Maurice Leblanc - The Woman of Mystery

The general stepped into the circle of light. He was tall and powerfully built. His upper lip was covered with a thick white mustache.

There was a movement of surprise among those present. Bernard d'Andeville and his sister came forward. The soldiers stood to attention. They had recognized the general commanding-in-chief. With him were the two generals of whom the countess had spoken.

[Pg 341]The gendarmes had pushed the spy against the wall opposite. They untied her legs, but had to support her, because her knees were giving way beneath her.

And her face expressed unspeakable amazement even more than terror. With wide-open eyes she stared at the man whom she had meant to kill, the man whom she believed to be dead and who was alive and who would shortly pronounce the inevitable sentence of death upon her.

Paul repeated:

"To die without having done the harm you intended to do, that is the really terrible thing, is it not?"

The commander-in-chief was alive! The hideous and tremendous plot had failed! He was alive and so were his officers and so was every one of the spy's enemies. Paul Delroze, Stephane d'Andeville, Bernard, Elisabeth, those whom she had pursued with her indefatigable hatred: they were all there! She was about to die gazing at the vision, so horrible for her, of her enemies reunited and happy.

And above all she was about to die with the thought that everything was lost. Her great dream was shattered to pieces. Her Emperor's throne was tottering. The very soul of the Hohenzollerns was departing with the Comtesse Hermine. And all this was plainly visible in her haggard eyes, from which gleams of madness flashed at intervals.

[Pg 342]The general said to one of those with him:

"Have you given the order? Are they shooting the lot?"

"Yes, this evening, sir."

"Very well, we'll begin with this woman. And at once. Here, where we are."

The spy gave a start. With a distortion of all her features she succeeded in shifting her gag; and they heard her beseeching for mercy in a torrent of words and moans.

"Let us go," said the commander-in-chief.

He felt two burning hands press his own. Elisabeth was leaning towards him and entreating him with tears.

Paul introduced his wife. The general said, gently:

"I see that you feel pity, madame, in spite of all that you have gone through. But you must have no pity, madame. Of course it is the pity which we cannot help feeling for those about to die. But we must have no pity for these people or for members of their race. They have placed themselves beyond the pale of mankind; and we must never forget it. When you are a mother, madame, you will teach your children a feeling to which France was a stranger and which will prove a safeguard in the future: hatred of the Huns."

He took her by the arm in a friendly fashion and led her towards the door:

"Allow me to see you out. Are you coming, Del[Pg 343]roze? You must need rest after such a day's work."

They went out.

The spy was shrieking:

"Mercy! Mercy!"

The soldiers were already drawn up in line along the opposite wall.

The count, Paul and Bernard waited for a moment. She had killed the Comte d'Andeville's wife. She had killed Bernard's mother and Paul's father. She had tortured Elisabeth. And, though their minds were troubled, they felt the great calm which the sense of justice gives. No hatred stirred them. No thought of vengeance excited them.

The gendarmes had fastened the spy by the waistband to a nail in the wall, to hold her up. They now stood aside.

Paul said to her:

"One of the soldiers here is a priest. If you need his assistance…"

But she did not understand. She did not listen. She merely saw what was happening and what was about to happen; and she stammered without ceasing:

"Mercy!… Mercy!… Mercy!…"

They went out. When they came to the top of the staircase, a word of command reached their ears:

"Present!…"

Lest he should hear more, Paul slammed the inner and outer hall-doors behind him.

Outside was the open air, the good pure air with[Pg 344] which men love to fill their lungs. Troops were marching along, singing as they went. Paul and Bernard learnt that the battle was over and our positions definitely assured. Here also the Comtesse Hermine had failed…

A few days later, at the Chateau d'Ornequin, Second Lieutenant Bernard d'Andeville, accompanied by twelve men, entered the casemate, well-warmed and well-ventilated, which served as a prison for Prince Conrad.

On the table were some bottles and the remains of an ample repast. The prince lay sleeping on a bed against the wall. Bernard tapped him on the shoulder:

"Courage, sir."

The prisoner sprang up, terrified:

"Eh? What's that?"

"I said, courage, sir. The hour has come."

Pale as death, the prince stammered:

"Courage?… Courage?… I don't understand… Oh Lord, oh Lord, is it possible?"

"Everything is always possible," said Bernard, "and what has to happen always happens, especially calamities." And he suggested, "A glass of rum, sir, to pull you together? A cigarette?"

"Oh Lord, oh Lord!" the prince repeated, trembling like a leaf.

Mechanically he took the cigarette offered him. But it fell from his lips after the first few puffs.

[Pg 345]"Oh Lord, oh Lord!" he never ceased stammering.

And his distress increased when he saw the twelve men waiting, with their rifles at rest. He wore the distraught look of the condemned man who beholds the outline of the guillotine in the pale light of the dawn. They had to carry him to the terrace, in front of a strip of broken wall.

"Sit down, sir," said Bernard.

Even without this invitation, the wretched man would have been incapable of standing on his feet. He sank upon a stone.

The twelve soldiers took up their position facing him. He bent his head so as not to see; and his whole body jerked like that of a dancing doll when you pull its strings.

A moment passed; and Bernard asked, in a kind and friendly tone:

"Would you rather have it front or back?"

The prince, utterly overwhelmed, did not reply; and Bernard exclaimed:

"I'm afraid you're not very well, sir. Come, your royal highness must pull yourself together. You have lots of time. Lieutenant Delroze won't be here for another ten minutes. He was very keen on being present at this-how shall I put it?-at this little ceremony. And really he will be disappointed in your appearance. You're green in the face, sir."

Still displaying the greatest interest and as though seeking to divert the prince's thoughts, he said:

"What can I tell you, sir, by way of news? You[Pg 346] know that your friend the Comtesse Hermine is dead, I suppose? Ha, ha, that makes you prick up your ears, I see! It's quite true: that good and great woman was executed the other day at Soissons. And, upon my word, she cut just as poor a figure as you are doing now, sir. They had to hold her up. And the way she yelled and screamed for mercy! There was no pose about her, no dignity. But I can see that your thoughts are straying. Bother! What can I do to cheer you up? Ah, I have an idea!…"

He took a little paper-bound book from his pocket:

"Look here, sir, I'll read to you. Of course, a Bible would be more appropriate; only I haven't one on me. And the great thing, after all, is to help you to forget; and I know nothing better for a German who prides himself on his country and his army than this little book. We'll dip into it together, shall we? It's called German Crimes as Related by German Eye-witnesses. It consists of extracts from the diaries of your fellow-countrymen. It is therefore one of those irrefutable documents which earn the respect of German science. I'll open it at random. Here goes. 'The inhabitants fled from the village. It was a horrible sight. All the houses were plastered with blood; and the faces of the dead were hideous to see. We buried them all at once; there were sixty of them, including a number of old women, some old men, a woman about to become a mother, and three children who had pressed themselves against one another and who died like that. All the[Pg 347] survivors were turned out; and I saw four little boys carrying on two sticks a cradle with a child of five or six months in it. The whole village was sacked. And I also saw a mother with two babies and one of them had a great wound in the head and had lost an eye.'"