The Secret of Sarek Part 5
"I know everything that you don't. I can answer all your questions. Ask me what you like."
But Veronique dared not put the great question to her, the one which was beginning to quiver in the darkness of her consciousness. She was afraid of a truth which was perhaps not inconceivable, a truth of which she seemed to catch a faint glimpse; and she stammered, in mournful accents:
"I don't understand, I don't understand . . . . Why should my father have behaved like that? Why should he wish himself and my poor child to be thought dead?"
"Your father had sworn to have his revenge."
"On Vorski, yes; but surely not on me, his daughter? . . . . And such a revenge!"
"You loved your husband. Once you were in his power, instead of running away from him, you consented to marry him. Besides, the insult was a public one. And you know what your father was, with his violent, vindictive temperament and his rather . . . his rather unbalanced nature, to use his own expression."
"But since then?"
"Since then! Since then! He felt remorseful as he grew older, what with his affection for the child . . . and he tried everywhere to find you.
The journeys I have taken, beginning with my journey to the Carmelites at Chartres! But you had left long ago . . . and where for? Where were you to be found?"
"You could have advertised in the newspapers."
"He did try advertising, once, very cautiously, because of the scandal.
There was a reply. Some one made an appointment and he kept it. Do you know who came to meet him? Vorski, Vorski, who was looking for you too, who still loved you . . . and hated you. Your father became frightened and did not dare act openly."
Veronique did not speak. She felt very faint and sat down on the stone, with her head bowed.
Then she murmured:
"You speak of my father as though he were still alive to-day."
"He is."
"And as though you saw him often."
"Daily."
"And on the other hand"--Veronique lowered her voice--"on the other hand you do not say a word of my son. And that suggests a horrible thought: perhaps he did not live? Perhaps he is dead since? Is that why you do not mention him?"
She raised her head with an effort. Honorine was smiling.
"Oh, please, please," Veronique entreated, "tell me the truth! It is terrible to hope more than one has a right to. Do tell me."
Honorine put her arm round Veronique's neck:
"Why, my poor, dear lady, would I have told you all this if my handsome Francois had been dead?"
"He is alive, he is alive?" cried Veronique, wildly.
"Why, of course he is and in the best of health! Oh, he's a fine, st.u.r.dy little chap, never fear, and so steady on his legs! And I have every right to be proud of him, because it's I who brought him up, your little Francois."
She felt Veronique, who was leaning on her shoulder, give way to emotions which were too much for her and which certainly contained as much suffering as joy; and she said:
"Cry, my dear lady, cry; it will do you good. It's a better sort of crying than it was, eh? Cry, until you've forgotten all your old troubles. I'm going back to the village. Have you a bag of any kind at the inn? They know me there. I'll bring it back with me and we'll be off."
When the Breton woman returned, half an hour later, she saw Veronique standing and beckoning to her to hurry and heard her calling:
"Quick, quick! Heavens, what a time you've been! We have not a minute to lose."
Honorine, however, did not hasten her pace and did not reply. Her rugged face was without a smile.
"Well, are we going to start?" asked Veronique, running up to her.
"There's nothing to delay us, is there, no obstacle? What's the matter?
You seem quite changed."
"No, no."
"Then let's be quick."
Honorine, with her a.s.sistance, put the bag and the provisions on board.
Then, suddenly standing in front of Veronique, she said:
"You're quite sure, are you, that the woman on the cross, as she was shown in the drawing, was yourself?"
"Absolutely. Besides, there were my initials above the head."
"That's a strange thing," muttered Honorine, "and it's enough to frighten anybody."
"Why should it be? It must have been someone who used to know me and who amused himself by . . . It's merely a coincidence, a chance fancy reviving the past."
"Oh, it's not the past that's worrying me! It's the future."
"The future?"
"Remember the prophecy."
"I don't understand."
"Yes, yes, the prophecy made about you to Vorski."
"Ah, you know?"
"I know. And it is so horrible to think of that drawing and of other much more dreadful things which you don't know of."
Veronique burst out laughing:
"What! Is that why you hesitate to take me with you, for, after all, that's what we're concerned with?"
"Don't laugh. People don't laugh when they see the flames of h.e.l.l before them."
Honorine crossed herself, closing her eyes as she spoke. Then she continued:
"Of course . . . you scoff at me . . . you think I'm a superst.i.tious Breton woman, who believes in ghosts and jack-o'-lanterns. I don't say you're altogether wrong. But there, there! There are some truths that blind one. You can talk it over with Maguennoc, if you get on the right side of him."