In her despair she was wringing her hands; and then the words escaped from her lips, almost unconsciously,--"Great God," she said, "inspire me! How can I bend him? What must Isay? Jacques, do you love me no longer? For my sake, if not for your own, I beseech you, let us flee! You escape disgrace; you secure liberty. Can nothing touch you? What do you want? Must I throw myself at your feet?"And she really let herself fall at his feet.
"Flee!" she repeated again and again. "Oh, flee!"Like all truly energetic men, Jacques recovered in the very excess of his emotion all his self-possession. Gathering his bewildered thoughts by a great effort of mind, he raised Dionysia, and carried her, almost fainting, to the rough prison bench; then, kneeling down by her side, and taking her hands he said,--"Dionysia, for pity's sake, come to yourself and listen to me. I am innocent; and to flee would be to confess that I am guilty.""Ah! what does that matter?"
"Do you think that my escape would stop the trial? No. Although absent, I should still be tried, and found guilty without any opposition: I should be condemned, disgraced, irrevocably dishonored.""What does it matter?"
Then he felt that such arguments would never bring her back to reason.
He rose, therefore, and said in a firm voice,--"Let me tell you what you do not know. To flee would be easy, I agree.
I think, as you do, we could reach England readily enough, and we might even take ship there without trouble. But what then? The cable is faster than the fastest steamer; and, upon landing on American soil, I should, no doubt, be met by agents with orders to arrest me.
But suppose even I should escape this first danger. Do you think there is in all this world an asylum for incendiaries and murderers? There is none. At the extreme confines of civilization I should still meet with police-agents and soldiers, who, an extradition treaty in hand, would give me up to the government of my country. If I were alone, Imight possibly escape all these dangers. But I should never succeed if I had you near me, and Grandpapa Chandore, and your two aunts."Dionysia was forcibly struck by these objections, of which she had had no idea. She said nothing.
"Still, suppose we might possibly escape all such dangers. What would our life be! Do you know what it would mean to have to hide and to run incessantly, to have to avoid the looks of every stranger, and to tremble, day by day, at the thought of discovery? With me, Dionysia, your existence would be that of the wife of one of those banditti whom the police are hunting down in his dens. And you ought to know that such a life is so intolerable, that hardened criminals have been unable to endure it, and have given up their life for the boon of a night's quiet sleep."Big tears were silently rolling down the poor girl's cheeks. She murmured,--"Perhaps you are right, Jacques. But, O Jacques, if they should condemn you!""Well, I should at least have done my duty. I should have met fate, and defended my honor. And, whatever the sentence may be, it will not overthrow me; for, as long as my heart beats within me, I mean to defend myself. And, if I die before I succeed in proving my innocence, I shall leave it to you, Dionysia, to your kindred, and to my friends, to continue the struggle, and to restore my honor."She was worthy of comprehending and of appreciating such sentiments.
"I was wrong, Jacques," she said, offering him her hand: "you must forgive me."She had risen, and, after a few moments' hesitation, was about to leave the room, when Jacques retained her, saying,--"I do not mean to escape; but would not the people who have agreed to favor my evasion be willing to furnish me the means for passing a few hours outside of my prison?""I think they would," replied the young girl; "And, if you wish it, Iwill make sure of it."
"Yes. That might be a last resort."
With these words they parted, exhorting each other to keep up their courage, and promising each other to meet again during the next days.
Dionysia found her poor aunt Lavarande very tired of the long watch;and they hastened home.
"How pale you are!" exclaimed M. de Chandore, when he saw his grand-daughter; "and how red your eyes are! What has happened?"She told him every thing; and the old gentleman felt chilled to the marrow of his bones, when he found that it had depended on Jacques alone to carry off his grandchild. But he had not done so.
"Ah, he is an honest man!" he said.
And, pressing his lips on Dionysia's brow, he added,--"And you love him more than ever?"
"Alas!" she replied, "is he not more unhappy than ever?"
