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A Romance of the West Indies
"Madame, I beg of you, do not take me for a fool, for a jackanapes, for a stupid; if I am dumb, it is with emotion, surprise." And Croustillac looked about him uneasily, as if to assure himself he was not the sport of a dream. "May I be shot if I expected such a reception."
"Well, there is no need to make so many words over it," replied the widow. "I have been told you wish to marry me – is it true?"
"As true as that you are the most dazzling beauty that I have ever met," said the chevalier impetuously, placing his hand on his heart.
"Truly? Truly? You have really decided to marry me?" cried the little widow, clapping her hands joyfully.
"I am so decided, adorable widow, that my only fear now is of not seeing this desire realized; it is, I avow, an excessive desire, a great dream, and – "
"Be quiet, then," said Blue Beard, interrupting the chevalier with childlike frankness. "What is the use of these big words? You ask my hand – why should I not give it to you?"
"How, madame, can I believe it! Ah, wait, beautiful Islander. I have had many triumphs in my life; princesses have avowed their passion for me; queens have sighed when looking at me, but never, madame, never have I found such a one! Yes, madame, you can congratulate yourself, you can boast of having brought to its height my surprise, my joy and my gratitude. Repeat, then, I implore you, repeat those charming words – you consent to take me for your husband, me, Polyphème de Croustillac?"
"I will repeat it as much as you desire; nothing is simpler; you can well understand that I have too much trouble in finding husbands not to seize eagerly the offer which you make me."
"Ah, madame," replied the chevalier courteously, "at the risk of passing for an impertinent man, I must allow myself to contradict you. Never can I believe that you could find it difficult to find a husband. I will say more – I am convinced that you have had, since your widowhood only embarrassment of choice, but you have simply not wished to select. You have too good taste, madame," said Croustillac audaciously, "you waited – "
"I might deceive you and allow you to think this, chevalier, but you are too brave and gallant a man to be abused – at present," continued Angela, with a gracious and confidential manner, "I will tell you all. Listen to me. The first time I married, I had but to choose, it is true. O, heavens! suitors presented themselves in swarms, and I chose – very well, too. Then my second marriage: it was even then not the same thing. People had commented on the singular death of my first husband, and suitors had already begun to reflect before declaring themselves. However, as I am not stupid, thanks to determination, cajolery and coquetry, I succeeded in getting a second husband. Alas! it was not without trouble. But the third. Oh, you have no idea all the trouble I had; truly I was in despair!"
"Ah, madame, why was I not there!"
"Doubtless, but, unhappily, you were not. If they talked about the death of my first husband; you can judge what they said about that of my second. People began to distrust me," said the widow, shaking her pretty little head with an expression of ingenuous melancholy. "What would you have? the world is so meddling, so slanderous; men are so strange!"
"The world is stupid and egotistical, foolish," cried Croustillac, filled with pity for this victim of calumny. "Men are cowards and fools who believe all the gossip which is told them."
"What you say is very true. You are not so, my friend?"
"She calls me her friend," cried Croustillac, in a transport; and he answered, "No, certainly not, and I am not so."
"Doubtless," said the widow, "you are very different; you spoil me by accepting my proposition so quickly."
"Say, rather, that I am beyond bounds overjoyed at it, madame."
"You spoil me," continued the widow, with an enchanting smile, and throwing a tender glance at the chevalier. "I assure you you spoil me; you are so easy, so accommodating. Ah! how shall I replace you?"
"Replace me?"
"Yes, after you, friend."
"After me?"
"Yes, certainly, after you."
"Madame, I do not understand you. I do not wish to understand."
"It is very simple; how can I hope to find another like you, who will marry me so willingly? Ah, no, such men are rare!"
"How, madame, after me?" cried Croustillac, overcome by this idea. "You dream, then, of a successor to me?"
"Yes, friend," replied the widow, with the most touchingly sentimental air imaginable; "yes, for when you are no more I must renew my quest, seek, ask, and find a fifth husband. Think, then, of the difficulties and obstacles to overcome. Perhaps I shall not succeed. Think, then, a widow for the fourth time. You forget that; it is a fact, however; my friend, after you, I shall be a widow for the fourth time."
"I do not forget it at all, madame," said Croustillac, whose ardor became somewhat chilled, and began to ask himself if this affair was not madness. "I shall not forget, certainly, in case I have the honor of marrying you, that you will be for the fourth time a widow if you lose me; but it appears you place a rather short period to my love."
"Alas! yes, my friend," said the widow, in a tender voice, "one year, and a year is very short. A year! it passes so quickly when one loves," continued she, casting the glance of a perfect assassin at him.
"A year, madame," cried the chevalier. But then, believing that the words of Blue Beard hid perhaps a test, that she wished possibly to judge of his courage, he added in a chivalrous tone, "Ah, well, so be it, madame; whether my happiness last but a year, a day, an hour, a minute – it matters not; I will brave all, if only I can say that I have been fortunate enough to obtain your hand."
"You are a true knight," said the widow, charmed. "I expected no less of you. That is agreed; only I must forewarn my little Rendsoul, for form's sake, understand, for married or not I shall always be to him what I have been."
"But, madame," said Croustillac, "is it permitted me, will it be indiscreet to ask you what you are to this hunter of wild beasts, and what are his relations with you? Or, rather, will you explain to me what intimacy it is that you feel obliges you to speak to him of your plans?"
"Certainly; and to whom would I make this statement if not to you, my friend? I will confess to you that Rendsoul is one of my lovers."
Here Croustillac made such a singular grimace and coughed two or three times in such a manner, that Angela broke into a peal of laughter.
Croustillac, for a moment dumfounded, came to this reflection full of wisdom: "I am a fool! Nothing is simpler. She had a kind of fancy for this stupid fellow. The sight of me has decided her to sacrifice him; unlucky buccaneer that he is! But why the devil does she tell me that at the end of a year she must find a successor to me?"
"Wait – here comes my Rendsoul," said the widow. "We will tell him our plans, and we will sup together like three friends."
"It matters not to me," said Croustillac, seeing the buccaneer enter. "Here is a little woman who wishes to show that she is an original."
CHAPTER XIII
THE SUPPER
When the buccaneer entered the chevalier hardly knew him. Rend-your-Soul had put off his hunter's costume; he wore a coat and nether garment of guinea cloth, thickly embroidered with alternate rays of white and deep red; his black beard fell upon a shirt of dazzling whiteness, which was close like a doublet by a row of small coral buttons; a scarf of red silk, hose of the same color, and shoes of doeskin with large ribbon-bows, completed a costume most elegant for a buccaneer, and showing to advantage his tall and robust figure; in the brilliant light of the candles his complexion seemed less brown than in the daytime; his black hair, curling naturally, fell carelessly on his shoulders; and finally, his hands were beautiful, in spite of his rough following as a hunter.
At the sight of the buccaneer, so transformed and almost unrecognizable, in spite of the hard character which his thick beard always gave to his face, the chevalier said to himself, "I should prefer that this person had at least a civilized appearance; it would be too humiliating for Polyphème de Croustillac to triumph over a rival so plain as the one which he at first sight appeared to be. But, while I do not doubt this Nimrod, I must say that Blue Beard has a singular manner of acting. Could she not have given him his dismissal in some other way than in my presence? I hate to so cruelly use my advantage in crushing a poor rival; for, after all, a man is a man! This poor buccaneer is going to find himself in a pitiable position. But let me hold firm; and show Blue Beard that I am not the dupe of her confidence concerning her deceased husbands, and that I am not afraid to die like them."
Croustillac ended this reflection when the pretty widow, indicating the adventurer by a triumphant nod of the head, said ingenuously to the buccaneer, "This gentleman asks for my hand in marriage. You see you were wrong in persisting to me that I would not find a fourth husband. So you can imagine I have very quickly accepted the chevalier's proposal; it was too good an opportunity to let slip."
The buccaneer did not reply at once. Croustillac mechanically put his hand on the hilt of his sword, in order not to be without means of defense in case the hunter, exasperated by jealousy, should wish to do him an injury. What was his surprise when he heard Rend-your-Soul say, after seating himself in a large chair, "I have always said to you, my beautiful one, just what that comrade Hurricane said, 'Marry, a thousand devils marry! if you desire to, for husbands are rare, for one never knows what you will do; but one thing is certain, they never live long.' As for me, I do not approve your little proceedings. I have more than once seen your little white hands prepare certain beverages – "
"Oh, fie! fie! bad man!" said Angela, shaking her finger at him.
"Nevertheless, it is true," said the buccaneer. "What is the secret of that gray powder of which I had only given a pinch to my servant who was devoured by my dogs. What infernal concoction was it?"
"Yes, madame, this gray powder – tell us its compounds," said Croustillac.
"Oh, you indiscreet man!" said Angela, looking at the buccaneer, with an air of annoyance. "The chevalier will take me for a child; how shall I appear in his eyes if he thinks I occupy myself with such trifles?"
"Have no fears on that score, madame," said Croustillac; "I am delighted, I assure you, to have these new evidences of your youthful candor! Well, worthy Nimrod, this gray powder?"
"Truly, I am very much ashamed!" said Angela, hanging her head and lowering her eyes, and at the same time making a charming little grimace.
"Imagine, then," said the buccaneer, "that I gave my servant just a little pinch of powder in a glass of brandy."
"Well?" said Croustillac, with interest.
"Well, for two days he was so gay that he laughed from night till morning and morning till night."
"I do not see anything bad in that," said Croustillac.
"But wait!" continued the hunter. "My servant did not do this from amusement, he suffered the torments of the damned; his eyes were bursting from their sockets, and he said, between his paroxysms of laughter, that such torture as he endured was beyond belief. The third day he suffered so that he fell as if in a fit, and remained thus a long time; all due to the pinch of madame's gray powder. It may not surprise you to learn that madame's second husband was as gay as a lark, and that he died very joyfully."
"Oh! heavens, as if one could not commit a little mischief without being reproached by you," said Angela, like a capricious child.
"Listen, comrade! she calls that a little mischief," said the hunter. "Just imagine! her second husband laughed so hard that the blood burst from his nose, eyes and ears. But whatever he laughed about, he did so as if he had seen the most amusing thing in the world. But that did not prevent him from saying, like my servant, that he would rather have been burned at a slow fire than suffer such gayety; he also died, laughing to the last, and swearing like a devil."
"There! you go too fast," said Blue Beard, shrugging her shoulders. Then, whispering to the Gascon, "Friend, do not be afraid – I have lost the secret of the gray powder!"
The chevalier, in an attempt to smile, made quite a grimace. He had left France at a time when the fearful practice in poisons was at its height, and people talked only of the heir's powder, the powder of the aged, and the widow's powder. The names, even, of certain poisons were cited with fear. Now Blue Beard's laughing powder could not but give rise to the most doleful reflections on the part of the chevalier. "So," he said to himself, glancing defiantly at Angela, "does this creature deal in chemistry and draughts – is this story true?"
"What ails you, brother?" said the buccaneer, struck by Croustillac's silence.
"You have made him afraid of me," said the widow.
"No, my beautiful lady, no," said Croustillac, "I was thinking that it must be very pleasant to die thus of laughter!"
"Faith, you are right, brother, one had better die so than as the last husband died." And the buccaneer shuddered with horror.
"It appears that the death of the latter must have been more terrible than the former," said Croustillac, with affected carelessness.
"As to that story, comrade, I will not tell you that, you would be afraid."
"I? afraid?" and the Gascon shrugged his shoulders.
Blue Beard leaned over and whispered again to the Gascon, "Let him tell it, friend; this tale, at least, is worth the trouble. I am going to trap Rendsoul."
Then, addressing herself to the buccaneer, "Well, go on; speak! Why do you not speak? Do not pause in the middle of the road. You see the chevalier is listening with all his ears – go on, speak. I do not wish him to buy, as they say, a 'a cat in a bag.'"
"You should say a tigress in a bag," replied, laughingly, the buccaneer. "Ah, well, sir," addressing Croustillac, "Fancy this third husband a man, handsome, of dark complexion, thirty-six years of age, a Spaniard by birth. We came across him at Havana."
"Heavens! tell it quickly," said the widow, "the chevalier is impatient to hear."
"It was not a gray powder that he tasted, this one," replied the buccaneer, "but a drop, one drop only, of a pretty green liquid contained in the smallest flask I ever saw in my life, for it was made of a single hollow ruby."
"That is simple enough," said Angela, "the strength of this liquid was such that it would dissolve or break any flask which was not made of a ruby or a diamond."
"You can judge, after that, chevalier," said the hunter, "of the pleasure which this liquid must have given our third husband. Certainly I am neither over-tender nor timid, but, after all, it is difficult to become accustomed to seeing a man who looks at you with green eyes, luminous, and set so deep in their orbit that they have the effect of a glowworm in the depths of a subterranean cave."
"The fact is," said Croustillac, who could not prevent a slight shudder, "the fact is that at first this would appear strange."
"That is not all; listen to the rest," said the widow with an air of perfect self-satisfaction.
The buccaneer continued: "That was only his usual condition, poor man, having eyes like a glowworm, but what was most frightful was when madame gave a supper to Hurricane, myself and Youmäale. She dipped a camel's hair brush into the little ruby flask and compelled the unhappy Spaniard to approach, and passed this brush over his eyelashes. Then one would have said that from the eyelashes of this unhappy man there issued a thousand rays; his green eyes, sunken in his head, protruded and rolled in their orbit like two globes of fire, and threw such varied and continual light that they sufficed to light up our feast, while the wretched man stood immovable as a marble statue, saying in a piteous voice, 'My head furnishes fuel for the lamps of my eyes!' It was well that the poor man could not see the fire," said the buccaneer, bursting into laughter at this cruel jest. "And when the supply of oil in the lamp failed, the madame's husband went to join his predecessors, in order to leave his place open to you."
"What Rendsoul tells you is correct," said Blue Beard. "He is very indiscreet, as you see, but he is truthful. And so am I. I have singular ideas and caprices, I know; my God! I do not wish to represent myself as better than I am. Above all, I would be frank with you and conceal nothing. You would ask why my husbands are the only victims of my playfulness? I have no power over others. And I always warn them what will be their fate. It is that which makes it so difficult for me to find a husband. It is on these conditions alone that Satan signs my contract, and then this contract, signed by him, acquires a virtue as wonderful as mysterious. Alas! my friend, may he soon sign ours. I have thought of two preparations which are entirely different from the others, and the effects of which are truly magical."
All this time Croustillac experienced a strange sensation, which he attributed to the fatigue of the day and the evening; it was as if a lethargy possessed his brain and almost took from him the power of resisting by use of his reason the impression made by these strange tales of the widow and the buccaneer. Without believing these fabulous inventions, he was nevertheless frightened by them as one is by a bad dream. The chevalier hardly knew whether he was awake or asleep; he looked at the buccaneer and the widow by turn, with a stupefied air, almost terrified. Finally, being ashamed to show his credulity, he rose abruptly and paced up and down a few minutes in the hope that movement would dispel the torpor which he felt overwhelming him.
Croustillac did not wish to be a butt for these two persons, and he almost regretted having embarked so imprudently in this mad adventure. He said to Blue Beard resolutely, "Come, come, you are jesting, madame; do not trouble yourself; I comprehend the joke. I do not believe you as ferocious or as much of a magician as you wish to appear; to-morrow, I am sure I shall learn the secret of this comedy, which to-night, I avow, gives me a kind of nightmare."
These words of the chevalier, spoken from no motive but to show the dwellers of Devil's Cliff that he did not intend to be their dupe, produced on Blue Beard a singular effect. She cast a terrified glance at the buccaneer, and said haughtily to Croustillac, "I do not jest, sir; you came here with the intention of marrying me; I offer you my hand, and I will tell you upon what conditions; if these are agreeable to you, we will be married in eight days; there is a chapel here; the reverend Father Griffen, of the parish of Macouba, will come hither in order to unite us; if my conditions do not meet with your approval, you can quit this house, where you never ought to have come."
As Blue Beard proceeded her face lost its look of wicked cajolery; she became sad, almost menacing. "A comedy!" she said; "if I thought you took all that has been said as such, you should not remain a moment longer in this house, sir," she continued, in a changed voice, betraying her deep feeling.
"No, the chevalier must not take it all as a jest," said the buccaneer, looking steadily at the Gascon.
Croustillac, naturally impatient and vivacious, experienced vexation at not being able to discover what was true and what feigned in this singular adventure. He cried then, "Well, zounds! madame, what do you wish me to think? I encounter a buccaneer in the forest; I impart to him my desire to meet you; he informs me abruptly that you will yourself tell me that he has the good fortune to be in your good graces."
"And then, sir?"
"Then, madame, though I have warned him, the buccaneer has brought me to you, by whom I have been received with the greatest hospitality, I must acknowledge; I am introduced to you; informed of my desires, you yourself offer me your hand, you inform your friend the bull-hunter of my wishes."
"Well, sir?"
"Madame, up to that time all went well; but now the buccaneer wishes to inform me, with your consent, that I am reserved for a fourth deceased husband, and to succeed a man who laughed himself to death, and one whose eyes served as lights for one of your orgies!"
"It is the truth," said the buccaneer.
"How, the truth?" continued Croustillac, recovering his lost vivacity. "Are we in the land of dreams? Do you take the Chevalier de Croustillac for a simpleton? Do you think I am one of those weak-minded creatures who believe in the devil? I am not a goose, and I also ask twenty-four hours in which to demolish all these ridiculous stories."
Angela became very pale, and threw a look of agony and indescribable fear on the buccaneer, and replied to the chevalier with ill-concealed anger, "Ah, who told you, sir, that all that has taken place is natural? Do you know why I, young and rich, offer you my hand the first moment I see you? Do you know what this union will cost you? You believe yourself to have a strong mind; who told you that certain phenomena would not go beyond your comprehension? Do you know who I am? Do you know where you are? Do you know in consequence of what strange mystery I offer you my hand? A comedy?" repeated Blue Beard bitterly, regarding the buccaneer with an appearance almost of fear; "can you not be made to understand that all this is not a play, sir? It is hardly to be believed that your good angel brought you here, at least."
"And then, after all, who told you that you would ever go out of this place?" said the buccaneer coldly.
The chevalier recoiled a step, trembling, and said:
"Zounds! no violence, at least – or if so – "
"If so, what can you do?" said Blue Beard, with a smile which appeared to the Gascon implacably cruel.
Croustillac thought, too late, of the doors he had shut behind him, of the difficult road he had had to traverse in order to reach this diabolical house; he saw himself at the mercy of the widow, of the buccaneer, and of their numerous slaves. He repented heartily and most earnestly of having so blindly entered upon such an enterprise. On the other hand, Croustillac, in contemplating the enchanting figure of Blue Beard, could not believe her capable of such bloodthirsty perfidy. Nevertheless, the strange avowals she had made him, the terrible reports concerning her, the threats of the buccaneer, began to make some impression upon the chevalier. Just then a mulattress came in to announce supper.
During the gloomy reflections of the adventurer, Angela had a few minutes' conversation with the buccaneer, carried on in a low voice; she was, as a result, apparently satisfied and reassured, for, little by little, her brow cleared, and the smile again came to her lips. "Come, brave knight," said she gayly to the chevalier, "do not be afraid of me any more; do not take me for the devil; and do honor to the modest supper that a poor widow is only too happy to offer you."
So saying, she graciously offered her hand to Croustillac. The supper was served with a sumptuousness, a refinement, which left no doubt in the chevalier's mind as to the enormous fortune of the widow. Only, we would say to the reader that the silver-gilt service was not engraved with the royal arms of England, as were the objects which were placed only before Blue Beard.
In spite of the sprightliness and ideal grace of the widow, in spite of the witty sallies of the buccaneer, the supper was a gloomy one for Croustillac. His habitual assurance had given place to a kind of vague inquietude. The more charming Angela seemed to him, the more she exercised her fascinations, the greater the luxury which surrounded her, the more the adventurer found his distrust increased. In spite of their absurdity, the strange tales of the buccaneer kept returning to the remembrance of the chevalier – both the tale of the gray powder which caused one to die of laughter, and the liquid in the ruby flask which changed the eyes into brilliant lamps. While these recitals might not be more real than a bad dream past – the Gascon, from dread of some infernal dish, could not prevent himself from distrust of the viands and wines with which he was served. He observed the widow and the buccaneer closely; their manners were perfectly correct. Rendsoul bore himself toward Blue Beard with the proper degree of familiarity which a husband displays toward his wife before a stranger. "But then," the chevalier asked himself, "how does this reserve accord with the cynicism of the widow, who declared so cavalierly that the Caribbean and the filibuster shared her good graces with the buccaneer, without the latter being jealous in the slightest degree?" The Gascon asked himself still further what could be the object of Blue Beard in offering her hand to him, and what price she would put upon this union. He was too clear-sighted not to have noticed the lively emotion, sincere on the part of the widow, when she showed such indignation that the adventurer should believe her capable of playing a comedy in offering her hand. On this point Croustillac had not deceived himself. Blue Beard had been deeply moved; she had been in despair on seeing that the Gascon took for a jest or a comedy all that had passed at Devil's Cliff. She had been reassured on seeing the vague disquietude which the face of the chevalier showed in spite of himself. He was lost in vain conjectures. Never had he found himself in a situation so strange that the idea of a supernatural influence or power should present itself to his mind. In spite of himself, he asked himself if there was nothing unnatural in what he had seen and heard. The fact that he felt the first heavy agony of a superstitious terror struck him most disagreeably. He did not dare to acknowledge to himself that more determined men, wiser and more learned men than he, had, within the century, and even the latter part of it, testified a belief in the existence of a veritable devil. And then, finally, the adventurer had been until then much too indifferent in the matter of religion not to believe in the devil, sooner or later.
This fear passed rapidly through the mind of the chevalier, but it would leave, for the future, an indelible mark; however, he reassured himself, little by little, at seeing the pretty widow do honor to the supper; she showed herself too fond of the pleasures of the table to be a spirit of darkness.
The supper at an end, the three entered the drawing room, and Blue Beard said to the chevalier in a solemn voice, "To-morrow I will inform you on what conditions I will give you my hand; if you refuse them, you must leave Devil's Cliff. In order to give you a proof of my confidence in you I consent that you shall pass this night in the interior of this house, although I never accord this favor to strangers. Rendsoul will show you the rooms reserved for you." Saying this, the widow entered her own apartment. Croustillac remained absorbed in thought.
"Ah, well, brother, how do you feel?" said the buccaneer.
"What is your motive in addressing such a question to me? Is it sarcasm?" said the chevalier.
"My motive is simply to know how you like our hostess."
"Hum, hum – without wishing to detract from her, you must confess that she is a woman very difficult to estimate, at first sight," said Croustillac, with some bitterness. "You cannot be surprised if I consider the subject before I answer your question. To-morrow I will tell you my opinion, if I am able to answer, myself."
"In your place I should not consider the subject," said the buccaneer. "I would accept, with eyes closed, all that she offered me, and I would wed her; for, by my faith, one cannot tell who will live or who die; tastes change with years. The days which succeed each other are dissimilar."
"Ah, well, have done with your proverbs and parables," said the Gascon, exasperated. "Why do you not marry her yourself?"
"I?"
"Yes, you!"
"Because I do not wish to die of laughter or have my eyes converted into lamps."
"And do you think that I wish to do so?"
"You?"
"Yes; why should I more than you wish to see the devil sign my contract, as this woman playfully says?"
"Then do not marry her; you are your own master; that is your lookout."
"Certainly, it is my affair, and I will marry her if I choose! Peste!" exclaimed the chevalier, who began to fear that he was losing his wits by reason of this chaos of strange ideas.
"Come, brother, be calm!" said the buccaneer; "do not worry yourself. Do you doubt I will keep my word? I have brought you to Devil's Cliff; the prettiest woman in the world offers you her hand, her heart and her treasures; what more would you have?"
"I would understand all that has taken place, everything that has happened to me for the past two days, all that I have seen and heard to-night!" cried Croustillac, exasperated beyond bounds. "I would know if I am awake or dreaming."
"You must not be too exacting, brother. Perhaps this night will bring you a dream which will explain and enlighten you upon these subjects. Come – it is late, the day has been hard; follow me." And, saying these words, the buccaneer took up a candle and made a sign to the chevalier to follow him.
They passed through a number of sumptuously furnished rooms, and a little gallery, at the end of which they reached a very elegant bed-chamber, whose windows opened on the beautiful garden of which we have already spoken.
"You have been a soldier or a sportsman, brother," said the buccaneer, "you will know, then, how to get along without a servant. No man, except myself, Hurricane, and the Caribbean has ever passed the first door of this place; our beautiful hostess has made an exception in your favor, but this exception must be the only one. Knowing this, brother, may God or the devil keep you in his care." The buccaneer went out, shutting Croustillac in by means of a double lock.
