THE NOVELIST.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 4137, 25 October 1884, Page 5 (Supplement)

THE NOVELIST.

TEFi FALSI PJRISTCESS;

The Curse's Daughter. By Leox Lewis. CEAPriiE XXV. THE SUSPICION VERIFIED. At his wife's strtmgo avowal, the Count of Seulis smiled unclerstundingly, with a singular sternness of manner. ' You have a suspicion, eh ?' he whispered. ' Perhaps I have iiad one also. Suppose we compare notes on the subject of your suspicion. What is it. ?' The countess turned ghastly pale under the emotions to which she was a prey, and clasped her hand convulsively to her heart. ' God forgive me if I wrong any one by the suspicion,' she murmured, ' but it seems to me that the princess is not my daughter !' ' The same suspicion has occurred to me,' admitted the count, ' but I immediately put it from me by a few reflections.' 'Indeed! I have not been so fortunate. In truth, the suspicion has strengthened- rather than lessened by all my reflections. Let me hear at once those which have occurred to you.' ' Very well,' said, the count, as he began to help his wife and himself to the food with which the table was laden. ' To begin with we were a couple of old fools to come here at the present time, us 1 have already had the frankness to mention to you. We should linvc known better. The only communication .Bertha Ims deigned to send us since her marriage was a sort of official announcement of that event, and this communication was very naturally and appropriately written by tho hand of the nurse.' "'You are inclined to be bitler against the poor child, I see,' murmured the agitated wife and mother, as her long pent up disappointment found relief in tears. ' 1 am simply inclined to accept the facts as I find them,' resumed the count. ' If we had reflected a moment, we would have remembered that Beitha is no longer tho sweet and tender and confidential being we have been in the habit of supposing her to be. Sho has married a prince who had never seen her, and consequently who could not have cared anything for her. She lias found herself attached to a husband who loves dogs and bunting better than he loves her, and she has naturally turned her attention to ambition or any one of the thousand selfish aims of life. She is greatly changed by her marriage, it is true, but we have no right to be disappointed in her, for it is a change that was to have been expected. She is no longer in leading strings, no longer devoted to her old father and mother. We arrive, too at a moment when she is seriously ill, when tho prince is absent, and when the household is i' l confusion—in a word, under every possible disadvantage. And then we rub our eyes and ask ourselves like the fairy in the play, if our darling is not a changeTlie tone of the count was as full of mockery ac of dissatisfaction and self-re- < And as to your BUggestion that she is not your daughter,''continued the count, 'you' have only to reflect a moment whither such a theory would lead you, to shrink from it in speechless horror. For if this woman is not your daughter, the question instantly arises : Where is our daughter, our Bertha?' At that view of the case, the counlesa covered her face with her hands and trembled convulsively. < j rue ' she gasped, ( If the princess is not Bertha— Hat I will not pursue the supposition. To doubt that she is our Bertha is to open a bottomless pit. Forgive me my nervous and thoughtless folly. I can only say in excuse of it that my soul has been in too great a tempest during the past. <w hours to see things as they are. Forgi to m °-'oh, there is nothing to forgive my dear love,'said the count, tenderly. Only let us have no move nonsense of tho bind. Ail that we have' to do can be described in a few words Wo will remain here a day or two, long enough simply for you to get rested, and then-we will travel back to Senlis and try to scare up brains enough not to make another journey in this direction until we arc wanted,' Heaving a deep sigh, the countess turned her attention to the repast before her ' I cannot enfc a mouthful, she said, as nice as everything is.' 'Nor I either, , returned the count. 'And yet there will bo no little wonderment in the palace if we leave everything untouched.' , 'That is a difficulty that is soon disposed of' said tho countess, endeavoring to recover her usual cheerfulness. ' We have only to fill our pookets.' 'A good suggestion. I-et us act upon it.' . , They quietly did so, first taking good care that the unusual act had no witnesses, and then the count continued : ' We have now to sit hero only a few minutes longer, and then we can go back to the nurse and learn where she is going to lodge us, for she seems to be the directress of the establishment.' ' ' And of Bertha, also, you might add, snid the countess. 'Did you notice how she hung around? We did not for one moment have Bertha to ourselves.' ' Did you notice, too, how free she was to take part in the conversation ? Bertha has evidently spoiled her, And now that you have dismissed your ghastly notion of the child's being a changeling,' and the coiint smiled sarcastically, ' let me know what first put such an idea into your head.' ' The strangeness of our reception, and more especially the strangeness of Bertha herself. You yourself averred—long before our arrival at the palace--that there was something wrong.' 'I recall the declaration. But I was only uttering a general theory,' ' And yet, as you must confess, there is something very strange in our reception. Had it not been for Bertram, we should have had to inquire our way into tho palace.' A knock resounded on one of the doors of the dining-room, and was instantly followed by the entrance of Belt-ram, who was more gloomy and pre-occupied than ever. ' You sent for me ?' he asked, bowing low to the couple. ' We did,' said the count. ' Come nearer —to the table, in fact/ The faithful servant approached. ' Do you not want something to eat, Beltram ?' asked the count. ' Not a mouthful, thank you,' was fhe reply. ' I haven't eaten a mouthful to-day, except a few wild berries I found in the fields,' ' Why, how is that ?' asked the count, in amazement. ' I do not dare fo eat. , ' Not dare to eat? Explain what you mean on the instant-.' : ' I mean that there 13 too much poison in the palace for me to have a good appetite. , ■ ' Poison 9 What do you mean ? The voice of tho count was now a3 stern as that of a judge. ' Mo6t noblo Count and Countess, said Beltrarn, in a luirried whisper as ho bent nearer, ' I have had the honor to serve you to' the best of my ability for llve-and-thirty years. ''" Whatever-may have been my shortcomings, I have always spoken tho truth, and I shall continue to do so as long as a breath of life animates my body.' Tho count's brow clouded darkly. He knew by this opening that something terrible was coming. ; ■ ' Go on, , he eaid hoarsely. •'The story is as short as it is terrible.' eonfiniutfl Bellram. ' Three days ago the nurse poisoned ip death a Surace'n woman in the tower of tho gardens, and sho and the princess carried the body down to the river,

after attaching a heavy iron to it, and sank it in the channel.' ' Beltram ! you are mad !' said the count. ' Or some infamous knave has abided your credulity ! Who told you this horrible story ?' ' It. was never told until this moment. I saw the whole proceeding myself—the poisoning and the sinking of the body. A long pause followed, during which the count glared at the faithful servant with the aii- of a man in a frightful trance, 'What folly or crime is this, Beltram?' heat length asked. 'Do you know what you ure saying ? Beware how you accuse my daughter of murder or of conniving at a murder !' ' Your pardon, most noble Count and Countess,' murmured IMtram. ' I said tho princess. Is not tho wife of Prince Pepin a princess ? But not one word have I spoken or suggested against the fair fame of poor Eeriha.' ' What riddle is this ? Explain !' 'In a word, the princess is not your daughter —is not Bertha!' The count and countess stared long at Beltram with looks and thoughts we shall not attempt to describe, and then looked m speechless consternation at each other. ' Not Bertha ?' at length gasped the count. 'Then who is she ?' ' Have you not already found out? I supposed you had seen her,' ' Speak ! in Hcnven's name ! Who is she ?' ' ShcisOdie! Thenurse'sdaughter—Odio!' The count and countess sat as if petrified by the declaration. ' Listen, my noble muster and mial.ross, continued Beltram. ' I journeyed hither rorv rapidly from Senlis, arriving a day sooner than expected. If you remember the kindness with which your noble daughter always honored me, you will not wonder that I resolved, on arriving at the paluce, to give her a pleasant surprise by presenting myself unannounced. I boldly entered the gardens, therefore, where I perceived the nurse and another woman walking. This second woman was Odie, the serf-girl, but how changed ! No longer a serf-girl, but. figuring as the wife of Pcpin—-as a princess. A question or two revealed to mo her truo character, even as a single glance revealed to me her identity-' ' I see !' gasped the count. c Go on !' ' Having stumbled, as ib were, upon a mystery so truly appalling,' resumed Beltram, ' I instantly resolved to probe it. To lh.it end I concealed myself, and watched and enquired and listened. I will not now enter into details, but sum up in a breath the great discovery to which my investigations led mo. That great discovery is that the real Bertha has never emerged from the woods, and that Odin ia here under your daughter's name and in your daughter's place, as the bride of Prince Pepin.' The count and countess seemed to be bereft of the power of speech or movement, by this terrific revelation, or by the frightful abysses to which it pointed them. ' As soon as a doubt of these facts was no longer possible, , continued Boltram, ' I presented myself openly at the palace, and caused myself to be announced in my proper character, and with the message with which you had charged mo. Expecting you to arrive so soon, I did not breathe a word of my discovery, but have waited patiently for your coming, to the end that you may take whatever action in the promises you may think proper.' Another lons silence followed. 'My horrible suspicion was only too true, then, after all,' murmured the countess. ' The woman we have seen and embraced is not our daughter. But how can snch a horror have arisen ?' • 'Only in one way,' replied the count, forcing himself into a supernatural calmness. ! Be calm and bravo, and I will tell you frankly just how the thing could have been brought about. Since this woman i s Odie, it inevitably follows that Bertha was seized or killed by tho outlaws of tho forest.' It was terrible for the countess to thus perceive at a glance the full depth of the abyss presented to her, but sho sustained the trial with the heroism of a martyr. ' Bertha dead or carried off by robbers,' resumed the count, ' it was not a difficult matter for Odie and her mother to agree upon a plan of substitution. The prince never having seen either Bertha or Odie, would not be in a position to detect the imposture, of coui'so/ ' Well, what are wo to do ?' asked the countess. 'We are to verify tho imposture for ourselves,' said the count, sternly. ' If you can calm and control yourself, go and find the nurse, and ask her to show you to our apartment, which will doubtless be at some distance from that occupied by Odie. Beltram and I will follow your movement in time to visit Odio as soon as she is left to beraelf.' The programme thus suggested was at once fully developed and entered upon. Taking her way back quietly to her protended daughter's apartment, tho countess called, softly : ' Are you there, Manette?' The nurse instantly came out of the alcove, where she and Odie had been exchanging congratulations upon the past, and arranging their plans for the morrow. ' How is my poor child now ?' asked the countess, with a cleverness by which she was herself astonished. ' !-he is asleep again.' ' Then you can bo spared a few moments —to show me the apartment we are to occupy ?' ' Oh, certainly.' Tlig nurse accordingly led tho way towards a distant quarter of the palace, and the countess followed her, after a pretended fit of coughing, which had been arranged as a signal to the count. ' Come, Beltram,' he enjoined the instant tho way was clear for hia purpose. 'Aβ we enter tho chamber you will seize the lamp which is burning there and advance boldly into the alcove, as if ignorant of your preciso whereabouts or of the serf-girl's presence.' A few moments later, in obedience to these instructions, Beltram stalked into the alcove. 'This must bo the place to which the nurse directed me,' ho muttered, improving a little upon his programme. ' A nice place, to be sure.' 'Go away!' called Odie. ' Ah ! how well I remember that voice !' ejaculated Beltram, as headvanoed swiftly .to the bed.' 'Excuse the intrusion, Odie. Eore's evidently a mistake. Bub since I am here, Odio, haven't you a word to say to your old friend, Boltram ? It is really me, Odie. You cannot fail to recognise me just as easily as I have recognised you!' ' Hush ! you will awaken the princess !' said Odie, sitting up in bed and extending her hand to Beltram. ' I recognise you, to be sure—' She was interrupted by ths advance of the Count of Senlis, stern and menacing, from the cover of the. curtains of the alcove. ' I am glad to pee you at last in your true character, Odio" he said, with a supernatural calmness. 'This is better than figuring as my daughter." (to be continued.)