Chapter XXIV: An Unconditional Surrender

Three days had elapsed since M. de Maillefort's interviews with Madame de Senneterre and M. de la Rochaigue, and Herminie, alone in her pretty room, seemed a prey to the keenest anxiety; for every now and then she cast an impatient glance at the clock, or started at the slightest sound, or turned hastily towards the door.

In fact, one could discern in the face of the duchess an anxiety fully equal to that which she had experienced some time before, while in momentary expectation of the much dreaded M. Bouffard's coming.

And yet it was not a visit from M. Bouffard, but from M. de Maillefort, that caused the girl's agitation.

The flowers in the pretty little room had just been renewed, and the muslin curtains at the windows that overlooked the garden had been freshly laundered. These windows were open, but the green outside shutters were closed to keep out the glare.

After setting her house in order with scrupulous care, the duchess had evidently made an unusually careful toilet, for she had donned her best dress, a high-necked, black levantine, with chemisette and sleeves of dazzling whiteness. Her sole ornament was her magnificent hair, which gleamed like burnished gold in the sun-light, but never had her beauty seemed more noble and touching in its character, for, for some time past, her face had been paler, though her complexion had lost none of its dazzling clearness.

The duchess had just given another quick glance at the door, when she fancied she heard a footstep outside, near the window that overlooked the garden, and she was about to rise and satisfy her doubts, when the door opened, and Madame Moufflon ushered in M. de Maillefort.

That gentleman was hardly in the room, however, before he turned and said to the portress:

"A lady will come and ask to see Mlle. Herminie, in a few moments--you will admit her."

"Yes, monsieur," replied Madame Moufflon, deferentially, as she took her departure.

On hearing the words, "A lady will come and ask to see Mlle. Herminie," the girl sprang forward hastily, exclaiming:

"_Mon Dieu!_ M. le marquis,--this lady--whom you expect--?"

"Is she!" replied the marquis, radiant with joy and hope. "Yes, she is coming at last!"

Then, seeing Herminie turn as pale as death and tremble violently in every limb, the hunchback cried:

"What is the matter, my child? Tell me, what is the matter?"

"Ah, monsieur," said the duchess, faintly, "I don't know why, but now, oh, I feel so afraid!"

"Afraid! when Madame de Senneterre has pledged herself to make the concession which you were very right to ask, but which you had little hope that she would ever grant!"

"Alas! monsieur, now, for the first time, I seem to understand the temerity, the impropriety, perhaps, of my demand."

"My dear child," exclaimed the hunchback, anxiously, "no weakness, I beg, or you will lose all. Be your own noble, charming self, the personification of modesty without humility, and of dignity without arrogance, and all will be well,--I trust."

"Ah, monsieur, when you told me yesterday that there was a possibility of this visit from Madame de Senneterre, I thought my cup of joy would be filled to overflowing, if this hope should be realised, and now I feel only the most abject terror and alarm."

"Here she comes! Summon up all your courage, my child, for God's sake, and think of Gerald!" exclaimed the hunchback, hearing a carriage stop at the door.

"Oh, monsieur, have pity on me," murmured the duchess, clutching M. de Maillefort's hand convulsively. "Oh, I shall never dare--"

"Poor child! she is going to ruin her prospects, I fear," thought the marquis.

Almost at that very instant the door opened, and Madame de Senneterre entered.

She was a tall and slender woman, with an exceedingly haughty manner, and she came into the room with head high in the air, an insolent gleam in her eyes, and a disdainful smile upon her lips. She had an unusually high colour, and seemed to find it difficult to control her feelings.

The fact is, Madame de Senneterre was violently agitated by conflicting emotions. This ridiculously proud and arrogant woman had left her home firmly resolved to make the concession towards Herminie which M. de Maillefort demanded, and in return for which he had promised to adopt the young girl.

Madame de Senneterre had consequently resolved that during this visit, which cost her pride so much, her demeanour should be scrupulously, though coldly, polite; but as the moment for the interview approached, and as this arrogant woman reflected that she, the Duchesse de Senneterre, was about to present herself as a petitioner at the home of an obscure young girl, who worked for her living, the implacable pride of the grande dame revolted at the thought. Anger filled her heart, she lost her head, and, forgetting the advantages her son would derive from this marriage, forgetting that, after all, it was the adopted daughter of the Prince Duc de Haut-Martel she was about to visit, and not the poor music teacher, Madame de Senneterre reached Herminie's home with no intention of adopting any conciliatory measures, but resolved to treat this insolent creature, who had been so audacious in her pretensions, as she deserved to be treated.

On seeing the haughtiness, aggressiveness, and anger so legibly imprinted on Madame de Senneterre's features, the marquis, no less surprised than alarmed, understood the sudden change which had taken place in the intentions of Gerald's mother, and said to himself, despairingly:

"All is lost!"

As for Herminie, she did not seem to have a drop of blood in her veins. Her beautiful face had become frightfully pale; her lips, which were almost blue, trembled convulsively; it seemed impossible for her to raise her eyes--in fact, she seemed unable to make the slightest movement, or even to utter a word.

In spite of the high terms in which M. de Maillefort had spoken of this young girl whom he esteemed so highly as to be willing to give her his name, Madame de Senneterre, too insufferably proud as well as opinionated to concede that Herminie's conduct might have been prompted solely by a sense of dignity, had expected to find herself confronted by a vain, pert, rather coarse, ill-bred girl, proud of her conquest, and resolved to make the most of it; so, as Gerald's mother, she had armed herself with the most insulting disdain and arrogance of manner.

She was consequently both astonished and discomfited at the sight of this charming but timid creature, of such rare loveliness and wonderful distinction of manner, who, instead of giving herself any impertinent airs, did not even dare to raise her eyes, and seemed more dead than alive in the presence of the great lady from whom she had exacted this visit.

"Good Heavens, how beautiful she is!" Madame de Senneterre said to herself, with a strange mixture of spitefulness and involuntary admiration. "What a refined and distinguished looking young woman this poor, obscure music teacher is! It is simply marvellous! My own daughters are not to be compared with her."

Though it has taken some time to describe these conflicting sentiments in the heart of Madame de Senneterre, their coming and going had been well-nigh simultaneous, and only a few seconds had elapsed after her entrance into the room before, blushing for the sort of embarrassment and dismay that she had at first experienced, she broke the silence by demanding in haughty, supercilious tones:

"Mlle. Herminie, is she here?"

"I am she, madame la duchesse," faltered Herminie, while M. de Maillefort stood watching the scene with growing anxiety.

"Mlle. Herminie--the music teacher?" repeated Madame de Senneterre, with a contemptuous emphasis on the last word. "You are that young person, I suppose."

"Yes, madame la duchesse," replied the poor girl, trembling like a leaf, and without venturing to raise her eyes.

"Well, mademoiselle, you are satisfied, I trust? You have had the audacity to insist that I should come here, and here I am."

"I felt constrained--madame la duchesse--to solicit the honour--that--that--"

"Indeed! And what right have you to presume to make this insolent demand?"

"Madame!" exclaimed the hunchback, threateningly.

But as Madame de Senneterre uttered these last insulting words, Herminie, who had seemed so terrified, so utterly crushed until then, lifted her head proudly, a slight tinge of colour suffused her cheeks, and, raising her large blue eyes for the first time to the face of Gerald's mother, she replied in firm though gentle tones:

"I have never felt that I had the right to expect even the slightest mark of deference from you, madame. On the contrary, I only desired to--to testify the respect that I felt for your authority, madame, by declaring to M. de Senneterre that I could not and would not accept his hand without his mother's consent."

"And I--a person of my age and position--must humiliate myself by making the first advances to mademoiselle?"

"I am an orphan, madame, without a relative in the world. I could designate no one else for you to approach on the subject, and my dignity would not permit me to go to you and solicit--"

"Your dignity,--this is really very amusing!" exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, infuriated at finding herself obliged to acknowledge the charming reserve and perfect dignity of the girl's demeanour under such very trying circumstances. "Could anything be more extraordinary?" she continued, with a sarcastic laugh. "Mademoiselle has her dignity."

"I have the dignity of virtue, poverty, and honest toil, madame la duchesse," replied Herminie, looking Madame de Senneterre full in the face, this time with such an unflinching, noble air that Gerald's mother became embarrassed and was obliged to avert her eyes.

For several minutes the marquis had found it very difficult to restrain his desire to punish Madame de Senneterre for her insolence to his protegee, but on hearing Herminie's simple but noble reply, he thought her sufficiently avenged.

"So be it, then," responded Madame de Senneterre, in a rather less bitter tone. "You have your dignity, but you can hardly think that for a person to be able to enter one of the most illustrious families in France it is enough for that person to be honest, virtuous and industrious."

"But I do think so, madame."

"You are not lacking in pride, I must say," exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, thoroughly exasperated. "Mademoiselle doubtless supposes that by marrying M. le Duc de Senneterre she will confer a great honour upon him, as well as upon his family."

"In responding to M. de Senneterre's affection with an affection equal to his own, I feel that I do honour him by my preference as much as he has honoured me. As for M. de Senneterre's family, I know, madame, that they will never be proud of me, but I shall have the consciousness of being worthy of them."

"Good!" exclaimed the hunchback, "good, my brave and noble child!"

Though Madame de Senneterre was making every effort to resist the influence of Herminie's charms, she found herself gradually yielding to it in spite of herself.

The beauty, grace, and exquisite tact of this charming creature exerted a sort of fascination over Gerald's mother, so, fearing she might succumb to it, she resolved to end all temptation to do so by burning her ships behind her, or, in other words, by again resorting to vituperation, so she exclaimed, wrathfully:

"No, no, it shall never be said that I allowed myself to be cajoled by the charms and perfidious words of a mere adventuress, and that I was fool enough to give my consent to her marriage with my son."

The hunchback sprang forward with a terrible look at Madame de Senneterre, but, before he could utter a word, Herminie replied, in faltering tones, while big tears rolled slowly down her cheeks:

"Pardon me, madame. Insult finds me speechless and defenceless, especially when it is M. de Senneterre's mother that insults. I have but one favour to ask of you, madame. It is to remember that I not only anticipated this refusal, but accepted it in advance, so it would have been more generous in you not to have come here to crush me with it. What was my crime, madame? Simply to have believed that M. de Senneterre's station in life was as obscure and laborious as my own. But for that, I would have died rather than yielded to such a love."

"What!" exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, "you did not know that my son--"

"M. de Senneterre represented himself to be a man who was obliged to labour hard for his daily bread. I believed him; I loved him,--loved him truly and disinterestedly. When I discovered who he really was, I refused to see him again, for I was resolved that I would never marry him against the wishes of his family. That, madame, is the truth, and the whole truth," added Herminie, in a voice broken with sobs. "This love, for which, thank God, I shall never have to blush, must be sacrificed. I expected it, but I believed I had the right to suffer without the presence of witnesses. I forgive your cruel words, madame. You are a mother, you did not know, perhaps, that I was worthy of your son,--and maternal love is sacred, even if it be in the wrong."

Herminie dried the tears that were streaming down her pale face, then continued, in a weak and faltering voice, for, overcome by this painful scene, she felt that her strength was fast failing her:

"Will you have the goodness to say to M. de Senneterre, madame, that I forgive him the wrong he has, unconsciously, done me. Here, before you--you--his mother--I swear that--I will never see him again,--and you need have no fear of my breaking my word. So, madame, you can leave here reassured and content,--but--but I feel so strangely--M. de Maillefort--come to me--I beg--come--I--"

The poor girl could say no more. Her lips fluttered feebly, and she cast a despairing look at the hunchback, who sprang forward only just in time to receive her almost lifeless form in his arms. He placed her tenderly in an armchair, then, turning to Madame de Senneterre, with a terrible expression on his face, he cried:

"Ah, you shall weep tears of blood for your cruelty here, madame. Go, go, I tell you. Don't you see that she is dying!"

Herminie did, indeed, look as if death had claimed her for his own, with her marble white face, and her head hanging inertly down upon one shoulder. Her forehead, bathed in a cold sweat, was half covered with some soft ringlets of golden hair which had escaped from their confinement, and an occasional tear forced its way through her half closed eyelids, while ever and anon a convulsive shudder shook her entire body.

M. de Maillefort could not restrain his tears, and, turning to Madame de Senneterre, he exclaimed, bitterly, in a voice hoarse with emotion: "You are gloating over your work, are you not?"

What was the hunchback's astonishment to see compassionate grief and keen remorse plainly imprinted upon this haughty woman's face, for, conquered at last by Herminie's noble and touching resignation, she, in turn, burst into tears, and said to the marquis, in beseeching tones:

"Have pity on me, M. de Maillefort I came here resolved to keep my promise, but--but my pride revolted in spite of me. I lost my head. Now, I repent, oh, how bitterly! I am ashamed, I am horrified at my heartless conduct."

And, running to Herminie, the duchess tenderly lifted her head and kissed her upon the forehead; then, twining her arms around her to support her, said, in a voice faltering with emotion:

"Poor child! Will she ever forgive me? M. de Maillefort, ring for assistance, call some one, her pallor terrifies me."

Just then hurried steps were heard in the hall. The door flew open, and Gerald rushed in like one distracted, his eyes wild, his manner threatening, for, from the garden in which he had concealed himself without the knowledge of either Herminie or M. de Maillefort, he had heard his mother's cruel words.

"Gerald!" cried the astonished marquis.

"I was there," the young man exclaimed, pointing to the window. "I heard all, and--"

But the young duke did not complete the sentence, so amazed was he to see his mother supporting Herminie's head upon her bosom.

"My son," exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, "I am truly horrified at what I have done. I consent to everything. She is an angel. May Heaven forgive me!"

"Oh, mother, mother," murmured Gerald, in accents of ineffable gratitude, as he fell upon his knees beside Herminie, and covered her cold hands with tears and kisses.

"You have done wisely," the marquis said, in low tones, to Madame de Senneterre. "It is adoration that your son will feel for you now."

That same instant, seeing Herminie make a slight movement, Gerald exclaimed, joyfully:

"She is recovering consciousness!"

Then, in a thrilling voice, he cried:

"Herminie, it is I. It is Gerald!"

On hearing M. de Senneterre's voice, Herminie gave a slight start, then slowly opened her eyes, which seemed at first fixed and troubled, like the eyes of one awaking from a dream.

Then the sort of mist which seemed to obscure her mental faculties faded away, and the girl slowly raised her head, which had been reposing on Madame de Senneterre's bosom, and looked around her.

To her intense astonishment, she saw that Gerald's mother was supporting her in her arms and watching her with the tenderest solicitude.

Believing she was still in a dream, Herminie hastily raised herself, and passed her burning hands over her eyes, after which her gaze, as it became more and more assured, was directed, first upon M. de Maillefort, who was gazing at her with ineffable delight, and then upon Gerald, who was still kneeling before her.

"Gerald!" she cried, rapturously.

Then, with an expression of mingled hope and fear, she hastily glanced around at Madame de Senneterre, as if to satisfy herself that it was indeed from Gerald's mother that she was receiving these marks of touching interest.

Gerald, noticing the girl's movement, hastily exclaimed:

"Herminie, my mother consents to everything."

"Yes, yes, mademoiselle," exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, effusively. "I consent to everything. There are many wrongs for which I must ask forgiveness,--but my love and tenderness will enable me to gain it at last."

"Can this be true, madame?" cried Herminie, clasping her hands. "Oh, God, can it be possible! You really consent? All this is not a dream?"

"No, Herminie, it is not a dream," exclaimed Gerald, rapturously. "We belong to each other now! You shall soon be my wife."

"No, my noble child, it is not a dream," said M. de Maillefort, "It is a fitting reward for a life of toil and virtue."

"No, mademoiselle, it is not a dream," said Madame de Senneterre, "for it is you," she added, casting a meaning glance at the marquis, "you, Mlle. Herminie, who nobly support yourself by your own exertions, that I joyfully accept as my daughter-in-law in M. de Maillefort's presence, for I am satisfied that my son could not make a choice more worthy of him, of me, and of his family."

* * * * *

Half an hour afterwards Madame de Senneterre and her son took an affectionate leave of Herminie, who, in company with M. de Maillefort, forthwith repaired to the house of Mlle. de Beaumesnil to tell her the good news, and sustain the courage of the richest heiress in France, for a final and formidable ordeal was in store for her, or, rather, for Olivier.