Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 4 May 1882 — Page 2

fa.

Ih* lace tJoo.

CONDEMNED.

Continued From Fir*I I»ag«

~a reward—pernaps no 1 no member." "Bat he does," saiil Valentine. ••You gave him three hundred grtMen Ionia aw a recomj'jnse for carrying1 «iut your request."

"Ycf, yes I tol«l him my name and my father's name, and—asked him to convey to the latter the intelligence of rny death."

The count looked from one to another of the faces, all fixed on him—eageh anxions, painfully bo—as if life or death hung nfori lii.i words. The effort to recall the past was evidently a very difficult one. Adrienne. flushed with hope, her face illumined with delight, lxer eyes sparkling with happiness, held out her trembling In i. u, Ilie count. p.-. uh, yen! and then you confided to hifn yn papers, and family jewels ot gv vu!ue." -My papers—family jewels of great V:' if ••'i 'is saiil Valentine, her voice as decided in its tones* as Advienne'.s had been a moment before. "Oh. no no, indeed!" "No!"

Tli»* word sounded like the despairing cry of a soul in its last agony. Adrienne Hank into Kaoul's arms. Valentine recoiled, a* if struck a .sharp blow.

The count turned to the duke. "No. indeed!" he reiterated. "What! carry my papers ami jewels on my person? Oh, no, we had safer means than that for protecting them. Why. consider for

moment proscrilied bv France, un enemy of England, seeking refuge in a foreign country, I should have leen a fool to thus risk losing them.

•ur

Oh,

no.

Our papers and family jewels have never been out of our own possession. I have Mieiu

all

with me now. The titledeeds to

various

estates, the jeweis which

prmcipnlly belonged, my child, to your aiolher, :ny own

and

my father's pass

ports, everything, in fact, to establish my own identity, and your claims. Valentine." Thf count's voice was full of satisfaction. The duke looked convinced, the dochess very much perplexed.

Valentine's earnest eyes were tixed on Adrienne, who, supported by Raoul and her mother, had been drinking in every word of the count's explanation.

Now she struggled to her feet, white and panting, her hands clasped in sad entreaty, and stood liefore the count. "Nevertheless, there is a man, a soldier, who vays—who swears

Her voice rose in passionate emphasis, then oke in sobs. "A .soldier—who says—who swears!" repeated the count.

For a few momenta bis gaze seemed riveted on Adrienne'a pale features, in whicli anguish and despair wore plainly written. Suddenly his face changed—a thought struck him.' "You say a soldier? Was there not a soldier involved in a trial for murder about tliat time?" "Yes."' explained the duke. "The man was arrested and tried for the murder of his wife." "Yee, yes. I begin to recall it. He built up a defense in which he made use of my name."

The count's memory was growing momentarily clearer. •#es, yes," said the duke "the very man.

Well, quite likely lie is the same soldier who came to my relief. Very naturally he would attempt some explanation"of the crime, and that was a rather plausible one. 1 rend of the trial while in exile. It was called, if I remember aright, 'A Celebrated Cane.' The man was convicted on the evidence of his own child."

A low moan from Adrienne was followed by perfect silence. The count, looked about him. but as no one contradicted his remark, he glanced

:it

the duke, whose

concern for Adrienne was fast getting the better of his courtesy. Valentine made a motion to the count, but he did not under* stand her. |^"Of course the man was perjuring himself he undoubtedly murdered his wife

The count was interrupted by an agonusing cry, and Adrienne fell insensible at his feet, a deathly pallor stealing over her features. "Ami you have murdered his child!" cried O'Rourke, his fierce eyes darting looks of hatred at the couMt. "His child! his child!"

The count recoiled, and staggering like a drunken man, caught hold of a tall chair, against which he leaned, trembling in every limb.

No one observed him all were occupied with Adrienne, whose swoon had much the appearance of death.

Raiding her in bis strongartns, O'Rourke carried her to her room, closely followed by the duke, the duchess, and Raoul.

Valentine would bave^one with them, nit a quick call from the count made her irn and look at him.

V'ftlen {&> eytSiv* sigtit? and his could wit chief to b\

Ho was sitting on the chair, wiping the ]*M'Spiration from his face with his -trimmed handkerchief. The alterain his appearance was so great that! tine ran to him, startled and eager, wonder! His face was ghastly his' ere wild, as if a ghost were in lis teeth thattered in his head 'jand? trembled so much that he difficulty hold the handker-

What it

in dismay«How can Why did yea letting n»

ffirl's

forehead. lit?" Valentine stared at him

face!

white and Still nerved me! II once bad. Kvi qo easily moved! act. child I"

you ask such a question? not stop me? The idea of, ke those remarks to the *i, the sight of her lying, I before me, completely un--I have not the strength *r si nee that wound I am

Why do you look at me

"You frighten meH said Valentine. "1 never before saw a man give way so to his feelings. Can I do anything—get you anything "Yes—let us leave this bouse. Our own is ready for our reception. Your maid is there." "But will not the duke and duchess think it strange if we go in such haste, without thanking them, and without waiting to hear how Adrienne "Stop! do not mention her name The count seemed about to have another lit of trembling. "I will not hear of her, I say it brings the whole thing back to me. Pshaw! I must try and control this •weakness. After all, how was I to know who the girl was? I was presented to her, and they called her their daughter. They have no right to impose this girl upon people as their own child, when, in truth, she is the child of a miserable murderer!"

Valentine started back, alarmed at the count's eyes, now flashing with angry passion. and dreading lest his words, excitedly uttered, should reach the servants.

Something in the earnest eyes, watching his angry gestures, warned the count of the necessity for self-control. "Find the duchess and explain our reasons for leaving so soon. Thank her for her hospitality to you. I shall do it in person when I recover from this nervous shock. You understand Be quick 1 he carriage is still awaiting us!"

He motioned her away from him. Valentine hesitated, pitying his painful weakness, yet ignorant of how to assist him.

The count put his hand to his bead. "Leave roe, Valentine. You cannot help me. Thi* will pass over in a few minutes. I have been alene so long that I have grown accustomed to caring for myseli when attacked in this way. By and by» Adrienne was better, and longed for th* morrow, which would bring back Valentine, and with her some of the lost peace and happiness.

CH Al'TKlt XVI.

C0UNTB38 VAI.K.VTINK.

The Marquis de Calonne was very reticent when Valentine mentioned the bitter disappointment for Adrienne contained in her father's words. "You must have felt as sanguine as she did," he said, looking earnestly in her face. "I did. I thought we had only to find the Count de Mornasse to insure the soldier's vindication. "Strange!" murmured tIie marquis. "Very strange!" He leaned his head on his hand. "What do you mean by that?" asked Valentine. "Why, only this. That lie should have convinced his own daughter of his innocence was quite natural but he must have told his story exceedingly well to have impressed you in the same way. Of course Adrienne was willing to believe him you had not similar motives controlling you "Yes, but she told him that she trusted his words befoiv he explained his terrible position. His lirst assertion that he was unjustly accused and condemned, satisfied her. At the time she had not recognized him." "And you?"

Valentine hesitated a moment, then met her lover's eyes, her own bright with candor. "I believed him, too.H "And you were simply watching and listening—an impartial, cool spectator?" "Yes, I may so. I felt worried about Adrienne, she was so persistent in her intention of speaking to him but, to tell the truth, my first feeling in regard to him was one ot dislike—in fact, of fear.— She was drawn to him he repelled me. He is an immense man, very handsome, very sad-looking, and his voicc is beautiful." "He then overcame all your scruples?" "Yes, every one of them! I pledged myself to assist Adrienne in her efforts to vindicate him." "I should like to see this man." "Will you? Can you?" "I could, with some little trouble but, after all, Valentine, to what purposef To listen to a recital which your father shows conclusively to be false in the most imjwrtant particulars? Ifo, the kindest thing you can do is to forget this man, and to gradually wean Adrienne from thinking of him. Surely, her love for him, so lately rekindled, cannot compare with her love for the duke and duchess, honestly won, and the growth of years of mutual affection.* "I do not know it 9eems to have become part of ber existence. She is growing old under the misery caused by thinking of him. She pictures to herself his mental sufferings, and I really believe that she now endures greater agony than he does. Her sensitive feelings are constantly overwrought, and her fancy paints everything connected with him in the worst colors." "It is the saddest thing I ever heard of. Only time can soften such a sorrow." "Adrienne will not live to give time a chance. She will succumb under it." "Heaven forbid!" "I do not know about that. Think of her bitter remorse, and its constant weight upon her heart. She accuses herself and all the world could not convince her that she was blameless." "It is a most awful condition of life, I grant but, if this man mui-dered his innocent wife, Heaven, in raising up his own child as the one powerful, fatal witness against him, inflicted its heaviest punishment." "You said if?" "Yes, but I recall it. The duke believed him guilty for twelve years. For a little while his conscience troubled him, owing to what the chanoinesse said. Now he has returned to his old convictions, my daughter, you will be my kind little nurse." ne attempted a smile, made so ghastly by the rigidity of his features that Valentine shrank from its influence and hastened awav.

THE TERRE HAUTE WEfcivi.l' GAZTTITE

The duchess was just leavintr Adnenoe room. She put hi arm around alentine, whose eyes asked the question. "How is she?" "Better now, and quite herself. The duke took Raoul away, and I think if we all stay out of the room that she will sleep. I gave her a soothing drink. What could we all have been thinking of when we let the count go on? I, for my part, could not even speak, although I saw from Adrienne's face what was coming.

felt paralyzed, and Raoul eay3 that he was the same. Poor child! It is all over now, Valentine! She had built all her hopes on your father's testimony now there is nothing left for her but to bear this bitter grief, this awful disgrace, even to the end." "Poor, poor Adrienne! Everything has happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, that I seem to have lost the power of thinking. My father wishes me to go home at once he is waiting to take me." "What! and without seeing Adrienne?" "He is very anxious to get home. You will be surprised when I tell you that he was completely overcome by emotion at the sight of Adrienne, and at the know! edge that he had caused her suffering. He says that he has been subject to nervous attacks ever since his injury and really I was shocked at his appearance. I thought he would faint. Oh! I do not know what to do. I want to stay with Adrienne, but I suppose I ought to go with him. He is not strong, and he is all alone the world." "And your place is at his side, Valentine. I am glad that you, at least, have had your prayer granted, and are

hap

py. The chanoinesse, when she returns, will be indeed surprised to find you installed as mistress in your own chateau, and your father with you in good health. She Bpoke certainly as if she had given up hope of his return, and she undoubtedwent to Paris to establish your position and obtain your rights. "I hardly realize as yet what they are, I only know that they take me away from Adrienne." "Oh, no, dear child, tiuthing shall separate you from Adrienne. Why, a few steps will always bring you to her, or take her to you. That wooded path must have been designed by a witch and, no doubt, iiose are your apartments opening on the yinall garden. If you cannot come baftk this evening I shall send you a message fnm Adrienne. To-morrow you will be together again, the count will not always need your companionship."

Somewhat comforted. Valentine kissed the duchess and took leave of the duke. The Marquis de Calonne put her in the carriage, where the count already sat, looking still very white and nervous. He hardly spoke during the short ride, and

once

they were in the chateau, he left Valentine at the door leading to her own apartments, and then retreated to his, which were situated in another wing of the great building.

Valentine learned that her father had a valet and other servants whom he had brought with him from Paris. Somewhat relieved about his physical condition, she amused herself going through her* lovely rooms and examining their new decorations. Her maid was a quiet, attractive woman, no longer young, who looked charmed at the sight of her young mistress, and seemed anxious to please her in every particular.

The hours passed more rapidly than Valentine had thought possible there was only the one thorn among all these roses, she could not see Adrienne. Henri de Calonne brought a message later in the evening. Valentine received him in the crimson salon, and mockingly assumed new dignity of manner and speech as soon as her fears for Adrienne were allayed, and they are settled firmly." "Poor Adrienne!" Valentine's oyes filled with tears. "Minutes will seem like hours until to-morrow. Then, I will try to comfort her."

The marquis left Valentine looking and feeling very sad. Do what she could, the girl could not keep her thoughts from dwelling on the subject.

As the hours passed, and her clear brain regained its powers, she found herself recalling, without mental effort, the scene of the morning. Again she saw Adrienne's mobile features changing, with the rapidity of thought from delight to despair again she beard the sweet voice, now rich and musical with joy, then broken and full of tears in its moaning cry of anguish. Her father's appearance, manner, voice, and words, all returned with painful exactness, and she tried to put from ker the work of coolly analysing them.

In vain conscience forced the task from her unwilling faculties. She fell into a troubled sleep, haunted with phantoms that assumed the well-known shapes, and seemed to plead to her in favor of or against the soldier's innocence.

Valentine was glad when morning broke and the feverish dreams were ended. The magnificence surrounding her next challenged her admiration, and the contemplation of the sudden change in her own circumstances occupied her for some time. A summons to breakfast with the count suddenly brought back all her perplexities. Valentine entered the luxurious dining-room, intent on one object—to find a quick mode to winning the count's consent to a visit to Adrienne.

The count was equally intent on his own pet schemes. He was seated at the table, slowly dropping lumps of sugar into his coffee, when he saw her standing in the doorway but he at once i-ose, kissed her forehead, and handed her to her seat. Valentine saw that, he had recovered his appearance and self control.

The count had very little small-talk at his disposal. Valentine, at that moment, possessed none whatever. They, however, found-the improvements a subject of easy discussion. Valentine was pleased with everything, and was quite willing to leave the whole matter to the count's tastes and decisions. The servant being dismissed, the count began: "Can you go to the city with me this

morning r* "Why, yes." & *3&<» ,«#. "This presentation will take place as soon as possible after the Duke de Choiseul's arrival, and I want you to be dressed in accordance to your rank and wealth." "Oh, yes the duchess was speaking of our dresses only yesterday." "Well, we can decide without consulting her. I suppose. The tradespeople in Toulon can supply you with all you will want in the way of stuffs, and, of course, whoever makes them up will suggest the style and form of the dress." "Would it not be more polite to mention the matter to the duchess? She is so kind, and she has taken such an interest in me. Besides, Adrienne "Why do you mention that girl?" "Mention Adrienne?" Valentine's oyes and voice were full of wonder. "Yes, it annoys me very much. The sound of her name, and everything connected with her, are distasteful to me." "Why, Adrienne and I have been like sistei-s for four years. There is no one in the world like Adrienne."

The count stared at his daughter very much as if afraid for her reason. "No one in the world like Adrienne! Why, you are talking nonsense, sheer nonsense."

The count rose, and walked to the window. "It is the truth, however," said Valentine, calmly. •'The truth, eh? no one in the world like Adrienne?" The count laughed scornfully. "Qlie child of a miserablo convict!"

Valentine rose and approached the count "Is she to blame for that?" she asked, proudly, her voice growing firmer and clearer. "I did not say that she was. Wby do you argue with me? I tell you, you must forget this girl—forget ber, I say!" "But why? What has she donef* "Nothing! Did I say anything against ber? I only say this, you can have nothing more to do with her.'* "But why?" "Because I wish it.** "There is no reason in that," oaid Valentine. "What, miss! do you defy me? You forget yoursolf. I am your father 1 will bo obeyed." "Where you command !iat is right and reasonable."

The count faced hid daughter, amazed into silence. Valentine spoke rapidly and emphatically. "I know all the disadvantages under which she may appear to strangers but, surely, you—you will not allow these things to prejudice you against her. She is not responsible for her father's crime! She is so pure! so gentle! so lovely! I am sure you would like her for her own sake if you understood her!" "Like her—like that girl! Never! never!" "And can you not find pity for her? You, abovo all, might feel for her." "I, above all! why, why should I pity her?"

The bitter scorn in his voice aroused Valentine's indignatiou. "Did not her father go to your help at the risk of his life? Surely, he acted nobly then." "Well, well, I paid him for his services, did I not "You paid him!" Valentine clasped her hands, speaking to herself. "Well, and that money, too, disappeared with the other valuables! The man must be partly right some wretch must have broken into his house, murdered bis poor wife, almost before the eyes of her child, and taken those things!" ••Stop! silence, I say!" The count caught Valentine's arm in a grasp like iron, and hissed his words into her face, his eyes gleaming like those of a wild animal. "I'll hear no more—no more, I say! Never speak to me again of that wretched woman—that girl, the daughter of a vile assass

The count seemed unable to finish his word. He broke from Valentine, and paced up and down the long room like a chained beast.

Valentine forgot the pain caused by his strong pressure, and turning, watched him. He gesticulated like a madman his convulsed features worked in frightful grimaces, which his efforts at self control rendered all the more horrible.

Terrified, dreading she knew not what, Valentine went to his side. "Calm yourself, father. I will do as you say but I cannot 'understand your agitation—your sadden anger. I did not intend to excite you."

The count sat down on a sofa, aad pat his handkerchief over his face. Valentine etood near him, afraid to offer any caress, and yet longing to show him some little filial attention. It was duty trying in vain to kindle love.

Jean Renaud bad stood before his daughter in a convict's dress, and she had thrown ber arms around his neck, and laid her head on his breast, in simple, childlike confidence, nothing doubting.

Why could not Valentine weep out her disappointment in her father's arms? In depriving her of Adrienno's love, surely his should make up for the loss. She, however, could not find courago to go humbly and lovingly to this trembling, unreasonable man, who evidently bad jnc feeling for those in disgracc, even though he owed to the soldier a heavy debt of gratitude.

She was in the midst of these problems, when the count spoke, with studied calmness: "You are right, Valentine I should not allow myself to be so easily aronsed. Forgive me, my daughter. It is so long since I have had any soothing influences about me you must charm away these fearful gusts of passion that sway me so terribly."

He took her hand and kissed itii "And may I go to Adrienne?—it is so hard to give her up.n "There—that name again! Valentine, mv decision on this ooint is irrevocable.

listen to me viu try 10 expiaiu my mewing clearly and coolly. But a few days since we were a proscribed family now, on returning to possess ourselves of the'eetates we have so long been deprived of. we must be careful." ••Careful!"

Valentine drew herself up to her full height. "Yes, careful. Our conduct must defy criticism." "I trust I shall never do anything to bring a shadow of shame on the family honor." "Not willingly, I know, Valentine but the Countess de Mornasse, the heiress of half a dozen noble names, can hardly choose for a companion the daughter of a convicted murderer, now serving out a life's sentence at the galleys."

Valentine's proud glance met the count's restless eyes. "The honor of the family Mtist be easily tarnished, if the companionship of one like Adrienne can injure it. Your explanation is not convincing." "It is enough for my purpose, however. I shall use whatever means I think best to preserve the credit of this house. As my daughter, you owe me respect and obedience." "I ehall try to show you respect and it is my duty to obey you." "And this subject we will never again recur to. If you make your preparations, we will start at an early hour for the city."

With a deep bow, the count left the room. Valentine 6at for some minutes completely overpowered by the weight of conflicting emotions.

Her acquaintance with men was limited the priest who said mass at the college had always impressed her with his claim to respect and awe. His office, and the knowledge of his good life in his daily intercourse with his parishioners, commanded these feelings. Once at the Chateau d'Aubretot, opportunities for studying men, as they appeared in tho society of ladies, were frequent. Thrown into daily companionship with the duke, Raoul, and Henri, Valentine had formed a very high estimate of men of rank and position.

The duke had been a brave soldier, and now stood high in political aifair?. Undoubtedly he had at times much to ruffle his temper and arouse his anger yet Valentine bad always observed that he treated women, and particularly those of his own household, with the most gentle consideration and respect. The duchess diil not seem to have ever had a harsh word 6poken to her, she seemed to have lived in aa atmosphere of love and peace. Even the discovery of Adrienne's parentage, instead of annoying her and her husband, had only the effect of making them, if it were possible to be so, fonder of the unfortunate child. And Raoul and Henri The expression, "Noblesse oblige," seemed to be the watchword of all these noble gentlemen. Even bad Adrienne been a stranger to them, their very nobility would have obliged them to treat her with delicate tenderness.

What, then, actuated the Count de Mornasse to turn from her with horror and disgust in every feature? He, a nobleman of ancient lineage, a gentleman by right of birth, wealthy, in full possession, apparently, of his faculties, to denounce and cry down with bitter, scornful invective, this innocent girl, the lovely victim of an inexplicable mystery?"

Valentine was shocked at the lack of manliness, the dearth of moral courage thus displayed. The count's passionate anger and recent violence with herself, she

ascribed wholly

his

ungovernable

temper, accocnled tor fully by the

wound

he had received. But this injury could not have affected his heart, and it was the decided lack of good-heartedness that she deplored. When he was in trouble, the soldier went to his aid at once, voluntarily. Now, the poor convict was

ing

iwijustly, and

the count, instead of

seeking to help him in his terrible strait, quickly turned away, even prohibiting the mention

his name, or that of his

hapless child. Worried, perplexed, Valentine dressed herself for the coming drive, and with all these emotions at intervals rising to tor ment her, she joined the count, and together they rode to the city.

Once interested in the various purchases to be made, the count grew talkative, even genial.

Nothing was too expensive for Valentine's use. He chose the most delicate laces, the heaviest brocades, the richest satins, for her wardrobe. His tastes seemed to depend more on the cost of the artiele than its pattern or coloring bat Valentine knew the shades she liked, and he let her decide for herself.

The intense admiration in the glances be gave her, and his complimentary remarks, gradually broke down the reserve at first so decided in ber manner. After all, be was ber father, had, perhaps, been bitterly tried in his long exile, and he evidently loved her. Valentine had pined for bis presence why not accept the good, and forget what troubled her?

So the shopping expedition was a means of establishing more cordial relations between this strangely-united father and daughter.

On their way home they met the duchess. She was alone in the carriage, and coald only stop for a few moments.

Adrienne was so much better that she was preparing to attend the reception. The Duke de Choiseul had reached Toulon, and would hold court at the Hotel de Ville.

The presentation would take place on the second day following, and the duchess exchanged a few words with Valentine in reference to her dress and ornaments.

Nothing was said abont Valentine's absence from the Chateau d'Aubretot. The duchess evidently thought it proper and right for the count to monopolize Valentine at first, and the important subject of visiting Adrienne was not alluded to.

Valentine breathed more freely after the duchess had kissed her and driven on. At least, Adrienne was much better. The coming presentation would so absorb ber time and thoughts that she would not miss Valentine. Thev would meet on that

'V7

day Toulon there was joy in tlm thought. Valentine looked at her father. His eat ures were softened by his agreeablo reflections he seemed capable of being just, if not kind.

Perhaps Adrienne, who had the gift of winning hearts, would in time win her way to bis. Valentine could not contemplate an existence in which Adrienne would have no share. Their lives were bound together by so many close ties—by such curious, in'erwoven threads—that to suddenly separate them seemed an impossible, unnatural action.

The count surprised his daughter's earnest scrutiny of his features, but he did not look annoyed he asked her a perplexing question: "Would you like to visit thfc court at Versailles "Not just at present," Valentine said, candidly, "The chanoinesse would think it strange and. liesides, I prefer being here." [The ntinuation of this reu\aikable story ciin lx found in the Weekly and Saturday issues of the GZETTK. Back numbers can beobtained at this office. I

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