Eight Strokes of the Clock | Page 4

Hortense was confused for a moment. All her anger had subsided. She
looked at Rénine with the surprise which one experiences when
confronted with certain persons who are unlike their fellows, more
capable of performing unusual actions, more generous and disinterested.
She realised perfectly that he was acting without any ulterior motive or
calculation, that he was, as he had said, merely fulfilling his duty as a
gentleman to a woman who has taken the wrong turning.
Speaking very gently, he said:
"I know very little about you, madame, but enough to make me wish to
be of use to you. You are twenty-six years old and have lost both your
parents. Seven years ago, you became the wife of the Comte
d'Aigleroche's nephew by marriage, who proved to be of unsound mind,
half insane indeed, and had to be confined. This made it impossible for
you to obtain a divorce and compelled you, since your dowry had been

squandered, to live with your uncle and at his expense. It's a depressing
environment. The count and countess do not agree. Years ago, the
count was deserted by his first wife, who ran away with the countess'
first husband. The abandoned husband and wife decided out of spite to
unite their fortunes, but found nothing but disappointment and ill-will
in this second marriage. And you suffer the consequences. They lead a
monotonous, narrow, lonely life for eleven months or more out of the
year. One day, you met M. Rossigny, who fell in love with you and
suggested an elopement. You did not care for him. But you were bored,
your youth was being wasted, you longed for the unexpected, for
adventure ... in a word, you accepted with the very definite intention of
keeping your admirer at arm's length, but also with the rather ingenuous
hope that the scandal would force your uncle's hand and make him
account for his trusteeship and assure you of an independent existence.
That is how you stand. At present you have to choose between placing
yourself in M. Rossigny's hands ... or trusting yourself to me."
She raised her eyes to his. What did he mean? What was the purport of
this offer which he made so seriously, like a friend who asks nothing
but to prove his devotion?
After a moment's silence, he took the two horses by the bridle and tied
them up. Then he examined the heavy gates, each of which was
strengthened by two planks nailed cross-wise. An electoral poster,
dated twenty years earlier, showed that no one had entered the domain
since that time.
Rénine tore up one of the iron posts which supported a railing that ran
round the crescent and used it as a lever. The rotten planks gave way.
One of them uncovered the lock, which he attacked with a big knife,
containing a number of blades and implements. A minute later, the gate
opened on a waste of bracken which led up to a long, dilapidated
building, with a turret at each corner and a sort of a belvedere, built on
a taller tower, in the middle.
The Prince turned to Hortense:
"You are in no hurry," he said. "You will form your decision this

evening; and, if M. Rossigny succeeds in persuading you for the second
time, I give you my word of honour that I shall not cross your path.
Until then, grant me the privilege of your company. We made up our
minds yesterday to inspect the château. Let us do so. Will you? It is as
good a way as any of passing the time and I have a notion that it will
not be uninteresting."
He had a way of talking which compelled obedience. He seemed to be
commanding and entreating at the same time. Hortense did not even
seek to shake off the enervation into which her will was slowly sinking.
She followed him to a half-demolished flight of steps at the top of
which was a door likewise strengthened by planks nailed in the form of
a cross.
Rénine went to work in the same way as before. They entered a
spacious hall paved with white and black flagstones, furnished with old
sideboards and choir-stalls and adorned with a carved escutcheon
which displayed the remains of armorial bearings, representing an eagle
standing on a block of stone, all half-hidden behind a veil of cobwebs
which hung down over a pair of folding-doors.
"The door of the drawing-room, evidently," said Rénine.
He found this more difficult to open; and it was only by repeatedly
charging it with his shoulder that he was able to move one of the doors.
Hortense had not spoken a word. She watched not without surprise this
series of forcible entries, which were accomplished with a really