! + +"A man like Vorski could not fail to behold in this yet another favour +vouchsafed by the powers above. The woman whom he has never forgotten is +sent to him at the very moment when she is to take her place in the +great adventure. She is given to him as a miraculous victim which he can +destroy . . . or conquer. What a prospect! And how the heavens brighten +with unexpected light! Vorski loses his head. He becomes more and more +convinced that he is the Messiah, the chosen one, the apostle, +missionary, the man who is 'obeying destiny.' He is linked up with the +line of the high-priests, the guardians of the God-Stone. He is a Druid, +an arch-druid; and, as such, on the night when Veronique d'Hergemont +burns the bridge, on the sixth night after the moon, he goes and cuts +the sacred mistletoe with a golden sickle! + +"And the siege of the Priory begins. I will not linger over this. +Veronique d'Hergemont has told you the whole story, Stephane, and we +know her sufferings, the part played by the delightful All's Well, the +discovery of the underground passage and the cells, the fight for +Francois, the fight for you, Stephane, whom Vorski imprisoned in one of +the torture-cells called 'death-chambers' in the prophecy. Here you are +surprised with Madame d'Hergemont. The young monster, Raynold, hurls you +into the sea. Francois and his mother escape. Unfortunately, Vorski and +his band succeed in reaching the Priory. Francois is captured. His +mother joins him. And then . . . and then the most tragic scenes ensue, +scenes upon which I will not enlarge: the interview between Vorski and +Veronique d'Hergemont, the duel between the two brothers, between Cain +and Abel, before Veronique d'Hergemont's very eyes. For the prophecy +insists upon it: + +"'Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain.' + +"And the prophecy likewise demands that she shall suffer beyond +expression and that Vorski shall be subtle in doing evil. 'A cruel +prince,' he puts marks on the two combatants; and, when Abel is on the +point of being defeated, he himself wounds Cain so that Cain may be +killed. + +"The monster is mad. He's mad and drunk. The climax is close at hand. He +drinks and drinks; for Veronique d'Hergemont's martyrdom is to take +place that evening: + + "'By thousand deaths and lingering agony, + His wedded wife one night of June hath slain.' + +"The thousand deaths Veronique has already undergone; and the agony will +be lingering. The hour comes. Supper, funeral procession, preparations, +the setting up of the ladder, the binding of the victim and then . . . +and then the ancient Druid!" + +Don Luis gave a hearty laugh as he uttered the last words: + +"Here, upon my word, things begin to get amusing! From this moment +onward, tragedy goes hand in hand with comedy, the gruesome with the +burlesque. Oh, that ancient Druid, what a caution! To you, Stephane, and +you, Patrice, who were behind the scenes, the story is devoid of +interest. But to you, Vorski, what exciting revelations! . . . I say, +Otto, just put the ladder against the trunk of the tree, so that your +employer can rest his feet on the top rung. Is that easier for you, +Vorski? Mark you, my little attention does not come from any ridiculous +feeling of pity. Oh, dear, no! But I'm afraid that you might go phut; +and besides I want you to be in a comfortable position to listen to the +ancient Druid's confession." + +He had another burst of laughter. There was no doubt about it: the +ancient Druid was a great source of entertainment to Don Luis. + +"The ancient Druid's arrival," he said, "introduces order and reason +into the adventure. What was loose and vague becomes more compact. +Incoherent crime turns into logical punishment. We have no longer blind +obedience to Brother Thomas' doggerel, but the submission to common +sense, the rigorous method of a man who knows what he wants and who has +no time to lose. Really, the ancient Druid deserves all our admiration. + +"The ancient Druid, whom we may call either Don Luis Perenna or Arsene +Lupin--you suspect that, don't you?--knew very little of the story when +the periscope of his submarine, the _Crystal Stopper_, emerged in sight +of the coast of Sarek at mid-day yesterday." + +"Very little?" Stephane Maroux cried, in spite of himself. + +"One might say, nothing," Don Luis declared. + +"What! All those facts about Vorski's past, all those precise details +about what he did at Sarek, about his plans and the part played by +Elfride and the poisoning of Maguennoc?" + +"I learnt all that here, yesterday," said Don Luis. + +"But from whom? We never left one another?" + +"Believe me when I say that the ancient Druid, when he landed yesterday +on the coast of Sarek, knew nothing at all. But the ancient Druid lays +claim to be at least as great a favourite of the gods as you are, +Vorski. And in fact he at once had the luck to see, on a lonely little +beach, our friend Stephane, who himself had had the luck to fall into a +pretty deep pool of water and thus to escape the fate which you and your +son had prepared for him. Rescue-work, conversation. In half an hour, +the ancient Druid had the facts. Forthwith, investigations. He ended by +reaching the cells, where he found in yours, Vorski, a white robe which +he needed for his own use and a scrap of paper with a copy of the +prophecy written by yourself. Excellent. The ancient Druid knows the +enemy's plans. + +"He begins by following the tunnel down which Francois and his mother +fled, but is unable to pass because of the subsidence which has been +produced. He retraces his steps and comes out on the Black Heath. +Exploration of the island. Meeting with Otto and Conrad. The enemy burns +the foot-bridge. It is six o'clock in the evening. Query: how to get to +the Priory? Stephane suggests, by the Postern path. The ancient Druid +returns to the _Crystal Stopper_. They circumnavigate the island under +the direction of Stephane, who knows all the channels--and besides, my +dear Vorski, the _Crystal Stopper_ is a very docile submarine. She can +slip in anywhere; the ancient Druid had her built to his own +designs--and at last they land at the spot where Francois' boat is +hanging. Here, meeting with All's Well, who is sleeping under the boat, +the ancient Druid introduces himself. Immediate display of sympathy. +They make a start. But, half-way up the ascent, All's Well branches off. +At this place the wall is the cliff is, so to speak, patched with +movable blocks of stone. In the middle of these stones is an opening, an +opening made by Maguennoc, as the ancient Druid discovered later, in +order to enter the hall of sacrifices and the mortuary crypts. Thus, the +ancient Druid finds himself in the thick of the plot, master above +ground and below. Only, it is eight o'clock in the evening. + +"As regards Francois, there is no immediate anxiety. The prophecy says, +'Abel kills Cain.' But Veronique d'Hergemont was to perish 'one night of +June.' Had she undergone the horrible martyrdom? Was it too late to +rescue her?" + +Don Luis turned to Stephane: + +"You remember, Stephane, the agony through which you and the ancient +Druid passed and your relief at discovering the tree prepared with the +inscription, 'V. d'H.' The tree has no victim on it yet. Veronique will +be saved; and in fact we hear a sound of voices coming from the Priory. +It is the grim procession. It slowly climbs the grassy slope amid the +thickening darkness. The lantern is waved. A halt is called. Vorski +spouts and holds forth. The last scene is at hand. Soon we shall rush to +the assault and Veronique will be delivered. + +"But here an incident occurs which will amuse you, Vorski. Yes, we make +a strange discovery, my friends and I: we find a woman prowling round +the dolmen, who hides as we come up. We seize her. Stephane recognizes +her by the light of an electric torch. Do you know who it was, Vorski? I +give you a hundred guesses. Elfride! Yes, Elfride, your accomplice, the +one whom you meant to crucify at first! Curious, wasn't it? In an +extreme state of excitement, half crazy, she tells us that she consented +to the duel between the two boys on your promise that her son would be +the victor and kill Veronique's son. But you had locked her up, in the +morning; and, in the evening, when she succeeded in making her escape, +it was Raynold's dead body that she found. She has now come to be +present at the torture of the rival whom she detests and then to avenge +herself on you and kill you, my poor old chap. + +"A capital idea! The ancient Druid approves; and, while you go up to the +dolmen and Stephane keeps an eye on you, he continues to question +Elfride. But, lo and behold, Vorski, at the sound of your voice, the +jade begins to kick! She veers round unexpectedly. Her master's voice +stimulates her to an unparalleled display of ardour. She wants to see +you, to warn you of your danger, to save you; and suddenly she makes a +rush at the ancient Druid with a dagger in her hand. The ancient Druid +is obliged, in self-defence, to knock her down, half-stunning her; and +the sight of this moribund woman at once suggests to him a means of +turning the incident to good account. The wretched creature is tied up +in the twinkling of an eye. The ancient Druid intends you yourself to +punish her, Vorski, and make her undergo the fate which you had reserved +for her before. So he slips his robe on Stephane, gives him his +instructions, shoots an arrow in your direction the moment you come up +and, while you go running in pursuit of a white robe, does a +conjuring-trick and substitutes Elfride for Veronique, the first wife +for the second. How? That's my business. All you need know is that the +trick was played and succeeded to perfection!" Don Luis stopped to draw +breath. One would really have thought, from his familiar and +confidential tone, that he was telling Vorski an amusing story, a good +joke, which Vorski ought to be the first to laugh at. + +"That's not all," he continued. "Patrice Belval and some of my +Moors--you may as well know that we have eighteen of them on board--have +been working in the underground rooms. There's no getting away from the +prophecy. The moment the wife has expired + + "'Fire and loud noise will issue from the earth. + In secrecy where the great treasure lies.' + +"Of course, Brother Thomas never knew where the great treasure lay, nor +did any one else. But the ancient Druid has guessed; and he wants Vorski +to receive his signal and to drop ready-roasted into his mouth. For this +he needs an outlet issuing near the Fairies' Dolmen. Captain Belval +looks for one and finds it. They clear an old stairway. They clear the +inside of the dead tree. They take from the submarine some +dynamite-cartridges and signal-rockets and place them in position. And, +when you, Vorski, from your perch, start proclaiming like a herald, +'She's dead! The fourth woman has died upon the cross!' bang, bang, +bang! Thunder, flame, uproar, the whole bag of tricks. That does it: you +are more and more the darling of the gods, the pet of destiny; and you +burn with the noble longing to fling yourself down the chimney and +gobble up the God-Stone. Next day, therefore, after sleeping off your +brandy and your rum, you start to work again, smiling. You killed your +thirty victims, according to the rites prescribed by Brother Thomas. You +have surmounted every obstacle. The prophecy is fulfilled. + + "'And man again will on the stone set eyes + Once stolen from wild men in bye-gone days + O'er sea: the God-stone which gives life or death.' + +"The ancient Druid has no choice but to give in and to hand you the key +of Paradise. But first, of course, a little interlude, a few capers and +wizard's tricks, just for a bit of fun. And then hey for the God-Stone +guarded by the Sleeping Beauty!" + +Don Luis nimbly cut a few of those capers of which he seemed so fond. +Then he said to Vorski: + +"Well, old chap, I have a vague impression that you've had enough of my +speech and that you would prefer to reveal Francois' hiding-place to me +at once, rather then stay here any longer. I'm awfully sorry, but you +really must learn how the matter stands with the Sleeping Beauty and the +unexpected presence of Veronique d'Hergemont. However, two minutes will +be sufficient. Pardon me." + +Dropping the character of the ancient Druid and speaking in his own +name, Don Luis continued: + +"What you want to know is why I took Veronique d'Hergemont to that place +after snatching her from your clutches. The answer is very simple. Where +would you have me take her? To the submarine? An absurd suggestion! The +sea was rough that night and Veronique needed rest. To the Priory? +Never! That would have been too far from the scene of operations and I +should have had no peace of mind. In reality there was only one place +sheltered from the storm and sheltered from attack; and that was the +hall of sacrifices. That was why I took her there and why she was +sleeping there, quietly, under the influence of a strong narcotic, when +you saw her. I confess that the pleasure of treating you to this +spectacle counted for something in my decision. And how splendidly I was +rewarded! Oh, if you could have seen the face you pulled! Such a ghastly +sight! Veronique raised from the dead! Veronique brought back to life! +So horrible was the vision that you ran away helter-skelter. + +"But to cut a long story short: you find the exit blocked. Thereupon you +change your mind. Conrad returns to the offensive. He attacks me by +stealth while I am preparing to move Veronique d'Hergemont to the +submarine. Conrad receives a mortal blow from one of the Moors. Second +comic interlude. Conrad, dressed up in the ancient Druid's robe, is laid +on the floor in one of the crypts; and of course your first thought is +to leap on him and wreak your vengeance on him. And, when you see +Elfride's body, which has taken the place of Veronique d'Hergemont in +the sacred table, whoosh . . . you jump on that too and reduce the woman +whom you have already crucified to a bleeding pulp! Blunder upon +blunder! And the end of the whole story likewise strikes a comic note. +You are strung up on the pillory while I deliver straight at you a +speech which does for you and which proves that, if you have won the +God-Stone by virtue of your thirty coffins, I am taking possession of it +by my own intrinsic virtue. There's the whole adventure for you, my dear +Vorski. Except for a few secondary incidents, or some others, of greater +importance, which there is no need for you to know, you know as much as +I do. You've been quite comfortable and have had lots of time to think. +So I am confidently expecting your answer about Francois. Come, out with +your little song: + + "'It's a long, long way to Tipperary. + It's a long way to go . . . .' + +"Well? Are you feeling in a chatty mood?" + +Don Luis had climbed a few rungs. Stephane and Patrice had come near and +were anxiously listening. It was evident that Vorski meant to speak. + +He had opened his eyes and was staring at Don Luis with a look of +mingled hatred and fear. This extraordinary man must have appeared to +him as one of those persons against whom it is absolutely useless to +fight and to whom it is equally useless to appeal for compassion. Don +Luis represented the conqueror; and, in the presence of one stronger +than yourself, there is nothing for it but to yield in all humility. +Besides, Vorski was incapable of further resistance. The torture was +becoming intolerable. + +He spoke a few words in an unintelligible voice. + +"A little louder, please," said Don Luis. "I can't hear. Where's +Francois?" + +He climbed the ladder. Vorski stammered: + +"Shall I be free?" + +"On my word of honour. We shall all leave this place, except Otto, who +will release you." + +"At once?" + +"At once." + +"Then . . ." + +"Then what?" + +"Well, Francois is alive." + +"You mutton-head. I know that. But where is he?" + +"Tied into the boat." + +"The one hanging at the foot of the cliff?" + +"Yes." + +Don Luis struck his forehead with his hand: + +"Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! . . . Don't mind: I'm speaking of myself. Yes, I +ought to have guessed that! Why, All's Well was sleeping under the boat, +peacefully, like a good dog sleeping beside his master! Why, when we +sent All's Well on Francois' trail, he led Stephane straight to the +boat. It's true enough, there are times when the cleverest of us behave +like simpletons! But you, Vorski, did you know that there was a way down +there and a boat?" + +"I knew it since yesterday." + +"And, you artful dog, you intended to skedaddle in her?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, Vorski, you shall skedaddle in her, with Otto. I'll leave her for +you. Stephane!" + +But Stephane Maroux was already running towards the cliff, escorted by +All's Well. + +"Release him, Stephane," cried Don Luis. + +And he added, addressing the Moors: + +"Help him, you others. And get the submarine under way. We shall sail in +ten minutes." + +He turned to Vorski: + +"Good-bye, my dear chap . . . . Oh, just one more word! Every +well-regulated adventure contains a love-story. Ours appears to be +without one, for I should never dare to allude to the feelings that +urged you towards the sainted woman who bore your name. And yet I must +tell you of a very pure and noble affection. Did you notice the +eagerness with which Stephane flew to Francois' assistance? Obviously he +loves his young pupil, but he loves the mother still more. And, since +everything that pleases Veronique d'Hergemont is bound to please you, I +wish to admit that he is not indifferent to her, that his wonderful love +has touched her heart, that it was with real joy that she saw him +restored to her this morning and that this will all end in a wedding +. . . as soon as she's a widow, of course. You follow me, don't you? The +only obstacle to their happiness is yourself. Therefore, as you are a +perfect little gentleman, you will not like to . . . But I need not go +on. I rely on your good manners to die as soon as you can. Good-bye, old +fellow, I won't offer you my hand, but my heart's with you. Otto, in ten +minutes, unless you hear to the contrary, release your employer. You'll +find the boat at the bottom of the cliff. Good luck, my friends!" + +It was finished. The battle between Don Luis and Vorski was ended: and +the issue had not been in doubt for a single instant. From the first +minute, one of the two adversaries had so consistently dominated the +other, that the latter, in spite of all his daring and his training as a +criminal, had been nothing more than a grotesque, absurd, disjointed +puppet in his opponent's hands. After succeeding in the entire execution +of his plan, after attaining and surpassing his object, he, the master +of events, in the moment of victory, found himself suddenly strung up on +the tree of torture; and there he remained, gasping and captive like an +insect pinned to a strip of cork. + +Without troubling any further about his victims, Don Luis went off with +Patrice Belval, who could not help saying to him: + +"All the same, you're letting those vile scoundrels down very lightly!" + +"Pooh, it won't be long before they get themselves nabbed elsewhere," +said Don Luis, chuckling. "What do you expect them to do?" + +"Well, first of all, to take the God-Stone." + +"Out of the question! It would need twenty men to do that, with a +scaffolding and machinery. I myself am giving up the idea for the +present. I shall come back after the war." + +"But, look here, Don Luis, what is this miraculous stone?" + +"Ah, now you're asking something!" said Don Luis, without making further +reply. + +They set out; and Don Luis, rubbing his hands, said: + +"I worked the thing well. It's not much over twenty-four hours since we +landed at Sarek. And the riddle had lasted twenty-four centuries. One +century an hour. My congratulations, Lupin." + +"I should be glad to offer you mine, Don Luis," said Patrice Belval, +"but they are not worth as much as those of an expert like yourself." + +When they reached the sands of the little beach, Francois' boat had +already been lowered and was empty. Farther away, on the right, the +_Crystal Stopper_ was floating on the calm sea. Francois came running up +to them, stopped a few yards from Don Luis and looked at him with +wide-open eyes: + +"I say," he murmured, "then it's you? It's you I was expecting?" + +"Faith," said Don Luis, laughing. "I don't know if you were expecting me +. . . but I'm sure it's me!" + +"You . . . you . . . Don Luis Perenna! . . . That is to say . . ." + +"Hush, no other names! Perenna's enough for me . . . . Besides, we won't +talk about me, if you don't mind. I was just a chance, a gentleman who +happened to drop in at the right moment. Whereas you . . . by Jove, +youngster, but you've done jolly well! . . . So you spent the night in +the boat?" + +"Yes, under the tarpaulin, lashed to the bottom and tightly gagged." + +"Uncomfortable?" + +"Not at all. I hadn't been there ten minutes when All's Well appeared. +So . . ." + +"But the man, the scoundrel: what had he threatened to do to you?" + +"Nothing. After the duel, while the others were attending to my +opponent, he brought me down here, pretending that he was going to take +me to mother and put us both on board the boat. Then, when we got to the +boat, he laid hold of me without a word." + +"Do you know the man? Do you know his name?" + +"I know nothing about him. All I can say is that he was persecuting us, +mother and me." + +"For reasons which I shall explain to you, Francois. In any case, you +have nothing to fear from him now." + +"Oh, but you haven't killed him?" + +"No, but I have put it out of his power to do any more harm. This will +all be explained to you; but I think that, for the moment, the most +urgent thing is that we should go to your mother." + +"Stephane told me that she was resting over there, in the submarine, and +that you had saved her too. Does she expect me?" + +"Yes; we had a talk last night, she and I, and I promised to find you. I +felt that she trusted me. All the same, Stephane, you had better go +ahead and prepare her." + +The _Crystal Stopper_ lay at the end of a reef of rocks which formed a +sort of natural jetty. Some ten or twelve Moors were running to and fro. +Two had drawn apart and were whispering together. Two of them were +holding a gangway which Don Luis and Francois crossed a minute later. + +In one of the cabins, arranged as a drawing-room, Veronique lay +stretched on a couch. Her pale face bore the marks of the unspeakable +suffering which she had undergone. She seemed very weak, very weary. But +her eyes, full of tears, were bright with happiness. + +Francois rushed into her arms. She burst into sobs, without speaking a +word. + +Opposite them, All's Well, seated on his haunches, beat the air with his +fore-paws and looked at them, with his head a little on one side: + +"Mother," said Francois, "Don Luis is here." + +She took Don Luis' hand and pressed a long kiss upon it, while Francois +murmured: + +"You saved mother . . . . You saved us both . . . ." + +Don Luis interrupted him: + +"Will you give me pleasure, Francois? Well, don't thank me. If you +really want to thank somebody, there, thank your friend All's Well. He +does not look as if he had played a very important part in the piece. +And yet, compared with the scoundrel who persecuted you, he was the good +genius, always discreet, intelligent, modest and silent." + +"So are you!" + +"Oh, I am neither modest nor silent; and that's why I admire All's Well. +Here, All's Well, come along with me and, for goodness' sake, stop +sitting up! You might have to do it all night, for they will be shedding +tears together for hours, the mother and son . . . ." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE GOD-STONE + + +The _Crystal Stopper_ was running on the surface of the water. Don Luis +sat talking, with Stephane, Patrice and All's Well, who were gathered +round him: + +"What a swine that Vorski is!" he said. "I've seen that breed of monster +before, but never one of his calibre." + +"Then, in that case . . ." Patrice Belval objected. + +"In that case?" echoed Don Luis. + +"I repeat what I've said already. You hold a monster in your hands and +you let him go free! To say nothing of its being highly immoral, think +of all the harm that he can do, that he inevitably will do! It's a heavy +responsibility to take upon yourself, that of the crimes which he will +still commit." + +"Do you think so too, Stephane?" asked Don Luis. + +"I'm not quite sure what I think," replied Stephane, "because, to save +Francois, I was prepared to make any concession. But, all the same +. . ." + +"All the same, you would rather have had another solution?" + +"Frankly, yes. So long as that man is alive and free, Madame d'Hergemont +and her son will have everything to fear from him." + +"But what other solution was there? I promised him his liberty in return +for Francois' immediate safety. Ought I to have promised him only his +life and handed him over to the police?" + +"Perhaps," said Captain Belval. + +"Very well. But, in that case, the police would institute enquiries, and +by discovering the fellow's real identity bring back to life the husband +of Veronique d'Hergemont and the father of Francois. Is that what you +want?" + +"No, no!" cried Stephane, eagerly. + +"No, indeed," confessed Patrice Belval, a little uneasily. "No, that +solution is no better; but what astonishes me is that you, Don Luis, did +not hit upon the right one, the one which would have satisfied us all." + +"There was only one solution," Don Luis Perenna said, plainly. "There +was only one." + +"Which was that?" + +"Death." + +There was a pause. Then Don Luis resumed: + +"My friends, I did not form you into a court simply as a joke; and you +must not think that your parts as judges are played because the trial +seems to you to be over. It is still going on; and the court has not +risen. That is why I want you to answer me honestly: do you consider +that Vorski deserves to die?" + +"Yes," declared Patrice. + +And Stephane approved: + +"Yes, beyond a doubt." + +"My friends," Don Luis continued, "your verdict is not sufficiently +solemn. I beseech you to utter it formally and conscientiously, as +though you were in the presence of the culprit. I ask you once more: +what penalty did Vorski deserve?" + +They raised their hands and, one after the other, answered: + +"Death." + +Don Luis whistled. One of the Moors ran up. + +"Two pairs of binoculars, Hadji." + +The man brought the glasses and Don Luis handed them to Stephane and +Patrice: + +"We are only a mile from Sarek," he said. "Look towards the point: the +boat should have started." + +"Yes," said Patrice, presently. + +"Do you see her, Stephane?" + +"Yes, only . . ." + +"Only what?" + +"There's only one passenger." + +"Yes," said Patrice, "only one passenger." + +They put down their binoculars and one of them said: + +"Only one has got away: Vorski evidently. He must have killed Otto, his +accomplice." + +"Unless Otto, his accomplice, has killed him," chuckled Don Luis. + +"What makes you say that?" + +"Why, remember the prophecy made to Vorski in his youth: 'Your wife will +die on the cross and you will be killed by a friend.'" + +"I doubt if a prediction is enough." + +"I have other proofs, though." + +"What proofs?" + +"They, my friends, form part of the last problem we shall have to +elucidate together. For instance, what is your idea of the manner in +which I substituted Elfride Vorski for Madame d'Hergemont?" + +Stephane shook his head: + +"I confess that I never understood." + +"And yet it's so simple! When a gentleman in a drawing-room, in a white +tie and a tail-coat, performs conjuring-tricks or guesses your thoughts, +you say to yourself, don't you, that there must be some artifice beneath +it all, the assistance of a confederate? Well, you need seek no farther +where I'm concerned." + +"What, you had a confederate?" + +"Yes, certainly." + +"But who was he?" + +"Otto." + +"Otto? But you never left us! You never spoke to him, surely?" + +"How could I have succeeded without his help? In reality, I had two +confederates in this business, Elfride and Otto, both of whom betrayed +Vorski, either out of revenge or out of greed. While you, Stephane, were +luring Vorski past the Fairies' Dolmen, I accosted Otto. We soon struck +a bargain, at the cost of a few bank-notes and in return for a promise +that he would come out of the adventure safe and sound. Moreover I +informed him that Vorski had pouched the sisters Archignat's fifty +thousand francs." + +"How did you know that?" asked Stephane. + +"Through my confederate number one, through Elfride, whom I continued to +question in a whisper while you were looking out for Vorski's coming and +who also, in a few brief words, told me what she knew of Vorski's +past." + +"When all is said, you only saw Otto that once." + +"Two hours later, after Elfride's death and after the fireworks in the +hollow oak, we had a second interview, under the Fairies' Dolmen. Vorski +was asleep, stupefied with drink, and Otto was mounting guard. You can +imagine that I seized the opportunity to obtain particulars of the +business and to complete my information about Vorski with the details +which Otto for two years had been secretly collecting about a chief whom +he detested. Then he unloaded Vorski's and Conrad's revolvers, or rather +he removed the bullets, while leaving the cartridges. Then he handed me +Vorski's watch and note-book, as well as an empty locket and a +photograph of Vorski's mother which Otto had stolen from him some months +before, things which helped me next day to play the wizard with the +aforesaid Vorski in the crypt where he found me. That is how Otto and I +collaborated." + +"Very well," said Patrice, "but still you didn't ask him to kill +Vorski?" + +"Certainly not." + +"In that case, how are we to know that . . ." + +"Do you think that Vorski did not end by discovering our collaboration, +which is one of the obvious causes of his defeat? And do you imagine +that Master Otto did not foresee this contingency? You may be sure that +there was no doubt of this: Vorski, once unfastened from his tree, would +have made away with his accomplice, both from motives of revenge and in +order to recover the sisters Archignat's fifty thousand francs. Otto got +the start of him. Vorski was there, helpless, lifeless, an easy prey. He +struck him a blow. I will go farther and say that Otto, who is a +coward, did not even strike him a blow. He will simply have left Vorski +on his tree. And so the punishment is complete. Are you appeased now, my +friends? Is your craving for justice satisfied?" + +Patrice and Stephane were silent, impressed by the terrible vision which +Don Luis was conjuring up before their eyes. + +"There," he said, laughing, "I was right not to make you pronounce +sentence over there, when we were standing at the foot of the oak, with +the live man in front of us! I can see that my two judges might have +flinched a little at that moment. And so would my third judge, eh, All's +Well, you sensitive, tearful fellow? And I am like you, my friends. We +are not people who condemn and execute. But, all the same, think of what +Vorski was, think of his thirty murders and his refinements of cruelty +and congratulate me on having, in the last resort, chosen blind destiny +as his judge and the loathsome Otto as his responsible executioner. The +will of the gods be done!" + +The Sarek coast was making a thinner line on the horizon. It disappeared +in the mist in which sea and sky were merged. + +The three men were silent. All three were thinking of the isle of the +dead, laid waste by one man's madness, the isle of the dead where soon +some visitor would find the inexplicable traces of the tragedy, the +entrances to the tunnels, the cells with their "death-chambers," the +hall of the God-Stone, the mortuary crypts, Elfride's body, Conrad's +body, the skeletons of the sisters Archignat and, right at the end of +the island, near the Fairies' Dolmen, where the prophecy of the thirty +coffins and the four crosses was written for all to read, Vorski's great +body, lonely and pitiable, mangled by the ravens and owls. + + * * * * * + +A villa near Arcachon, in the pretty village of Les Moulleaux, whose +pine-trees run down to the shores of the gulf. + +Veronique is sitting in the garden. A week's rest and happiness have +restored the colour to her comely face and assuaged all evil memories. +She is looking with a smile at her son, who, standing a little way off, +is listening to and questioning Don Luis Perenna. She also looks at +Stephane; and their eyes meet gently. + +It is easy to see that the affection in which they both hold the boy is +a link which unites them closely and which is strengthened by their +secret thoughts and their unuttered feelings. Not once has Stephane +recalled the avowals which he made in the cell, under the Black Heath; +but Veronique has not forgotten them; and the profound gratitude which +she feels for the man who brought up her son is mingled with a special +emotion and an agitation of which she unconsciously savours the charm. + +That day, Don Luis, who, on the evening when the _Crystal Stopper_ +brought them all to the Villa des Moulleaux, had taken the train for +Paris, arrived unexpectedly at lunch-time, accompanied by Patrice +Belval; and during the hour that they have been sitting in their +rocking-chairs in the garden, the boy, his face all pink with +excitement, has never ceased to question his rescuer: + +"And what did you do next? . . . But how did you know? . . . And what +put you on the track of that?" + +"My darling," says Veronique, "aren't you afraid of boring Don Luis?" + +"No, madame," replies Don Luis, rising, going up to Veronique and +speaking in such a way that the boy cannot hear, "no, Francois is not +boring me; and in fact I like answering his questions. But I confess +that he perplexes me a little and that I am afraid of saying something +awkward. Tell me, how much exactly does he know of the whole story?" + +"As much as I know myself, except Vorski's name, of course." + +"But does he know the part which Vorski played?" + +"Yes, but with certain differences. He thinks that Vorski is an escaped +prisoner who picked up the legend of Sarek and, in order to get hold of +the God-Stone, proceeded to carry out the prophecy touching it. I have +kept some of the lines of the prophecy from Francois." + +"And the part played by Elfride? Her hatred for you? The threats she +made you?" + +"Madwoman's talk, I told Francois, of which I myself did not understand +the meaning." + +Don Luis smiled: + +"The explanation is a little arbitrary; and I have a notion that +Francois quite well understands that certain parts of the tragedy remain +and must remain obscure to him. The great thing, don't you think, is +that he should not know that Vorski was his father?" + +"He does not know and he never will." + +"And then--and this is what I was coming to--what name will he bear +himself?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Whose son will he believe himself to be? For you know as well as I do +that the legal reality is this, that Francois Vorski died fifteen years +ago, drowned in a shipwreck, and his grandfather with him. And Vorski +died last year, stabbed by a fellow-prisoner. Neither of them is alive +in the eyes of the law. So . . ." + +Veronique nodded her head and smiled: + +"So I don't know. The position seems to me, as you say, incapable of +explanation. But everything will come out all right." + +"Why?" + +"Because you're here to do it." + +It was his turn to smile: + +"I can no longer take credit for the actions which I perform or the +steps which I take. Everything is arranging itself _a priori_. Then why +worry?" + +"Am I not right to?" + +"Yes," he said, gravely. "The woman who has suffered all that you have +must not be subjected to the least additional annoyance. And nothing +shall happen to her after this, I swear. So what I suggest to you is +this: long ago, you married against your father's wish a very distant +cousin, who died after leaving you a son, Francois. This son your +father, to be revenged upon you, kidnapped and brought to Sarek. At your +father's death, the name of d'Hergemont became extinct and there is +nothing to recall the events of your marriage." + +"But my name remains. Legally, in the official records, I am Veronique +d'Hergemont." + +"Your maiden name disappears under your married name." + +"You mean under that of Vorski." + +"No, because you did not marry that fellow Vorski, but one of your +cousins called . . ." + +"Called what?" + +"Jean Maroux. Here is a stamped certificate of your marriage to Jean +Maroux, a marriage mentioned in your official records, as this other +document shows." + +Veronique looked at Don Luis in amazement: + +"But why? Why that name?" + +"Why? So that your son may be neither d'Hergemont, which would have +recalled past events, nor Vorski, which would have recalled the name of +a traitor. Here is his birth-certificate, as Francois Maroux." + +She repeated, all blushing and confused: + +"But why did you choose just that name?" + +"It seemed easy for Francois. It's the name of Stephane, with whom +Francois will go on living for some time. We can say that Stephane was a +relation of your husband's; and this will explain the intimacy +generally. That is my plan. It presents, believe me, no possible danger. +When one is confronted by an inexplicable and painful position like +yours, one must needs employ special means and resort to drastic and, I +admit, very illegal measures. I did so without scruple, because I have +the good fortune to dispose of resources which are not within +everybody's reach. Do you approve of what I have done?" + +Veronique bent her head: + +"Yes," she said, "yes." + +He half-rose from his seat: + +"Besides," he added, "if there should be any drawbacks, the future will +no doubt take upon itself the burden of removing them. It would be +enough, for instance--there is no indiscretion, is there, in alluding to +the feelings which Stephane entertains for Francois' mother?--it would +be enough if, one day or another, for reasons of common-sense, or +reasons of gratitude, Francois' mother were moved to accept the homage +of those feelings. How much simpler everything will be if Francois +already bears the name of Maroux! How much more easily the past will be +abolished, both for the outside world and for Francois, who will no +longer be able to pry into the secret of bygone events which there will +be nothing to recall to memory. It seemed to me that these were rather +weighty arguments. I am glad to see that you share my opinion." + +Don Luis bowed to Veronique and, without insisting any further, without +appearing to notice her confusion, turned to Francois and explained: + +"I'm at your orders now, young man. And, since you don't want to leave +anything unexplained, let's go back to the God-Stone and the scoundrel +who coveted its possession. Yes, the scoundrel," repeated Don Luis, +seeing no reason not to speak of Vorski with absolute frankness, "and +the most terrible scoundrel that I have ever met with, because he +believed in his mission; in short, a sick-brained man, a lunatic . . ." + +"Well, first of all," Francois observed, "what I don't understand is +that you waited all night to capture him, when he and his accomplices +were sleeping under the Fairies' Dolmen." + +"Well done, youngster," said Don Luis, laughing, "you have put your +finger on a weak point! If I had acted as you suggest, the tragedy would +have been finished twelve or fifteen hours earlier. But think, would you +have been released? Would the scoundrel have spoken and revealed your +hiding-place? I don't think so. To loosen his tongue I had to keep him +simmering. I had to make him dizzy, to drive him mad with apprehension +and anguish and to convince him by means of a mass of proofs, that he +was irretrievably defeated. Otherwise he would have held his tongue and +we might perhaps not have found you. . . . . Besides, at that time, my +plan was not very clear, I did not quite know how to wind up; and it was +not until much later that I thought not of submitting him to violent +torture--I am incapable of that--but of tying him to that tree on which +he wanted to let your mother die. So that, in my perplexity and +hesitation, I simply yielded, in the end, to the wish--the rather +puerile wish, I blush to confess--to carry out the prophecy to the end, +to see how the missionary would behave in the presence of the ancient +Druid, in short to amuse myself. After all, the adventure was so dark +and gloomy that a little fun seemed to me essential. And I laughed like +blazes. That was wrong. I admit it and I apologize." + +The boy was laughing too. Don Luis, who was holding him between his +knees, kissed him and asked: + +"Do you forgive me?" + +"Yes, on condition that you answer two more questions. The first is not +important." + +"Ask away." + +"It's about the ring. Where did you get that ring which you put first on +mother's finger and afterwards on Elfride's?" + +"I made it that same night, in a few minutes, out of an old wedding-ring +and some coloured stones." + +"But the scoundrel recognized it as having belonged to his mother." + +"He thought he recognized it; and he thought it because the ring was +like the other." + +"But how did you know that? And how did you learn the story?" + +"From himself." + +"You don't mean that?" + +"Certainly I do! From words that escaped him while he was sleeping under +the Fairies' Dolmen. A drunkard's nightmare. Bit by bit he told the +whole story of his mother. Elfride knew a good part of it besides. You +see how simple it is and how my luck stood by me!" + +"But the riddle of the God-Stone is not simple," Francois cried, "and +you deciphered it! People have been trying for centuries and you took a +few hours!" + +"No, a few minutes, Francois. It was enough for me to read the letter +which your grandfather wrote about it to Captain Belval. I sent your +grandfather by post all the explanations as to the position and the +marvellous nature of the God-Stone." + +"Well," cried the boy, "it's those explanations that I'm asking of you, +Don Luis. This is my last question, I promise you. What made people +believe in the power of the God-Stone? And what did that so-called power +consist of exactly?" + +Stephane and Patrice drew up their chairs. Veronique sat up and +listened. They all understood that Don Luis had waited until they were +together before rending the veil of the mystery before their eyes. + +He began to laugh: + +"You mustn't hope for anything sensational," he said. "A mystery is +worth just as much as the darkness in which it is shrouded; and, as we +have begun by dispelling the darkness, nothing remains but the fact +itself in its naked reality. Nevertheless the facts in this case are +strange and the reality is not denuded of a certain grandeur." + +"It must needs be so," said Patrice Belval, "seeing that the reality +left so miraculous a legend in the isle of Sarek and even all over +Brittany." + +"Yes," said Don Luis, "and a legend so persistent that it influences us +to this day and that not one of you has escaped the obsession of the +miraculous." + +"What do you mean?" protested Patrice. "I don't believe in miracles." + +"No more do I," said the boy. + +"Yes, you do, you believe in them, you accept miracles as possible. If +not, you would long ago have seen the whole truth." + +"Why?" + +Don Luis picked a magnificent rose from a tree by his side and asked +Francois: + +"Is it possible for me to transform this rose, whose proportions, as it +is, are larger than those a rose often attains, into a flower double +the size and this rose-tree into a shrub twice as tall?" + +"Certainly not," said Francois. + +"Then why did you admit, why did you all admit that Maguennoc could +achieve that result, merely by digging up earth in certain parts of the +island, at certain fixed hours? That was a miracle; and you accepted it +without hesitation, unconsciously." + +Stephane objected: + +"We accept what we saw with our eyes." + +"But you accepted it as a miracle, that is to say, as a phenomenon which +Maguennoc produced by special and, truth to tell, by supernatural means. +Whereas I, when I read this detail in M. d'Hergemont's letter, at +once--what shall I say?--caught on. I at once established the connection +between those monstrous blossoms and the name borne by the Calvary of +the flowers. And my conviction was immediate: 'No, Maguennoc is not a +wizard. He simply cleared a piece of uncultivated land around the +Calvary; and all he had to do, to produce abnormal flowers, was to bring +along a layer of mould. So the God-Stone is underneath; the God-Stone +which, in the middle-ages, produced the same abnormal flowers; the +God-Stone, which, in the days of the Druids, healed the sick and +strengthened children.'" + +"Therefore," said Patrice, "there is a miracle." + +"There is a miracle if we accept the supernatural explanation. There is +a natural phenomenon if we look for it and if we find the physical cause +capable of giving rise to the apparent miracle." + +"But those physical causes don't exist! They are not present." + +"They exist, because you have seen monstrous flowers." + +"Then there is a stone," asked Patrice, almost chaffingly, "which can +naturally give health and strength? And that stone is the God-Stone?" + +"There is not a particular, individual stone. But there are stones, +blocks of stone, rocks, hills and mountains of rock, which contain +mineral veins formed of various metals, oxides of uranium, silver, lead, +copper, nickel, cobalt and so on. And among these metals are some which +emit a special radiation, endowed with peculiar properties known as +radioactivity. These veins are veins of pitchblende which are found +hardly anywhere in Europe except in the north of Bohemia and which are +worked near the little town of Joachimsthal. And those radioactive +bodies are uranium, thorium, helium and chiefly, in the case which we +are considering . . ." + +"Radium," Francois interrupted. + +"You've said it, my boy: radium. Phenomena of radioactivity occur more +or less everywhere; and we may say that they are manifested throughout +nature, as in the healing action of thermal springs. But plainly +radioactive bodies like radium possess more definite properties. For +instance, there is no doubt that the rays and the emanation of radium +exercise a power over the life of plants, a power similar to that caused +by the passage of an electric current. In both cases, the stimulation of +the nutritive centres makes the elements required by the plant more easy +to assimilate and promotes its growth. In the same way, there is no +doubt that the radium rays are capable of exercising a physiological +action on living tissues, by producing more or less profound +modifications, destroying certain cells and contributing to develop +other cells and even to control their evolution. Radiotherapy claims to +have healed or improved numerous cases of rheumatism of the joints, +nervous troubles, ulceration, eczema, tumours and adhesive cicatrices. +In short radium is a really effective therapeutic agent." + +"So," said Stephane, "you regard the God-Stone . . ." + +"I regard the God-Stone as a block of radiferous pitchblende originating +from the Joachimsthal lodes. I have long known the Bohemian legend which +speaks of a miraculous stone that was once removed from the side of a +hill; and, when I was travelling in Bohemia, I saw the hole left by the +stone. It corresponds pretty accurately with the dimensions of the +God-Stone." + +"But," Stephane objected, "radium is contained in rocks only in the form +of infinitesimal particles. Remember that, after a mass of fourteen +hundred tons of rock have been duly mined and washed and treated, there +remains at the end of it all only a filtrate of some fifteen grains of +radium. And you attribute a miraculous power to the God-Stone, which +weighs two tons at most!" + +"But it evidently contains radium in appreciable quantities. Nature has +not pledged herself to be always niggardly and invariably to dilute the +radium. She was pleased to accumulate in the God-Stone a generous supply +which enabled it to produce the apparently extraordinary phenomena which +we know of . . . not forgetting that we have to allow for popular +exaggeration." + +Stephane seemed to be yielding to conviction. Nevertheless he said: + +"One last point. Apart from the God-Stone, there was the little chip of +stone which Maguennoc found in the leaden sceptre, the prolonged touch +of which burnt his hand. According to you, this was a particle of +radium?" + +"Undoubtedly. And it is this perhaps that most clearly reveals the +presence and the power of radium in all this adventure. When Henri +Becquerel, the great physicist, kept a tube containing a salt of radium +in his waistcoat-pocket, his skin became covered in a few days with +suppurating ulcers. Curie repeated the experiment, with the same result. +Maguennoc's case was more serious, because he held the particle of +radium in his hand. A wound formed which had a cancerous appearance. +Scared by all that he knew and all that he himself had said about the +miraculous stone which burns like hell-fire and 'gives life or death,' +he chopped off his hand." + +"Very well," said Stephane, "but where did that particle of pure radium +come from? It can't have been a chip of the God-Stone, because, once +again, however rich a mineral may be, radium is incorporated in it, not +in isolated grains, but in a soluble form, which has to be dissolved and +afterwards collected, by a series of mechanical operations, into a +solution rich enough to enable successive crystallizations and +concentrations to isolate the active product which the solution +contains. All this and a number of other later operations demand an +enormous plant, with workshops, laboratories, expert chemists, in short, +a very different state of civilization, you must admit, from the state +of barbarism in which our ancestors the Celts were immersed." + +Don Luis smiled and tapped the young man on the shoulder: + +"Hear, hear, Stephane! I am glad to see that Francois' friend and tutor +has a far-seeing and logical mind. The objection is perfectly valid and +suggested itself to me at once. I might reply by putting forward some +quite legitimate theory, I might presume a natural means of isolating +radium and imagine that, in a geological fault occurring in the granite, +at the bottom of a big pocket containing radiferous ore, a fissure has +opened through which the waters of the river slowly trickle, carrying +with them infinitesimal quantities of radium; that the waters so charged +flow for a long time in a narrow channel, combine again, become +concentrated and, after centuries upon centuries, filter through in +little drops, which evaporate at once, and form at the point of +emergence a tiny stalactite, exceedingly rich in radium, the tip of +which is broken off one day by some Gallic warrior. But is there any +need to seek so far and to have recourse to hypotheses? Cannot we rely +on the unaided genius and the inexhaustible resources of nature? Does it +call for a more wonderful effort on her part to evolve by her own +methods a particle of pure radium than to make a cherry ripen or to make +this rose bloom . . . or to give life to our delightful All's Well? What +do you say, young Francois? Do we agree?" + +"We always agree," replied the boy. + +"So you don't unduly regret the miracle of the God-Stone?" + +"Why, the miracle still exists!" + +"You're right, Francois, it still exists and a hundred times more +beautiful and dazzling than before. Science does not kill miracles: it +purifies them and ennobles them. What was that crafty, capricious, +wicked, incomprehensible little power attached to the tip of a magic +wand and acting at random, according to the ignorant fancy of a +barbarian chief or Druid, what was it, I ask you, beside the beneficent, +logical, reliable and quite as miraculous power which we behold to-day +in a pinch of radium?" + +Don Luis suddenly interrupted himself and began to laugh: + +"Come, come, I'm allowing myself to be carried away and singing an ode +to science! Forgive me, madame," he added, rising and going up to +Veronique, "and tell me that I have not bored you too much with my +explanations. I haven't, have I? Not too much? Besides, it's finished +. . . or nearly finished. There is only one more point to make clear, +one decision to take." + +He sat down beside her: + +"It's this. Now that we have won the God-Stone, in other words, an +actual treasure, what are we going to do with it?" + +Veronique spoke with a heartfelt impulse: + +"Oh, as to that, don't let us speak of it! I don't want anything that +may come from Sarek, or anything that's found in the Priory. We will +work." + +"Still, the Priory belongs to you." + +"No, no, Veronique d'Hergemont no longer exists and the Priory no longer +belongs to any one. Let it all be put up to auction. I don't want +anything of that accursed past." + +"And how will you live?" + +"As I used to by my work. I am sure that Francois approves, don't you, +darling?" + +And, with an instinctive movement, turning to Stephane, as though he had +a certain right to give his opinion, she added: + +"You too approve, don't you, dear Stephane?" + +"Entirely," he said. + +She at once went on: + +"Besides, though I don't doubt my father's feelings of affection, I have +no proof of his wishes towards me." + +"I have the proofs," said Don Luis. + +"How?" + +"Patrice and I went back to Sarek. In a writing-desk in Maguennoc's +room, in a secret drawer, we found a sealed, but unaddressed envelope, +and opened it. It contained a bond worth ten thousand francs a year and +a sheet of paper which read as follows: + +"'After my death, Maguennoc will hand this bond to Stephane Maroux, to +whom I confide the charge of my grandson, Francois. When Francois is +eighteen years of age, the bond will be his to do what he likes with. I +hope and trust, however, that he will seek his mother and find her and +that she will pray for my soul. I bless them both.' + +"Here is the bond," said Don Luis, "and here is the letter. It is dated +April of this year." + +Veronique was astounded. She looked at Don Luis and the thought occurred +to her that all this was perhaps merely a story invented by that strange +man to place her and her son beyond the reach of want. It was a passing +thought. When all was considered, it was a natural consequence. +Everything said, M. d'Hergemont's action was very reasonable; and, +foreseeing the difficulties that would crop up after his death, it was +only right that he should think of his grandson. She murmured: + +"I have not the right to refuse." + +"You have so much the less right," said Don Luis, "in that the +transaction excludes you altogether. Your father's wishes affect +Francois and Stephane directly. So we are agreed. There remains the +God-Stone; and I repeat my question. What are we to do with it? To whom +does it belong?" + +"To you," said Veronique, definitely. + +"To me?" + +"Yes, to you. You discovered it and you have given it a real +signification." + +"I must remind you," said Don Luis, "that this block of stone possesses, +beyond a doubt, an incalculable value. However great the miracles +wrought by nature may be, it is only through a wonderful concourse of +circumstances that she was able to perform the miracle of collecting so +much precious matter in so small a volume. There are treasures and +treasures there." + +"So much the better," said Veronique, "you will be able to make a better +use of them than any one else." + +Don Luis thought for a moment and added: + +"You are quite right; and I confess that I prepared for this climax. +First, because my right to the God-Stone seemed to me to be proved by +adequate titles of ownership; and, next, because I have need of that +block of stone. Yes, upon my word, the tombstone of the Kings of Bohemia +has not exhausted its magic power; there are plenty of nations left on +whom that power might produce as great an effect as on our ancestors the +Gauls; and, as it happens, I am tackling a formidable undertaking in +which an assistance of this kind will be invaluable to me. In a few +years, when my task is completed, I will bring the God-Stone back to +France and present it to a national laboratory which I intend to found. +In this way science will purge any evil that the God-Stone may have done +and the horrible adventure of Sarek will be atoned for. Do you approve, +madame?" + +She gave him her hand: + +"With all my heart." + +There was a fairly long pause. Then Don Luis said: + +"Ah, yes, a horrible adventure, too terrible for words. I have had some +gruesome adventures in my life which have left painful memories behind +them. But this outdoes them all. It exceeds anything that is possible in +reality or human in suffering. It was so excessively logical as to +become illogical; and this because it was the act of a madman . . . and +also because it came to pass at a season of madness and bewilderment. It +was the war which facilitated the safe silent committal of an obscure +crime prepared and executed by a monster. In times of peace, monsters +have not the time to realize their stupid dreams. To-day, in that +solitary island, this particular monster found special, abnormal +conditions . . ." + +"Please don't let us talk about all this," murmured Veronique, in a +trembling voice. + +Don Luis kissed her hand and then took All's Well and lifted him in his +arms: + +"You're right. Don't let's talk about it, or else tears would come and +All's Well would be sad. Therefore, All's Well, my delightful All's +Well, let us talk no more of the dreadful adventure. But all the same +let us recall certain episodes which were beautiful and picturesque. For +instance, Maguennoc's garden with the gigantic flowers; you will +remember it as I shall, won't you, All's Well? And the legend of the +God-Stone, the idyll of the Celtic tribes wandering with the memorial +stone of their kings, the stone all vibrant with radium, emitting an +incessant bombardment of vivifying and miraculous atoms; all that, All's +Well, possesses a certain charm, doesn't it? Only, my most exquisite +All's Well, if I were a novelist and if it were my duty to tell the +story of Coffin Island, I should not trouble too much about the horrid +truth and I should give you a much more important part. I should do away +with the intervention of that phrase-mongering humbug of a Don Luis and +you would be the fearless and silent rescuer. You would fight the +abominable monster, you would thwart his machinations and, in the end, +you, with your marvellous instinct, would punish vice and make virtue +triumph. And it would be much better so, because none would be more +capable than you, my delightful All's Well, of demonstrating by a +thousand proofs, each more convincing than the other, that in this life +of ours all things come right and all's well." + + +THE END + + + + +Popular Copyright Novels + +_AT MODERATE PRICES_ + +Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of A. L. Burt Company's Popular +Copyright Fiction + +Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The. By Frank L. Packard. +Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle. +After House, The. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. +Ailsa Paige. By Robert W. Chambers. +Alton of Somasco. By Harold Bindloss. +Amateur Gentleman, The. By Jeffery Farnol. +Anna, the Adventuress. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +Anne's House of Dreams. By L. M. Montgomery. +Around Old Chester. By Margaret Deland. +Athalie. By Robert W. Chambers. +At the Mercy of Tiberius. By Augusta Evans Wilson. +Auction Block, The. By Rex Beach. +Aunt Jane of Kentucky. By Eliza C. 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Phillips Oppenheim. +Mr. Pratt. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Mr. Pratt's Patients. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Mrs. Belfame. By Gertrude Atherton. +Mrs. Red Pepper. By Grace S. Richmond. +My Lady Caprice. By Jeffrey Farnol. +My Lady of the North. By Randall Parrish. +My Lady of the South. By Randall Parrish. +Mystery of the Hasty Arrow, The. By Anna K. Green. + +Nameless Man, The. By Natalie Sumner Lincoln. +Ne'er-Do-Well, The. By Rex Beach. +Nest Builders, The. By Beatrice Forbes-Robertson Hale. +Net, The. By Rex Beach. +New Clarion. By Will N. Harben. +Night Operator, The. By Frank L. Packard. +Night Riders, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Nobody. By Louis Joseph Vance. + +Okewood of the Secret Service. By the Author of "The Man with the + Club Foot." +One Way Trail, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Open, Sesame. By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. +Otherwise Phyllis. By Meredith Nicholson. +Outlaw, The. By Jackson Gregory. + +Paradise Auction. By Nalbro Bartley. +Pardners. By Rex Beach. +Parrot & Co. By Harold MacGrath. +Partners of the Night. By Leroy Scott. +Partners of the Tide. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Passionate Friends, The. By H. G. Wells. +Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail, The. By Ralph Connor. +Paul Anthony, Christian. By Hiram W. Hays. +Pawns Count, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +People's Man, A. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +Perch of the Devil. By Gertrude Atherton. +Peter Ruff and the Double Four. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +Pidgin Island. By Harold MacGrath. +Place of Honeymoon, The. By Harold MacGrath. +Pool of Flame, The. By Louis Joseph Vance. +Postmaster, The. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Prairie Wife, The. By Arthur Stringer. +Price of the Prairie, The. By Margaret Hill McCarter. +Prince of Sinners, A. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +Promise, The. By J. B. Hendryx. +Proof of the Pudding, The. By Meredith Nicholson. + +Rainbow's End, The. By Rex Beach. +Ranch at the Wolverine, The. By B. M. Bower. +Ranching for Sylvia. By Harold Bindloss. +Ransom. By Arthur Somers Roche. +Reason Why, The. By Elinor Glyn. +Reclaimers, The. By Margaret Hill McCarter. +Red Mist, The. By Randall Parrish. +Red Pepper Burns. By Grace S. Richmond. +Red Pepper's Patients. By Grace S. Richmond. +Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary, The. By Anne Warner. +Restless Sex, The. By Robert W. Chambers. +Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu, The. By Sax Rohmer. +Return of Tarzan, The. By Edgar Rice Burroughs. +Riddle of Night, The. By Thomas W. Hanshew. +Rim of the Desert, The. By Ada Woodruff Anderson. +Rise of Roscoe Paine, The. By J. C. Lincoln. +Rising Tide, The. By Margaret Deland. +Rocks of Valpre, The. By Ethel M. Dell. +Rogue by Compulsion, A. By Victor Bridges. +Room Number 3. By Anna Katharine Green. +Rose in the Ring, The. By George Barr McCutcheon. +Rose of Old Harpeth, The. By Maria Thompson Daviess. +Round the Corner in Gay Street. By Grace S. Richmond. + +Second Choice. By Will N. Harben. +Second Violin, The. By Grace S. Richmond. +Secret History. By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. +Secret of the Reef, The. By Harold Bindloss. +Seven Darlings, The. By Gouverneur Morris. +Shavings. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Shepherd of the Hills, The. By Harold Bell Wright. +Sheriff of Dyke Hole, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Sherry. By George Barr McCutcheon. +Side of the Angels, The. By Basil King. +Silver Horde, The. By Rex Beach. +Sin That Was His, The. By Frank L. Packard. +Sixty-first Second, The. By Owen Johnson. +Soldier of the Legion, A. By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. +Son of His Father, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Son of Tarzan, The. By Edgar Rice Burroughs. +Source, The. By Clarence Buddington Kelland. +Speckled Bird, A. By Augusta Evans Wilson. +Spirit in Prison, A. By Robert Hichens. +Spirit of the Border, The. (New Edition.) By Zane Grey. +Spoilers, The. By Rex Beach. +Steele of the Royal Mounted. By James Oliver Curwood. +Still Jim. By Honore Willsie. +Story of Foss River Ranch, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Story of Marco, The. By Eleanor H. Porter. +Strange Case of Cavendish, The. By Randall Parrish. +Strawberry Acres. By Grace S. Richmond. +Sudden Jim. By Clarence B. Kelland. + +Tales of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle. +Tarzan of the Apes. By Edgar R. Burroughs. +Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar. By Edgar Rice Burroughs. +Tempting of Tavernake, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +Tess of the D'Urbervilles. By Thos. Hardy. +Thankful's Inheritance. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +That Affair Next Door. By Anna Katharine Green. +That Printer of Udell's. By Harold Bell Wright. +Their Yesterdays. By Harold Bell Wright. +Thirteenth Commandment, The. By Rupert Hughes. +Three of Hearts, The. By Berta Ruck. +Three Strings, The. By Natalie Sumner Lincoln. +Threshold, The. By Marjorie Benton Cooke. +Throwback, The. By Alfred Henry Lewis. +Tish. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. +To M. L. G.; or, He Who Passed. Anon. +Trail of the Axe, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Trail to Yesterday, The. By Chas. A. Seltzer. +Treasure of Heaven, The. By Marie Corelli. +Triumph, The. By Will N. Harben. +T. Tembarom. By Frances Hodgson Burnett. +Turn of the Tide. By Author of "Pollyanna." +Twenty-fourth of June, The. By Grace S. Richmond. +Twins of Suffering Creek, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Two-Gun Man, The. By Chas. A. Seltzer. + +Uncle William. By Jeannette Lee. +Under Handicap. By Jackson Gregory. +Under the Country Sky. By Grace S. Richmond. +Unforgiving Offender, The. By John Reed Scott. +Unknown Mr. Kent, The. By Roy Norton. +Unpardonable Sin, The. By Major Rupert Hughes. +Up From Slavery. By Booker T. Washington. + +Valiants of Virginia, The. By Hallie Ermine Rives. +Valley of Fear, The. By Sir A. Conan Doyle. +Vanished Messenger, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +Vanguards of the Plains. By Margaret Hill McCarter. +Vashti. By Augusta Evans Wilson. +Virtuous Wives. By Owen Johnson. +Visioning, The. By Susan Glaspell. + +Waif-o'-the-Sea. By Cyrus Townsend Brady. +Wall of Men, A. By Margaret H. McCarter. +Watchers of the Plans, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Way Home, The. By Basil King. +Way of an Eagle, The. By E. M. Dell. +Way of the Strong, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. +Way of These Women, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +We Can't Have Everything. By Major Rupert Hughes. +Weavers, The. By Gilbert Parker. +When a Man's a Man. By Harold Bell Wright. +When Wilderness Was King. By Randall Parrish. +Where the Trail Divides. By Will Lillibridge. +Where There's a Will. By Mary R. Rinehart. +White Sister, The. By Marion Crawford. +Who Goes There? By Robert W. Chambers. +Why Not. By Margaret Widdemer. +Window at the White Cat, The. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. +Winds of Chance, The. By Rex Beach. +Wings of Youth, The. By Elizabeth Jordan. +Winning of Barbara Worth, The. By Harold Bell Wright. +Wire Devils, The. By Frank L. Packard. +Winning the Wilderness. By Margaret Hill McCarter. +Wishing Ring Man, The. By Margaret Widdemer. +With Juliet in England. By Grace S. Richmond. +Wolves of the Sea. By Randall Parrish. +Woman Gives, The. By Owen Johnson. +Woman Haters, The. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Woman in Question, The. By John Reed Scott. +Woman Thou Gavest Me, The. By Hall Caine. +Woodcarver of 'Lympus, The. By Mary E. Waller. +Wooing of Rosamond Fayre, The. By Berta Ruck. +World for Sale, The. By Gilbert Parker. + +Years for Rachel, The. By Berta Ruck. +Yellow Claw, The. By Sax Rohmer. +You Never Know Your Luck. By Gilbert Parker. + +Zeppelin's Passenger, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + +The following typographical errors present in the original edition +have been corrected. + +In Chapter I, "But the tree letters were visible" was changed to "But +the three letters were visible", and "though an ever-thickening mist" +was changed to "through an ever-thickening mist". + +In Chapter III, a missing period was added after "spluttered Honorine", +and "You musn't stay" was changed to "You mustn't stay". + +In Chapter IV, "Then . . . then. . . it's happening" was changed to +"Then . . . then . . . it's happening", and "slackened spend when she +was level" was changed to "slackened speed when she was level". + +In Chapter V, a quotation mark was added after "They: the people of +old.", and "that killed M. Antoine, Marie le Goff and the others" was +changed to "that killed M. Antoine, Marie Le Goff and the others". + +In Chapter VI, quotation marks were added before "Did you put them under +there?" and "and I am not a bit afraid", and after "Then what is it?". + +In Chapter VII, "one of the cells probably the last" was changed to "one +of the cells, probably the last", and a missing period was added after +"Yes, Madeleine Ferrand". + +In Chapter VIII, "Last night . . or rather this morning" was changed to +"Last night . . . or rather this morning", and "painted Perenna is such +strange colours" was changed to "painted Perenna in such strange +colours". + +In Chapter X, a quotation mark was removed before "Veronique received +her answer", "None come" was changed to "None came", a quotation mark +was added after "my boat is hanging at the foot of the cliff.", and +"We'll land at Pont-L'Abbe" was changed to "We'll land at Pont-l'Abbe". + +In Chapter XII, a quotation mark was removed after "Its feathered end +was still quivering." + +In Chapter XIV, "The other joined him" was changed to "The others joined +him", and a quotation mark was added after "At any rate, it's a sacred +stone". + +In Chapter XV, a quotation mark was added before "She is dead", +"yatching-cap" was changed to "yachting-cap", a comma was changed to a +period after "There's no hypocrisy about you", and "Is is agreed" was +changed to "Is it agreed". + +In Chapter XVI, "ascertain Veronique d'Hergemont's whereabout" was +changed to "ascertain Veronique d'Hergemont's whereabouts", and "The +worthy man envolved the prophecy from his own consciousness" was changed +to "The worthy man evolved the prophecy from his own consciousness". + +In Chapter XVII, "The ancient Druid, whom we may call either Don Luis +Perenna or Arsene Lupin" was changed to "The ancient Druid, whom we may +call either Don Luis Perenna or Arsene Lupin". + +In Chapter XVIII, a period was changed to a comma after "one after the +other", and quotation marks were added after "the boat should have +started" and "he chopped off his hand". + +In the advertisements, Bruce of the Circle A was changed to Bruce of +the Circle, A, in the entry for The Nameless Man "Nataile Sumner +Lincoln" was changed to "Natalie Sumner Lincoln", and in the entry for +The World for Sale "Gilbert-Parker" was changed to "Gilbert Parker". + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET OF SAREK*** + + +******* This file should be named 34939.txt or 34939.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/9/3/34939 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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