“Well, my dear,” she said, “now that we have got as far as that, it is no use trying not to begin again, but I entreat you, no imprudences—safety first! Lerne, you know, Lerne! Ah, you don’t know what dangers there are for you—you above all—you especially!”

I saw that she was brooding over the memory of tragic scenes.

“But what are the dangers?”

“That is just the worst of it, I do not know. I do not understand anything that is happening around. Anything! Anything! Except that Donovan Macbeth went mad because I loved him,—and I love you, too.”

“Come, Emma, let us be cool. We are allies now. Between us we shall find out the truth. When did you come to Fonval, and what has happened since?”

And then she told me her adventures. I reproduce them, stringing them together as best I can, to make them clearer, but as a matter of fact, her story was spread over a dialogue in which my questions guided the story-teller, who was ever ready to make digressions, and was loquacious in futilities.

Sometimes as we talked, a noise would interrupt our talk. Emma would sit up in terror of Lerne, and I could not prevent myself shivering, at the sight of her fear, for had there been an eye or an ear at the keyhole, the somber story would have been repeated in my case.

One way or another, I learned from Emma her origin and her early life. It has nothing to do with my story, and might easily be summed up in the phrase “How a foundling became a courtesan!”

Emma showed, during this confession, a sincerity which would have been called cynicism in the case of any one less candid.

With the same frankness, she went on:

“I got to know Lerne years ago. I was fifteen, and at the hospital at Nanthel. I had entered his service as a nurse? No! I had had a fight with my friend LÉonie about Alcide, who was my man. Well, I am not ashamed of it! He is superb! He is a Colossus! My dear boy, he could chuck you about like a ball. My belt was too narrow a bracelet for him!

“Well, I got a blow with a knife—a nasty one, too. Just look!”

She flung off the coverlet, and showed me, near her shoulder, a livid triangular scar—the handiwork of the execrable LÉonie.

“Yes, you may well kiss it,” she went on. “I nearly died of it. Your uncle looked after me, and saved me. I may well say that.

“At that time, your uncle was a fine fellow—not stuck-up. He often spoke to me. I thought that flattering. The head surgeon! Think of that! And he talked so well, too. He gave me long sermons, just as fine as any in Church, about my life: it was bad, I ought to change it, and so on, and so forth. And all this without having the least appearance of being disgusted with me, and so sincerely that I for my part, began to be disgusted with it myself, and not to wish for any more of the gay life, or any more Alcide. Illness, you know, that cools one’s blood; and Lerne said to me one fine day, ‘You are cured now, and can go away when you like, only it is not enough to have taken a good resolution—you must keep it. Will you come to my house? You shall be the laundry-maid, and you will earn your living far from your old companions, and all on the square, too,’ he said.

“All this puzzled me. I said to myself, ‘Oh, talk away. That is only a pretty speech to fool me. One does not offer to keep a woman for the love of art.’

“But all the same, Lerne’s kindness, his rank, his fame, and a certain kind of niceness in him, made me more grateful, and made it into a sort of affection, do you see, and I accepted his proposal, and all that might follow.

“Well, would you believe it! Not at all! There still was a saint on earth, and that was he. For a whole year he kept away from me.

“I had kept my journey secret, for the idea of Alcide finding me again kept me from sleeping.

“‘Oh, do not be afraid,’ said Lerne, ‘I am no longer the hospital surgeon, I am going to work at research. We are going to live in the country, and nobody will come to seek you there.’

“So that is how I was brought here.

“Ah, you should have seen the chÂteau and the park, gardens, servants, carriages, and horses—nothing wanting! I was quite happy.

“When we got here, the workmen were finishing off the additions to the conservatory and the laboratory.

“Lerne kept an eye on their work. He was always joking, and repeating, ‘Ah, we are going to work there, we are going to work there,’ in the same sort of a tone in which schoolboys shout out, ‘Hurrah for the holidays!’

“They fitted up the laboratory. Lots of boxes were put in it, and when all was finished, Lerne set off one morning to Grey in the dog-cart. The avenue was still straight at that time.“I still see your uncle coming back with the five travelers and the dog which he had gone to get at the station—Donovan Macbeth, Johann, Wilhelm, Karl, Otto Klotz—you remember him—the tall dark fellow with the mustache?—and Nell. The Scot had joined the Germans at Nanthel. I think he must have known them before.

“The assistants put up at the laboratory, and Macbeth slept in a bedroom in the chÂteau—Dr. Klotz also.

“Klotz frightened me from the first, and yet he was a strong, handsome chap.

“I could not help asking Lerne where he had picked up that jail-bird! My question amused him very much.

“‘Oh, make your mind easy,’ he answered. ‘You are always imagining you see friends of M. Alcide. Professor Klotz has come from Germany. He is very learned. He is not an assistant, he is a collaborator, and will watch over the work of his three compatriots.’”

“Excuse me, Emma,” I said, interrupting her, “did my uncle speak German and English at that time?”

“Not much, I think. He tried every day, but it was not much good. It was only at the end of a year, and all of a sudden, that he managed to speak it fluently. The assistants knew a few French words, and Klotz rather more, as well as a little English.

“As for Macbeth, he only understood his own language.

“Lerne told me that he had agreed to take him at Fonval because the young man’s father asked him; he wanted his son to work for a time under Lerne’s directions.”

“Where was your room, Emma?”

“Near the laboratory. Oh, far away from Macbeth and Klotz!” she added with a smile.

“How did all those men stand towards one another?”

“They seemed good friends, but I do not know if they were really. I fancy that the four Germans were jealous of Macbeth. I saw nasty looks sometimes, but in any case, they can’t have hurt Donovan much, because his job was not in the laboratory, but in the chÂteau and the conservatory.

“His work at first was to swat up French from books. We used to meet often, because I was always coming and going in the house. He was always polite and respectful, to judge by the signs he made, of course, and I was obliged to be amiable, too.

“Those little bits of politeness, I am afraid, made him and Klotz hate each other; I soon saw that, but they both managed to hide their dislike wonderfully.

“Nell could not hide hers, and never missed a chance of growling at the German, and that was, to my thinking, only the smallest sign that a row was likely, but your uncle—he saw nothing, and I did not want to bother him with my complaints. I did not dare to do so, and on the other hand, I thought it rather good fun to make them jealous.

“All my promises to Lerne to be good could not stop me from being amused at the jealousy of those two, and I do not know what would have been the end of it, when everything changed all of a sudden.

“We had been here a year—that is four years ago now.”

“Ah, ha!” I cried.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing!”

“Well, it is four years ago that Donovan Macbeth went off to Scotland for a few weeks’ holiday with his people. The day after he had gone, Lerne left me in the morning. ‘I am going,’ said he, ‘to Nanthel with Klotz. We shall stay there a whole day.’

“At night Klotz came back alone. I inquired about Lerne, and he told me that the Professor had heard important news and had to go abroad, and that he would be away for about three weeks.“‘Where is he?’ I asked again.

“Klotz hesitated, and at last said, ‘He is in Germany. We shall be by ourselves for that time, Emma.’

“He had put his arm round my waist, and was looking into my eyes.

“I could not understand how Lerne could do such a thing—to leave me without warning at the mercy of a stranger.

“‘How do you like me?’ asked Klotz, pressing me against him.

“I have already told you, Nicolas, that he was big and strong. I felt his muscles tighten like a vise.

“‘Well, Emma,’ he went on, ‘you are going to love me to-day, for you will never see me again.’

“I am not a coward. Between you and me, I have been caressed by hands which had just committed murder. I have been made love to in ways that were like murder. My first lover would have stuck a knife into you as soon as look at you. But Klotz was too awful. I shall never forget how frightened I was.

“I woke up late in the morning. He was gone. I have never seen him again.

“Three weeks passed. Your uncle never wrote; he stayed away longer still.

“He came back without notice. I did not even see him come in. He told me that he had made straight for the laboratory as soon as he got back. I saw him come out about mid-day. I was quite sorry for him, he looked so pale. He was bent double as if he were worried to death. He was walking slowly, as if he were following a hearse.

“What had he been told! What had he done! What trouble was he in?

“I asked him gently. He still spoke with the accent of the country which he had just come from.

“‘Emma,’ said he, ‘I think that you love me?’

“‘You know very well that I do, my dear benefactor. I am devoted to you, body and soul.’

“‘Do you think that you can love me with real love? Oh,’ said he, with a snigger, ‘I am no longer a young man, but....’

“What was I to say? I did not know. Lerne knitted his brows.

“He seized my two hands. His eyes were terrible.

“‘Now,’ cried he, ‘no more joking; no more little games, you are mine exclusively. I quite understood what was going on here, and that there were admirers hovering round you. I have got rid of Klotz, and as for Donovan Macbeth, be on your guard. If he does not stop, it is all up with him. Look out!’

“Then, Lerne, having got rid of the servants, took on this poor Barbe as his only domestic, and then he arranged the labyrinth and its roads.“On the day arranged, Macbeth, in his turn, came back to the chÂteau, followed by his dog. He was surprised to see the forest all upside down.

“Lerne went up to him while he was still holding his luggage in his hand, and he quite dumbfounded him by such a violent lecture, and so evil a countenance, that Nell bristled up, put out her claws and began to growl.

“What was bound to happen, happened. Considering the age and position of our host, Macbeth and I should probably have ‘respected his roof,’ as they say, but it was only a question, now, of deceiving an angry tyrant. And we did.

“Meanwhile, the Professor became more and more absurd and irritable every day. He was living in an extraordinary state of excitement, never going out; working like a horse, genial, perhaps, but certainly ill.

“You ask me why I think so. I will tell you.

“His memory began to fail. He used to get strange fits of forgetfulness, and often asked me about things concerning his own past; he remembered nothing clearly except scientific matters.

“No more joking, that was true, and no more happiness with him!

“For a mere whim, Lerne would swear at me. For a suspicion, he would beat me. Not that I mind hard words or hard blows, but only from some one I love.“I declared to this worn-out old creature that I had had enough solitude. ‘I want to be off,’ I said.

“Ah, my dear, if you had seen him. He fell at my knees and embraced them.

“What he said was, ‘Remain, my dear Emma, for two years more. Wait until then, and we will go away together, and you shall have the life of a queen. Have patience. I understand you are not made to be in this sort of position, as if in a convent. Take my word for it, I am making a vast fortune for you. Two more years, living like a little bourgeoisie, and then the life of an empress.’

“I was dazzled at the prospect, and remained at Fonval.

“But the years followed one after the other—the term was up, and no luxury yet. However, I waited and trusted, because Lerne was so confident, and so clever.

“‘Do not be downhearted,’ he said, ‘we are getting on. All shall happen as I prophesy. You shall have millions,’ and to cheer me up, he ordered for me, from Paris, every season, gowns and hats of all sorts, and many other knickknacks.

“‘Learn to wear them,’ said he, ‘learn your part, and rehearse the future.’

“I lived three years in this way. About this time Lerne’s great voyage to America took place. It lasted two months, for which time, your uncle had sent Macbeth back to his family, by way of a holiday.

“They came back on the same day.

“I think that the Professor and he had agreed to meet at Dieppe. Lerne was gloomy and angry. ‘You will have to wait a bit yet, Emma,’ he said.

“‘What is the matter?’ I said. ‘Isn’t it coming off?’

“‘They think that my inventions are not perfect enough; but there is nothing to be afraid of. I shall find what I want yet.’

“He resumed his researches in the laboratory.”

Once more, I interrupted Emma’s narrative.

“Excuse me,” I said, “did Macbeth work also in the laboratory at that time?”

“Never! Lerne gave him jobs to do in the hothouse, where he kept my poor friend a prisoner.

“Poor Donovan, he would have done better to have remained over yonder. It was for my sake that he came back from Scotland, and he tried to make me understand that in his jargon.

“‘For you, for you,’ was all he could manage to say.

“For me! Good heavens, what had he become ‘for me’ a few weeks later!“Now listen! Here is where the madness comes in.

“That winter it was snowing. Lerne was taking a nap in the armchair in the little drawing-room—at least he was pretending to have a nap.

“Donovan gave me a glance. Pretending to go out to have a walk in the snow, which was falling, he went out by the hall. I heard him whistling a tune outside. He moved away. I went back to the dining-room to help the maid clear the table. Donovan joined me there, by the door opposite to that of the little drawing-room which we left open so that we could hear Lerne’s movements.

“He flung his arms round me. I embraced him. We had a silent kiss.

“Suddenly Donovan went green. I followed his looks. The door of the little drawing-room has a glass panel, and in that dim mirror, I saw Lerne’s eyes watching us.

“Then he was upon us. My knees gave under me. Macbeth is a little man. Lerne flung him to the ground. They struggle. Blood flows. Your uncle uses his feet and teeth and nails ferociously.

“I scream and tear at his clothes. Suddenly he picks himself up. Macbeth is in a faint, and then, Lerne gives a wild laugh, flings him over his shoulder, and carries him off to the laboratory.“I keep shouting, and then I had a sudden idea.

“‘Nell, Nell!’ I cried.

“The dog came up. I pointed out the group to her, and she dashed off at the moment when Lerne was disappearing behind the trees with his burden. She disappeared also.

“I listen. She barks, and suddenly I can distinguish nothing more than the rustle of the snow.

“Lerne dragged me about by the hair. It required all my belief in his promise, and all his assurance of a glorious future, to stop me from running away that very day.

“But, having caught me deceiving him, he only loved me the more ardently.

“Days passed. I hardly dared hope that Macbeth had got off as easily as Klotz—and been sent away. Neither he nor his dog appeared again.

“At last the Professor ordered me to get ready the Yellow Room for the Scot.

“‘Is he alive, then?’ I asked without reflection.

“‘Only half,’ said Lerne, ‘he is mad. This is the sad result of your folly, Emma. First of all he thought himself God Almighty, then the Tower of London. At present he thinks he’s a dog. To-morrow he will suffer from some other delusion, no doubt.’

“‘What have you done to him?’ I cried out.

“‘Little girl,’ said the Professor, ‘nothing has been done to him, just you remember that, and bite your tongue if you ever think of gossiping. When I carried off Macbeth after our struggle in the dining-room, it was so that I might look after him. You saw he fainted. He injured his head badly in his fall. That caused a lesion, and then madness. That was all, you understand?’

“I said nothing more, because I was certain that if your uncle had not put an end to Donovan, his only motive was fear of the family, and the law.

“That evening they brought him back to the chÂteau—his head all wrapped in bandages. He did not recognize me.

“I still loved him, and I visited him secretly.

“He got better quickly. Being shut up made him put on fat. The Macbeth of the photograph, and the Macbeth of the Yellow Room, became very unlike each other, so much so, that you did not recognize him at first.”

“But tell me—you do not know anything about Klotz? What did my uncle do with him? You said a moment ago he had been sent away.”

“I was always certain he had been sent away. His behavior when he left, and that of Lerne when he came back from Germany, made me feel sure of it.”

“Has he a family?”

“I think he is an orphan, and a bachelor.”“How long did Macbeth remain in the laboratory?”

“About three weeks or a month.”

“Was his hair always fair, before this happened?” I asked, still riding my hobby-horse.

She said, “Certainly, what an idea!”

“And what did they do with Nell?”

“The day after the quarrel, I heard her howling loudly, no doubt because they had separated her from her master.

“According to your uncle, whom I asked about it, she was with other dogs, in a kennel. ‘Her right place,’ added Lerne. She got out of it the other night—perhaps you heard her.

“Poor Nell, how quickly she found out Macbeth was gone. She often howls at night-time. Her life is not happy.”

“Tell me the end of it,” I said. “What is at the bottom of it? What is the truth? Do you believe in the madness which resulted from the fall?”

“How do I know? It is possible, but I suspect the laboratory contains horrible things, the very sight of which would drive any one mad. Donovan had never been in it. He must have seen some ghastly things.”

I then remembered the chimpanzee, and the horrible impression its death had made upon me. Emma might be right. The incident of the monkey strongly supported her hypothesis, but instead of trying to find the answer to each riddle in detail, should I not have gone back four years, to that critical moment when so many problems had started? Should I not have studied closely the mysterious period when so many doors had closed, in order to find the key which should open them all?

A little foot peeped from the coverlet, and lay, white and pink, on the pale yellow cover; it was smooth, and like a strange jewel in its case.

“Good gracious, my dear, can you really walk with that pretty little thing, with its nails polished like Japanese corals—this living ticklish jewel—that a mustache drives away.”

The little foot went back into its cover, but however dainty and tender and quick it was, it recalled another one to me by contrast—the one in the forest clearing—that sinister thing, which I now felt sure was a piece of dead flesh in the old shoe.

Suddenly it seemed to me that I was wandering alone in a night full of ambushes.

“Emma, suppose we run away!”

She shook her MÆnad’s locks, and refused.

“Donovan proposed that to me. No, Lerne has promised me I shall be rich; besides, on the day you arrived, he swore he would kill me if I deceived him, or tried to escape. I found out long ago that he could fulfill his first threat, and I know now that he could carry out the second.”

“That is true. When he introduced us to one another, you had the shadow of death in your eyes.”

“Now,” she went on, “we can hide our love, but we could not hide our running away. No, no, let us stop where we are, and keep our eyes open. Let us be careful.”

Half-past four was striking on the clock when I left my mistress, in order to return to Grey-l’Abbaye.