Pride: One of the Seven Cardinal Sins. Эжен Сю
de Beaumesnil's virtue, drove away these odious suspicions, and bitterly reproached himself for having entertained them even for a moment.
The countess, terrified by the hunchback's silence, said to him, in trembling tones:
"Forgive me, M. de Maillefort. I see that I have presumed too much upon your generous kindness. Not content with having secured your fatherly protection for my daughter, Ernestine, I must needs seek to interest you in an unfortunate stranger. Pardon me, I beseech you."
The tone in which Madame de Beaumesnil uttered these words was so heart-broken and full of despair that M. de Maillefort's suspicions revived. One of his dearest illusions was being ruthlessly destroyed. Madame de Beaumesnil was no longer the ideal woman he had so long adored.
But taking pity on this unhappy mother, and understanding how terribly she must suffer, M. de Maillefort felt his eyes fill with tears, and it was in an agitated voice that he replied:
"You need have no fears, madame, I shall keep my promise, and the orphan girl you commend to my care will be as dear to me as Mlle. de Beaumesnil. I shall have two daughters instead of one."
And he pressed the hand of Madame de Beaumesnil affectionately, as if to seal his promise.
"Now I can die in peace!" exclaimed the countess. And before the marquis could prevent it, she had pressed her cold lips upon the hand he had offered her; and, from this manifestation of ineffable gratitude, M. de Maillefort was convinced that the person in question was indeed Madame de Beaumesnil's illegitimate child.
All at once, either because so much violent emotion had exhausted the invalid's strength, or because her malady – concealed for a time by an apparent improvement in the sufferer's condition – had attained its height, Madame de Beaumesnil made a sudden movement, at the same time uttering a cry of agony.
"Good God, madame, what is it?" cried the marquis, terrified at the sudden alteration in Madame de Beaumesnil's features.
"It is nothing," she answered, heroically, "a slight pain, that is all. But here, take this key, – quick, I beg of you," she added, drawing out a key from under her pillow and handing it to him.
"Open – that – secretary," she gasped.
The marquis obeyed.
"There is a purse in the middle drawer. Do you see it?"
"Yes, here it is."
"Keep it, I beg of you. It contains a sum of money which I have a perfect right to dispose of. It will at least save the young girl I commended to your care from want. Only promise me," continued the poor mother, her voice becoming more and more feeble each moment, – "promise me that you will never mention my name to – to this orphan – nor tell her who it was that asked you to place this money in her hands. But tell her, oh, tell this unfortunate child that she was tenderly loved until the last, and that – that it was absolutely necessary – "
The countess was so weak now that the conclusion of the sentence was inaudible.
"But this purse – to whom am I to give it, madame? Where shall I find this young girl, and what is her name?" exclaimed M. de Maillefort, alarmed by the sudden change in Madame de Beaumesnil's condition, and by her laboured breathing.
But instead of answering M. de Maillefort's question Madame de Beaumesnil sank back on her pillows with a despairing moan, and clasped her hands upon her breast.
"Speak to me, madame," cried the marquis, bending over the countess in the utmost terror and alarm. "This young girl, tell me where I can find her, and who she is."
"I am dying – dying – " murmured Madame de Beaumesnil, lifting her eyes heavenward.
Then with a last supreme effort, she faltered:
"Don't forget – your promise – my child – the orphan!"
In another moment the countess was no more; and M. de Maillefort, overcome with grief and chagrin, could no longer doubt that this orphan, whose name and place of abode were alike unknown to him, was Madame de Beaumesnil's illegitimate child.
The funeral rites of Madame de Beaumesnil were conducted with great splendour.
The Baron de la Rochaiguë acted as chief mourner. M. de Maillefort, invited by letter to take part in the ceremonial, joined the funeral cortége.
In an obscure corner of the church, kneeling as if crushed by the weight of her despair, a young girl prayed and sobbed, unheeded by any one.
It was Herminie.
CHAPTER XII
A VAIN INTERVIEW
Several days after Madame de Beaumesnil's funeral, M. de Maillefort, arousing himself from the gloomy lethargy into which the death of the countess had plunged him, resolved to carry out that unfortunate lady's last wishes in regard to the unknown orphan, though he fully realised all the difficulties of the mission intrusted to him.
How should he go to work to find the young girl whom Madame de Beaumesnil had so urgently commended to his care?
To whom could he apply for information that would give him the necessary clue to her identity?
Above all, how could he secure this information without compromising Madame de Beaumesnil's good name and the secrecy with which she had wished him to carry out her intentions with regard to this mysterious daughter, – her illegitimate child, as M. de Maillefort could no longer doubt.
The hunchback recollected that on the evening of her death the countess had sent a confidential servant to beg him to come to the Hôtel de Beaumesnil without delay.
"This woman has been in Madame de Beaumesnil's service a long time," thought the marquis. "She may be able to give me some information."
So M. de Maillefort's valet, a trustworthy and devoted man, was sent to bring Madame Dupont to the house of the marquis.
"I know how devotedly you were attached to your mistress, my dear Madame Dupont," the marquis began.
"Ah, monsieur, madame la comtesse was so good and kind!" exclaimed Madame Dupont, bursting into tears. "How could one help being devoted to her in life and in death?"
"It is because I am so sure of this devotion, as well as of your respect for the memory of your deceased mistress, that I requested you to come to my house, my dear Madame Dupont. I wish to speak to you on a very delicate subject."
"I am listening, M. le marquis."
"The proof of confidence which Madame de Beaumesnil gave by sending for me just before her death must convince you that any questions I may put to you are of an almost sacred nature, so I can safely count upon your frankness and discretion."
"You can, indeed, M. le marquis."
"I am sure of it. Now the state of affairs is just this: Madame de Beaumesnil has for a long time, as nearly as I can learn, – at the request of a friend, – taken charge of a young orphan girl who, by the death of her protectress, is now deprived of the means of support. I am ignorant of this young girl's name, as well as of her place of residence, and I am anxious to ascertain both as soon as possible. Can you give me any information on the subject?"
"A young orphan girl?" repeated Madame Dupont, thoughtfully.
"Yes."
"During the ten years I have been in the service of madame la comtesse, I have never known any young girl who came regularly to the house or who seemed to be a protégée of hers."
"Are you sure?"
"Perfectly sure, M. le marquis."
"And Madame de Beaumesnil never entrusted you with any commission in connection with the young girl of whom I speak?"
"Never, M. le marquis. Many persons applied to madame for aid, for she was very liberal, but I never noticed that she gave any particular person the preference or interested herself any more in one person than in another, and I feel sure that if madame had wished any confidential mission performed, she would certainly have entrusted it to me."
"That is exactly what I thought, and it was for that very