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Count Hannibal

Page 134

"Go with Madame!" La Tribe cried, roughly nudging Carlat in the back. "Do

you not see that she cannot climb the bank? Up, man, up!"

The Countess opened her mouth to cry "No!" but the word died half-born on

her lips; and when the steward looked at her, uncertain what she had

said, she nodded.

"Yes, go!" she muttered. She was pale.

"Yes, man, go!" cried the minister, his eyes burning. And he almost

pushed the other out of the boat.

The next second the craft floated from the bank, and began to drift

downwards. La Tribe waited until a tree interposed and hid them from the

two whom they had left; then he leaned forward.

"Now, Madame!" he cried imperiously. "In God's name, now!"

"Oh!" she cried. "Wait! Wait! I want to think."

"To think?"

"He trusted me!" she wailed. "He trusted me! How can I do it?"

Nevertheless, and even while she spoke, she drew forth the packet.

"Heaven has given you the opportunity!"

"If I could have stolen it!" she answered.

"Fool!" he returned, rocking himself to and fro, and fairly beside

himself with impatience. "Why steal it? It is in your hands! You have

it! It is Heaven's own opportunity, it is God's opportunity given to

you!"

For he could not read her mind nor comprehend the scruple which held her

hand. He was single-minded. He had but one aim, one object. He saw the

haggard faces of brave men hopeless; he heard the dying cries of women

and children. Such an opportunity of saving God's elect, of redeeming

the innocent, was in his eyes a gift from Heaven. And having these

thoughts and seeing her hesitate--hesitate when every movement caused him

agony, so imperative was haste, so precious the opportunity--he could

bear the suspense no longer. When she did not answer he stooped forward,

until his knees touched the thwart on which Carlat had sat; then, without

a word, he flung himself forward, and, with one hand far extended,

grasped the packet.

Had he not moved, she would have done his will; almost certainly she

would have done it. But, thus attacked, she resisted instinctively; she

clung to the letters.

"No!" she cried. "No! Let go, Monsieur!" And she tried to drag the

packet from him.

"Give it me!"

"Let go, Monsieur! Do you hear?" she repeated. And, with a vigorous

jerk, she forced it from him--he had caught it by the edge only--and held

it behind her. "Go back, and--"

"Give it me!" he panted.

"I will not!"

"Then throw it overboard!"

"I will not!" she cried again, though his face, dark with passion, glared

into hers, and it was clear that the man, possessed by one idea only, was

no longer master of himself. "Go back to your place!"

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