Avarice - Anger: Two of the Seven Cardinal Sins

"The poor girl saw them only too plainly, as subsequent events have proved, for two men, as we afterward learned, did effect an entrance into the garden, not to break into the house, but to reconnoitre."

"The two men belonged to this armed band, then, I suppose."

"One of them was the leader of it."

Just then the nurse reëntered the room and motioned to Suzanne that she wished to speak to her.

"What is it?" inquired Suzanne, in a low tone.

"M. Segoffin has come."

"And M. Cloarek?"

"M. Segoffin is alone and wants to see Mlle. Sabine at once. Thérèse went up to tell her, and she sent word for him to come right up to her room."

"Tell mademoiselle that I will come at once if she needs me."

The nurse left the room again, and Suzanne returned to her nephew's bedside to continue her conversation with him.

CHAPTER XX.

THE MIDNIGHT ATTACK

"It was no bad news that they came to tell you just now, was it, aunt?" inquired Onésime, as Suzanne reseated herself near him.

"Oh, no; I will tell you what it was presently. Let me go on with my story. You recollect Thérèse running in to tell us that the stable was on fire, and that a band of armed men were attacking the house?"

"Yes, yes; what a terrible night it was!"

"I shall never forget the mingled terror and admiration I felt at the courage you displayed. I can hear you saying now: 'Flight is impossible; I cannot preserve you from danger, my infirmity, alas! prevents that, but I can at least make a rampart of my body for your protection;' and, arming yourself with an iron bar wrenched from one of the shutters, you rushed to the door, and alone and unaided guarded the entrance to the room with truly supernatural courage and strength."

"Don't speak of that, my dear aunt. Really, I — "

"What! not speak of it when the recollection of your bravery and devotion is the only consolation I have when I see you lying here. No, the most determined resistance I ever read of paled beside yours. Entrenched in the doorway, the iron bar became a formidable weapon in your hands, and though your defective vision prevented you from aiming your blows very accurately, those who came within reach of your arm fell at your feet, one by one."

"How terrified Mlle. Sabine must have been! Timid as she is, she must have died a thousand deaths during that brief struggle."

"You are very much mistaken, my friend. The courage and strength of character she displayed in that trying hour amazed me. I can see her now standing there pale but resolute. Her first words were: 'Thank God, I shall die alone, my father is absent.' Then, pointing to you, she said, exultantly: 'Do you admit that he is brave now? He is confronting death unflinchingly for our sakes, but we shall at least perish with him.' And when, overpowered, by numbers, you were at last struck down, and four of the men, the leader with his arm in a sling, burst into the room, she showed even greater heroism. 'Onésime is dead!' she exclaimed. 'It is our turn now! Farewell, Suzanne,' she added, clasping me in her arms, and murmuring, softly, 'Farewell, dear father, farewell.'"

"Loving and courageous to the last!" exclaimed Onésime, with tears both in his voice and eyes.

"I felt much less resigned. I had just seen you fall bleeding across the threshold, and I threw myself at the feet of the leader, begging for mercy. With a gesture he commanded the men to pause, and then, turning to me, demanded, in a threatening voice: 'Where is Captain l'Endurci?'"

"Captain l'Endurci?" repeated Onésime, in great surprise. "Why did they come here to look for Captain l'Endurci? Besides, these men were Englishmen. I remember now."

"I will explain presently. When the leader of the party asked where Captain l'Endurci was, I replied: 'This house belongs to M. Cloarek. He is absent from home. This is his daughter. Have pity on her.'

"'His daughter!' exclaimed the man, with a ferocious laugh. 'So this is his daughter, is it? So much the better! And you, — are you his wife?'

"'No, I am only the housekeeper.'

"'So this is his daughter,' he repeated again, approaching poor mademoiselle, whose courage seemed to increase with the danger, for, with both hands crossed upon her breast, like a saint, she looked the leader of the bandits straight in the eye.

"'Where is your father?' he demanded.

"'A long way from here, thank God!' replied the poor child, bravely.

"'Your father arrived here yesterday. He can hardly have gone away again so soon. He must be somewhere about the house. Where is he? Where is he, I say?'

"And as Sabine remained silent, he continued, with a sardonic smile:

"'I have missed your father, it seems, but, by taking you, I shall get him sooner or later. You shall write to him from England, telling him where you are, and he will incur any risk to release you. I shall be waiting for him, and so capture him sooner or later. Come with me.'

"'Go with you? I would rather die,' exclaimed Sabine.

"'No one has any intention of killing you, but you have got to come, so you had better do so peaceably, and not compel us to resort to force.'

"'Never!' cried the poor girl.

"The scoundrel turned to his men, and said a few words to them, whereupon they sprung upon Sabine. I tried to defend her, but they dragged me away, and, in spite of her tears and cries, she was soon securely bound. They had scarcely done this before the report of fire-arms and loud shouts were heard outside. Two men came rushing in, and said a few words to their leader, who quickly followed them out of the room. All the men except those who were holding Sabine hurried out after him. Then, and not until then, was I able to approach you. I thought at first that you were dead, so, forgetting Sabine and everything else, I was sobbing over you, when, suddenly — " Suzanne paused for a moment overcome with emotion.

"Go on! Oh, go on, I beg of you!" exclaimed Onésime.

"Never shall I forget that scene. At the farther end of the room two of the wretches were trying to drag Sabine along, in spite of her despairing cries. The other two men, evidently frightened by the increasing uproar outside, darted to the door, but just as they reached it both were struck down in turn by a terrific blow from an axe. A moment afterward Sabine's captors shared the same fate."

"But who struck them down?"

"Who?" exclaimed Suzanne, with a shudder, and lowering her voice. "A man clad in a strange costume. He wore a long, black jacket and waistcoat, a broad-brimmed hat, and full, white trousers. Axe in hand, he had just burst into the room, followed by several sailors."

"It seems to me that I have heard Mlle. Sabine speak of some other man dressed in a similar manner who, she said, was her mother's murderer."

"Alas! this recollection was only too vivid in her mind," said Suzanne, sadly.

"But who was the man that came to Mlle. Sabine's assistance, clad in this way?"

"This man was the famous privateer, Captain l'Endurci, — this man was M. Cloarek!"

"M. Cloarek! Impossible!" exclaimed Onésime, raising himself up in bed, in spite of his weakness.

"Yes, he had an axe in his hand. His garments were covered with blood; his face, never, oh, never, have I beheld a face so terrible. When he came in, Sabine, not distinguishing his features at first, uttered a cry of horror, and exclaimed, 'The black man! The black man!' and when M. Cloarek ran to his daughter, she recoiled in terror, crying, 'Father, ah, father, then it was you who killed my mother!' and fell apparently lifeless upon the floor."

"Yes, yes, those words, 'Father, then it was you who killed my mother,' I heard them vaguely, as life seemed to be deserting me. Oh, this is frightful, frightful! What a horrible discovery! What misery it entails! Such a tender father and loving daughter to have such a gulf between them for ever! You were right, aunt, you were right! It does indeed require courage to bear such a revelation. And Mlle. Sabine, how has she been since that time?"

"The unfortunate child lay between life and death for two whole days, as I told you."

"And M. Cloarek?"

"Alas! we know nothing about him. On hearing his daughter reproach him for her mother's death, he uttered a loud cry, and rushed out of the room like one demented, and nothing has been seen of him since."