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Page 141
"The full moon gives the best light, and so he planned it for the night
of the full moon. But on the night before, because of some scene which
he had with you, M. Harley, nearly I thought his plans would come to
nothing. Nearly I thought the last act of love which he asked of me
would never be performed. He sat there, up in the little room which he
liked best, the coldness upon him which always came before the pang,
waiting, waiting, a deathly dew on his forehead, for the end; and I, I
who loved him better than life, watched him. And, so Fate willed it,
the pang never came."
"You watched him?" I whispered.
Harley turned to me slowly.
"Don't you understand, Knox?" he said, in a voice curiously unlike his
own.
"Ah, my friend," Madame de St�mer laid her hand upon my arm with that
caressing gesture which I knew, "you do understand, don't you? The
power to use my limbs returned to me during the last week that I lived
in Nice."
She bent forward and raised her face, in an almost agonized appeal to
Val Beverley.
"My dear, my dear," she said, "forgive me, forgive me! But I loved him
so. One day, I think"--her glance sought my face--"you will know. Then
you will forgive."
"Oh, Madame, Madame," whispered the girl, and began to sob silently.
"Is it enough?" asked Madame de St�mer, raising her head, and looking
defiantly at Paul Harley. "Last night, you, M. Harley, who have genius,
nearly brought it all to nothing. You passed the door in the shrubbery
just when Juan was preparing to go out. I was watching from the window
above. Then, when you had gone, he came out--smoking his last
cigarette.
"I went to my place, entering the tower room by the door from that
corridor. I opened the window. It had been carefully oiled. It was
soundless. I was cold as one already dead, but love made me strong. I
had seen him suffer. I took the rifle from its hiding-place, the heavy
rifle which so few women could use. It was no heavier than some which I
had used before, and to good purpose."
Again she paused, and I saw her lips trembling. Before my mind's eye
the picture arose which I had seen from Harley's window, the picture of
Colonel Juan Menendez walking in the moonlight along the path to the
sun-dial, with halting steps, with clenched fists, but upright as a
soldier on parade. Walking on, dauntlessly, to his execution. Out of a
sort of haze, which seemed to obscure both sight and hearing, I heard
Madame speaking again.
"He turned his head toward me. He threw me a kiss--and I fired. Did you
think a woman lived who could perform such a deed, eh? If you did not
think so, it is because you have never looked into the eyes of one who
loved with her body, her mind, and with her soul. I think, yes, I think
I went mad. The rifle I remember I replaced. But I remember no more.
Ah!"
She sighed in a resigned, weary way, untwining her arm from about Val
Beverley, and falling back upon her pillows.
"It is all written here," she said; "every word of it, my friends, and
signed at the bottom. I am a murderess, but it was a merciful deed. You
see, I had a plan of which Juan knew nothing. This was my plan." She
pointed to the heap of manuscript. "I would give him relief from his
agonies, yes. For although he was an evil man, I loved him better than
life. I would let him die happy, thinking his revenge complete. But
others to suffer? No, no! a thousand times no! Ah, I am so tired."
She took up the little medicine bottle, poured its contents into the
glass, and emptied it at a draught.
Paul Harley, as though galvanized, sprang to his feet. "My God!" he
cried, huskily, "Stop her, stop her!" Val Beverley, now desperately
white, clutched at me with quivering fingers, her agonized glance set
upon the smiling face of Madame de St�mer.
"No fuss, dear friends," said Madame, gently, "no trouble, no nasty
stomach-pumps; for it is useless. I shall just fall asleep in a few
moments now, and when I wake Juan will be with me."
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