marquise de brinvilliers-第2部分

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〃Young　man；〃　said　he；　〃you　have　prayed　to　the　devil　for　vengeance　on　the　men　who　have　taken　you；　for　help　against　the　God　who　has　abandoned　you。　　I　have　the　means；　and　I　am　here　to　proffer　it。　　Have　you　the　courage　to　accept？〃

〃First　of　all；〃　asked　Sainte…Croix；　〃who　are　you？〃

〃Why　seek　you　to　know　who　I　am；〃　replied　the　unknown；　〃at　the　very　moment　when　I　come　at　your　call；　and　bring　what　you　desire？〃

〃All　the　same；〃　said　Sainte…Croix；　still　attributing　what　he　heard　to　a　supernatural　being；　〃when　one　makes　a　compact　of　this　kind；　one　prefers　to　know　with　whom　one　is　treating。〃

〃Well；　since　you　must　know；〃　said　the　stranger；　〃I　am　the　Italian　Exili。〃

Sainte…Croix　shuddered　anew；　passing　from　a　supernatural　vision　to　a　horrible　reality。　　The　name　he　had　just　heard　had　a　terrible　notoriety　at　the　time；　not　only　in　France　but　in　Italy　as　well。　Exili　had　been　driven　out　of　Rome；　charged　with　many　poisonings；　which；　however；　could　not　be　satisfactorily　brought　home　to　him。　　He　had　gone　to　Paris；　and　there；　as　in　his　native　country；　he　had　drawn　the　eyes　of　the　authorities　upon　himself；　but　neither　in　Paris　nor　in　Rome　was　he；　the　pupil　of　Rene　and　of　Trophana；　convicted　of　guilt。　All　the　same；　though　proof　was　wanting；　his　enormities　were　so　well　accredited　that　there　was　no　scruple　as　to　having　him　arrested。　　A　warrant　was　out　against　him：　Exili　was　taken　up；　and　was　lodged　in　the　Bastille。　　He　had　been　there　about　six　months　when　Sainte…Croix　was　brought　to　the　same　place。　　The　prisoners　were　numerous　just　then；　so　the　governor　had　his　new　guest　put　up　in　the　same　room　as　the　old　one；　mating　Exili　and　Sainte…Croix；　not　knowing　that　they　were　a　pair　of　demons。　　Our　readers　now　understand　the　rest。　　Sainte…　Croix　was　put　into　an　unlighted　room　by　the　gaoler；　and　in　the　dark　had　failed　to　see　his　companion：　he　had　abandoned　himself　to　his　rage；　his　imprecations　had　revealed　his　state　of　mind　to　Exili；　who　at　once　seized　the　occasion　for　gaining　a　devoted　and　powerful　disciple；　who　once　out　of　prison　might　open　the　doors　for　him；　perhaps；　or　at　least　avenge　his　fate　should　he　be　incarcerated　for　life。

The　repugnance　felt　by　Sainte…Croix　for　his　fellow…prisoner　did　；not　last　long；　and　the　clever　master　found　his　pupil　apt。　　Sainte…Croix；　a　strange　mixture　of　qualities　good　and　evil；　had　reached　the　supreme　crisis　of　his　life；　when　the　powers　of　darkness　or　of　light　were　to　prevail。　　Maybe；　if　he　had　met　some　angelic　soul　at　this　point；　he　would　have　been　led　to　God；　he　encountered　a　demon；　who　conducted　him　to　Satan。

Exili　was　no　vulgar　poisoner：　he　was　a　great　artist　in　poisons；　comparable　with　the　Medici　or　the　Borgias。　　For　him　murder　was　a　fine　art；　and　he　had　reduced　it　to　fixed　and　rigid　rules：　he　had　arrived　at　a　point　when　he　was　guided　not　by　his　personal　interest　but　by　a　taste　for　experiment。　　God　has　reserved　the　act　of　creation　for　Himself；　but　has　suffered　destruction　to　be　within　the　scope　of　man：　man　therefore　supposes　that　in　destroying　life　he　is　God's　equal。　Such　was　the　nature　of　Exili's　pride：　he　was　the　dark；　pale　alchemist　of　death：　others　might　seek　the　mighty　secret　of　life；　but　he　had　found　the　secret　of　destruction。

For　a　time　Sainte…Croix　hesitated：　at　last　he　yielded　to　the　taunts　of　his　companion；　who　accused　Frenchmen　of　showing　too　much　honour　in　their　crimes；　of　allowing　themselves　to　be　involved　in　the　ruin　of　their　enemies；　whereas　they　might　easily　survive　them　and　triumph　over　their　destruction。　　In　opposition　to　this　French　gallantry；　which　often　involves　the　murderer　in　a　death　more　cruel　than　that　he　has　given；　he　pointed　to　the　Florentine　traitor　with　his　amiable　smile　and　his　deadly　poison。　　He　indicated　certain　powders　and　potions；　some　of　them　of　dull　action；　wearing　out　the　victim　so　slowly　that　he　dies　after　long　suffering；　others　violent　and　so　quick；　that　they　kill　like　a　flash　of　lightning；　leaving　not　even　time　for　a　single　cry。　　Little　by　little　Sainte…Croix　became　interested　in　the　ghastly　science　that　puts　the　lives　of　all　men　in　the　hand　of　one。　　He　joined　in　Exili's　experiments；　then　he　grew　clever　enough　to　make　them　for　himself；　and　when；　at　the　year's　end；　he　left　the　Bastille；　the　pupil　was　almost　as　accomplished　as　his　master。

Sainte…Croix　returned　into　that　society　which　had　banished　him；　fortified　by　a　fatal　secret　by　whose　aid　he　could　repay　all　the　evil　he　had　received。　　Soon　afterwards　Exili　was　set　freehow　it　happened　is　not　knownand　sought　out　Sainte…Croix；　who　let　him　a　room　in　the　name　of　his　steward；　Martin　de　Breuille；　a　room　situated　in　the　blind；　alley　off　the　Place　Maubert；　owned　by　a　woman　called　Brunet。

It　is　not　known　whether　Sainte…Croix　had　an　opportunity　of　seeing　the　Marquise　de　Brinvilliers　during　his　sojourn　in　the　Bastille；　but　it　is　certain　that　as　soon　as　he　was　a　free　man　the　lovers　were　more　attached　than　ever。　　They　had　learned　by　experience；　however；　of　what　they　had　to　fear；　so　they　resolved　that　they　would　at　once　make　trial　of　Sainte…Croix's　newly　acquired　knowledge；　and　M。　d'Aubray　was　selected　by　his　daughter　for　the　first　victim。　　At　one　blow　she　would　free　herself　from　the　inconvenience　of　his　rigid　censorship；　and　by　inheriting　his　goods　would　repair　her　own　fortune；　which　had　been　almost　dissipated　by　her　husband。　　But　in　trying　such　a　bold　stroke　one　must　be　very　sure　of　results；　so　the　marquise　decided　to　experiment　beforehand　on　another　person。　　Accordingly；　when　one　day　after　luncheon　her　maid；　Francoise　Roussel；　came　into　her　room；　she　gave　her　a　slice　of　mutton　and　some　preserved　gooseberries　for　her　own　meal。　　The　girl　unsuspiciously　ate　what　her　mistress　gave　her；　but　almost　at　once　felt　ill；　saying　she　had　severe　pain　in　the　stomach；　and　a　sensation　as　though　her　heart　were　being　pricked　with　pins。　　But　she　did　not　die；　and　the　marquise　perceived　that　the　poison　needed　to　be　made　stronger；　and　returned　it　to　Sainte…Croix；　who　brought　her　some　more　in　a　few　days'　time。

The　moment　had　come　for　action。　　M。　d'Aubray；　tired　with　business；　was　to　spend　a　holiday　at　his　castle　called　Offemont。　　The　marquise　offered　to　go　with　him。　　M。　d'Aubray；　who　supposed　her　relations　with　Sainte…Croix　to　be　quite　broken　off；　joyfully　accepted。　　Offemont　was　exactly　the　place　for　a　crime　of　this　nature。　　In　the　middle　of　the　forest　of　Aigue；　three　or　four　miles　from　Compiegne；　it　would　be　impossible　to　get　efficient　help　before　the　rapid　action　of　the　poison　had　made　it　useless。

M。　d'Aubray　started　with　his　daughter　and　one　servant　only。　　Never　had　the　marquise　been　so　devoted　to　her　father；　so　especially　attentive；　as　she　was　during　this　journey。　　And　M。　d'Aubray；　like　Christwho　though　He　had　no　children　had　a　father's　heartloved　his　repentant　daughter　more　than　if　she　had　never　strayed。　　And　then　the　marquise　profited　by　the　terrible　calm　look　which　we　have　already　noticed　in　her　face：　always　with　her　father；　sleeping　in　a　room　adjoining　his；　eating　with　him；　caring　for　his　comfort　in　every　way；　thoughtful　and　affectionate；　allowing　no　other　person　to　do　anything　for　him；　she　had　to　present　a　smiling　face；　in　which　the　most　suspicious　eye　could　detect　nothing　but　filial　tenderness；　though　the　vilest　projects　were　in　her　heart。　　With　this　mask　she　one　evening　offered　him　some　soup　that　was　poisoned。　　He　took　it；　with　her　eyes　she　saw　him　put　it　to　his　lips；　watched　him　drink　it　down；　and　with　a　brazen　countenance　she　gave　no　outward　sign　of　that　terrible　anxiety　that　must　have　been　pressing　on　her　heart。　　When　he　had　drunk　it　all；　and　she　had　taken　with　steady　hands　the　cup　and　its　saucer；　she　went　back　to　her　own　room；　waited　and　listened。。。。

The　effect　was　rapid。　　The　marquise　heard　her　father　moan；　then　she　heard　groans。　　At　last；　unable　to　endure　his　sufferings；　he　called　out　to　his　daughter。　　The　marquise　went　to　him。　　But　now　her　face　showed　signs　of　the　liveliest　anxiety；　and　it　was　for　M。　d'Aubray　to　try　to　reassure　her　about　himself！　　He　thought　it　was　only　a　trifling　indisposition；　and　was　not　willing　that　a　doctor　should　be　disturbed。　But　then　he　was　seized　by　a　frightful　vomiting；　followed　by　such　unendurable　pain　that　he　yielded　to　his　daughter's　entreaty　that　she　should　send　for　help。　　A　doctor　arrived　at　about　eight　o'clock　in　the　morning；　but　by　that　time　all　that　could　have　helped　a　scientific　inquiry　had　been　disposed　of：　the　doctor　saw　nothing；　in　M。d'Aubray's　story　but　what　might　be　accounted　for　by　indigestion；　so　he　dosed　him；　and　went　back　to　Compiegne。

All　that　day　the　marquise　never　left　the　sick　man。　　At　night　she　had　a　bed　made　up　in　his　room；　declaring　that　no　one　else　must　sit　up　with　him；　thus　she；　was　able　to　watch　the　progress　of　the　malady　and　see　with　her　own　eyes　the　conflict　between　death　and　life　in　the　body　of　her　father。　　The　next　day　the　doctor　came　again：　M。　d'Aubray　was　worse；　the　nausea　had　ceased；　but　the　pains　in　the　stomach　were　now　more　acute；　a　strange　fire　seemed　to　burn　his　vitals；　and　a　treatment　was　ordered　which　necessitated　his　return　to　Paris。　　He　was　soon　so　weak　that　he　thought　it　might　be　best　to　go　only　so　far　as　Compiegne；　but　the　marquise　was　so　insistent　as　to　the　necessity　for　further　and　better　advice　than　anything　he　could　get　away　from　home；　that　M。　d'Aubray　decided　to　go。　　He　made　the　journey　in　his　own　carriage；　leaning　upon　his　daughter's　shoulder；　the　behaviour　of　the　marquise　was　always　the　same：　at　last　M。　d'Aubray　reached　Paris。　　All　had　taken　place　as　the　marquise　desired；　for　the　scene　was　now　changed：　the　doctor　who　had　witnessed　the　symptoms　would　not　be　present　at　the　death；　no　one　could　discover　the　cause　by　studying　the　progress　of　the　disorder；　the　thread　of　investigation　was　snapped　in　two；　and　the　two　ends　were　now　too　distant　to　be　joined　again。　　In　spite；　of　every　possible　attention；　M。　d'Aubray　grew　continually　worse；　the　marquise　was　faithful　to　her　mission；　and　never　left　him　for　an　hour。　　At　list；　after　four　days　of　agony；　he　died　in　his　daughter's　arms；　blessing　the　woman　who　was　his　murderess。　　Her　grief　then　broke　forth　uncontrolled。　　Her　sobs　and　tears　were　so　vehement　that　her　brothers'　grief　seemed　cold　beside　hers。　　Nobody　suspected　a　crime；　so　no　autopsy　was　held；　the　tomb　was　closed；　and　not　the　slightest　suspicion　had　appr