“What is it?” said the Baron.
“The vengeance of Josephine Balsamo,” said Ralph somberly.
“But if she’s dead—”
“Even dead, she is formidable,” said Ralph gravely. “And that’s why I am here. There is at the bottom of the park a small keeper’s lodge. I’m going to install myself in it—till our marriage. Inform Clarice that I am here and tell her to allow no one to visit her—not even me. Perhaps however she will accept this present from me since we are engaged; and I beg you to give it to her from me.”
And he handed to the astonished Baron a huge sapphire, of an incomparable fineness, and cut as they used to cut precious stones in an earlier age.
XIV
The Infernal Creature
“Let go the anchor and lower a boat,” said Josephine.
A thick mist rested on the sea, which, along with the darkness of the night, prevented them from seeing the lights of Etretat. Even the lamp of Cape Antifer lighthouse could not pierce the impenetrable fog through which the yacht of Prince Lavosneff was groping its way.
“Why are you sure that we are in sight of land?” Leonard asked.
“Because I desire it so keenly,” said Josephine.
He lost his temper: “This expedition is foolishness—pure foolishness,” he said. “What? It’s a fortnight since we succeeded and that, thanks to you, we gained the most extraordinary victory. The whole mass of those precious stones is safe in the strongroom of a bank in London. All danger is over. The Countess of Cagliostro, Madam Pellegrini, Madam Balsamo, the Marquise de Belmonte, are all at the bottom of the sea, as a result of the shipwreck of the Glowworm which you had the admirable idea of organizing and which you directed with such vigor. Twenty witnesses heard the explosion from the coast. To all the world you are dead, a hundred times dead, and I as well, and all your confederates. If anyone succeeded in bringing to light the story of the treasure of the monks, they would come to the conclusion that it had been scattered about with the fragments of the Glowworm at a place impossible to fix exactly, and that the jewels are strewn about in the bottom of the sea. And we may well believe that Justice is delighted with this shipwreck and our deaths, and that it is not going to look too closely into the matter, such efforts have been made in high places to hush up the Beaumagnan-Cagliostro affair. Everything then is going well. You are the mistress of circumstances and victorious over all your enemies. And it is the moment at which the most elementary prudence bids us leave France and to get as far as possible away from Europe. And that’s the very moment you choose to return to the very place in which you have suffered your worst defeats, and to confront the only enemy who remains. And what an enemy! A genius of a kind so exceptional, that, without him you would never have discovered the treasure. You must admit that it’s madness.”
She murmured: “Love is a madness.”
“Then give it up.”
“I can’t give it up. I love him.”
She rested her elbows on the bulwarks, her head between her hands, and murmured in despairing accents: “I love him. It’s the first time I have ever loved. The other men—they don’t count. But as for Ralph but I don’t want to talk about him. Thanks to him I have known the only joy I ever had—but also the greatest suffering. Before I met him I did not know what happiness was; but I did not know sorrow either. And then—and then the happiness came to an end; and only the suffering is left. It’s horrible, Leonard! The idea that he is going to marry—that another is going to share his life, is more than I can bear. Anything rather than that! I would rather risk anything—I would rather die!”
He said in a low voice: “My poor Josine.”
They were silent for some time. She leaned on the rail huddled together and despairing. Then when the boat was lowered, she drew herself upright, imperious and implacable.
“But I risk nothing, Leonard—neither death nor failure,” she said.
“What are you going to do?” he said in a tone of patient resignation.
“I’m going to carry him off.”
“You hope to do that?”
“Yes. Everything is ready. The smallest details have been worked out.”
“How?” he said in an incredulous tone.
“By the agency of Dominique.”
“Ah! I was wondering what had become of Dominique,” he said.
“Yes; directly after the coup, even before Ralph went to La Haie d’Etigues, Dominique got employed there as a groom.”
“But Ralph knows him.”
“Ralph has seen him once or twice at the most; and you know how clever Dominique is at disguising his face. It’s impossible that he should recognize him among all the staff of the château and the stables. Dominique then, following my instructions, has kept me informed of what is going on day by day. I know the hours at which Ralph goes to bed and gets up, how he spends his time, and everything he does. I know that he has not yet seen Clarice again, but that he has sent for the papers necessary for the marriage.”
“Does he suspect anything?”
“As far as I’m concerned, he does not. Dominique heard scraps of a conversation which he had with Godfrey d’Etigues the day he came to the château. Neither of them had the slightest doubt about my death. But none the less Ralph wished them to take all possible precautions against me, though I was dead. Therefore he is on guard over
