"It is a matter of life or death for your son, madame."
The voice of the marquis and the expression of his face were so full of earnestness and authority, that Madame de Senneterre, impressed in spite of herself, cried in alarm:
"What do you mean, monsieur?"
"I mean that you must be a hard-hearted mother if you have not noticed your son's pallor and almost prostrated condition for several days past.
On the day of the ball at which your son behaved so nobly, did not your physician tell you that, but for the heroic treatment to which he had resorted, you would have been in great danger of losing your son by brain fever?"
Gradually recovering from her alarm, and regretting that she had allowed herself to display even a momentary solicitude, Madame de Senneterre retorted, disdainfully:
"Nonsense! A brain fever can be cured by a few bleedings, monsieur, and one dies of love only in novels, and in very poor novels."
"That is a kind and motherly remark, madame, and to keep it company I will say to you, with equal coolness, that if, after you have had time to make proper inquiries and obtain all needful information concerning the young lady of whom I have spoken, you do not take the step expected of you--"
"Well, monsieur?"
"Well, madame, your son will kill himself--"
"Yes, as the disappointed lover does in all the thrilling melodramas,"
retorted Madame de Senneterre, with an even shriller laugh.
"I tell you that your son will kill himself, you poor fool!" exclaimed the marquis, terrible in his earnestness. "I tell you the last Duc de Senneterre will perish by his own hand like the last Duc de Bretigny!"
This allusion to a recent tragical event, which had been one of the chief topics of conversation at Madame de Mirecourt's ball, gave the duchess a severe shock. She knew Gerald's remarkable energy and determination of character, and consequently knew how much he must suffer from this hidden grief; besides, she had such a profound respect for M. de Maillefort, much as she disliked him personally, that she knew he would be incapable of threatening her with the possibility of Gerald's suicide if he was not really convinced that such a danger was imminent, so the now thoroughly frightened woman cried:
"What you say is terrible, monsieur. The house of De Senneterre become extinct by a suicide!"
The blind pride of race spoke more loudly than maternal love in this cry.
The proud woman shuddered first chiefly at the thought that the name of the Senneterres, of that great and illustrious house, might become extinct through an act that the society in which she moved considered a crime.
The marquis understood Madame de Senneterre's real feelings so well that he exclaimed:
"Yes; if you are as blind as you are pitiless, this illustrious name of Senneterre, often famous and always honoured, will be blotted out for ever in tears and in blood."
"M. de Maillefort, such an idea is horrible! I know my son is capable of going to almost any extreme--but no, no, I will not believe that. You make me shudder! And when I think of the grief and despair and shame of a family that sees its head end his life by his own rash act--hold--enough--enough--I should go mad!"
And passing her hand hastily across her brow, covered with big drops of cold sweat, Madame de Senneterre continued:
"I tell you, monsieur, that I cannot and will not think of such a thing.
But who is this young woman you speak of? Though I am in mortal dread as to the choice Gerald has made, there is one thing that reassures me a little. It is that the young woman insists that I shall come and tell her that I consent to her marriage with my son. For her to dare expect such a concession from me, she must hold such a social position that I, at least, have no cause to fear an unworthy love on the part of my son."
"Gerald has placed his affections creditably, even nobly, madame. I have already had the honour of assuring you of this fact," responded the marquis, severely, "and usually what I say can be believed."
"That is true, monsieur. Your assurance should satisfy me on that point.
It is not likely that I shall ever have another opportunity to make such a match as that which I dreamed of for my son; but if the birth and fortune of the young lady in question are satisfactory, and--"
But here the hunchback interrupted Madame de Senneterre by saying:
"The young lady in question is an orphan. She is a music teacher, and supports herself by giving lessons."
It is impossible to describe the expression of Madame de Senneterre's face as the words of the marquis fell upon her ear. Had she experienced an electric shock, the movement she made could not have been more convulsive.
"An adventuress, then! The wretched boy, to degrade himself like this!"
she cried. "What a humiliation for me and my daughters!"
And as M. de Maillefort sprang up no less hastily to reply to Madame de Senneterre, the latter interrupted him by adding:
"And such a creature has the audacity to ask me--me to so degrade myself as to go to her, the--"
But Madame de Senneterre did not complete the sentence. She had fully intended to add an opprobrious epithet, but she burst into a shrill, almost frenzied, laugh instead.
A cold silence following this ebullition of rage, Madame de Senneterre placed a trembling hand on M. de Maillefort's arm, and said:
"My dear marquis, listen to me. If my unworthy son should come and stand there,--right before me, do you understand?--and say to me,'I will kill myself before your very eyes if you refuse your consent,' I should say, 'Kill yourself, then. I would rather see you dead than disgraced. I would rather your name should die out, than to see it perpetuated to your dishonour, mine, and that of your sisters.'"
Then seeing the marquis was about to protest, she added:
"M. de Maillefort, I am not in a passion, I am calm, and I am saying exactly what I mean. I am telling you exactly what I should do, and after the insulting demand of my son and his accomplice, it is no longer maternal love or even indifference I feel for him; it is contempt, it is hatred, yes, hatred, do you hear? Tell him so. All the affection I once felt for this scoundrel I shall now bestow upon my daughters."
"This woman would do what she says," thought the marquis, with a feeling of horror. "It is useless to insist further. Reason is no match for such blind obstinacy as this. This woman, as she says, would watch her son kill himself before her very eyes unmoved. This is a pride of race that amounts to the stupid ferocity of the brute. Poor Gerald! Poor Herminie!"
CHAPTER XXII.
A FINAL VICTORY.
After a moment's silence, during which Madame de Senneterre sat positively panting with rage at this odious revelation which she could not yet fully make up her mind to believe, viz., that her son wished to marry a music teacher who supported herself by her own exertions, M. de Maillefort said, coldly, and exactly as if the foregoing conversation had never taken place:
"Madame, what do you think of the nobility and illustriousness of the house of Haut-Martel?"
At first Madame de Senneterre gazed at the hunchback with evident surprise, then she said:
"Really, monsieur, this question is most extraordinary."
"And why, madame?"
"What, monsieur, you see me crushed under the blow that has just struck me, or, rather, that you have just dealt me, unintentionally, no doubt,"
she added, with bitter irony, "and then ask me without rhyme or reason what I think of the illustriousness of the house of Haut-Martel."
"My question is less extraordinary, as you do not seem to think there can be the slightest ameliorating circumstance in the blow that has just overtaken you. So once more I ask, what do you think of the house of Haut-Martel?"
"There is not an older or more illustrious family in France, you most know very well, as you are closely connected with it on your father's side."
"I am now the head of that house, madame."