第140章

The servants, in horror, refused to go into the room of either their master or mistress; they thought only of themselves, and judged their betters as righteously stricken. The smell was so foul that in spite of open windows and strong perfumes, no one could remain long in Valerie's room. Religion alone kept guard there.

How could a woman so clever as Valerie fail to ask herself to what end these two representatives of the Church remained with her? The dying woman had listened to the words of the priest. Repentance had risen on her darkened soul as the devouring malady had consumed her beauty. The fragile Valerie had been less able to resist the inroads of the disease than Crevel; she would be the first to succumb, and, indeed, had been the first attacked.

"If I had not been ill myself, I would have come to nurse you," said Lisbeth at last, after a glance at her friend's sunken eyes. "I have kept my room this fortnight or three weeks; but when I heard of your state from the doctor, I came at once."

"Poor Lisbeth, you at least love me still, I see!" said Valerie.

"Listen. I have only a day or two left to think, for I cannot say to live. You see, there is nothing left of me--I am a heap of mud! They will not let me see myself in a glass.--Well, it is no more than I deserve. Oh, if I might only win mercy, I would gladly undo all the mischief I have done."

"Oh!" said Lisbeth, "if you can talk like that, you are indeed a dead woman."

"Do not hinder this woman's repentance, leave her in her Christian mind," said the priest.

"There is nothing left!" said Lisbeth in consternation. "I cannot recognize her eyes or her mouth! Not a feature of her is there! And her wit has deserted her! Oh, it is awful!"

"You don't know," said Valerie, "what death is; what it is to be obliged to think of the morrow of your last day on earth, and of what is to be found in the grave.--Worms for the body--and for the soul, what?--Lisbeth, I know there is another life! And I am given over to terrors which prevent my feeling the pangs of my decomposing body.--I, who could laugh at a saint, and say to Crevel that the vengeance of God took every form of disaster.-- Well, I was a true prophet.--Do not trifle with sacred things, Lisbeth; if you love me, repent as I do."

"I!" said Lisbeth. "I see vengeance wherever I turn in nature; insects even die to satisfy the craving for revenge when they are attacked.

And do not these gentlemen tell us"--and she looked at the priest--"that God is revenged, and that His vengeance lasts through all eternity?"

The priest looked mildly at Lisbeth and said:

"You, madame, are an atheist!"

"But look what I have come to," said Valerie.

"And where did you get this gangrene?" asked the old maid, unmoved from her peasant incredulity.

"I had a letter from Henri which leaves me in no doubt as to my fate.

He has murdered me. And--just when I meant to live honestly--to die an object of disgust!

"Lisbeth, give up all notions of revenge. Be kind to that family to whom I have left by my will everything I can dispose of. Go, child, though you are the only creature who, at this hour, does not avoid me with horror--go, I beseech you, and leave me.--I have only time to make my peace with God!"

"She is wandering in her wits," said Lisbeth to herself, as she left the room.

The strongest affection known, that of a woman for a woman, had not such heroic constancy as the Church. Lisbeth, stifled by the miasma, went away. She found the physicians still in consultation. But Bianchon's opinion carried the day, and the only question now was how to try the remedies.

"At any rate, we shall have a splendid /post-mortem/," said one of his opponents, "and there will be two cases to enable us to make comparisons."

Lisbeth went in again with Bianchon, who went up to the sick woman without seeming aware of the malodorous atmosphere.

"Madame," said he, "we intend to try a powerful remedy which may save you--"

"And if you save my life," said she, "shall I be as good-looking as ever?"

"Possibly," said the judicious physician.

"I know your /possibly/," said Valerie. "I shall look like a woman who has fallen into the fire! No, leave me to the Church. I can please no one now but God. I will try to be reconciled to Him, and that will be my last flirtation; yes, I must try to come round God!"

"That is my poor Valerie's last jest; that is all herself!" said Lisbeth in tears.

Lisbeth thought it her duty to go into Crevel's room, where she found Victorin and his wife sitting about a yard away from the stricken man's bed.

"Lisbeth," said he, "they will not tell me what state my wife is in; you have just seen her--how is she?"

"She is better; she says she is saved," replied Lisbeth, allowing herself this play on the word to soothe Crevel's mind.

"That is well," said the Mayor. "I feared lest I had been the cause of her illness. A man is not a traveler in perfumery for nothing; I had blamed myself.--If I should lose her, what would become of me? On my honor, my children, I worship that woman."

He sat up in bed and tried to assume his favorite position.

"Oh, Papa!" cried Celestine, "if only you could be well again, I would make friends with my stepmother--I make a vow!"

"Poor little Celestine!" said Crevel, "come and kiss me."

Victorin held back his wife, who was rushing forward.

"You do not know, perhaps," said the lawyer gently, "that your disease is contagious, monsieur."

"To be sure," replied Crevel. "And the doctors are quite proud of having rediscovered in me some long lost plague of the Middle Ages, which the Faculty has had cried like lost property--it is very funny!"

"Papa," said Celestine, "be brave, and you will get the better of this disease."