The King of the Castle

Twelve

Outside the sounds of revelry went on. They did not know, those who celebrated the grape harvest, that the Comte lay on his bed near to death; that Philippe lay in his under the influence of the sleeping draught the doctor had given him; that Jean Pierre and I sat in the library waiting.

Two doctors were with the Comte. They had sent us down here to wait and the waiting seemed endless.

It was not yet eleven o’clock and I seemed to have lived through a lifetime since I had stood in the dungeons with the Comte and suddenly come face to face with death.

And so strangely, there sat Jean Pierre, his face pale, his eyes bewildered as though he too did not understand what he was doing there.

“How long they are,” I said.

“Don’t fret. He won’t die.”

I shook my head.

“No,” said Jean Pierre, almost bitterly.

“He won’t die until he wants to. Doesn’t he always …” A smile twisted his lips.

“Sit down,” he said with a new authority.

“You can do no good by walking up and down.

A second earlier and I’d have saved him. I left it that second too long. “

He had taken on a new authority. Sitting there he might have been the Comte. For the first time I noticed the chateau features an irrelevant detail with which to concern myself at such a time!

It was Jean Pierre who had dominated that grisly scene. He it was who had sent me to call the doctors, who had planned what we should do.

“We should as yet say little of what has happened in the dungeons,” he cautioned, ‘for you can be sure that the Comte will want the story told his way. I expect the gun will have gone off accidentally. He wouldn’t want Monsieur Philippe to be accused of attempted murder. We’d better be discreet until we know what he wants. “

I clung to that. Until we know. Then we should know. He would open his eyes and live again.

“If he lives …” I began.

“He’ll live,” said Jean Pierre.

“If only I could be sure …”

“He wants to live.” He paused for a moment, then went on: “I saw you leave. How could I help it! Monsieur Philippe saw you… why, everyone must have seen, and guessed how things were. I watched you. I followed you to the dungeons … as Philippe did. But the Comte will want to live … and if he wants to, he will.”

“Then Jean Pierre, you will have saved his life.”

He wrinkled his brow.

“I don’t know why I did it,” he said.

“I could have let Philippe shoot him. He’s a first-class shot. The bullet would have gone through his heart. That’s what he was aiming for. I knew it… and I said to myself:

“This is the end of you, Monsieur Ie Comte.” And then . I did it. I sprang on Philippe; I caught his arm. Just that second too late. Half a second, shall we say. If I’d been that half a second earlier the bullet would have hit the ceiling . half a second later and it would have pierced his heart. I couldn’t have got there earlier, though. I wasn’t near enough. I don’t know why I did it. I just didn’t think.”

“Jean Pierre,” I repeated, ‘if he lived you will have saved his life.”

“It’s queer,” he admitted.

And there was silence.

I had to talk of something else. I could not bear to think of him lying there unconscious . while his life slowly ebbed away, taking with it all my hopes of happiness.

“You were looking for the emeralds,” I said.

“Yes. I meant to find them and go away. It would not have been stealing. I had a right to something. Now, of course, I shall have nothing. I shall go to Mermoz and be his slave all my life if he lives, and he will live because of what I did. “

“We shall never forget it, Jean Pierre.”

“You will marry him?”

“Yes.”

“So I lose you too.”

“You never wanted me, Jean Pierre. You wanted only what you thought he did.”

“It’s strange … how he’s always been there … all my life. I hate him, you know. There have been times when I could have taken a gun to him … and to think … if he lives it will be because I saved his life. I wouldn’t have believed it of myself.”

“None of us knows how we’ll act in certain circumstances … not until we come right face to face with them. It was a wonderful thing you did tonight, Jean Pierre.”

“It was a crazy thing. I wouldn’t have believed it. I hated him, I tell you. All my life I’ve hated him. He has all that I want. He is all that I want to be.”

“All that Philippe wanted, too. He hated him as you did. It was envy.

That’s one of the seven deadly sins, Jean Pierre, and I believe, the deadliest. But you triumphed over ) it. I’m so glad, Jean Pierre, so glad. “

“But I tell you it wasn’t meant. Or perhaps it was. Perhaps I never meant it when I thought I’d like to kill him. But I would have stolen the emeralds if I’d had a chance.”

“But you would never have taken his life. You know 1 that now. You would even have married me, perhaps. You might have tried to marry Genevieve….”

His face softened momentarily.

“I might yet,” he said.

“That would upset the noble Comte.”

“And Genevieve? You would use her for your revenge?”

“She’s a charming girl. Young… and wild…. Like myself perhaps, unaccountable. And she’s the Comte’s daughter. Don’t think I’m a reformed character because I’ve done this crazy thing tonight. I won’t make promises about Genevieve.”

“She’s a young and impressionable girl.”

“She’s fond of me.”

“She must not be hurt. Life has not been easy to her.”

“Do you think I’d hurt her?”

“No, Jean Pierre. I don’t think you’re half as wicked as you like to think you are.”

“You don’t know much about me, Dallas.”

“I think I know a great deal.”

“You’d be surprised if you did. I had my plans … I was going to see that my son was master of the chateau if I could never be.”

“But how?”

“He had plans, you know, before he was going to marry you. He wasn’t marrying again, so he decided he’d bring his mistress here and marry her to Philippe. His son and hers would inherit the chateau. Well, it wasn’t going to be his son but mine.”

“You … and Claude!”

He nodded triumphantly.

“Why not! She was angry because he didn’t notice her. Philippe’s no man, and so … Well, what do you think?”

I was listening for the approach of the doctors. I was only thinking of what was going on in that room above.

The doctors came into the room. There were two of them from the town, and they would know a great deal about us all. It was one of these who had attended the Comte when Philippe had shot him in the woods.

I had stood up and both doctors looked straight at me.

“He’s …” I began.

“He’s sleeping now.”

I looked at them mutely imploring them to give me some hope.

“It was a near thing,” said one of them almost tenderly.

“A few inches more and … He was fortunate.”

“He’ll recover?” My voice sounded loud and vibrant with emotion.

“He’s by no means out of danger. If he gets through the night…”

I sank back into my chair.

“I propose to stay here until morning,” said one of the doctors.

“Yes, please do.”

“How did it happen?” asked the elder of the two.

“The gun Monsieur Philippe was carrying went off,” said Jean Pierre.

“Monsieur Ie Comte will be able to give an account of what happened . when he recovers.”

The doctors nodded. And I wondered if they had both been here on the day Francoise died; and if then they waited for the Comte’s account of that tragedy.

I didn’t care what had happened then. All I asked was that he-would recover.

“You’re Mademoiselle Lawson, aren’t you?” asked the younger doctor.

I said I was.

“Is your name Dallas or something like that?”

“Yes.”

“I thought he was trying to say it. Perhaps you would care to sit by his bed. He won’t speak to you, but just in case he’s aware he might like to have you there.”

I went to his bedroom and sat there through the night watching him, praying that he would live. In the early morning he opened his eyes and looked at me and I was sure he was content to find me there.

I said: “You must live…. You cannot die and leave me He said later that he heard me and for that reason he refused to die.

In a week we knew it was only a matter of time before he recovered. He had a miraculous constitution, said the doctors, and had had a miraculous escape; now it was for him to make a miraculous recovery.

He gave his account of what had happened. It was as we had thought. He had no wish for it to be known that his cousin had attempted to murder him. Philippe and Claude left for Burgundy, and in an interview between the two cousins was told that he should never come back to the chateau.

I was glad not to have to see Claude again now that I knew that she had hoped to find the emeralds, that she had become interested in the wall-painting when the words had been disclosed and she probably guessed that I had stumbled on some clue. She and Philippe would have worked together, watching me; she had searched my room while he detained me in the vineyards. It must have been Philippe who had followed me to the copse that day. Had he intended to shoot me as he had attempted to shoot the Comte? They had wanted to be rid of me and had tried their hardest to make me leave by offering me work elsewhere; that was when they had believed the Comte was becoming too interested in me, for if he married their schemes would have been ruined.

Claude was a strangely complex woman. I was sure she had been sorry for me at one time and had, partly for my own good, wanted to save me from the Comte. She could not believe that a woman such as I could possibly arouse any lasting affection in such a man for even an attractive woman like herself had been unable to. I pictured her working with her husband and with Jean Pierre ready to go away with Jean Pierre if he found the emeralds, ready to stay with Philippe if he did.

I was glad, too, that Jean Pierre was free of her, for I would always have a fondness for him.

The Comte had said that the Mermoz vineyards should be his.

“It is a small reward,” he said, ‘for saving my life. “

I did not tell him then what I knew; in fact I think he may have known already, for he did not ask what Jean 1; Pierre had been doing in the dungeons.

Those were days of hopes and fears. It was with me that the doctors discussed his progress and I found I had an aptitude for nursing. But perhaps my special interest in this patient brought out this quality.

We would sit in the garden and talk of our future. We talked of Philippe and Jean Pierre. Philippe, I guessed, had first wanted me to stay at the chateau because he thought I should never attract the Comte, and when he found he was wrong sought to get rid of me. He must have planned with Claude that I should be offered the task of restoring her father’s pictures so that I could be removed from Gaillard. And she had tried to lure me with a very tempting offer.

Then of course he had planned my removal in a more sinister fashion.

We came to the conclusion that the secret cupboard had been constructed in that spot where a wretched prisoner had long ago tunneled his way from the oubliette to the dungeons. The Comte thought he remembered his grand father’s mentioning that this had happened.

The emeralds had been put away in the strongroom. Perhaps one day I should wear them. The thought still seemed incongruous to me.

I wished that there could have been a neat ending to everything. I had a passion for neatness which I longed to satisfy. Sometimes I sat in the sunny garden and looked up at the machicolated towers of the chateau and felt that I was living in a fairy tale. I was a princess

in disguise who had rescued a prince on whom a spell had been laid. I had lifted the spell and he would be happy again, happy ever after. That was what I wanted to be sure of now. in the Indian summer of the pond garden, with the man I was soon to marry beside me, growing stronger every day.

But life is not a fairy tale.

Jean Pierre had left for Mermoz; Genevieve was sullen because he had left. Her head was full of wild plans; and one noble action had not changed Jean Pierre’s character overnight.

And across my happiness there hung a dark shadow. I wondered if I should ever forget the first Comtesse.

They knew I was to marry the Comte. I had seen their glances . Madame Latiere, Madame Bastide . all the servants.

It was a fairy tale. The humble young woman who came to the castle and married the Comte.

Genevieve, who was smarting under the loss of Jean Pierre, did not mince her words.

“You’re brave, aren’t you?”

“Brave? What do you mean?”

“If he murdered one wife why not another?”

No, there could be no neat happy ending.

I began to be haunted by Francoise. How strange it was. I had said I did not believe in the rumours I had heard; nor did I; but they haunted me.

He didn’t kill her, I would say to myself, a dozen times a day.

Yet why did he refuse to tell me the truth?

“There must be no lies between us,” he had said.

And for this reason he could not tell me.

There came the opportunity and I found myself unable to resist it.

It happened like this. It was afternoon and the chateau was quiet. I was anxious about Genevieve and went along to Nounou’s room. I wanted to talk to her about the girl.

I wanted to try to understand how deep this feeling for Jean Pierre had gone.

I knocked at the door of Nounou’s sitting-room. There was no answer so I went in. Nounou was lying on a couch; there was a dark handkerchief over her eyes and I guessed she was suffering from one of her headaches.

“Nounou,” I said gently, but there was no answer.

My eyes went from the sleeping woman to the cupboard in which those little notebooks were kept and I saw that Nounou’s key was in the cupboard door. It was usually kept on the chain she wore about her waist and it was unusual for her not to return it there immediately after using it.

I bent over her. She was breathing deeply; she was fast asleep. I looked again at the cupboard, and the temptation was irresistible. I had to know. I reasoned with myself:

She showed you the others so why should you not see that one? After all, Francoise is dead; and if the books could be read by Nounou why not by you?

It’s important, I assured myself. It’s of the utmost importance. I must know what is in that last book.

I went quietly to the cupboard; I looked over my shoulder at the sleeping woman and opened the cupboard door. I saw the bottle, the small glass. I lifted it up and smelt it. It had contained laudanum which she kept for her headaches, the same opiate which had killed Francoise.

Nounou had taken a dose because her headache was unbearable. I had to know. It was no use considering my scruples.

I picked the notebook at the end of the row; I knew that they would be in absolute order. I glanced inside. Yes. This was the one I wanted.

I went to the door.

Nounou had still not stirred. I sped to my own room and with wildly beating heart began to read.

“So I am going to have a child. This time it may be a boy. That will please him. I shall tell no one yet. Lothair must be the first to know. I shall say to him: ” Lothair, we are going to have a child. Are you pleased? ” Of course I am frightened. I am frightened so much. But when it is over it will be worthwhile. What will Papa say? He will be hurt… disgusted. How much happier he would be if I went to him and told him I was going into a convent. Away from the wickedness of the world, away from lust, away from vanity. That is what he would like.

And I shall go to him and say, “Tapa, I am going to have a child.” But not yet. I shall choose the right time. That is why I must say nothing yet. In case Papa should get to know. “

“They say a woman changes when she is going to have a child. I have changed. I could have been so happy. I almost am. I dream of the child. He will be a boy for that is what we want. It is right that the Comtes de la Talle should have sons. That is why they marry. If it were not necessary they could be content with their mistresses. They are the ones they really care for. But now it will be different. He will look at me in a different light. I shall not be only the one he was obliged to marry for the sake of the family; I shall be the mother of his son.”

“It is wonderful. I should have known this before. I should not have listened to Papa. Yesterday when I went to Carrefour I did not tell him. I could not bring myself to do so. And the reason is that I am so happy because it is so, and he will besmirch it. He will look at me with those stem cold eyes of his and he will be seeing it all… everything that led up to my having the child … not as it was … but as he believed it to be … horrible … sinful… I wanted to cry to him: ” No, Papa, it is not like that. You are wrong. I should never have listened to you. ” Oh, that room where we knelt together and you prayed that I should be protected from the lusts of the flesh! It was because of that that I shrank from him. I keep thinking now of the night before my marriage. Why did he agree? He regretted it almost immediately afterwards. I remember after the night of the contra! de mari age dinner how we prayed together and he said: “My child, I wish this need never take place.” And I said: “Why, Papa, everyone is congratulating me!” And he answered: “That’s because a match with the de la Talles is considered a good one, but I would be happy if I thought you would be living a life of purity.” I did not understand then. I said I would try to be a pure woman; and he kept murmuring about the lusts of the flesh. And then the night before the church wedding we prayed together and I was ignorant and knew nothing of what was expected of me, except that it was shameful and that my father regretted he could not spare me such shame. And thus it was I came to my husband. “

“But it is different now. I have come to understand that Papa is wrong. He should never have married. He wanted to be a monk. He was on the point of becoming one and then he found that he wanted to marry and he changed his mind and married my mother. But he hated himself for his weakness and his monk’s robe was his greatest treasure. He is mistaken. I know that now. I might have been happy. I might have learned how to make Lothair love me if Papa had not frightened me, if he had not taught me that the marriage bed was shameful. I try not to blame him. All these years when my husband turned from me, when he has spent his nights with other women perhaps they need not have been. I begin to see that I have turned him from me with my shivering shrinking sense of sin. I shall go to Carrefour tomorrow and I shall tell Papa that I am going to have a child. I shall say: ” Papa, I feel no shame only pride. Everything is going to be different from now on. ” ” I did not go to Carrefour as I promised myself. My wisdom tooth started to ache again. Nounou said to me:

“Sometimes when a woman has a baby she loses a tooth. You’re not so, are you?” I flushed and she knew. How could I keep a secret from Nounou? I said: “Don’t tell anyone yet, Nounou. I haven’t told him. He should know first, shouldn’t he? And I want to tell Papa too.” Nounou understood. She knows me so well. She knows how Papa makes me pray when I go there. She knows that Papa would like to see me in a convent. She knows what he thinks of marriage. She rubbed a clove on my gum and said that should make it better; and I sat on the footstool leaning against her as I used to when I was little. And I talked to Nounou. I told her how I felt. I said: “Papa was wrong, Nounou. He made me feel that marriage was shameful. It was because of this … because I made my marriage intolerable that my husband turned to others.”

“You’re not to blame,” she said.

“You have broken none of the commandments.”

“Papa made me feel unclean,” I said.

“From the beginning it was so. So my husband turned from me. I could never explain to him. He thought me cold, and you know, Nounou, he is not a cold man. He needed a warm, affectionate, clever woman. He has not been treated fairly.” Nounou wouldn’t have it. She said I had done no wrong. I accused her of agreeing with Papa. I said: “I believe you too would rather have seen me in a convent than married” And she did not deny it. I said:

“You too think marriage is shameful, Nounou.” And she did not deny that, either. My tooth was no better so she gave me a few drops of laudanum in water and made me lie on the couch in her room. Then she locked the bottle in her cupboard and sat down beside me.

“That’ll make you drowsy,” she said.

“That’ll send you into a nice sleep.” And it did. “

“This is too terrible. I do not believe I shall ever forget it as long as I live. It keeps coming in and out of my mind. Perhaps if I write it down I can stop going over and over it. Papa is very ill. It began like this: I went to see him today. I had made up my mind I would tell him about the child. He was in his room when I arrived and I went straight to him. He was sitting at the table reading the Bible when I went in. He looked up and then laid the red silk book-marker in the place and closed the book.

“Well, my child,” he said. I went to him and kissed him. He seemed to notice the change in me at once, for he looked startled and a little alarmed.

He asked me about Genevi eve, and if I had brought her. I told him I had not. Poor child, it is too much to expect her to pray for so long.

She grows restive and that agitates him more than ever. I assured him that she was a good child. He said that he thought that she had a tendency to waywardness. It must be watched. Perhaps it was because I am about to become a mother again that I felt rebellious. I did not want Genevi eve to go to her husband when her time came as I had gone to mine. I said rather sharply that I thought she was normal, as a child should be. One did not expect children to behave as the holy saints. He stood up and he looked terrible.

“Normal,” he said.

“Why do you say that?” And I answered: “Because it is natural for a child to be a little wayward, as you call it, now and then. Genevieve is. I shall not punish her for it.”

“To spare the rod is to spoil the child,” he replied.

“If she is wicked she should be beaten.” I was horrified.

“You are wrong. Papa,” I said.

“I do not agree with you.

Genevieve shall not be beaten. Nor shall any of my children. ” He looked at me in astonishment and I blurted out: ” Yes, Papa, I am going to have a child. This time a boy, I hope. I shall pray for a boy . and you must pray too. ” His mouth twitched. He said:

“You are to have a child….” I answered joyfully: “Yes, Papa. And I’m happy … happy … happy….”

“You are hysterical,” he said.

“I feel hysterical. I feel I want to dance with joy. ” Then he gripped the table and seemed to slide down to the floor. I caught at him and

broke his fall. I could not understand what had happened to him. I knew that he was very ill. I called the Labisses and Maurice. They came and got him to bed. I was faint myself. They sent for my husband and then I learned that my father was very ill. I believed he was dying.”

“That was two days ago. He was asking for me. All day he asks for me.

He likes me to sit with him. The doctor thinks it is good for him that I should. I am still at Carrefour. My husband is here too. I have told him. I said to him: “It was when I told Papa that I was going to have a child that he became so ill. It was the shock, I believe.” And my husband comforted me. He said: “He had been ill for a long time.

This was a stroke and it could have happened at any time. “

“But,” I said, “he did not want me to have children. He thinks it is sinful.”

And my husband said I must not worry. It would be bad for the child.

And he is pleased. I know he is pleased for I believe above all things he wants a son. “

“I sat with Papa today. We were alone. He opened his eyes and saw me there. He said: ” Honorine . is that you, Honorine? ” And I said, ” No.

It is Francoise. ” But he kept saying ” Honorine” so I knew that he was mistaking me for my mother. I sat there by the bed thinking of the old days when she had been alive. I did not see her every day. Sometimes she was dressed in an afternoon gown with ribbons and laces and Madame Labisse brought her down to the drawing-room. She would sit in her chair and say little and I always thought what a strange mother she was. But she was very beautiful. Even as a child I knew that. She looked like a doll I once had; her face was smooth and pink and there were no wrinkles on it. She had a tiny waist yet she was plump and curved like pictures I had seen of beautiful women. I sat by his bed thinking of her and how one day I had come in and found her laughing, and laughing in such an odd way as though she couldn’t stop and Madame Labisse’s taking her off to her room where she seemed to stay for a long time. I knew her room because I had been there once. I had climbed the stairs to be with her. And I found her there sitting on her chair with her feet in little velvet slippers on her foot stool. It was warm in the room and it was snowing outside I remember. There was a lamp very high on the wall and a guard round the fire such as I had in my nursery. And I noticed too the window, for there was only a small one and there were no curtains at it, but bars across. I went to her and sat at her feet and she said nothing to me but she liked having me there for she fondled my hair and ruffled it and pulled it, and made it very untidy and suddenly she started to laugh in that odd way I had heard. Madame Labisse came in and found me there and told me to go away at once. And she told Nounou, for I was scolded and told I was never to go up those stairs again. So I only saw Mamma when she came to the drawing room

But when he kept talking of Honorine I sat there remembering. He said suddenly: “I must go, Honorine. I must go. No, I cannot stay.” Then he was praying: “Oh God, I am a weak and sinful man. This woman tempted me and for her I became the sinner I am. And my punishment has come.

You are testing me, 0 Lord, and Thy miserable servant has betrayed Thee seventy times seven he has betrayed Thee. ” I said: ” Papa, it is-all right, this is not Honorine. It is I, Francoise, your daughter. And you are not sinful. You have been a good man. ” And he answered: ” Eh? What’s that? ” And I went on talking to him, trying to soothe him.”

“That night I understood a great deal about my father. As I lay in bed the picture became clear to me. He had yearned for sanctity; he had wanted to be a monk, but there was a sensual streak in him which fought with his piety. Being the man he was he would have suffered torture knowing of this streak, seeking to suppress it. Then he met my mother and he desired her; he turned from the thought of a monastery and married instead. But even though he married he had sought to suppress his desire and when he failed he despised himself. My mother was beautiful; as a child I had realized that; and to him she was irresistible. I pictured him, pacing up and down, steeling himself to stay away from her. He thought physical love sinful but he had been unable to resist it. I could imagine those days and nights when he shut himself in his austere room, when he lay on his pallet, when he scourged himself. He would be awaiting vengeance, for he was a man who believed in vengeance. Every small fault of mine or the servants had to be punished. At morning prayers that was the theme of his daily sermon.

“Vengeance is mine, said the Lord.” Poor Papa! How unhappy he must have been. Poor Maman!

What sort of marriage had she had? Then I saw what he had done to me and mine and I wept for the tragedy of it. Then I said to myself: “But there is time yet. I am going to bear a child. So perhaps it is not too late.” And I wondered how I could help Papa. But I could see no way. “

“This morning Nounou came in to draw the blinds and she looked at me anxiously. She said I looked drawn. I had had a sleepless night. It was true. I had lain awake for hours thinking of Papa and what he had done to my life. Was it the tooth? she asked. She thinks of me still as a child and does not seem to believe that I could be concerned with important problems. I let her think it was the tooth for I knew it would be impossible to talk to her nor did I want to.

“You must have some laudanum tonight, my child,” she said. I answered: “Thank you, Nounou.”

“When I went over to Carrefour Maruice told me that Papa had been waiting for me. He kept watching the door and every time anyone went in he would say my name. They were all relieved that I had come. So I went in and sat by his bedside, although when I went in his eyes were closed and even when he opened them, after a while, he id not take much notice of me. Then I noticed that he was mumbling to himself. He kept saying: “The Vengeance of the Lord …” over and over again. He was very anxious, I could see that. I bent over him and whispered:

“Papa, you have nothing to fear. You have done what you thought right.

What more can anyone do? “

“I am a sinner,” he said.

“I was tempted into sin. Twas not her fault. She was beautiful… she loved the pleasures of the flesh and she lured me to follow her. Even after I knew I could not resist her. That is the sin, child. That is the greatest sin of all.” I said: “Papa, you are distressing yourself. Lie still.”

“Is that Francoise?” he asked.

“Is that my daughter?” I answered that it was. He said: “And is there a child?”

“Yes, Papa.

Your little granddaughter, Genevieve. ” His face puckered and I was frightened. He began to whisper: ” I have seen the signs. The sins of the fathers . Oh my God, the sins of the fathers . ” I felt I had to comfort him. I said: ” Papa, I think I understand. You loved your wife. That was no sin. It is natural to love, natural for men and women to have children. That is the way the world goes on. ” He kept murmuring to himself and I wondered whether to call Maurice.

Occasionally a coherent sentence emerged.

“I knew it. There was the hysteria…. There was the time when we found her playing with fire. There was the time when we found her building a fire in the bedroom, laying the sticks across each other.. We were always finding sticks laid as though for a fire … in cupboards … under beds…. She would run out to gather sticks … Then the doctors came.”

“Papa,” ‘s I said, “do you mean that my mother was mad?” He did not answer, but went on as though I had not spoken: “I could have sent her away. I should have sent her away … ; but I could not do without her… and I still went to her… even though I knew. And in time there was fruit of her madness. That is my sin and there will be vengeance…. I watch for it… wait for it.” I was frightened, I forgot he was a sick man. I knew that what he was telling me was the truth as he saw it. I knew now why my mother had been kept in the room with the barred windows; I knew the reason for our strange household. My mother had been mad. It was for this reason that my father had not wanted me to marry.

“Francoise,” he mumbled.

“Francoise… my daughter.”

“I am here, Papa.”

“I watched over Francoise,” he said.

“She was a good child… quiet, shy, retiring.. not like her mother. Not brazen, bold … in love with the sins of the flesh. No, my daughter has escaped … But it is written ‘unto the third and fourth generation…” She was sought in marriage by the de la Talks . and I gave my consent. That was my sin of pride. I could not say to the Comte when he asked for my daughter for his son:

“Her mother is mad.” So I said my daughter should marry and then I scourged myself for my pride and my lust for I was guilty of two of the deadliest sins. But I did not stop the marriage and so my daughter went to the chateau. ” I tried to soothe him.

“All is well, Papa. There is nothing to fear. The past is done with. All is well now.”

“Unto the third and fourth generation …” he whispered.

“The sins of the fathers … I have seen it in the child. She is wild and she has the look of her grandmother. I know the signs. She will be like her grandmother… unable to resist the pleasures of the flesh and the evil seed will pass on and on through the generations to come.”

“You can’t mean Genevieve … my little girl.” He whispered: “The seed is there in Genevieve… I have seen it. It will grow and grow until it destroys her. I should have warned my daughter. She has escaped but her children will not!” I was frightened. I began to see so much more than I ever had before. I knew now why he had been overcome with horror when I told him I was to have another child. I sat by my bed numb with horror. “

“There is no one I can talk to. When I returned from

Carrefour I went into one of the flower gardens and sat alone for a long time thinking of it. Genevieve! My daughter! Incidents from the past rose in my mind. It was like watching a play in a series of scenes, all significant, leading to a climax. I remembered violent rages; her way of laughing immoderately and I heard her laughter mingling with echoes from the past. My mother. my daughter. They even looked alike . The more I tried to recall my mother’s face the more she looked like Genevi eve. I knew now that I should watch my daughter as my father had watched me. Every little misdemeanour of her childhood which I had once thought of as a prank took on a new significance. The evil seed had passed on through me to the coming generation. My father, who had wanted to be a monk, had been unable to suppress his passion for his wife even though he knew her to be mad, and as a result I had been born and I in my turn had borne a child.

Then the horror of my situation made me tremble with fear for not only was there my poor Genevieve. There was the unborn child. “

“I did not go to Carrefour yesterday. I could not. I made the excuse that my tooth was bad. Nounou fussed over me. She gave me a few drops of her laudanum and that sent me to sleep. I felt refreshed when I awoke but my anxieties were soon nagging at my mind. The child I longed for … what would it be like? What of my poor Genevieve? She came in this morning, as she always does first thing. I heard her with Nounou outside the door. Nounou said:

“Your mother is not well. She has a toothache and wants to rest.”

“But I always go in,” replied my daughter.

“Not today, my dear. Let your Maman rest.” But Genevieve flew into a rage. She stamped her feet and when Nounou tried to hold her off she bit poor Nounou’s hand. I lay there shivering. He is right. These sudden passions are more than childish temper. Nounou can’t control

them . nor can I. I called that she was to come in and she came, her eyes bright with angry tears, her lips sullen. She threw herself at me; she hugged me far too wildly, far too passionately.

“Nounou is trying to keep us apart. I won’t let her. I’ll kill her.” That was how she talked, wildly, extravagantly. She doesn’t mean it, I always said.

It is just her way. Just her way! Honorine’s way. My father had noticed the seed in her. I believed it was there. and I was seized with terror. “

“Papa was asking for me. So I went over to Carrefour.

“He waits for you to come all the time,” they told me.

“He watches the door. He asks for your mother,” they say.

“He thinks you are your mother perhaps.”

So I sat by his bed and he looked at me with those wild glazed eyes and he said my name and sometimes that of my mother. He murmured of sin and vengeance but he wa not as coherent as he had been. I thought he was dying. I could see that he was working himself up to an excitement and I bent over him to hear what he was saying.

“A child?” he said.

“There is going to be a child?” I thought he was thinking of what I had told him until I realized he was farther back in time.

“A child. Honorine is going to have a child. How could this have happened? Oh, but it is God’s vengeance. I knew. and in spite of my knowledge. I went to her and this is the vengeance of the Lord . ‘unto the third and fourth generation . and the seed . the evil seed . will live for ever. “

” Papa, I said, “it is all long ago.

Honorine is dead and I am well. There is nothing wrong with me. ” His wild uncomprehending eyes were on me. He murmured: ” They told me she was with child. I remember the day well.

“You are to be a father,” they said. And they smiled at me. not knowing the horror that was in my heart. It had come. Vengeance had come. My sin would not die with me. It would live to the third and fourth generation. I went to her room that night. I stood over her. She was sleeping. I held the pillow in my hands. I could press it over her face . that would be the end . the end of her and the child.

But she was beautiful. her black hair. the round childishness of her face . and I was a coward, so I fell upon her, embracing her and I knew I could never kill her. “

“You distress yourself, Papa,” I said.

“It is over. Nothing can change what is done. I am here now . and I am well, I assure you.” He was not listening to me and I was thinking of Genevieve and the child who was not yet born. “

“I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking of Papa’s grief. And I could not forget Genevieve. I thought of the wildness in her, which frightened Nounou. I knew why. Nounou had known my mother. Nounou’s fears were a reflection of my father’s. I had seen Nounou watching my daughter. I dozed and suffered a nightmare. There was someone in a room with a barred window. I had to kill her; I stood there with a pillow in my hand. It was my mother … but she had Genevieve’s face and in her arms she carried a child … a child who was not yet born.

I made her lie down and I stood over her with the pillow. I woke up crying: “No! No!” I was shivering. I couldn’t rest after that. I was afraid to sleep for fear of more nightmares so I took some of Nounou’s laudanum and then I fell into a long dreamless sleep. “

‘“When I awoke this morning my mind was very clear. If my child is a boy, I thought, he will carry on the line of the de la Talles. And I thought of that evil seed of madness entering the chateau like a ghost that would haunt it for the centuries to come. I should have brought that to them. Genevieve? She has Nounou to care for her. And Nounou knows. Nounou will watch over her. She will see that she never marries. Perhaps Nounou will persuade her to go into a convent as Papa wanted to persuade me. But the child … if it is a boy … Papa lacked the courage. It needs courage. Had Papa killed my mother I should never have been born. I should have known no pain … nothing. And that is how it would be with the child.”

“Last night a strange thing happened. I awoke from a nightmare and I remembered the peaceful sleep which comes from the little green bottle with the crinkly sides. Crinkly, Nounou told me, because if you should pick it up in the dark you would know it for a poison bottle. Poison!

But it gives such sweet sleep, such relief! I thought how easy it would be to take twice . three times . the dose Nounou gave me for my toothache . and then no more fears . no more worries. The child would know nothing. The child would be saved from coming into the world, to be continually watched for the first sign of the evil seed. I reached for the bottle and I thought: “I will not be a coward as Papa was.” I thought of myself old as he is now. lying on my death-bed, reproaching myself for all the unhappiness I had brought to my children. I looked at the bottle and I was afraid. I took a few drops and slept and in the morning I told myself, “That is not the way.” ‘ “It is night and the fears are with me again. I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of Papa and my mother in the room with the bars, and I am very conscious of the child I am carrying. Nounou, please take care of Genevieve. I leave her to your care. I am wondering now whether I have the courage which Papa lacked. I believe that had he succeeded it would have been better for so many of us. My little Genevieve would never have been born … Nounou would have been saved her fears … I should never have been born. I believe my father was right. I can see the bottle. Green with the crinkly sides. I will put my notebook with the others in the cupboard and Nounou will find them. She loves reading about the days when I was little and says my books bring them back. She will explain to them why … I wonder if I ‘can. I wonder if it is right… Now I shall try to sleep … but if I can’t… In the morning I shall write that this is how one feels at night. By daylight it seems different.

But Papa lacked the courage . I wonder if I shall have enough. I wonder. “

The writing stopped there. But I knew what had happened. She had found what she would call the courage and because of it she and her unborn child died that night.

The pictures conjured up by Francoise’s writing filled my mind. I saw it all so clearly; the house with the grim secret; the room with the barred window, the guarded fire; the lamp high in the wall; the wild and passionate woman; the austere husband who yet found her irresistible; his battle with his senses; his abandonment to passion and the result which to his fanatical mind seemed like vengeance. The birth of Francoise, the watchful eyes, the secluded upbringing . and then marriage to the Comte. I saw why that marriage had been a failure from the beginning.

The girl, innocent and ignorant, had been taught to regard marriage with horror; the disillusion of them both; she finding a virile young husband, he a frigid wife.

And everyone in the chateau had been aware of the unsatisfactory nature of the marriage and when Francoise died through an overdose of laudanum they would have asked themselves: Did her husband have a hand in it?

It was so cruelly unfair and Nounou was to blame. She had read what I had read; she knew what I had just discovered and yet she had allowed the Comte to be suspected of murdering his wife. Why had she not produced this book which explained so clearly?

Well, the truth should be known now.

I looked at the watch pinned to my blouse. The Comte would be in the garden. He would be wondering why I had not joined him as I always did when he was there. We would sit looking at the pond, making plans for our marriage which would take place as soon as he was sufficiently recovered.

I went down to join him and found him alone impatiently awaiting me.

He saw immediately that something had happened.

“Dallas!” He said my name with that note of tenderness which never failed to move me; now it filled me with anger that he, an innocent man, should have been so unjustly accused.

“I know the truth about Francoise’s death,” I blurted out.

“Everyone shall know now. It is all here.,.. She wrote it herself. It is a clear explanation. She killed herself.”

I saw the effect those words had on him and I went on triumphantly.

“She kept notebooks… little diaries. Nounou has had them all this time. Nounou knew … and she said nothing. She allowed you to be blamed. It’s monstrous. But now everyone shall know.”

“Dallas, my dear, you are excited.”

“Excited! I have discovered this secret. I can now show this … admission … to the world. No one else will dare say that you killed Francoise.”

He laid his hand over mine.

“Tell me what you have discovered,” he said.

“I was determined to find out. I knew of the notebooks. Nounou had showed me some. So I went to her room. She was asleep, her cupboard was open … so I took the last one. I had guessed that there might be some clue there but I had not thought I should find the answer so clear so indisputable.”

“What did you find?”

“She killed herself because of the fear of madness. Her mother was mad and her father told her this when he was rambling after his stroke. He told her how he tried to kill her mother … how he had failed … how much better it would have been if he had. Don’t you see? She was so unworldly. That comes through in her diaries. She would accept. fatalistically what was put into her mind . But it’s here. as clear as you could wish. Never again shall anyone accuse you of murder. “

“I am glad you found this. Now there need be no secrets between us.

Perhaps I should have told you. I think I should have done in time.

But I was afraid that even you might have betrayed by some look . by some gesture . “

I looked at him searchingly.

“Of course I knew that you had not killed her. You don’t think for a moment I believed that absurd gossip….”

He took my face in his hands and kissed me.

“I like to think,” he said, ‘that you doubted me and loved me just the same. “

“Perhaps it’s true,” I admitted.

“I can’t understand Nounou. How could she have known and kept quiet?”

“For the same reason that I did.”

“As… you did?”

“I knew what happened. She left a note for me, explaining.”

“You knew she took her own life, and why, and yet you let them …”

“Yes, I knew and I let them.”

“But why … why? It’s so unfair … so cruel…”

“I was used to being gossiped about… slandered, I deserved most of it. You know I warned you you would not marry a saint.”

“But… murder.”

“It’s your secret now, Dallas.”

“Mine. But I’m going to make this known …”

“No. There’s something you’ve forgotten.”

“What?”

“Genevieve.”

I stared at him in understanding.

“Yes, Genevieve,” he went on.

“You know her nature. It is wild, excitable. How easy it would be to send her the way her grandmother went. Since you have been here she has changed a little. Oh, not a great deal. We can’t expect it… but I think that one of the easiest ways to send a highly-strung person toppling into madness would be the continual watching, the suggestion that there is some seed in her which could develop. I don’t want her watched in that way. I want her to have every chance to grow up normally. Francoise took her life for the sake of the child she was to have; I at least can face a little gossip for the sake of our daughter. You understand now, Dallas?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“I’m glad, for now there are no secrets between us.”

I looked across the grass to the pond. It was hot now but the afternoon was already late and the evenings were drawing in. It was only a year ago that I had come here. So much, I thought, to happen in one short year.

“You are silent,” he said.

“Tell me what you are thinking.”

“I was thinking of all that has happened since I first came here.

Nothing is as it seemed when I came to the chateau. when I saw you all for the first time. I saw you so differently from what you are . and now I find you capable of this . great sacrifice. “

“My darling, you are too dramatic. This … sacrifice has cost me little. What do I care for what is said of me? You know I am arrogant enough to snap my fingers at the world and say: think what you will.

But although I snap my fingers at the world there is one whose good opinion is of the greatest importance to me . That is why I sit here basking in her approval, allowing her to set the halo on my head. I know of course that she will soon discover it was an illusion. but it’s pleasant to wear it for a while. “

“Why do you always want to denigrate yourself?”

“Because I’m afraid beneath my arrogance.”

“Afraid. You. Of what?”

“That you will stop loving me.”

“And what of me? Don’t you think I have a similar fear?”

“It is comforting to know you can be capable of folly now and then.”

“I think,” I said, ‘that this is the happiest moment of my life. “

He put an arm about me and we sat close together for some minutes looking over the peaceful garden.

“Let’s make it last,” he said.

He took the notebook from me and tore off the cover. Then he struck a match and applied it to the leaves.

I watched the blue and yellow flame creep over the childish handwriting.

Soon there was nothing left of Francoise’s confession.

He said: “It was unwise to keep it. Will you explain to Nounou?”

I nodded. I picked up the cover of the notebook and slipped it into my pocket.

Together we watched a piece of blackened paper tossed across the lawn.

I thought of the future of whispers that would now and then reach me, of the wildness of Genevieve, of the complex nature of the man I had chosen to love. The future was a challenge. But then I had always been one to accept a challenge.