At about four o'clock, while the brightening skies permitted Peyraque to make preparations for their return, by hiring another cart well provided with straw and blankets, together with oxen and a teamster, so as to reach Laussonne before evening, the young and beautiful Duchess d'Aléria, robed in moire, her arms loaded with cameos, came into the apartment of her mother-in-law at the castle of Mauveroche, in Limousin, leaving her husband and Madame d'Arglade chatting with apparent in a magnificent drawing-room.
Diana had an air of triumph, which struck the Marchioness.
"Well, what is it, my beauty?" asked the old lady. "What has happened! Has my other son returned!"
"He will come soon," replied the Duchess. "You have the promise of it, and, you know, we feel no uneasiness on his account. His brother knows where he is, and declares we shall see him again by the end of the week. So you find me excessively gay,—excessively happy, even—This little Madame d'Arglade is . Dear mamma, she is the source of all my happiness."
"O, you are jesting, little masquerader! You can't endure her. Why have you brought her here? I did n't request it. No one can amuse me but you."
"And I undertake it more bravely than ever," replied Diana, with a bewitching smile, "and this very D'Arglade whom I adore is going to furnish me with weapons against your wretched . Listen, dear, good mamma. At last we have got her awful secret, though not without trouble, by any means. For three days we have been manœuvring round her,—the Duke and I,—overpowering her with our trust, our surrender of ourselves to happiness, our most tenderness. At last, the estimable woman, who is n't our dupe, and whom our mockeries drove to , has given me to understand that Caroline had for an in her great fault—O, you know whom. She has told you. I pretended not to understand; it was a little thrust right into my heart,—no, a deep thrust, I must tell the truth,—but I hastened to find my dear Duke, and flung it squarely in his face. 'Is it true, you dreadful man, that you have been in love with Mlle de Saint-Geneix!' The Duke sprang like a cat,—no, like a whose paw has been trodden on. 'There! I was sure of it,' said he, roaring; 'it is our good Léonie who has invented that.' And then he began to talk of her, so I had to quiet him and tell him I did n't believe it, which was n't quite true; I did believe it a little bit. And this son of yours, who is n't dull,—he perceived that, and he flung himself at my feet, and he swore—O! but he did swear by all that I believe and love, by the true God, and then by you, that it was an lie; and now I am as sure of this as I am that I came into the world for nothing else but just to love his Grace the Duke."
The Duchess had a childish lisp, as natural as Madame d'Arglade's was , and she united with this a tone of that made her charming. The Marchioness had no time to wonder over what she heard, for the Duke came in as as his wife.
"There!" cried he. "God be praised, you will never see that again! She has called for her carriage; she is going off furious, but with no poison in her . I can answer for that. Mother, my poor mother, how you have been deceived. I can appreciate your suffering. And you would n't say a word, not even to me, who could in a breath—But I have confessed her, this woman, who would have brought despair into my household, if Diana were not an angel from heaven, against whom the Powers of Darkness will never prevail. Well, mother, be a little with us all; it will do you good. Madame d'Arglade saw,—did she not?—with her own two eyes, saw Mlle de Saint-Geneix leaning on my arm and crossing the lawn of Séval at daybreak! She saw me speak to her affectionately and shake hands with her? Well, she didn't see the whole, for I kissed her hands one after the other, and what she did n't overhear I'm going to tell you, for I remember as well as if it happened yesterday,—I was excited enough for that. I said to her, 'My brother has been at the point of death to-night, and you have saved him. Pity him, still keep him under your care, help me to hide his illness from our mother, and, thanks to you, he will not die.' That is what I said, I swear it before Heaven, and this is what had taken place."
The Duke recounted the whole, and, going into the matter more still, even confessed his false notions about Caroline and his fruitless manœuvring which she had not even perceived. He described the outburst of against him on the part of the Marquis; their disagreement for one hour; their ; the of the one, the solemn oaths of the other; the discovery he made at that moment of his brother's alarming condition; his own imprudence in leaving him, thinking him asleep and comfortable; the broken window-pane, the cries Caroline overheard; and Caroline herself rushing to his aid, reviving the sick man, staying beside him, devoting herself from that time to caring for him, amusing him, and aiding him in his work.
"And all this," added the Duke, "with a , a frankness, a forgetfulness of self, unequalled in all my experience. This Caroline, you see, is a woman of rare worth, and I have sought in vain for a person who would suit my brother better in point of age, character, , or congenial tastes. I do not find one anywhere. You know I have desired to have him make a more brilliant match. Well, now that he is safe from serious , thanks to this angel here who has restored us all to freedom and dignity; now that I have seen the and strength of my brother's love for a person who is, more than all others, the sincere friend he needs; and, lastly, now that Diana understands all this better than I and me to believe in love-matches, I have, dear mother, only one thing to say, which is, that we must find Caroline again, and you must cheerfully give her your as the best friend you ever had, except my wife, and the best daughter you can wish beside her."
"O my children!" cried the Marchioness, "you make me so happy. I have hardly lived since this . Urbain's grief, the absence of this child who was dear to me, the fear of setting at two brothers so perfectly united, if I acknowledged what I supposed to be true, what I am so glad find false. We must hasten after the Marquis, after Caroline; but where, for Heaven's sake? You know where your brother is; but he,—does he know where she is?"
"No, he set out without knowing," replied the Duchess; "but Madame Heudebert knows."
"Write her, dear mother; tell her the truth, and she will tell Caroline."
"Yes, yes, I am going to write," said the Marchioness; "but how can I let poor Urbain know at once?"
"I will take charge of that," said the Duke. "I would go myself, if the Duchess could go with me, but to leave her for three days,—on my word, it is too soon!"
"Fie!" cried the Duchess; "as soon as the is over do you mean to be running off without me in that way, light-hearted and light-footed too? Ah! how mistaken you are, you charming man! I shall keep you in order, with all your inconstancy."
"And pray how will you do it, then?" asked the Duke, looking at her fondly.
"By loving you always more and more. We shall see whether you grow weary of it."
While the Duke was the golden hair of his wife, the Marchioness was writing to Camille with a youthful which was certainly . "Here, my children," said she, "is this right?" The Duchess read, "My dear Madame Heudebert, bring Caroline back to us, and let me embrace you both. She has been the victim of a horrible ; I know all. I weep for having believed in the fall of an angel. May she forgive me! Let her come back; let her be my daughter always and never leave me again. There are two of us who cannot live without her."
"That is delightful! It is kind and just like you," said the Duchess, sealing up the note; and the Duke rang while his mother was writing the address.
The message being despatched, she said to them, "Why can't you both go after the Marquis! Is he so very far off!"
"Twelve hours by post, at the very most," replied the Duke.
"And I cannot know where he is?"
"I ought not to tell you; but I'm convinced he will now have no more secrets from you. Happiness induces confidence."
"My son," returned the Marchioness, "you alarm me seriously. Perhaps your brother is here sick, and you are hiding it from me, as you did at Séval. He is worse even; you make me believe he is away because he is n't able to be up."
"No, no!" cried Diana, laughing; "he is n't here, he is n't sick. He is abroad, he is travelling, he is sad, perhaps; but he is going to be happy now, and he did n't start without some hope of mollifying you."
The Duke solemnly assured his mother that his wife was telling the truth. "Well, my children," resumed the M............