France -- History -- Wars of the Vendée, 1793-1832 -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction
He shoved the cradle roughly down into her hands, then turned on his
heel without a word.
Jacintha collapsed on the stairs, and the cradle beside her, for all
the power was driven out of her body; she could hardly support her own
weight, much less the cradle.
She rocked herself, and moaned out, “Oh, what’s this? oh, what’s this?”
A cold perspiration came over her whole frame.
“What could this mean? What on earth had happened?”
She took up the candle, for it was lying burning and guttering on the
stairs; scraped up the grease with the snuffers, and by force of habit
tried to polish it clean with a bit of paper that shook between her
fingers; she did not know what she was doing. When she recovered her
wits, she took the child out of the cradle, and wrapped it carefully in
her shawl; then went slowly down the stairs; and holding him close to
her bosom, with a furtive eye, and brain confused, and a heart like
lead, stole away to the tenantless cottage, where Madame Jouvenel
awaited her.
Meantime, Rose, with quaking heart, had encountered the baroness. She
found her pale and agitated, and her first question was, “What is the
matter? what have you been all doing over my head?”
“Darling mother,” replied Rose, evasively, “something has happened that
will rejoice your heart. Somebody has come home.”
“My son? eh, no! impossible! We cannot be so happy.”
“He will be with you directly.”
The old lady now trembled with joyful agitation.
“In five minutes I will bring him to you. Shall you be dressed? I will
ring for the girl to help you.”
“But, Rose, the scream, and that terrible fall. Ah! where is Josephine?”
“Can’t you guess, mamma? Oh, the fall was only the screen; they stumbled
over it in the dark.”
“They! who?”
“Colonel Raynal, and--and Edouard. I will tell you, mamma, but don’t be
angry, or even mention it; they wanted to surprise us. They saw a light
burning, and they crept on tiptoe up to the tapestried room, where
Josephine and I were, and they did give us a great fright.”
“What madness!” cried the baroness, angrily; “and in Josephine’s weak
state! Such a surprise might have driven her into a fit.”
“Yes, it was foolish, but let it pass, mamma. Don’t speak of it, for he
is so sorry about it.”
Then Rose slipped out, ordered a fire in the salon, and not in the
tapestried room, and the next minute was at her sister’s door. There she
found Raynal knocking, and asking Josephine how she was.
“Pray leave her to me a moment,” said she. “I will bring her down to
you. Mamma is waiting for you in the salon.”
Raynal went down. Rose unlocked the bedroom-door, went in, and, to her
horror, found Josephine lying on the floor. She dashed water in her
face, and applied every remedy; and at last she came back to life, and
its terrors.
“Save me, Rose! save me--he is coming to kill me--I heard him at the
door,” and she clung trembling piteously to Rose.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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