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diff --git a/old/thrty10.txt b/old/thrty10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..46ec5f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/thrty10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7810 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Etext A Woman of Thirty, by Honore de Balzac +#87 in our series by Honore de Balzac + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Etext prepared by Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com +and John Bickers, jbickers@templar.actrix.gen.nz + + + + + +A Woman of Thirty + +by Honore de Balzac + +Translated by Ellen Marriage + + + + + +DEDICATION + +To Louis Boulanger, Painter. + + + + + +A WOMAN OF THIRTY + + + +I. + +EARLY MISTAKES + +It was a Sunday morning in the beginning of April 1813, a morning +which gave promise of one of those bright days when Parisians, for the +first time in the year, behold dry pavements underfoot and a cloudless +sky overhead. It was not yet noon when a luxurious cabriolet, drawn by +two spirited horses, turned out of the Rue de Castiglione into the Rue +de Rivoli, and drew up behind a row of carriages standing before the +newly opened barrier half-way down the Terrasse de Feuillants. The +owner of the carriage looked anxious and out of health; the thin hair +on his sallow temples, turning gray already, gave a look of premature +age to his face. He flung the reins to a servant who followed on +horseback, and alighted to take in his arms a young girl whose dainty +beauty had already attracted the eyes of loungers on the Terrasse. The +little lady, standing upon the carriage step, graciously submitted to +be taken by the waist, putting an arm round the neck of her guide, who +set her down upon the pavement without so much as ruffling the +trimming of her green rep dress. No lover would have been so careful. +The stranger could only be the father of the young girl, who took his +arm familiarly without a word of thanks, and hurried him into the +Garden of the Tuileries. + +The old father noted the wondering stare which some of the young men +gave the couple, and the sad expression left his face for a moment. +Although he had long since reached the time of life when a man is fain +to be content with such illusory delights as vanity bestows, he began +to smile. + +"They think you are my wife," he said in the young lady's ear, and he +held himself erect and walked with slow steps, which filled his +daughter with despair. + +He seemed to take up the coquette's part for her; perhaps of the two, +he was the more gratified by the curious glances directed at those +little feet, shod with plum-colored prunella; at the dainty figure +outlined by a low-cut bodice, filled in with an embroidered +chemisette, which only partially concealed the girlish throat. Her +dress was lifted by her movements as she walked, giving glimpses +higher than the shoes of delicately moulded outlines beneath open-work +silk stockings. More than one of the idlers turned and passed the pair +again, to admire or to catch a second glimpse of the young face, about +which the brown tresses played; there was a glow in its white and red, +partly reflected from the rose-colored satin lining of her fashionable +bonnet, partly due to the eagerness and impatience which sparkled in +every feature. A mischievous sweetness lighted up the beautiful, +almond-shaped dark eyes, bathed in liquid brightness, shaded by the +long lashes and curving arch of eyebrow. Life and youth displayed +their treasures in the petulant face and in the gracious outlines of +the bust unspoiled even by the fashion of the day, which brought the +girdle under the breast. + +The young lady herself appeared to be insensible to admiration. Her +eyes were fixed in a sort of anxiety on the Palace of the Tuileries, +the goal, doubtless, of her petulant promenade. It wanted but fifteen +minutes of noon, yet even at that early hour several women in gala +dress were coming away from the Tuileries, not without backward +glances at the gates and pouting looks of discontent, as if they +regretted the lateness of the arrival which had cheated them of a +longed-for spectacle. Chance carried a few words let fall by one of +these disappointed fair ones to the ears of the charming stranger, and +put her in a more than common uneasiness. The elderly man watched the +signs of impatience and apprehension which flitted across his +companion's pretty face with interest, rather than amusement, in his +eyes, observing her with a close and careful attention, which perhaps +could only be prompted by some after-thought in the depths of a +father's mind. + + + +It was the thirteenth Sunday of the year 1813. In two days' time +Napoleon was to set out upon the disastrous campaign in which he was +to lose first Bessieres, and then Duroc; he was to win the memorable +battles of Lutzen and Bautzen, to see himself treacherously deserted +by Austria, Saxony, Bavaria, and Bernadotte, and to dispute the +dreadful field of Leipsic. The magnificent review commanded for that +day by the Emperor was to be the last of so many which had long drawn +forth the admiration of Paris and of foreign visitors. For the last +time the Old Guard would execute their scientific military manoeuvres +with the pomp and precision which sometimes amazed the Giant himself. +Napoleon was nearly ready for his duel with Europe. It was a sad +sentiment which brought a brilliant and curious throng to the +Tuileries. Each mind seemed to foresee the future, perhaps too in +every mind another thought was dimly present, how that in the future, +when the heroic age of France should have taken the half-fabulous +color with which it is tinged for us to-day, men's imaginations would +more than once seek to retrace the picture of the pageant which they +were assembled to behold. + +"Do let us go more quickly, father; I can hear the drums," the young +girl said, and in a half-teasing, half-coaxing manner she urged her +companion forward. + +"The troops are marching into the Tuileries," said he. + +"Or marching out of it--everybody is coming away," she answered in +childish vexation, which drew a smile from her father. + +"The review only begins at half-past twelve," he said; he had fallen +half behind his impetuous daughter. + +It might have been supposed that she meant to hasten their progress by +a movement of her right arm, for it swung like an oar blade through +the water. In her impatience she had crushed her handkerchief into a +ball in her tiny, well-gloved fingers. Now and then the old man +smiled, but the smiles were succeeded by an anxious look which crossed +his withered face and saddened it. In his love for the fair young girl +by his side, he was as fain to exalt the present moment as to dread +the future. "She is happy to-day; will her happiness last?" he seemed +to ask himself, for the old are somewhat prone to foresee their own +sorrows in the future of the young. + +Father and daughter reached the peristyle under the tower where the +tricolor flag was still waving; but as they passed under the arch by +which people came and went between the Gardens of the Tuileries and +the Place du Carrousel, the sentries on guard called out sternly: + +"No admittance this way." + +By standing on tiptoe the young girl contrived to catch a glimpse of a +crowd of well-dressed women, thronging either side of the old marble +arcade along which the Emperor was to pass. + +"We were too late in starting, father; you can see that quite well." A +little piteous pout revealed the immense importance which she attached +to the sight of this particular review. + +"Very well, Julie--let us go away. You dislike a crush." + +"Do let us stay, father. Even here I may catch a glimpse of the +Emperor; he might die during this campaign, and then I should never +have seen him." + +Her father shuddered at the selfish speech. There were tears in the +girl's voice; he looked at her, and thought that he saw tears beneath +her lowered eyelids; tears caused not so much by the disappointment as +by one of the troubles of early youth, a secret easily guessed by an +old father. Suddenly Julie's face flushed, and she uttered an +exclamation. Neither her father nor the sentinels understood the +meaning of the cry; but an officer within the barrier, who sprang +across the court towards the staircase, heard it, and turned abruptly +at the sound. He went to the arcade by the Gardens of the Tuileries, +and recognized the young lady who had been hidden for a moment by the +tall bearskin caps of the grenadiers. He set aside in favor of the +pair the order which he himself had given. Then, taking no heed of the +murmurings of the fashionable crowd seated under the arcade, he gently +drew the enraptured child towards him. + +"I am no longer surprised at her vexation and enthusiasm, if /you/ are +in waiting," the old man said with a half-mocking, half-serious glance +at the officer. + +"If you want a good position, M. le Duc," the young man answered, "we +must not spend any time in talking. The Emperor does not like to be +kept waiting, and the Grand Marshal has sent me to announce our +readiness." + +As he spoke, he had taken Julie's arm with a certain air of old +acquaintance, and drew her rapidly in the direction of the Place du +Carrousel. Julie was astonished at the sight. An immense crowd was +penned up in a narrow space, shut in between the gray walls of the +palace and the limits marked out by chains round the great sanded +squares in the midst of the courtyard of the Tuileries. The cordon of +sentries posted to keep a clear passage for the Emperor and his staff +had great difficulty in keeping back the eager humming swarm of human +beings. + +"Is it going to be a very fine sight?" Julie asked (she was radiant +now). + +"Pray take care!" cried her guide, and seizing Julie by the waist, he +lifted her up with as much vigor as rapidity and set her down beside a +pillar. + +But for his prompt action, his gazing kinswoman would have come into +collision with the hindquarters of a white horse which Napoleon's +Mameluke held by the bridle; the animal in its trappings of green +velvet and gold stood almost under the arcade, some ten paces behind +the rest of the horses in readiness for the Emperor's staff. + +The young officer placed the father and daughter in front of the crowd +in the first space to the right, and recommended them by a sign to the +two veteran grenadiers on either side. Then he went on his way into +the palace; a look of great joy and happiness had succeeded to his +horror-struck expression when the horse backed. Julie had given his +hand a mysterious pressure; had she meant to thank him for the little +service he had done her, or did she tell him, "After all, I shall +really see you?" She bent her head quite graciously in response to the +respectful bow by which the officer took leave of them before he +vanished. + +The old man stood a little behind his daughter. He looked grave. He +seemed to have left the two young people together for some purpose of +his own, and now he furtively watched the girl, trying to lull her +into false security by appearing to give his whole attention to the +magnificent sight in the Place du Carrousel. When Julie's eyes turned +to her father with the expression of a schoolboy before his master, he +answered her glance by a gay, kindly smile, but his own keen eyes had +followed the officer under the arcade, and nothing of all that passed +was lost upon him. + +"What a grand sight!" said Julie in a low voice, as she pressed her +father's hand; and indeed the pomp and picturesquesness of the +spectacle in the Place du Carrousel drew the same exclamation from +thousands upon thousands of spectators, all agape with wonder. Another +array of sightseers, as tightly packed as the ranks behind the old +noble and his daughter, filled the narrow strip of pavement by the +railings which crossed the Place du Carrousel from side to side in a +line parallel with the Palace of the Tuileries. The dense living mass, +variegated by the colors of the women's dresses, traced out a bold +line across the centre of the Place du Carrousel, filling in the +fourth side of a vast parallelogram, surrounded on three sides by the +Palace of the Tuileries itself. Within the precincts thus railed off +stood the regiments of the Old Guard about to be passed in review, +drawn up opposite the Palace in imposing blue columns, ten ranks in +depth. Without and beyond in the Place du Carrousel stood several +regiments likewise drawn up in parallel lines, ready to march in +through the arch in the centre; the Triumphal Arch, where the bronze +horses of St. Mark from Venice used to stand in those days. At either +end, by the Galeries du Louvre, the regimental bands were stationed, +masked by the Polish Lancers then on duty. + +The greater part of the vast graveled space was empty as an arena, +ready for the evolutions of those silent masses disposed with the +symmetry of military art. The sunlight blazed back from ten thousand +bayonets in thin points of flame; the breeze ruffled the men's helmet +plumes till they swayed like the crests of forest-trees before a gale. +The mute glittering ranks of veterans were full of bright contrasting +colors, thanks to their different uniforms, weapons, accoutrements, +and aiguillettes; and the whole great picture, that miniature +battlefield before the combat, was framed by the majestic towering +walls of the Tuileries, which officers and men seemed to rival in +their immobility. Involuntarily the spectator made the comparison +between the walls of men and the walls of stone. The spring sunlight, +flooding white masonry reared but yesterday and buildings centuries +old, shone full likewise upon thousands of bronzed faces, each one +with its own tale of perils passed, each one gravely expectant of +perils to come. + +The colonels of the regiments came and went alone before the ranks of +heroes; and behind the masses of troops, checkered with blue and +silver and gold and purple, the curious could discern the tricolor +pennons on the lances of some half-a-dozen indefatigable Polish +cavalry, rushing about like shepherds' dogs in charge of a flock, +caracoling up and down between the troops and the crowd, to keep the +gazers within their proper bounds. But for this slight flutter of +movement, the whole scene might have been taking place in the +courtyard of the palace of the Sleeping Beauty. The very spring +breeze, ruffling up the long fur on the grenadiers' bearskins, bore +witness to the men's immobility, as the smothered murmur of the crowd +emphasized their silence. Now and again the jingling of Chinese bells, +or a chance blow to a big drum, woke the reverberating echoes of the +Imperial Palace with a sound like the far-off rumblings of thunder. + +An indescribable, unmistakable enthusiasm was manifest in the +expectancy of the multitude. France was about to take farewell of +Napoleon on the eve of a campaign of which the meanest citizen foresaw +the perils. The existence of the French Empire was at stake--to be, or +not to be. The whole citizen population seemed to be as much inspired +with this thought as that other armed population standing in serried +and silent ranks in the enclosed space, with the Eagles and the genius +of Napoleon hovering above them. + +Those very soldiers were the hope of France, her last drop of blood; +and this accounted for not a little of the anxious interest of the +scene. Most of the gazers in the crowd had bidden farewell--perhaps +farewell for ever--to the men who made up the rank and file of the +battalions; and even those most hostile to the Emperor, in their +hearts, put up fervent prayers to heaven for the glory of France; and +those most weary of the struggle with the rest of Europe had left +their hatreds behind as they passed in under the Triumphal Arch. They +too felt that in the hour of danger Napoleon meant France herself. + +The clock of the Tuileries struck the half-hour. In a moment the hum +of the crowd ceased. The silence was so deep that you might have heard +a child speak. The old noble and his daughter, wholly intent, seeming +to live only by their eyes, caught a distinct sound of spurs and clank +of swords echoing up under the sonorous peristyle. + +And suddenly there appeared a short, somewhat stout figure in a green +uniform, white trousers, and riding boots; a man wearing on his head a +cocked hat well-nigh as magically potent as its wearer; the broad red +ribbon of the Legion of Honor rose and fell on his breast, and a short +sword hung at his side. At one and the same moment the man was seen by +all eyes in all parts of the square. + +Immediately the drums beat a salute, both bands struck up a martial +refrain, caught and repeated like a fugue by every instrument from the +thinnest flutes to the largest drum. The clangor of that call to arms +thrilled through every soul. The colors dropped, and the men presented +arms, one unanimous rhythmical movement shaking every bayonet from the +foremost front near the Palace to the last rank in the Place du +Carrousel. The words of command sped from line to line like echoes. +The whole enthusiastic multitude sent up a shout of "Long live the +Emperor!" + +Everything shook, quivered, and thrilled at last. Napoleon had mounted +his horse. It was his movement that had put life into those silent +masses of men; the dumb instruments had found a voice at his coming, +the Eagles and the colors had obeyed the same impulse which had +brought emotion into all faces. + +The very walls of the high galleries of the old palace seemed to cry +aloud, "Long live the Emperor!" + +There was something preternatural about it--it was magic at work, a +counterfeit presentment of the power of God; or rather it was a +fugitive image of a reign itself so fugitive. + +And /he/ the centre of such love, such enthusiasm and devotion, and so +many prayers, he for whom the sun had driven the clouds from the sky, +was sitting there on his horse, three paces in front of his Golden +Squadron, with the grand Marshal on his left, and the Marshal-in- +waiting on his right. Amid all the outburst of enthusiasm at his +presence not a feature of his face appeared to alter. + +"Oh! yes. At Wagram, in the thick of the firing, on the field of +Borodino, among the dead, always as cool as a cucumber /he/ is!" said +the grenadier, in answer to the questions with which the young girl +plied him. For a moment Julie was absorbed in the contemplation of +that face, so quiet in the security of conscious power. The Emperor +noticed Mlle. de Chatillonest, and leaned to make some brief remark to +Duroc, which drew a smile from the Grand Marshal. Then the review +began. + +If hitherto the young lady's attention had been divided between +Napoleon's impassive face and the blue, red, and green ranks of +troops, from this time forth she was wholly intent upon a young +officer moving among the lines as they performed their swift +symmetrical evolutions. She watched him gallop with tireless activity +to and from the group where the plainly dressed Napoleon shone +conspicuous. The officer rode a splendid black horse. His handsome +sky-blue uniform marked him out amid the variegated multitude as one +of the Emperor's orderly staff-officers. His gold lace glittered in +the sunshine which lighted up the aigrette on his tall, narrow shako, +so that the gazer might have compared him to a will-o'-the-wisp, or to +a visible spirit emanating from the Emperor to infuse movement into +those battalions whose swaying bayonets flashed into flames; for, at a +mere glance from his eyes, they broke and gathered again, surging to +and fro like the waves in a bay, or again swept before him like the +long ridges of high-crested wave which the vexed Ocean directs against +the shore. + +When the manoeuvres were over the officer galloped back at full speed, +pulled up his horse, and awaited orders. He was not ten paces from +Julie as he stood before the Emperor, much as General Rapp stands in +Gerard's /Battle of Austerlitz/. The young girl could behold her lover +in all his soldierly splendor. + +Colonel Victor d'Aiglemont, barely thirty years of age, was tall, +slender, and well made. His well-proportioned figure never showed to +better advantage than now as he exerted his strength to hold in the +restive animal, whose back seemed to curve gracefully to the rider's +weight. His brown masculine face possessed the indefinable charm of +perfectly regular features combined with youth. The fiery eyes under +the broad forehead, shaded by thick eyebrows and long lashes, looked +like white ovals bordered by an outline of black. His nose had the +delicate curve of an eagle's beak; the sinuous lines of the inevitable +black moustache enhanced the crimson of the lips. The brown and tawny +shades which overspread the wide high-colored cheeks told a tale of +unusual vigor, and his whole face bore the impress of dashing courage. +He was the very model which French artists seek to-day for the typical +hero of Imperial France. The horse which he rode was covered with +sweat, the animal's quivering head denoted the last degree of +restiveness; his hind hoofs were set down wide apart and exactly in a +line, he shook his long thick tail to the wind; in his fidelity to his +master he seemed to be a visible presentment of that master's devotion +to the Emperor. + +Julie saw her lover watching intently for the Emperor's glances, and +felt a momentary pang of jealousy, for as yet he had not given her a +look. Suddenly at a word from his sovereign Victor gripped his horse's +flanks and set out at a gallop, but the animal took fright at a shadow +cast by a post, shied, backed, and reared up so suddenly that his +rider was all but thrown off. Julie cried out, her face grew white, +people looked at her curiously, but she saw no one, her eyes were +fixed upon the too mettlesome beast. The officer gave the horse a +sharp admonitory cut with the whip, and galloped off with Napoleon's +order. + +Julie was so absorbed, so dizzy with sights and sounds, that +unconsciously she clung to her father's arm so tightly that he could +read her thoughts by the varying pressure of her fingers. When Victor +was all but flung out of the saddle, she clutched her father with a +convulsive grip as if she herself were in danger of falling, and the +old man looked at his daughter's tell-tale face with dark and painful +anxiety. Pity, jealousy, something even of regret stole across every +drawn and wrinkled line of mouth and brow. When he saw the unwonted +light in Julie's eyes, when that cry broke from her, when the +convulsive grasp of her fingers drew away the veil and put him in +possession of her secret, then with that revelation of her love there +came surely some swift revelation of the future. Mournful forebodings +could be read in his own face. + +Julie's soul seemed at that moment to have passed into the officer's +being. A torturing thought more cruel than any previous dread +contracted the old man's painworn features, as he saw the glance of +understanding that passed between the soldier and Julie. The girl's +eyes were wet, her cheeks glowed with unwonted color. Her father +turned abruptly and led her away into the Garden of the Tuileries. + +"Why, father," she cried, "there are still the regiments in the Place +du Carrousel to be passed in review." + +"No, child, all the troops are marching out." + +"I think you are mistaken, father; M. d'Aiglemont surely told them to +advance----" + +"But I feel ill, my child, and I do not care to stay." + +Julie could readily believe the words when she glanced at his face; he +looked quite worn out by his fatherly anxieties. + +"Are you feeling very ill?" she asked indifferently, her mind was so +full of other thoughts. + +"Every day is a reprieve for me, is it not?" returned her father. + +"Now do you mean to make me miserable again by talking about your +death? I was in such spirits! Do pray get rid of those horrid gloomy +ideas of yours." + +The father heaved a sigh. "Ah! spoiled child," he cried, "the best +hearts are sometimes very cruel. We devote our whole lives to you, you +are our one thought, we plan for your welfare, sacrifice our tastes to +your whims, idolize you, give the very blood in our veins for you, and +all this is nothing, is it? Alas! yes, you take it all as a matter of +course. If we would always have your smiles and your disdainful love, +we should need the power of God in heaven. Then comes another, a +lover, a husband, and steals away your heart." + +Julie looked in amazement at her father; he walked slowly along, and +there was no light in the eyes which he turned upon her. + +"You hide yourself even from us," he continued, "but, perhaps, also +you hide yourself from yourself--" + +"What do you mean by that, father?" + +"I think that you have secrets from me, Julie.--You love," he went on +quickly, as he saw the color rise to her face. "Oh! I hoped that you +would stay with your old father until he died. I hoped to keep you +with me, still radiant and happy, to admire you as you were but so +lately. So long as I knew nothing of your future I could believe in a +happy lot for you; but now I cannot possibly take away with me a hope +of happiness for your life, for you love the colonel even more than +the cousin. I can no longer doubt it." + +"And why should I be forbidden to love him?" asked Julie, with lively +curiosity in her face. + +"Ah, my Julie, you would not understand me," sighed the father. + +"Tell me, all the same," said Julie, with an involuntary petulant +gesture. + +"Very well, child, listen to me. Girls are apt to imagine noble and +enchanting and totally imaginary figures in their own minds; they have +fanciful extravagant ideas about men, and sentiment, and life; and +then they innocently endow somebody or other with all the perfections +of their day-dreams, and put their trust in him. They fall in love +with this imaginary creature in the man of their choice; and then, +when it is too late to escape from their fate, behold their first +idol, the illusion made fair with their fancies, turns to an odious +skeleton. Julie, I would rather have you fall in love with an old man +than with the Colonel. Ah! if you could but see things from the +standpoint of ten years hence, you would admit that my old experience +was right. I know what Victor is, that gaiety of his is simply animal +spirits--the gaiety of the barracks. He has no ability, and he is a +spendthrift. He is one of those men whom Heaven created to eat and +digest four meals a day, to sleep, to fall in love with the first +woman that comes to hand, and to fight. He does not understand life. +His kind heart, for he has a kind heart, will perhaps lead him to give +his purse to a sufferer or to a comrade; /but/ he is careless, he has +not the delicacy of heart which makes us slaves to a woman's +happiness, he is ignorant, he is selfish. There are plenty of +/buts/--" + +"But, father, he must surely be clever, he must have ability, or he +would not be a colonel--" + +"My dear, Victor will be a colonel all his life.--I have seen no one +who appears to me to be worthy of you," the old father added, with a +kind of enthusiasm. + +He paused an instant, looked at his daughter, and added, "Why, my poor +Julie, you are still too young, too fragile, too delicate for the +cares and rubs of married life. D'Aiglemont's relations have spoiled +him, just as your mother and I have spoiled you. What hope is there +that you two could agree, with two imperious wills diametrically +opposed to each other? You will be either the tyrant or the victim, +and either alternative means, for a wife, an equal sum of misfortune. +But you are modest and sweet-natured, you would yield from the first. +In short," he added, in a quivering voice, "there is a grace of +feeling in you which would never be valued, and then----" he broke +off, for the tears overcame him. + +"Victor will give you pain through all the girlish qualities of your +young nature," he went on, after a pause. "I know what soldiers are, +my Julie; I have been in the army. In a man of that kind, love very +seldom gets the better of old habits, due partly to the miseries amid +which soldiers live, partly to the risks they run in a life of +adventure." + +"Then you mean to cross my inclinations, do you, father?" asked Julie, +half in earnest, half in jest. "Am I to marry to please you and not to +please myself?" + +"To please me!" cried her father, with a start of surprise. "To please +/me/, child? when you will not hear the voice that upbraids you so +tenderly very much longer! But I have always heard children impute +personal motives for the sacrifices that their parents make for them. +Marry Victor, my Julie! Some day you will bitterly deplore his +ineptitude, his thriftless ways, his selfishness, his lack of +delicacy, his inability to understand love, and countless troubles +arising through him. Then, remember, that here under these trees your +old father's prophetic voice sounded in your ears in vain." + +He said no more; he had detected a rebellious shake of the head on his +daughter's part. Both made several paces towards the carriage which +was waiting for them at the grating. During that interval of silence, +the young girl stole a glance at her father's face, and little by +little her sullen brow cleared. The intense pain visible on his bowed +forehead made a lively impression upon her. + +"Father," she began in gentle tremulous tones, "I promise to say no +more about Victor until you have overcome your prejudices against +him." + +The old man looked at her in amazement. Two tears which filled his +eyes overflowed down his withered cheeks. He could not take Julie in +his arms in that crowded place; but he pressed her hand tenderly. A +few minutes later when they had taken their places in the cabriolet, +all the anxious thought which had gathered about his brow had +completely disappeared. Julie's pensive attitude gave him far less +concern than the innocent joy which had betrayed her secret during the +review. + + + +Nearly a year had passed since the Emperor's last review. In early +March 1814 a caleche was rolling along the highroad from Amboise to +Tours. As the carriage came out from beneath the green-roofed aisle of +walnut trees by the post-house of la Frilliere, the horses dashed +forward with such speed that in a moment they gained the bridge built +across the Cise at the point of its confluence with the Loire. There, +however, they come to a sudden stand. One of the traces had given way +in consequence of the furious pace at which the post-boy, obedient to +his orders, had urged on four horses, the most vigorous of their +breed. Chance, therefore, gave the two recently awakened occupants of +the carriage an opportunity of seeing one of the most lovely +landscapes along the enchanting banks of the Loire, and that at their +full leisure. + +At a glance the travelers could see to the right the whole winding +course of the Cise meandering like a silver snake among the meadows, +where the grass had taken the deep, bright green of early spring. To +the left lay the Loire in all its glory. A chill morning breeze, +ruffling the surface of the stately river, had fretted the broad +sheets of water far and wide into a network of ripples, which caught +the gleams of the sun, so that the green islets here and there in its +course shone like gems set in a gold necklace. On the opposite bank +the fair rich meadows of Touraine stretched away as far as the eye +could see; the low hills of the Cher, the only limits to the view, lay +on the far horizon, a luminous line against the clear blue sky. Tours +itself, framed by the trees on the islands in a setting of spring +leaves, seemed to rise like Venice out of the waters, and her old +cathedral towers soaring in air were blended with the pale fantastic +cloud shapes in the sky. + +Over the side of the bridge, where the carriage had come to a stand, +the traveler looks along a line of cliffs stretching as far as Tours. +Nature in some freakish mood must have raised these barriers of rock, +undermined incessantly by the rippling Loire at their feet, for a +perpetual wonder for spectators. The village of Vouvray nestles, as it +were, among the clefts and crannies of the crags, which begin to +describe a bend at the junction of the Loire and Cise. A whole +population of vine-dressers lives, in fact, in appalling insecurity in +holes in their jagged sides for the whole way between Vouvray and +Tours. In some places there are three tiers of dwellings hollowed out, +one above the other, in the rock, each row communicating with the next +by dizzy staircases cut likewise in the face of the cliff. A little +girl in a short red petticoat runs out into her garden on the roof of +another dwelling; you can watch a wreath of hearth-smoke curling up +among the shoots and trails of the vines. Men are at work in their +almost perpendicular patches of ground, an old woman sits tranquilly +spinning under a blossoming almond tree on a crumbling mass of rock, +and smiles down on the dismay of the travelers far below her feet. The +cracks in the ground trouble her as little as the precarious state of +the old wall, a pendant mass of loose stones, only kept in position by +the crooked stems of its ivy mantle. The sound of coopers' mallets +rings through the skyey caves; for here, where Nature stints human +industry of soil, the soil is everywhere tilled, and everywhere +fertile. + +No view along the whole course of the Loire can compare with the rich +landscape of Touraine, here outspread beneath the traveler's eyes. The +triple picture, thus barely sketched in outline, is one of those +scenes which the imagination engraves for ever upon the memory; let a +poet fall under its charm, and he shall be haunted by visions which +shall reproduce its romantic loveliness out of the vague substance of +dreams. + +As the carriage stopped on the bridge over the Cise, white sails came +out here and there from among the islands in the Loire to add new +grace to the perfect view. The subtle scent of the willows by the +water's edge was mingled with the damp odor of the breeze from the +river. The monotonous chant of a goat-herd added a plaintive note to +the sound of birds' songs in a chorus which never ends; the cries of +the boatmen brought tidings of distant busy life. Here was Touraine in +all its glory, and the very height of the splendor of spring. Here was +the one peaceful district in France in those troublous days; for it +was so unlikely that a foreign army should trouble its quiet that +Touraine might be said to defy invasion. + +As soon as the caleche stopped, a head covered with a foraging cap was +put out of the window, and soon afterwards an impatient military man +flung open the carriage door and sprang down into the road to pick a +quarrel with the postilion, but the skill with which the Tourangeau +was repairing the trace restored Colonel d'Aiglemont's equanimity. He +went back to the carriage, stretched himself to relieve his benumbed +muscles, yawned, looked about him, and finally laid a hand on the arm +of a young woman warmly wrapped up in a furred pelisse. + +"Come, Julie," he said hoarsely, "just wake up and take a look at this +country. It is magnificent." + +Julie put her head out of the window. She wore a traveling cap of +sable fur. Nothing could be seen of her but her face, for the whole of +her person was completely concealed by the folds of her fur pelisse. +The young girl who tripped to the review at the Tuileries with light +footsteps and joy and gladness in her heart was scarcely recognizable +in Julie d'Aiglemont. Her face, delicate as ever, had lost the rose- +color which once gave it so rich a glow. A few straggling locks of +black hair, straightened out by the damp night air, enhanced its dead +whiteness, and all its life and sparkle seemed to be torpid. Yet her +eyes glittered with preternatural brightness in spite of the violet +shadows under the lashes upon her wan cheeks. + +She looked out with indifferent eyes over the fields towards the Cher, +at the islands in the river, at the line of the crags of Vouvray +stretching along the Loire towards Tours; then she sank back as soon +as possible into her seat in the caleche. She did not care to give a +glance to the enchanting valley of the Cise. + +"Yes, it is wonderful," she said, and out in the open air her voice +sounded weak and faint to the last degree. Evidently she had had her +way with her father, to her misfortune. + +"Would you not like to live here, Julie?" + +"Yes; here or anywhere," she answered listlessly. + +"Do you feel ill?" asked Colonel d'Aiglemont. + +"No, not at all," she answered with momentary energy; and, smiling at +her husband, she added, "I should like to go to sleep." + +Suddenly there came a sound of a horse galloping towards them. Victor +d'Aiglemont dropped his wife's hand and turned to watch the bend in +the road. No sooner had he taken his eyes from Julie's pale face than +all the assumed gaiety died out of it; it was as if a light had been +extinguished. She felt no wish to look at the landscape, no curiosity +to see the horseman who was galloping towards them at such a furious +pace, and, ensconcing herself in her corner, stared out before her at +the hindquarters of the post-horses, looking as blank as any Breton +peasant listening to his /recteur's/ sermon. + +Suddenly a young man riding a valuable horse came out from behind the +clump of poplars and flowering briar-rose. + +"It is an Englishman," remarked the Colonel. + +"Lord bless you, yes, General," said the post-boy; "he belongs to the +race of fellows who have a mind to gobble up France, they say." + +The stranger was one of the foreigners traveling in France at the time +when Napoleon detained all British subjects within the limits of the +Empire, by way of reprisals for the violation of the Treaty of Amiens, +an outrage of international law perpetrated by the Court of St. James. +These prisoners, compelled to submit to the Emperor's pleasure, were +not all suffered to remain in the houses where they were arrested, nor +yet in the places of residence which at first they were permitted to +choose. Most of the English colony in Touraine had been transplanted +thither from different places where their presence was supposed to be +inimical to the interests of the Continental Policy. + +The young man, who was taking the tedium of the early morning hours on +horseback, was one of these victims of bureaucratic tyranny. Two years +previously, a sudden order from the Foreign Office had dragged him +from Montpellier, whither he had gone on account of consumptive +tendencies. He glanced at the Comte d'Aiglemont, saw that he was a +military man, and deliberately looked away, turning his head somewhat +abruptly towards the meadows by the Cise. + +"The English are all as insolent as if the globe belonged to them," +muttered the Colonel. "Luckily, Soult will give them a thrashing +directly." + +The prisoner gave a glance to the caleche as he rode by. Brief though +that glance was, he had yet time to notice the sad expression which +lent an indefinable charm to the Countess' pensive face. Many men are +deeply moved by the mere semblance of suffering in a woman; they take +the look of pain for a sign of constancy or of love. Julie herself was +so much absorbed in the contemplation of the opposite cushion that she +saw neither the horse nor the rider. The damaged trace meanwhile had +been quickly and strongly repaired; the Count stepped into his place +again; and the post-boy, doing his best to make up for lost time, +drove the carriage rapidly along the embankment. On they drove under +the overhanging cliffs, with their picturesque vine-dressers' huts and +stores of wine maturing in their dark sides, till in the distance +uprose the spire of the famous Abbey of Marmoutiers, the retreat of +St. Martin. + +"What can that diaphanous milord want with us?" exclaimed the Colonel, +turning to assure himself that the horseman who had followed them from +the bridge was the young Englishman. + +After all, the stranger committed no breach of good manners by riding +along on the footway, and Colonel d'Aiglemont was fain to lie back in +his corner after sending a scowl in the Englishman's direction. But in +spite of his hostile instincts, he could not help noticing the beauty +of the animal and the graceful horsemanship of the rider. The young +man's face was of that pale, fair-complexioned, insular type, which is +almost girlish in the softness and delicacy of its color and texture. +He was tall, thin, and fair-haired, dressed with the extreme and +elaborate neatness characteristic of a man of fashion in prudish +England. Any one might have thought that bashfulness rather than +pleasure at the sight of the Countess had called up that flush into +his face. Once only Julie raised her eyes and looked at the stranger, +and then only because she was in a manner compelled to do so, for her +husband called upon her to admire the action of the thoroughbred. It +so happened that their glances clashed; and the shy Englishman, +instead of riding abreast of the carriage, fell behind on this, and +followed them at a distance of a few paces. + +Yet the Countess had scarcely given him a glance; she saw none of the +various perfections, human and equine, commended to her notice, and +fell back again in the carriage, with a slight movement of the eyelids +intended to express her acquiescence in her husband's views. The +Colonel fell asleep again, and both husband and wife reached Tours +without another word. Not one of those enchanting views of +everchanging landscape through which they sped had drawn so much as a +glance from Julie's eyes. + +Mme. d'Aiglemont looked now and again at her sleeping husband. While +she looked, a sudden jolt shook something down upon her knees. It was +her father's portrait, a miniature which she wore suspended about her +neck by a black cord. At the sight of it, the tears, till then kept +back, overflowed her eyes, but no one, save perhaps the Englishman, +saw them glitter there for a brief moment before they dried upon her +pale cheeks. + +Colonel d'Aiglemont was on his way to the South. Marshal Soult was +repelling an English invasion of Bearn; and d'Aiglemont, the bearer of +the Emperor's orders to the Marshal, seized the opportunity of taking +his wife as far as Tours to leave her with an elderly relative of his +own, far away from the dangers threatening Paris. + +Very shortly the carriage rolled over the paved road of Tours, over +the bridge, along the Grande-Rue, and stopped at last before the old +mansion of the /ci-devant/ Marquise de Listomere-Landon. + +The Marquise de Listomere-Landon, with her white hair, pale face, and +shrewd smile, was one of those fine old ladies who still seem to wear +the paniers of the eighteenth century, and affects caps of an extinct +mode. They are nearly always caressing in their manners, as if the +heyday of love still lingered on for these septuagenarian portraits of +the age of Louis Quinze, with the faint perfume of /poudre a la +marechale/ always clinging about them. Bigoted rather than pious, and +less of bigots than they seem, women who can tell a story well and +talk still better, their laughter comes more readily for an old memory +than for a new jest--the present intrudes upon them. + +When an old waiting-woman announced to the Marquise de Listomere- +Landon (to give her the title which she was soon to resume) the +arrival of a nephew whom she had not seen since the outbreak of the +war with Spain, the old lady took off her spectacles with alacrity, +shut the /Galerie de l'ancienne Cour/ (her favorite work), and +recovered something like youthful activity, hastening out upon the +flight of steps to greet the young couple there. + +Aunt and niece exchanged a rapid glance of survey. + +"Good-morning, dear aunt," cried the Colonel, giving the old lady a +hasty embrace. "I am bringing a young lady to put under your wing. I +have come to put my treasure in your keeping. My Julie is neither +jealous nor a coquette, she is as good as an angel. I hope that she +will not be spoiled here," he added, suddenly interrupting himself. + +"Scapegrace!" returned the Marquise, with a satirical glance at her +nephew. + +She did not wait for her niece to approach her, but with a certain +kindly graciousness went forward herself to kiss Julie, who stood +there thoughtfully, to all appearance more embarrassed than curious +concerning her new relation. + +"So we are to make each other's acquaintance, are we, my love?" the +Marquise continued. "Do not be too much alarmed of me. I always try +not to be an old woman with young people." + +On the way to the drawing-room, the Marquise ordered breakfast for her +guests in provincial fashion; but the Count checked his aunt's flow of +words by saying soberly that he could only remain in the house while +the horses were changing. On this the three hurried into the drawing- +room. The Colonel had barely time to tell the story of the political +and military events which had compelled him to ask his aunt for a +shelter for his young wife. While he talked on without interruption, +the older lady looked from her nephew to her niece, and took the +sadness in Julie's white face for grief at the enforced separation. +"Eh! eh!" her looks seemed to say, "these young things are in love +with each other." + +The crack of the postilion's whip sounded outside in the silent old +grass-grown courtyard. Victor embraced his aunt once more, and rushed +out. + +"Good-bye, dear," he said, kissing his wife, who had followed him down +to the carriage. + +"Oh! Victor, let me come still further with you," she pleaded +coaxingly. "I do not want to leave you----" + +"Can you seriously mean it?" + +"Very well," said Julie, "since you wish it." The carriage +disappeared. + +"So you are very fond of my poor Victor?" said the Marquise, +interrogating her niece with one of those sagacious glances which +dowagers give younger women. + +"Alas, madame!" said Julie, "must one not love a man well indeed to +marry him?" + +The words were spoken with an artless accent which revealed either a +pure heart or inscrutable depths. How could a woman, who had been the +friend of Duclos and the Marechal de Richelieu, refrain from trying to +read the riddle of this marriage? Aunt and niece were standing on the +steps, gazing after the fast vanishing caleche. The look in the young +Countess' eyes did not mean love as the Marquise understood it. The +good lady was a Provencale, and her passions had been lively. + +"So you were captivated by my good-for-nothing of a nephew?" she +asked. + +Involuntarily Julie shuddered, something in the experienced coquette's +look and tone seemed to say that Mme. de Listomere-Landon's knowledge +of her husband's character went perhaps deeper than his wife's. Mme. +d'Aiglemont, in dismay, took refuge in this transparent dissimulation, +ready to her hand, the first resource of an artless unhappiness. Mme. +de Listomere appeared to be satisfied with Julie's answers; but in her +secret heart she rejoiced to think that here was a love affair on hand +to enliven her solitude, for that her niece had some amusing +flirtation on foot she was fully convinced. + +In the great drawing-room, hung with tapestry framed in strips of +gilding, young Mme. d'Aiglemont sat before a blazing fire, behind a +Chinese screen placed to shut out the cold draughts from the window, +and her heavy mood scarcely lightened. Among the old eighteenth- +century furniture, under the old paneled ceiling, it was not very easy +to be gay. Yet the young Parisienne took a sort of pleasure in this +entrance upon a life of complete solitude and in the solemn silence of +the old provincial house. She exchanged a few words with the aunt, a +stranger, to whom she had written a bride's letter on her marriage, +and then sat as silent as if she had been listening to an opera. Not +until two hours had been spent in an atmosphere of quiet befitting la +Trappe, did she suddenly awaken to a sense of uncourteous behavior, +and bethink herself of the short answers which she had given her aunt. +Mme. de Listomere, with the gracious tact characteristic of a bygone +age, had respected her niece's mood. When Mme. d'Aiglemont became +conscious of her shortcomings, the dowager sat knitting, though as a +matter of fact she had several times left the room to superintend +preparations in the Green Chamber, whither the Countess' luggage had +been transported; now, however, she had returned to her great +armchair, and stole a glance from time to time at this young relative. +Julie felt ashamed of giving way to irresistible broodings, and tried +to earn her pardon by laughing at herself. + +"My dear child, /we/ know the sorrows of widowhood," returned her +aunt. But only the eyes of forty years could have distinguished the +irony hovering about the old lady's mouth. + +Next morning the Countess improved. She talked. Mme. de Listomere no +longer despaired of fathoming the new-made wife, whom yesterday she +had set down as a dull, unsociable creature, and discoursed on the +delights of the country, of dances, of houses where they could visit. +All that day the Marquise's questions were so many snares; it was the +old habit of the old Court, she could not help setting traps to +discover her niece's character. For several days Julie, plied with +temptations, steadfastly declined to seek amusement abroad; and much +as the old lady's pride longed to exhibit her pretty niece, she was +fain to renounce all hope of taking her into society, for the young +Countess was still in morning for her father, and found in her loss +and her mourning dress a pretext for her sadness and desire for +seclusion. + +By the end of the week the dowager admired Julie's angelic sweetness +of disposition, her diffident charm, her indulgent temper, and +thenceforward began to take a prodigious interest in the mysterious +sadness gnawing at this young heart. The Countess was one of those +women who seem born to be loved and to bring happiness with them. Mme. +de Listomere found her niece's society grown so sweet and precious, +that she doted upon Julie, and could no longer think of parting with +her. A month sufficed to establish an eternal friendship between the +two ladies. The dowager noticed, not without surprise, the changes +that took place in Mme. d'Aiglemont; gradually her bright color died +away, and her face became dead white. Yet, Julie's spirits rose as the +bloom faded from her cheeks. Sometimes the dowager's sallies provoked +outbursts of merriment or peals of laughter, promptly repressed, +however, by some clamorous thought. + +Mme. de Listomere had guessed by this time that it was neither +Victor's absence nor a father's death which threw a shadow over her +niece's life; but her mind was so full of dark suspicions, that she +found it difficult to lay a finger upon the real cause of the +mischief. Possibly truth is only discoverable by chance. A day came, +however, at length when Julie flashed out before her aunt's astonished +eyes into a complete forgetfulness of her marriage; she recovered the +wild spirits of careless girlhood. Mme. de Listomere then and there +made up her mind to fathom the depths of this soul, for its exceeding +simplicity was as inscrutable as dissimulation. + +Night was falling. The two ladies were sitting by the window which +looked out upon the street, and Julie was looking thoughtful again, +when some one went by on horseback. + +"There goes one of your victims," said the Marquise. + +Mme. d'Aiglemont looked up; dismay and surprise blended in her face. + +"He is a young Englishman, the Honorable Arthur Ormand, Lord +Grenville's eldest son. His history is interesting. His physician sent +him to Montpellier in 1802; it was hoped that in that climate he might +recover from the lung complaint which was gaining ground. He was +detained, like all his fellow-countrymen, by Bonaparte when war broke +out. That monster cannot live without fighting. The young Englishman, +by way of amusing himself, took to studying his own complaint, which +was believed to be incurable. By degrees he acquired a liking for +anatomy and physic, and took quite a craze for that kind of thing, a +most extraordinary taste in a man of quality, though the Regent +certainly amused himself with chemistry! In short, Monsieur Arthur +made astonishing progress in his studies; his health did the same +under the faculty of Montpellier; he consoled his captivity, and at +the same time his cure was thoroughly completed. They say that he +spent two whole years in a cowshed, living on cresses and the milk of +a cow brought from Switzerland, breathing as seldom as he could, and +never speaking a word. Since he come to Tours he has lived quite +alone; he is as proud as a peacock; but you have certainly made a +conquest of him, for probably it is not on my account that he has +ridden under the window twice every day since you have been here.--He +has certainly fallen in love with you." + +That last phrase roused the Countess like magic. Her involuntary start +and smile took the Marquise by surprise. So far from showing a sign of +the instinctive satisfaction felt by the most strait-laced of women +when she learns that she has destroyed the peace of mind of some male +victim, there was a hard, haggard expression in Julie's face--a look +of repulsion amounting almost to loathing. + +A woman who loves will put the whole world under the ban of Love's +empire for the sake of the one whom she loves; but such a woman can +laugh and jest; and Julie at that moment looked as if the memory of +some recently escaped peril was too sharp and fresh not to bring with +it a quick sensation of pain. Her aunt, by this time convinced that +Julie did not love her nephew, was stupefied by the discovery that she +loved nobody else. She shuddered lest a further discovery should show +her Julie's heart disenchanted, lest the experience of a day, or +perhaps of a night, should have revealed to a young wife the full +extent of Victor's emptiness. + +"If she has found him out, there is an end of it," thought the +dowager. "My nephew will soon be made to feel the inconveniences of +wedded life." + +The Marquise now proposed to convert Julie to the monarchical +doctrines of the times of Louis Quinze; but a few hours later she +discovered, or, more properly speaking, guessed, the not uncommon +state of affairs, and the real cause of her niece's low spirits. + +Julie turned thoughtful on a sudden, and went to her room earlier than +usual. When her maid left her for the night, she still sat by the fire +in the yellow velvet depths of a great chair, an old-world piece of +furniture as well suited for sorrow as for happy people. Tears flowed, +followed by sighs and meditation. After a while she drew a little +table to her, sought writing materials, and began to write. The hours +went by swiftly. Julie's confidences made to the sheet of paper seemed +to cost her dear; every sentence set her dreaming, and at last she +suddenly burst into tears. The clocks were striking two. Her head, +grown heavy as a dying woman's, was bowed over her breast. When she +raised it, her aunt appeared before her as suddenly as if she had +stepped out of the background of tapestry upon the walls. + +"What can be the matter with you, child?" asked the Marquise. "Why are +you sitting up so late? And why, in the first place, are you crying +alone, at your age?" + +Without further ceremony she sat down beside her niece, her eyes the +while devouring the unfinished letter. + +"Were you writing to your husband?" + +"Do I know where he is?" returned the Countess. + +Her aunt thereupon took up the sheet and proceeded to read it. She had +brought her spectacles; the deed was premeditated. The innocent writer +of the letter allowed her to take it without the slightest remark. It +was neither lack of dignity nor consciousness of secret guilt which +left her thus without energy. Her aunt had come in upon her at a +crisis. She was helpless; right or wrong, reticence and confidence, +like all things else, were matters of indifference. Like some young +maid who had heaped scorn upon her lover, and feels so lonely and sad +when evening comes, that she longs for him to come back or for a heart +to which she can pour out her sorrow, Julie allowed her aunt to +violate the seal which honor places upon an open letter, and sat +musing while the Marquise read on:-- + + "MY DEAR LOUISA,--Why do you ask so often for the fulfilment of as + rash a promise as two young and inexperienced girls could make? + You say that you often ask yourself why I have given no answer to + your questions for these six months. If my silence told you + nothing, perhaps you will understand the reasons for it to-day, as + you read the secrets which I am about to betray. I should have + buried them for ever in the depths of my heart if you had not + announced your own approaching marriage. You are about to be + married, Louisa. The thought makes me shiver. Poor little one! + marry, yes, in a few months' time one of the keenest pangs of + regret will be the recollection of a self which used to be, of the + two young girls who sat one evening under one of the tallest oak- + trees on the hillside at Ecouen, and looked along the fair valley + at our feet in the light of the sunset, which caught us in its + glow. We sat on a slab of rock in ecstasy, which sobered down into + melancholy of the gentlest. You were the first to discover that + the far-off sun spoke to us of the future. How inquisitive and how + silly we were! Do you remember all the absurd things we said and + did? We embraced each other; 'like lovers,' said we. We solemnly + promised that the first bride should faithfully reveal to the + other the mysteries of marriage, the joys which our childish minds + imagined to be so delicious. That evening will complete your + despair, Louisa. In those days you were young and beautiful and + careless, if not radiantly happy; a few days of marriage, and you + will be, what I am already--ugly, wretched, and old. Need I tell + you how proud I was and how vain and glad to be married to Colonel + Victor d'Aiglemont? And besides, how could I tell you now? for I + cannot remember that old self. A few moments turned my girlhood to + a dream. All through the memorable day which consecrated a chain, + the extent of which was hidden from me, my behavior was not free + from reproach. Once and again my father tried to repress my + spirits; the joy which I showed so plainly was thought unbefitting + the occasion, my talk scarcely innocent, simply because I was so + innocent. I played endless child's tricks with my bridal veil, my + wreath, my gown. Left alone that night in the room whither I had + been conducted in state, I planned a piece of mischief to tease + Victor. While I awaited his coming, my heart beat wildly, as it + used to do when I was a child stealing into the drawing-room on + the last day of the old year to catch a glimpse of the New Year's + gifts piled up there in heaps. When my husband came in and looked + for me, my smothered laughter ringing out from beneath the lace in + which I had shrouded myself, was the last outburst of the + delicious merriment which brightened our games in childhood . . ." + +When the dowager had finished reading the letter, and after such a +beginning the rest must have been sad indeed, she slowly laid her +spectacles on the table, put the letter down beside them, and looked +fixedly at her niece. Age had not dimmed the fire in those green eyes +as yet. + +"My little girl," she said, "a married woman cannot write such a +letter as this to a young unmarried woman; it is scarcely proper--" + +"So I was thinking," Julie broke in upon her aunt. "I felt ashamed of +myself while you were reading it." + +"If a dish at table is not to our taste, there is no occasion to +disgust others with it, child," the old lady continued benignly, +"especially when marriage has seemed to us all, from Eve downwards, so +excellent an institution. . . You have no mother?" + +The Countess trembled, then she raised her face meekly, and said: + +"I have missed my mother many times already during the past year; but +I have myself to blame, I would not listen to my father. He was +opposed to my marriage; he disapproved of Victor as a son-in-law." + +She looked at her aunt. The old face was lighted up with a kindly +look, and a thrill of joy dried Julie's tears. She held out her young, +soft hand to the old Marquise, who seemed to ask for it, and the +understanding between the two women was completed by the close grasp +of their fingers. + +"Poor orphan child!" + +The words came like a final flash of enlightenment to Julie. It seemed +to her that she heard her father's prophetic voice again. + +"Your hands are burning! Are they always like this?" asked the +Marquise. + +"The fever only left me seven or eight days ago." + +"You had a fever upon you, and said nothing about it to me!" + +"I have had it for a year," said Julie, with a kind of timid anxiety. + +"My good little angel, then your married life hitherto has been one +long time of suffering?" + +Julie did not venture to reply, but an affirmative sign revealed the +whole truth. + +"Then you are unhappy?" + +"On! no, no, aunt. Victor loves me, he almost idolizes me, and I adore +him, he is so kind." + +"Yes, you love him; but you avoid him, do you not?" + +"Yes . . . sometimes . . . He seeks me too often." + +"And often when you are alone you are troubled with the fear that he +may suddenly break in on your solitude?" + +"Alas! yes, aunt. But, indeed, I love him, I do assure you." + +"Do you not, in your own thoughts, blame yourself because you find it +impossible to share his pleasures? Do you never think at times that +marriage is a heavier yoke than an illicit passion could be?" + +"Oh, that is just it," she wept. "It is all a riddle to me, and can +you guess it all? My faculties are benumbed, I have no ideas, I can +scarcely see at all. I am weighed down by vague dread, which freezes +me till I cannot feel, and keeps me in continual torpor. I have no +voice with which to pity myself, no words to express my trouble. I +suffer, and I am ashamed to suffer when Victor is happy at my cost." + +"Babyish nonsense, and rubbish, all of it!" exclaimed the aunt, and a +gay smile, an after-glow of the joys of her own youth, suddenly +lighted up her withered face. + +"And do you too laugh!" the younger woman cried despairingly. + +"It was just my own case," the Marquise returned promptly. "And now +Victor has left you, you have become a girl again, recovering a +tranquillity without pleasure and without pain, have you not?" + +Julie opened wide eyes of bewilderment. + +"In fact, my angel, you adore Victor, do you not? But still you would +rather be a sister to him than a wife, and, in short, your marriage is +emphatically not a success?" + +"Well--no, aunt. But why do you smile?" + +"Oh! you are right, poor child! There is nothing very amusing in all +this. Your future would be big with more than one mishap if I had not +taken you under my protection, if my old experience of life had not +guessed the very innocent cause of your troubles. My nephew did not +deserve his good fortune, the blockhead! In the reign of our well- +beloved Louis Quinze, a young wife in your position would very soon +have punished her husband for behaving like a ruffian. The selfish +creature! The men who serve under this Imperial tyrant are all of them +ignorant boors. They take brutality for gallantry; they know no more +of women than they know of love; and imagine that because they go out +to face death on the morrow, they may dispense to-day with all +consideration and attentions for us. The time was when a man could +love and die too at the proper time. My niece, I will form you. I will +put an end to this unhappy divergence between you, a natural thing +enough, but it would end in mutual hatred and desire for a divorce, +always supposing that you did not die on the way to despair." + +Julie's amazement equaled her surprise as she listened to her aunt. +She was surprised by her language, dimly divining rather than +appreciating the wisdom of the words she heard, and very much dismayed +to find what this relative, out of great experience, passed judgment +upon Victor as her father had done, though in somewhat milder terms. +Perhaps some quick prevision of the future crossed her mind; +doubtless, at any rate, she felt the heavy weight of the burden which +must inevitably overwhelm her, for she burst into tears, and sprang to +the old lady's arms. "Be my mother," she sobbed. + +The aunt shed no tears. The Revolution had left old ladies of the +Monarchy but few tears to shed. Love, in bygone days, and the Terror +at a later time, had familiarized them with extremes of joy and +anguish in such a sort that, amid the perils of life, they preserved +their dignity and coolness, a capacity for sincere but undemonstrative +affection which never disturbed their well-bred self-possession, and a +dignity of demeanor which a younger generation has done very ill to +discard. + +The dowager took Julie in her arms, and kissed her on the forehead +with a tenderness and pity more often found in women's ways and manner +than in their hearts. Then she coaxed her niece with kind, soothing +words, assured her of a happy future, lulled her with promises of +love, and put her to bed as if she had been not a niece, but a +daughter, a much-beloved daughter whose hopes and cares she had made +her own. Perhaps the old Marquise had found her own youth and +inexperience and beauty again in this nephew's wife. And the Countess +fell asleep, happy to have found a friend, nay a mother, to whom she +could tell everything freely. + +Next morning, when the two women kissed each other with heartfelt +kindness, and that look of intelligence which marks a real advance in +friendship, a closer intimacy between two souls, they heard the sound +of horsehoofs, and, turning both together, saw the young Englishman +ride slowly past the window, after his wont. Apparently he had made a +certain study of the life led by the two lonely women, for he never +failed to ride by as they sat at breakfast, and again at dinner. His +horse slackened pace of its own accord, and for the space of time +required to pass the two windows in the room, its rider turned a +melancholy look upon the Countess, who seldom deigned to take the +slightest notion of him. Not so the Marquise. Minds not necessarily +little find it difficult to resist the little curiosity which fastens +upon the most trifling event that enlivens provincial life; and the +Englishman's mute way of expressing his timid, earnest love tickled +Mme. de Listomere. For her the periodically recurrent glance became a +part of the day's routine, hailed daily with new jests. As the two +women sat down to table, both of them looked out at the same moment. +This time Julie's eyes met Arthur's with such a precision of sympathy +that the color rose to her face. The stranger immediately urged his +horse into a gallop and went. + +"What is to be done, madame?" asked Julie. "People see this Englishman +go past the house, and they will take it for granted that I--" + +"Yes," interrupted her aunt. + +"Well, then, could I not tell him to discontinue his promenades?" + +"Would not that be a way of telling him that he was dangerous? You +might put that notion into his head. And besides, can you prevent a +man from coming and going as he pleases? Our meals shall be served in +another room to-morrow; and when this young gentleman sees us no +longer, there will be an end of making love to you through the window. +There, dear child, that is how a woman of the world does." + +But the measure of Julie's misfortune was to be filled up. The two +women had scarcely risen from table when Victor's man arrived in hot +haste from Bourges with a letter for the Countess from her husband. +The servant had ridden by unfrequented ways. + +Victor sent his wife news of the downfall of the Empire and the +capitulation of Paris. He himself had gone over to the Bourbons, and +all France was welcoming them back with transports of enthusiasm. He +could not go so far as Tours, but he begged her to come at once to +join him at Orleans, where he hoped to be in readiness with passports +for her. His servant, an old soldier, would be her escort so far as +Orleans; he (Victor) believed that the road was still open. + +"You have not a moment to lose, madame," said the man. "The Prussians, +Austrians, and English are about to effect a junction either at Blois +or at Orleans." + +A few hours later, Julie's preparations were made, and she started out +upon her journey in an old traveling carriage lent by her aunt. + +"Why should you not come with us to Paris?" she asked, as she put her +arms about the Marquise. "Now that the Bourbons have come back you +would be--" + +"Even if there had not been this unhoped-for return, I should still +have gone to Paris, my poor child, for my advice is only too necessary +to both you and Victor. So I shall make all my preparations for +rejoining you there." + +Julie set out. She took her maid with her, and the old soldier +galloped beside the carriage as escort. At nightfall, as they changed +horses for the last stage before Blois, Julie grew uneasy. All the way +from Amboise she had heard the sound of wheels behind them, a carriage +following hers had kept at the same distance. She stood on the step +and looked out to see who her traveling companions might be, and in +the moonlight saw Arthur standing three paces away, gazing fixedly at +the chaise which contained her. Again their eyes met. The Countess +hastily flung herself back in her seat, but a feeling of dread set her +pulses throbbing. It seemed to her, as to most innocent and +inexperienced young wives, that she was herself to blame for this love +which she had all unwittingly inspired. With this thought came an +instinctive terror, perhaps a sense of her own helplessness before +aggressive audacity. One of a man's strongest weapons is the terrible +power of compelling a woman to think of him when her naturally lively +imagination takes alarm or offence at the thought that she is +followed. + +The Countess bethought herself of her aunt's advice, and made up her +mind that she would not stir from her place during the rest of the +journey; but every time the horses were changed she heard the +Englishman pacing round the two carriages, and again upon the road +heard the importunate sound of the wheels of his caleche. Julie soon +began to think that, when once reunited to her husband, Victor would +know how to defend her against this singular persecution. + +"Yet suppose that in spite of everything, this young man does not love +me?" This was the thought that came last of all. + +No sooner did she reach Orleans than the Prussians stopped the chaise. +It was wheeled into an inn-yard and put under a guard of soldiers. +Resistance was out of the question. The foreign soldiers made the +three travelers understand by signs that they were obeying orders, and +that no one could be allowed to leave the carriage. For about two +hours the Countess sat in tears, a prisoner surrounded by the guard, +who smoked, laughed, and occasionally stared at her with insolent +curiosity. At last, however, she saw her captors fall away from the +carriage with a sort of respect, and heard at the same time the sound +of horses entering the yard. Another moment, and a little group of +foreign officers, with an Austrian general at their head, gathered +about the door of the traveling carriage. + +"Madame," said the General, "pray accept our apologies. A mistake has +been made. You may continue your journey without fear; and here is a +passport which will spare you all further annoyance of any kind." + +Trembling the Countess took the paper, and faltered out some vague +words of thanks. She saw Arthur, now wearing an English uniform, +standing beside the General, and could not doubt that this prompt +deliverance was due to him. The young Englishman himself looked half +glad, half melancholy; his face was turned away, and he only dared to +steal an occasional glance at Julie's face. + +Thanks to the passport, Mme. d'Aiglemont reached Paris without further +misadventure, and there she found her husband. Victor d'Aiglemont, +released from his oath of allegiance to the Emperor, had met with a +most flattering reception from the Comte d'Artois, recently appointed +Lieutenant-General of the kingdom by his brother Louis XVIII. +D'Aiglemont received a commission in the Life Guards, equivalent to +the rank of general. But amid the rejoicings over the return of the +Bourbons, fate dealt poor Julie a terrible blow. The death of the +Marquise de Listomere-Landon was an irreparable loss. The old lady +died of joy and of an accession of gout to the heart when the Duc +d'Angouleme came back to Tours, and the one living being entitled by +her age to enlighten Victor, the woman who, by discreet counsels, +might have brought about perfect unanimity of husband and wife, was +dead; and Julie felt the full extent of her loss. Henceforward she +must stand alone between herself and her husband. But she was young +and timid; there could be no doubt of the result, or that from the +first she would elect to bear her lot in silence. The very perfections +of her character forbade her to venture to swerve from her duties, or +to attempt to inquire into the cause of her sufferings, for to put an +end to them would have been to venture on delicate ground, and Julie's +girlish modesty shrank from the thought. + +A word as to M. d'Aiglemont's destinies under the Restoration. + +How many men are there whose utter incapacity is a secret kept from +most of their acquaintance. For such as these high rank, high office, +illustrious birth, a certain veneer of politeness, and considerable +reserve of manner, or the /prestige/ of great fortunes, are but so +many sentinels to turn back critics who would penetrate to the +presence of the real man. Such men are like kings, in that their real +figure, character, and life can never be known nor justly appreciated, +because they are always seen from too near or too far. Factitious +merit has a way of asking questions and saying little; and understands +the art of putting others forward to save the necessity of posing +before them; then, with a happy knack of its own, it draws and +attaches others by the thread of the ruling passion of self-interest, +keeping men of far greater abilities to play like puppets, and +despising those whom it has brought down to its own level. The petty +fixed idea naturally prevails; it has the advantage of persistence +over the plasticity of great thoughts. + +The observer who should seek to estimate and appraise the negative +values of these empty heads needs subtlety rather than superior wit +for the task; patience is a more necessary part of his judicial outfit +than great mental grasp, cunning and tact rather than any elevation or +greatness of ideas. Yet skilfully as such usurpers can cover and +defend their weak points, it is difficult to delude wife and mother +and children and the house-friend of the family; fortunately for them, +however, these persons almost always keep a secret which in a manner +touches the honor of all, and not unfrequently go so far as to help to +foist the imposture upon the public. And if, thanks to such domestic +conspiracy, many a noodle passes current for a man of ability, on the +other hand many another who has real ability is taken for a noodle to +redress the balance, and the total average of this kind of false coin +in circulation in the state is a pretty constant quantity. + +Bethink yourself now of the part to be played by a clever woman quick +to think and feel, mated with a husband of this kind, and can you not +see a vision of lives full of sorrow and self-sacrifice? Nothing upon +earth can repay such hearts so full of love and tender tact. Put a +strong-willed woman in this wretched situation, and she will force a +way out of it for herself by a crime, like Catherine II., whom men +nevertheless style "the Great." But these women are not all seated +upon thrones, they are for the most part doomed to domestic +unhappiness none the less terrible because obscure. + +Those who seek consolation in this present world for their woes often +effect nothing but a change of ills if they remain faithful to their +duties; or they commit a sin if they break the laws for their +pleasure. All these reflections are applicable to Julie's domestic +life. + +Before the fall of Napoleon nobody was jealous of d'Aiglemont. He was +one colonel among many, an efficient orderly staff-officer, as good a +man as you could find for a dangerous mission, as unfit as well could +be for an important command. D'Aiglemont was looked upon as a dashing +soldier such as the Emperor liked, the kind of man whom his mess +usually calls "a good fellow." The Restoration gave him back his title +of Marquis, and did not find him ungrateful; he followed the Bourbons +into exile at Ghent, a piece of logical loyalty which falsified the +horoscope drawn for him by his late father-in-law, who predicted that +Victor would remain a colonel all his life. After the Hundred Days he +received the appointment of Lieutenant-General, and for the second +time became a marquis; but it was M. d'Aiglemont's ambition to be a +peer of France. He adopted, therefore, the maxims and the politics of +the /Conservateur/, cloaked himself in dissimulation which hid nothing +(there being nothing to hide), cultivated gravity of countenance and +the art of asking questions and saying little, and was taken for a man +of profound wisdom. Nothing drew him from his intrenchments behind the +forms of politeness; he laid in a provision of formulas, and made +lavish use of his stock of the catch-words coined at need in Paris to +give fools the small change for the ore of great ideas and events. +Among men of the world he was reputed a man of taste and discernment; +and as a bigoted upholder of aristocratic opinions he was held up for +a noble character. If by chance he slipped now and again into his old +light-heartedness or levity, others were ready to discover an +undercurrent of diplomatic intention beneath his inanity and +silliness. "Oh! he only says exactly as much as he means to say," +thought these excellent people. + +So d'Aiglemont's defects and good qualities stood him alike in good +stead. He did nothing to forfeit a high military reputation gained by +his dashing courage, for he had never been a commander-in-chief. Great +thoughts surely were engraven upon that manly aristocratic +countenance, which imposed upon every one but his own wife. And when +everybody else believed in the Marquis d'Aiglemont's imaginary +talents, the Marquis persuaded himself before he had done that he was +one of the most remarkable men at Court, where, thanks to his purely +external qualifications, he was in favor and taken at his own +valuation. + +At home, however, M. d'Aiglemont was modest. Instinctively he felt +that his wife, young though she was, was his superior; and out of this +involuntary respect there grew an occult power which the Marquise was +obliged to wield in spite of all her efforts to shake off the burden. +She became her husband's adviser, the director of his actions and his +fortunes. It was an unnatural position; she felt it as something of a +humiliation, a source of pain to be buried in the depths of her heart. +From the first her delicately feminine instinct told her that it is a +far better thing to obey a man of talent than to lead a fool; and that +a young wife compelled to act and think like a man is neither man nor +woman, but a being who lays aside all the charms of her womanhood +along with its misfortunes, yet acquires none of the privileges which +our laws give to the stronger sex. Beneath the surface her life was a +bitter mockery. Was she not compelled to protect her protector, to +worship a hollow idol, a poor creature who flung her the love of a +selfish husband as the wages of her continual self-sacrifice; who saw +nothing in her but the woman; and who either did not think it worth +while, or (wrong quite as deep) did not think at all of troubling +himself about her pleasures, of inquiring into the cause of her low +spirits and dwindling health? And the Marquis, like most men who chafe +under a wife's superiority, saved his self-love by arguing from +Julie's physical feebleness a corresponding lack of mental power, for +which he was pleased to pity her; and he would cry out upon fate which +had given him a sickly girl for a wife. The executioner posed, in +fact, as the victim. + +All the burdens of this dreary lot fell upon the Marquise, who still +must smile upon her foolish lord, and deck a house of mourning with +flowers, and make a parade of happiness in a countenance wan with +secret torture. And with this sense of responsibility for the honor of +both, with the magnificent immolation of self, the young Marquise +unconsciously acquired a wifely dignity, a consciousness of virtue +which became her safeguard amid many dangers. + +Perhaps, if her heart were sounded to the very depths, this intimate +closely hidden wretchedness, following upon her unthinking, girlish +first love, had roused in her an abhorrence of passion; possibly she +had no conception of its rapture, nor of the forbidden but frenzied +bliss for which some women will renounce all the laws of prudence and +the principles of conduct upon which society is based. She put from +her like a dream the thought of bliss and tender harmony of love +promised by Mme. de Listomere-Landon's mature experience, and waited +resignedly for the end of her troubles with a hope that she might die +young. + +Her health had declined daily since her return from Touraine; her life +seemed to be measured to her in suffering; yet her ill-health was +graceful, her malady seemed little more than languor, and might well +be taken by careless eyes for a fine lady's whim of invalidism. + +Her doctors had condemned her to keep to the sofa, and there among her +flowers lay the Marquise, fading as they faded. She was not strong +enough to walk, nor to bear the open air, and only went out in a +closed carriage. Yet with all the marvels of modern luxury and +invention about her, she looked more like an indolent queen than an +invalid. A few of her friends, half in love perhaps with her sad +plight and her fragile look, sure of finding her at home, and +speculating no doubt upon her future restoration to health, would come +to bring her the news of the day, and kept her informed of the +thousand and one small events which fill life in Paris with variety. +Her melancholy, deep and real though it was was still the melancholy +of a woman rich in many ways. The Marquise d'Aiglemont was like a +flower, with a dark insect gnawing at its root. + +Occasionally she went into society, not to please herself, but in +obedience to the exigencies of the position which her husband aspired +to take. In society her beautiful voice and the perfection of her +singing could always gain the social success so gratifying to a young +woman; but what was social success to her, who drew nothing from it +for her heart or her hopes? Her husband did not care for music. And, +moreover, she seldom felt at her ease in salons, where her beauty +attracted homage not wholly disinterested. Her position excited a sort +of cruel compassion, a morbid curiosity. She was suffering from an +inflammatory complaint not infrequently fatal, for which our nosology +as yet has found no name, a complaint spoken of among women in +confidential whispers. In spite of the silence in which her life was +spent, the cause of her ill-health was no secret. She was still but a +girl in spite of her marriage; the slightest glance threw her into +confusion. In her endeavor not to blush, she was always laughing, +always apparently in high spirits; she would never admit that she was +not perfectly well, and anticipated questions as to her health by +shame-stricken subterfuges. + +In 1817, however, an event took place which did much to alleviate +Julie's hitherto deplorable existence. A daughter was born to her, and +she determined to nurse her child herself. For two years motherhood, +its all-absorbing multiplicity of cares and anxious joys, made life +less hard for her. She and her husband lived necessarily apart. Her +physicians predicted improved health, but the Marquise herself put no +faith in these auguries based on theory. Perhaps, like many a one for +whom life has lost its sweetness, she looked forward to death as a +happy termination of the drama. + +But with the beginning of the year 1819 life grew harder than ever. +Even while she congratulated herself upon the negative happiness which +she had contrived to win, she caught a terrifying glimpse of yawning +depths below it. She had passed by degrees out of her husband's life. +Her fine tact and her prudence told her that misfortune must come, and +that not singly, of this cooling of an affection already lukewarm and +wholly selfish. Sure though she was of her ascendency over Victor, and +certain as she felt of his unalterable esteem, she dreaded the +influence of unbridled passions upon a head so empty, so full of rash +self-conceit. + +Julie's friends often found her absorbed in prolonged musings; the +less clairvoyant among them would jestingly ask her what she was +thinking about, as if a young wife would think of nothing but +frivolity, as if there were not almost always a depth of seriousness +in a mother's thoughts. Unhappiness, like great happiness, induces +dreaming. Sometimes as Julie played with her little Helene, she would +gaze darkly at her, giving no reply to the childish questions in which +a mother delights, questioning the present and the future as to the +destiny of this little one. Then some sudden recollection would bring +back the scene of the review at the Tuileries and fill her eyes with +tears. Her father's prophetic warnings rang in her ears, and +conscience reproached her that she had not recognized its wisdom. Her +troubles had all come of her own wayward folly, and often she knew not +which among so many were the hardest to bear. The sweet treasures of +her soul were unheeded, and not only so, she could never succeed in +making her husband understand her, even in the commonest everyday +things. Just as the power to love developed and grew strong and +active, a legitimate channel for the affections of her nature was +denied her, and wedded love was extinguished in grave physical and +mental sufferings. Add to this that she now felt for her husband that +pity closely bordering upon contempt, which withers all affection at +last. Even if she had not learned from conversations with some of her +friends, from examples in life, from sundry occurrences in the great +world, that love can bring ineffable bliss, her own wounds would have +taught her to divine the pure and deep happiness which binds two +kindred souls each to each. + +In the picture which her memory traced of the past, Arthur's frank +face stood out daily nobler and purer; it was but a flash, for upon +that recollection she dared not dwell. The young Englishman's shy, +silent love for her was the one event since her marriage which had +left a lingering sweetness in her darkened and lonely heart. It may be +that all the blighted hopes, all the frustrated longings which +gradually clouded Julie's mind, gathered, by a not unnatural trick of +imagination, about this man--whose manners, sentiments, and character +seemed to have so much in common with her own. This idea still +presented itself to her mind fitfully and vaguely, like a dream; yet +from that dream, which always ended in a sigh, Julie awoke to greater +wretchedness, to keener consciousness of the latent anguish brooding +beneath her imaginary bliss. + +Occasionally her self-pity took wilder and more daring flights. She +determined to have happiness at any cost; but still more often she lay +a helpless victim of an indescribable numbing stupor, the words she +heard had no meaning to her, or the thoughts which arose in her mind +were so vague and indistinct that she could not find language to +express them. Balked of the wishes of her heart, realities jarred +harshly upon her girlish dreams of life, but she was obliged to devour +her tears. To whom could she make complaint? Of whom be understood? +She possessed, moreover, that highest degree of woman's sensitive +pride, the exquisite delicacy of feeling which silences useless +complainings and declines to use an advantage to gain a triumph which +can only humiliate both victor and vanquished. + +Julie tried to endow M. d'Aiglemont with her own abilities and +virtues, flattering herself that thus she might enjoy the happiness +lacking in her lot. All her woman's ingenuity and tack was employed in +making the best of the situation; pure waste of pains unsuspected by +him, whom she thus strengthened in his despotism. There were moments +when misery became an intoxication, expelling all ideas, all self- +control; but, fortunately, sincere piety always brought her back to +one supreme hope; she found a refuge in the belief in a future life, a +wonderful thought which enabled her to take up her painful task +afresh. No elation of victory followed those terrible inward battles +and throes of anguish; no one knew of those long hours of sadness; her +haggard glances met no response from human eyes, and during the brief +moments snatched by chance for weeping, her bitter tears fell unheeded +and in solitude. + +One evening in January 1820, the Marquise became aware of the full +gravity of the crisis, gradually brought on by force of circumstances. +When a husband and wife know each other thoroughly, and their relation +has long been a matter of use and wont, when the wife has learned to +interpret every slightest sign, when her quick insight discerns +thoughts and facts which her husband keeps from her, a chance word, or +a remark so carelessly let fall in the first instance, seems, upon +subsequent reflection, like the swift breaking out of light. A wife +not seldom suddenly awakes upon the brink of a precipice or in the +depths of the abyss; and thus it was with the Marquise. She was +feeling glad to have been left to herself for some days, when the real +reason of her solitude flashed upon her. Her husband, whether fickle +and tired of her, or generous and full of pity for her, was hers no +longer. + +In the moment of that discovery she forgot herself, her sacrifices, +all that she had passed through, she remembered only that she was a +mother. Looking forward, she thought of her daughter's fortune, of the +future welfare of the one creature through whom some gleams of +happiness came to her, of her Helene, the only possession which bound +her to life. + +Then Julie wished to live to save her child from a stepmother's +terrible thraldom, which might crush her darling's life. Upon this new +vision of threatened possibilities followed one of those paroxysms of +thought at fever-heat which consume whole years of life. + +Henceforward husband and wife were doomed to be separated by a whole +world of thought, and all the weight of that world she must bear +alone. Hitherto she had felt sure that Victor loved her, in so far as +he could be said to love; she had been the slave of pleasures which +she did not share; to-day the satisfaction of knowing that she +purchased his contentment with her tears was hers no longer. She was +alone in the world, nothing was left to her now but a choice of evils. +In the calm stillness of the night her despondency drained her of all +her strength. She rose from her sofa beside the dying fire, and stood +in the lamplight gazing, dry-eyed, at her child, when M. d'Aiglemont +came in. He was in high spirits. Julie called to him to admire Helene +as she lay asleep, but he met his wife's enthusiasm with a +commonplace: + +"All children are nice at that age." + +He closed the curtains about the cot after a careless kiss on the +child's forehead. Then he turned his eyes on Julie, took her hand and +drew her to sit beside him on the sofa, where she had been sitting +with such dark thoughts surging up in her mind. + +"You are looking very handsome to-night, Mme. d'Aiglemont," he +exclaimed, with the gaiety intolerable to the Marquise, who knew its +emptiness so well. + +"Where have you spent the evening?" she asked, with a pretence of +complete indifference. + +"At Mme. de Serizy's." + +He had taken up a fire-screen, and was looking intently at the gauze. +He had not noticed the traces of tears on his wife's face. Julie +shuddered. Words could not express the overflowing torrent of thoughts +which must be forced down into inner depths. + +"Mme. de Serizy is giving a concert on Monday, and is dying for you to +go. You have not been anywhere for some time past, and that is enough +to set her longing to see you at her house. She is a good-natured +woman, and very fond of you. I should be glad if you would go; I all +but promised that you should----" + +"I will go." + +There was something so penetrating, so significant in the tones of +Julie's voice, in her accent, in the glance that went with the words, +that Victor, startled out of his indifference, stared at his wife in +astonishment. + +That was all, Julie had guessed that it was Mme. de Serizy who had +stolen her husband's heart from her. Her brooding despair benumbed +her. She appeared to be deeply interested in the fire. Victor +meanwhile still played with the fire-screen. He looked bored, like a +man who has enjoyed himself elsewhere, and brought home the consequent +lassitude. He yawned once or twice, then he took up a candle in one +hand, and with the other languidly sought his wife's neck for the +usual embrace; but Julie stooped and received the good-night kiss upon +her forehead; the formal, loveless grimace seemed hateful to her at +that moment. + +As soon as the door closed upon Victor, his wife sank into a seat. Her +limbs tottered beneath her, she burst into tears. None but those who +have endured the torture of some such scene can fully understand the +anguish that it means, or divine the horror of the long-drawn tragedy +arising out of it. + +Those simple, foolish words, the silence that followed between the +husband and wife, the Marquis' gesture and expression, the way in +which he sat before the fire, his attitude as he made that futile +attempt to put a kiss on his wife's throat,--all these things made up +a dark hour for Julie, and the catastrophe of the drama of her sad and +lonely life. In her madness she knelt down before the sofa, burying +her face in it to shut out everything from sight, and prayed to +Heaven, putting a new significance into the words of the evening +prayer, till it became a cry from the depths of her own soul, which +would have gone to her husband's heart if he had heard it. + +The following week she spent in deep thought for her future, utterly +overwhelmed by this new trouble. She made a study of it, trying to +discover a way to regain her ascendency over the Marquis, scheming how +to live long enough to watch over her daughter's happiness, yet to +live true to her own heart. Then she made up her mind. She would +struggle with her rival. She would shine once more in society. She +would feign the love which she could no longer feel, she would +captivate her husband's fancy; and when she had lured him into her +power, she would coquet with him like a capricious mistress who takes +delight in tormenting a lover. This hateful strategy was the only +possible way out of her troubles. In this way she would become +mistress of the situation; she would prescribe her own sufferings at +her good pleasure, and reduce them by enslaving her husband, and +bringing him under a tyrannous yoke. She felt not the slightest +remorse for the hard life which he should lead. At a bound she reached +cold, calculating indifference--for her daughter's sake. She had +gained a sudden insight into the treacherous, lying arts of degraded +women; the wiles of coquetry, the revolting cunning which arouses such +profound hatred in men at the mere suspicion of innate corruption in a +woman. + +Julie's feminine vanity, her interests, and a vague desire to inflict +punishment, all wrought unconsciously with the mother's love within +her to force her into a path where new sufferings awaited her. But her +nature was too noble, her mind too fastidious, and, above all things, +too open, to be the accomplice of these frauds for very long. +Accustomed as she was to self-scrutiny, at the first step in vice--for +vice it was--the cry of conscience must inevitably drown the clamor of +the passions and of selfishness. Indeed, in a young wife whose heart +is still pure, whose love has never been mated, the very sentiment of +motherhood is overpowered by modesty. Modesty; is not all womanhood +summed up in that? But just now Julie would not see any danger, +anything wrong, in her life. + +She went to Mme. de Serizy's concert. Her rival had expected to see a +pallid, drooping woman. The Marquise wore rouge, and appeared in all +the splendor of a toilet which enhanced her beauty. + +Mme. de Serizy was one of those women who claim to exercise a sort of +sway over fashions and society in Paris; she issued her decrees, saw +them received in her own circle, and it seemed to her that all the +world obeyed them. She aspired to epigram, she set up for an authority +in matters of taste. Literature, politics, men and women, all alike +were submitted to her censorship, and the lady herself appeared to +defy the censorship of others. Her house was in every respect a model +of good taste. + +Julie triumphed over the Countess in her own salon, filled as it was +with beautiful women and women of fashion. Julie's liveliness and +sparkling wit gathered all the most distinguished men in the rooms +about her. Her costume was faultless, for the despair of the women, +who one and all envied her the fashion of her dress, and attributed +the moulded outline of her bodice to the genius of some unknown +dressmaker, for women would rather believe in miracles worked by the +science of chiffons than in the grace and perfection of the form +beneath. + +When Julie went to the piano to sing Desdemona's song, the men in the +rooms flocked about her to hear the celebrated voice so long mute, and +there was a deep silence. The Marquise saw the heads clustered thickly +in the doorways, saw all eyes turned upon her, and a sharp thrill of +excitement quivered through her. She looked for her husband, gave him +a coquettish side-glance, and it pleased her to see that his vanity +was gratified to no small degree. In the joy of triumph she sang the +first part of /Al piu salice/. Her audience was enraptured. Never had +Malibran nor Pasta sung with expression and intonation so perfect. But +at the beginning of the second part she glanced over the glistening +groups and saw--Arthur. He never took his eyes from her face. A quick +shudder thrilled through her, and her voice faltered. Up hurried Mme. +de Serizy from her place. + +"What is it, dear? Oh! poor little thing! she is in such weak health; +I was so afraid when I saw her begin a piece so far beyond her +strength." + +The song was interrupted. Julie was vexed. She had not courage to sing +any longer, and submitted to her rival's treacherous sympathy. There +was a whisper among the women. The incident led to discussions; they +guessed that the struggle had begun between the Marquise and Mme. de +Serizy, and their tongues did not spare the latter. + +Julie's strange, perturbing presentiments were suddenly realized. +Through her preoccupation with Arthur she had loved to imagine that +with that gentle, refined face he must remain faithful to his first +love. There were times when she felt proud that this ideal, pure, and +passionate young love should have been hers; the passion of the young +lover whose thoughts are all for her to whom he dedicates every moment +of his life, who blushes as a woman blushes, thinks as a woman might +think, forgetting ambition, fame, and fortune in devotion to his love, +--she need never fear a rival. All these things she had fondly and +idly dreamed of Arthur; now all at once it seemed to her that her +dream had come true. In the young Englishman's half-feminine face she +read the same deep thoughts, the same pensive melancholy, the same +passive acquiescence in a painful lot, and an endurance like her own. +She saw herself in him. Trouble and sadness are the most eloquent of +love's interpreters, and response is marvelously swift between two +suffering creatures, for in them the powers of intuition and of +assimilation of facts and ideas are well-nigh unerring and perfect. So +with the violence of the shock the Marquise's eyes were opened to the +whole extent of the future danger. She was only too glad to find a +pretext for her nervousness in her chronic ill-health, and willingly +submitted to be overwhelmed by Mme. de Serizy's insidious compassion. + +That incident of the song caused talk and discussion which differed +with the various groups. Some pitied Julie's fate, and regretted that +such a remarkable woman was lost to society; others fell to wondering +what the cause of her ill-health and seclusion could be. + +"Well, now, my dear Ronquerolles," said the Marquis, addressing Mme. +de Serizy's brother, "you used to envy me my good fortune, and you +used to blame me for my infidelities. Pshaw, you would not find much +to envy in my lot, if, like me, you had a pretty wife so fragile that +for the past two years you might not so much as kiss her hand for fear +of damaging her. Do not you encumber yourself with one of those +fragile ornaments, only fit to put in a glass case, so brittle and so +costly that you are always obliged to be careful of them. They tell me +that you are afraid of snow or wet for that fine horse of yours; how +often do you ride him? That is just my own case. It is true that my +wife gives me no ground for jealousy, but my marriage is purely +ornamental business; if you think that I am a married man, you are +grossly mistaken. So there is some excuse for my unfaithfulness. I +should dearly like to know what you gentlemen who laugh at me would do +in my place. Not many men would be so considerate as I am. I am sure," +(here he lowered his voice) "that Mme. d'Aiglemont suspects nothing. +And then, of course, I have no right to complain at all; I am very +well off. Only there is nothing more trying for a man who feels things +than the sight of suffering in a poor creature to whom you are +attached----" + +"You must have a very sensitive nature, then," said M. de +Ronquerolles, "for you are not often at home." + +Laughter followed on the friendly epigram; but Arthur, who made one of +the group, maintained a frigid imperturbability in his quality of an +English gentleman who takes gravity for the very basis of his being. +D'Aiglemont's eccentric confidence, no doubt, had kindled some kind of +hope in Arthur, for he stood patiently awaiting an opportunity of a +word with the Marquis. He had not to wait long. + +"My Lord Marquis," he said, "I am unspeakably pained to see the state +of Mme. d'Aiglemont's health. I do not think that you would talk +jestingly about it if you knew that unless she adopts a certain course +of treatment she must die miserably. If I use this language to you, it +is because I am in a manner justified in using it, for I am quite +certain that I can save Mme. d'Aiglemont's life and restore her to +health and happiness. It is odd, no doubt, that a man of my rank +should be a physician, yet nevertheless chance determined that I +should study medicine. I find life dull enough here," he continued, +affecting a cold selfishness to gain his ends, "it makes no difference +to me whether I spend my time and travel for the benefit of a +suffering fellow-creature, or waste it in Paris on some nonsense or +other. It is very, very seldom that a cure is completed in these +complaints, for they require constant care, time, and patience, and, +above all things, money. Travel is needed, and a punctilious following +out of prescriptions, by no means unpleasant, and varied daily. Two +/gentlemen/" (laying a stress on the word in its English sense) "can +understand each other. I give you warning that if you accept my +proposal, you shall be a judge of my conduct at every moment. I will +do nothing without consulting you, without your superintendence, and I +will answer for the success of my method if you will consent to follow +it. Yes, unless you wish to be Mme. d'Aiglemont's husband no longer, +and that before long," he added in the Marquis' ear. + +The Marquis laughed. "One thing is certain--that only an Englishman +could make me such an extraordinary proposal," he said. "Permit me to +leave it unaccepted and unrejected. I will think it over; and my wife +must be consulted first in any case." + +Julie had returned to the piano. This time she sang a song from +/Semiramide, Son regina, son guerriera/, and the whole room applauded, +a stifled outburst of wellbred acclamation which proved that the +Faubourg Saint-Germain had been roused to enthusiasm by her singing. + +The evening was over. D'Aiglemont brought his wife home, and Julie saw +with uneasy satisfaction that her first attempt had at once been +successful. Her husband had been roused out of indifference by the +part which she had played, and now he meant to honor her with such a +passing fancy as he might bestow upon some opera nymph. It amused +Julie that she, a virtuous married woman, should be treated thus. She +tried to play with her power, but at the outset her kindness broke +down once more, and she received the most terrible of all the lessons +held in store for her by fate. + +Between two and three o'clock in the morning Julie sat up, sombre and +moody, beside her sleeping husband, in the room dimly lighted by the +flickering lamp. Deep silence prevailed. Her agony of remorse had +lasted near an hour; how bitter her tears had been none perhaps can +realize save women who have known such an experience as hers. Only +such natures as Julie's can feel her loathing for a calculated caress, +the horror of a loveless kiss, of the heart's apostasy followed by +dolorous prostitution. She despised herself; she cursed marriage. She +could have longed for death; perhaps if it had not been for a cry from +her child, she would have sprung from the window and dashed herself +upon the pavement. M. d'Aiglemont slept on peacefully at her side; his +wife's hot dropping tears did not waken him. + +But next morning Julie could be gay. She made a great effort to look +happy, to hide, not her melancholy, as heretofore, but an insuperable +loathing. From that day she no longer regarded herself as a blameless +wife. Had she not been false to herself? Why should she not play a +double part in the future, and display astounding depths of cunning in +deceiving her husband? In her there lay a hitherto undiscovered latent +depravity, lacking only opportunity, and her marriage was the cause. + +Even now she had asked herself why she should struggle with love, +when, with her heart and her whole nature in revolt, she gave herself +to the husband whom she loved no longer. Perhaps, who knows? some +piece of fallacious reasoning, some bit of special pleading, lies at +the root of all sins, of all crimes. How shall society exist unless +every individual of which it is composed will make the necessary +sacrifices of inclination demanded by its laws? If you accept the +benefits of civilized society, do you not by implication engage to +observe the conditions, the conditions of its very existence? And yet, +starving wretches, compelled to respect the laws of property, are not +less to be pitied than women whose natural instincts and sensitiveness +are turned to so many avenues of pain. + +A few days after that scene of which the secret lay buried in the +midnight couch, d'Aiglemont introduced Lord Grenville. Julie gave the +guest a stiffly polite reception, which did credit to her powers of +dissimulation. Resolutely she silenced her heart, veiled her eyes, +steadied her voice, and she kept her future in her own hands. Then, +when by these devices, this innate woman-craft, as it may be called, +she had discovered the full extent of the love which she inspired, +Mme. d'Aiglemont welcomed the hope of a speedy cure, and no longer +opposed her husband, who pressed her to accept the young doctor's +offer. Yet she declined to trust herself with Lord Grenville until +after some further study of his words and manner, she could feel +certain that he had sufficient generosity to endure his pain in +silence. She had absolute power over him, and she had begun to abuse +that power already. Was she not a woman? + +Montcontour is an old manor-house build upon the sandy cliffs above +the Loire, not far from the bridge where Julie's journey was +interrupted in 1814. It is a picturesque, white chateau, with turrets +covered with fine stone carving like Mechlin lace; a chateau such as +you often see in Touraine, spick and span, ivy clad, standing among +its groves of mulberry trees and vineyards, with its hollow walks, its +stone balustrades, and cellars mined in the rock escarpments mirrored +in the Loire. The roofs of Montcontour gleam in the sun; the whole +land glows in the burning heat. Traces of the romantic charm of Spain +and the south hover about the enchanting spot. The breeze brings the +scent of bell flowers and golden broom, the air is soft, all about you +lies a sunny land, a land which casts its dreamy spell over your soul, +a land of languor and of soft desire, a fair, sweet-scented country, +where pain is lulled to sleep and passion wakes. No heart is cold for +long beneath its clear sky, beside its sparkling waters. One ambition +dies after another, and you sink into serene content and repose, as +the sun sinks at the end of the day swathed about with purple and +azure. + + + +One warm August evening in 1821 two people were climbing the paths cut +in the crags above the chateau, doubtless for the sake of the view +from the heights above. The two were Julie and Lord Grenville, but +this Julie seemed to be a new creature. The unmistakable color of +health glowed in her face. Overflowing vitality had brought a light +into her eyes, which sparkled through a moist film with that liquid +brightness which gives such irresistible charm to the eyes of +children. She was radiant with smiles; she felt the joy of living and +all the possibilities of life. From the very way in which she lifted +her little feet, it was easy to see that no suffering trammeled her +lightest movements; there was no heaviness nor languor in her eyes, +her voice, as heretofore. Under the white silk sunshade which screened +her from the hot sunlight, she looked like some young bride beneath +her veil, or a maiden waiting to yield to the magical enchantments of +Love. + +Arthur led her with a lover's care, helping her up the pathway as if +she had been a child, finding the smoothest ways, avoiding the stones +for her, bidding her see glimpses of distance, or some flower beside +the path, always with the unfailing goodness, the same delicate design +in all that he did; the intuitive sense of this woman's wellbeing +seemed to be innate in him, and as much, nay, perhaps more, a part of +his being as the pulse of his own life. + +The patient and her doctor went step for step. There was nothing +strange for them in a sympathy which seemed to have existed since the +day when they first walked together. One will swayed them both; they +stopped as their senses received the same impression; every word and +every glance told of the same thought in either mind. They had climbed +up through the vineyards, and now they turned to sit on one of the +long white stones, quarried out of the caves in the hillside; but +Julie stood awhile gazing out over the landscape. + +"What a beautiful country!" she cried. "Let us put up a tent and live +here. Victor, Victor, do come up here!" + +M. d'Aiglemont answered by a halloo from below. He did not, however, +hurry himself, merely giving his wife a glance from time to time when +the windings of the path gave him a glimpse of her. Julie breathed the +air with delight. She looked up at Arthur, giving him one of those +subtle glances in which a clever woman can put the whole of her +thought. + +"Ah, I should like to live here always," she said. "Would it be +possible to tire of this beautiful valley?--What is the picturesque +river called, do you know?" + +"That is the Cise." + +"The Cise," she repeated. "And all this country below, before us?" + +"Those are the low hills above the Cher." + +"And away to the right? Ah, that is Tours. Only see how fine the +cathedral towers look in the distance." + +She was silent, and let fall the hand which she had stretched out +towards the view upon Arthur's. Both admired the wide landscape made +up of so much blended beauty. Neither of them spoke. The murmuring +voice of the river, the pure air, and the cloudless heaven were all in +tune with their thronging thoughts and their youth and the love in +their hearts. + +"Oh! /mon Dieu/, how I love this country!" Julie continued, with +growing and ingenuous enthusiasm. "You lived here for a long while, +did you not?" she added after a pause. + +A thrill ran through Lord Grenville at her words. + +"It was down there," he said, in a melancholy voice, indicating as he +spoke a cluster of walnut trees by the roadside, "that I, a prisoner, +saw you for the first time." + +"Yes, but even at that time I felt very sad. This country looked wild +to me then, but now----" She broke off, and Lord Grenville did not +dare to look at her. + +"All this pleasure I owe to you," Julie began at last, after a long +silence. "Only the living can feel the joy of life, and until now have +I not been dead to it all? You have given me more than health, you +have made me feel all its worth--" + +Women have an inimitable talent for giving utterance to strong +feelings in colorless words; a woman's eloquence lies in tone and +gesture, manner and glance. Lord Grenville hid his face in his hands, +for his tears filled his eyes. This was Julie's first word of thanks +since they left Paris a year ago. + +For a whole year he had watched over the Marquise, putting his whole +self into the task. D'Aiglemont seconding him, he had taken her first +to Aix, then to la Rochelle, to be near the sea. From moment to moment +he had watched the changes worked in Julie's shattered constitution by +his wise and simple prescriptions. He had cultivated her health as an +enthusiastic gardener might cultivate a rare flower. Yet, to all +appearance, the Marquise had quietly accepted Arthur's skill and care +with the egoism of a spoiled Parisienne, or like a courtesan who has +no idea of the cost of things, nor of the worth of a man, and judges +of both by their comparative usefulness to her. + +The influence of places upon us is a fact worth remarking. If +melancholy comes over us by the margin of a great water, another +indelible law of our nature so orders it that the mountains exercise a +purifying influence upon our feelings, and among the hills passion +gains in depth by all that it apparently loses in vivacity. Perhaps it +was the light of the wide country by the Loire, the height of the fair +sloping hillside on which the lovers sat, that induced the calm bliss +of the moment when the whole extent of the passion that lies beneath a +few insignificant-sounding words is divined for the first time with a +delicious sense of happiness. + +Julie had scarcely spoken the words which had moved Lord Grenville so +deeply, when a caressing breeze ruffled the treetops and filled the +air with coolness from the river; a few clouds crossed the sky, and +the soft cloud-shadows brought out all the beauty of the fair land +below. + +Julie turned away her head, lest Arthur should see the tears which she +succeeded in repressing; his emotion had spread at once to her. She +dried her eyes, but she dared not raise them lest he should read the +excess of joy in a glance. Her woman's instinct told her that during +this hour of danger she must hide her love in the depths of her heart. +Yet silence might prove equally dangerous, and Julie saw that Lord +Grenville was unable to utter a word. She went on, therefore, in a +gentle voice: + +"You are touched by what I have said. Perhaps such a quick outburst of +feeling is the way in which a gracious and kind nature like yours +reverses a mistaken judgment. You must have thought me ungrateful when +I was cold and reserved, or cynical and hard, all through the journey +which, fortunately, is very near its end. I should not have been +worthy of your care if I had been unable to appreciate it. I have +forgotten nothing. Alas! I shall forget nothing, not the anxious way +in which you watched over me as a mother watches over her child, nor, +and above all else, the noble confidence of our life as brother and +sister, the delicacy of your conduct--winning charms, against which we +women are defenceless. My lord, it is out of my power to make you a +return----" + +At these words Julie hastily moved further away, and Lord Grenville +made no attempt to detain her. She went to a rock not far away, and +there sat motionless. What either felt remained a secret known to each +alone; doubtless they wept in silence. The singing of the birds about +them, so blithe, so overflowing with tenderness at sunset time, could +only increase the storm of passion which had driven them apart. Nature +took up their story for them, and found a language for the love of +which they did not dare to speak. + +"And now, my lord," said Julie, and she came and stood before Arthur +with a great dignity, which allowed her to take his hand in hers. "I +am going to ask you to hallow and purify the life which you have given +back to me. Here, we will part. I know," she added, as she saw how +white his face grew, "I know that I am repaying you for your devotion +by requiring of you a sacrifice even greater than any which you have +hitherto made for me, sacrifices so great that they should receive +some better recompense than this. . . . But it must be. . . You must +not stay in France. By laying this command upon you, do I not give you +rights which shall be held sacred?" she added, holding his hand +against her beating heart. + +"Yes," said Arthur, and he rose. + +He looked in the direction of d'Aiglemont, who appeared on the +opposite side of one of the hollow walks with the child in his arms. +He had scrambled up on the balustrade by the chateau that little +Helene might jump down. + +"Julie, I will not say a word of my love; we understand each other too +well. Deeply and carefully though I have hidden the pleasures of my +heart, you have shared them all, I feel it, I know it, I see it. And +now, at this moment, as I receive this delicious proof of the constant +sympathy of our hearts, I must go. . . . Cunning schemes for getting +rid of him have crossed my mind too often; the temptation might be +irresistible if I stayed with you." + +"I had the same thought," she said, a look of pained surprise in her +troubled face. + +Yet in her tone and involuntary shudder there was such virtue, such +certainty of herself, won in many a hard-fought battle with a love +that spoke in Julie's tones and involuntary gestures, that Lord +Grenville stood thrilled with admiration of her. The mere shadow of a +crime had been dispelled from that clear conscience. The religious +sentiment enthroned on the fair forehead could not but drive away the +evil thoughts that arise unbidden, engendered by our imperfect nature, +thoughts which make us aware of the grandeur and the perils of human +destiny. + +"And then," she said, "I should have drawn down your scorn upon me, +and--I should have been saved," she added, and her eyes fell. "To be +lowered in your eyes, what is that but death?" + +For a moment the two heroic lovers were silent, choking down their +sorrow. Good or ill, it seemed that their thoughts were loyally one, +and the joys in the depths of their heart were no more experiences +apart than the pain which they strove most anxiously to hide. + +"I have no right to complain," she said after a while, "my misery is +of my own making," and she raised her tear-filled eyes to the sky. + +"Perhaps you don't remember it, but that is the place where we met +each other for the first time," shouted the General from below, and he +waved his hand towards the distance. "There, down yonder, near those +poplars!" + +The Englishman nodded abruptly by way of answer. + +"So I was bound to die young and to know no happiness," Julie +continued. "Yes, do not think that I live. Sorrow is just as fatal as +the dreadful disease which you have cured. I do not think that I am to +blame. No. My love is stronger than I am, and eternal; but all +unconsciously it grew in me; and I will not be guilty through my love. +Nevertheless, though I shall be faithful to my conscience as a wife, +to my duties as a mother, I will be no less faithful to the instincts +of my heart. Hear me," she cried in an unsteady voice, "henceforth I +belong to /him/ no longer." + +By a gesture, dreadful to see in its undisguised loathing she +indicated her husband. + +"The social code demands that I shall make his existence happy," she +continued. "I will obey, I will be his servant, my devotion to him +shall be boundless; but from to-day I am a widow. I will neither be a +prostitute in my own eyes nor in those of the world. If I do not +belong to M. d'Aiglemont, I will never belong to another. You shall +have nothing, nothing save this which you have wrung from me. This is +the doom which I have passed upon myself," she said, looking proudly +at him. "And now, know this--if you give way to a single criminal +thought, M. d'Aiglemont's widow will enter a convent in Spain or +Italy. By an evil chance we have spoken of our love; perhaps that +confession was bound to come; but our hearts must never vibrate again +like this. To-morrow you will receive a letter from England, and we +shall part, and never see each other again." + +The effort had exhausted all Julie's strength. She felt her knees +trembling, and a feeling of deathly cold came over her. Obeying a +woman's instinct, she sat down, lest she should sink into Arthur's +arms. + +"/Julie!/" cried Lord Grenville. + +The sharp cry rang through the air like a crack of thunder. Till then +he could not speak; now, all the words which the dumb lover could not +utter gathered themselves in that heartrending appeal. + +"Well, what is wrong with her?" asked the General, who had hurried up +at that cry, and now suddenly confronted the two. + +"Nothing serious," said Julie, with that wonderful self-possession +which a woman's quick-wittedness usually brings to her aid when it is +most called for. "The chill, damp air under the walnut tree made me +feel quite faint just now, and that must have alarmed this doctor of +mine. Does he not look on me as a very nearly finished work of art? He +was startled, I suppose, by the idea of seeing it destroyed." With +ostentatious coolness she took Lord Grenville's arm, smiled at her +husband, took a last look at the landscape, and went down the pathway, +drawing her traveling companion with her. + +"This certainly is the grandest view that we have seen," she said; "I +shall never forget it. Just look, Victor, what distance, what an +expanse of country, and what variety in it! I have fallen in love with +this landscape." + +Her laughter was almost hysterical, but to her husband it sounded +natural. She sprang gaily down into the hollow pathway and vanished. + +"What?" she cried, when they had left M. d'Aiglemont far behind. "So +soon? Is it so soon? Another moment, and we can neither of us be +ourselves; we shall never be ourselves again, our life is over, in +short--" + +"Let us go slowly," said Lord Grenville, "the carriages are still some +way off, and if we may put words into our glances, our hearts may live +a little longer." + +They went along the footpath by the river in the late evening light, +almost in silence; such vague words as they uttered, low as the murmur +of the Loire, stirred their souls to the depths. Just as the sun sank, +a last red gleam from the sky fell over them; it was like a mournful +symbol of their ill-starred love. + +The General, much put out because the carriage was not at the spot +where they had left it, followed and outstripped the pair without +interrupting their converse. Lord Grenville's high minded and delicate +behavior throughout the journey had completely dispelled the Marquis' +suspicions. For some time past he had left his wife in freedom, +reposing confidence in the noble amateur's Punic faith. Arthur and +Julie walked on together in the close and painful communion of two +hearts laid waste. + +So short a while ago as they climbed the cliffs at Montcontour, there +had been a vague hope in either mind, an uneasy joy for which they +dared not account to themselves; but now as they came along the +pathway by the river, they pulled down the frail structure of +imaginings, the child's cardcastle, on which neither of them had dared +to breathe. That hope was over. + +That very evening Lord Grenville left them. His last look at Julie +made it miserably plain that since the moment when sympathy revealed +the full extent of a tyrannous passion, he did well to mistrust +himself. + +The next morning, M. d'Aiglemont and his wife took their places in the +carriage without their traveling companion, and were whirled swiftly +along the road to Blois. The Marquise was constantly put in mind of +the journey made in 1814, when as yet she know nothing of love, and +had been almost ready to curse it for its persistency. Countless +forgotten impressions were revived. The heart has its own memory. A +woman who cannot recollect the most important great events will +recollect through a lifetime things which appealed to her feelings; +and Julie d'Aiglemont found all the most trifling details of that +journey laid up in her mind. It was pleasant to her to recall its +little incidents as they occurred to her one by one; there were points +in the road when she could even remember the thoughts that passed +through her mind when she saw them first. + +Victor had fallen violently in love with his wife since she had +recovered the freshness of her youth and all her beauty, and now he +pressed close to her side like a lover. Once he tried to put his arm +round her, but she gently disengaged herself, finding some excuse or +other for evading the harmless caress. In a little while she shrank +from the close contact with Victor, the sensation of warmth +communicated by their position. She tried to take the unoccupied place +opposite, but Victor gallantly resigned the back seat to her. For this +attention she thanked him with a sigh, whereupon he forgot himself, +and the Don Juan of the garrison construed his wife's melancholy to +his own advantage, so that at the end of the day she was compelled to +speak with a firmness which impressed him. + +"You have all but killed me, dear, once already, as you know," said +she. "If I were still an inexperienced girl, I might begin to +sacrifice myself afresh; but I am a mother, I have a daughter to bring +up, and I owe as much to her as to you. Let us resign ourselves to a +misfortune which affects us both alike. You are the less to be pitied. +Have you not, as it is, found consolations which duty and the honor of +both, and (stronger still) which Nature forbids to me? Stay," she +added, "you carelessly left three letters from Mme. de Serizy in a +drawer; here they are. My silence about this matter should make it +plain to you that in me you have a wife who has plenty of indulgence +and does not exact from you the sacrifices prescribed by the law. But +I have thought enough to see that the roles of husband and wife are +quite different, and that the wife alone is predestined to misfortune. +My virtue is based upon firmly fixed and definite principles. I shall +live blamelessly, but let me live." + +The Marquis was taken aback by a logic which women grasp with the +clear insight of love, and overawed by a certain dignity natural to +them at such crises. Julie's instinctive repugnance for all that +jarred upon her love and the instincts of her heart is one of the +fairest qualities of woman, and springs perhaps from a natural virtue +which neither laws nor civilization can silence. And who shall dare to +blame women? If a woman can silence the exclusive sentiment which bids +her "forsake all other" for the man whom she loves, what is she but a +priest who has lost his faith? If a rigid mind here and there condemns +Julie for a sort of compromise between love and wifely duty, +impassioned souls will lay it to her charge as a crime. To be thus +blamed by both sides shows one of two things very clearly--that misery +necessarily follows in the train of broken laws, or else that there +are deplorable flaws in the institutions upon which society in Europe +is based. + + + +Two years went by. M. and Mme. d'Aiglemont went their separate ways, +leading their life in the world, meeting each other more frequently +abroad than at home, a refinement upon divorce, in which many a +marriage in the great world is apt to end. + +One evening, strange to say, found husband and wife in their own +drawing-room. Mme. d'Aiglemont had been dining at home with a friend, +and the General, who almost invariably dined in town, had not gone out +for once. + +"There is a pleasant time in store for you, /Madame la Marquise/," +said M. d'Aiglemont, setting his coffee cup down upon the table. He +looked at the guest, Mme. de Wimphen, and half-pettishly, half- +mischievously added, "I am starting off for several days' sport with +the Master of the Hounds. For a whole week, at any rate, you will be a +widow in good earnest; just what you wish for, I suppose.--Guillaume," +he said to the servant who entered, "tell them to put the horses in." + +Mme. de Wimphen was the friend to whom Julie had begun the letter upon +her marriage. The glances exchanged by the two women said plainly that +in her Julie had found an intimate friend, an indulgent and invaluable +confidante. Mme. de Wimphen's marriage had been a very happy one. +Perhaps it was her own happiness which secured her devotion to Julie's +unhappy life, for under such circumstances, dissimilarity of destiny +is nearly always a strong bond of union. + +"Is the hunting season not over yet?" asked Julie, with an indifferent +glance at her husband. + +"The Master of the Hounds comes when and where he pleases, madame. We +are going boar-hunting in the Royal Forest." + +"Take care that no accident happens to you." + +"Accidents are usually unforeseen," he said, smiling. + +"The carriage is ready, my Lord Marquis," said the servant. + +"Madame, if I should fall a victim to the boar--" he continued, with a +suppliant air. + +"What does this mean?" inquired Mme. de Wimphen. + +"Come, come," said Mme. d'Aiglemont, turning to her husband; smiling +at her friend as if to say, "You will soon see." + +Julie held up her head; but as her husband came close to her, she +swerved at the last, so that his kiss fell not on her throat, but on +the broad frill about it. + +"You will be my witness before heaven now that I need a firman to +obtain this little grace of her," said the Marquis, addressing Mme. de +Wimphen. "This is how this wife of mine understands love. She has +brought me to this pass, by what trickery I am at a loss to +know. . . . A pleasant time to you!" and he went. + +"But your poor husband is really very good-natured," cried Louisa de +Wimphen, when the two women were alone together. "He loves you." + +"Oh! not another syllable after that last word. The name I bear makes +me shudder----" + +"Yes, but Victor obeys you implicitly," said Louisa. + +"His obedience is founded in part upon the great esteem which I have +inspired in him. As far as outward things go, I am a model wife. I +make his house pleasant to him; I shut my eyes to his intrigues; I +touch not a penny of his fortune. He is free to squander the interest +exactly as he pleases; I only stipulate that he shall not touch the +principal. At this price I have peace. He neither explains nor +attempts to explain my life. But though my husband is guided by me, +that does not say that I have nothing to fear from his character. I am +a bear leader who daily trembles lest the muzzle should give way at +last. If Victor once took it into his head that I had forfeited my +right to his esteem, what would happen next I dare not think; for he +is violent, full of personal pride, and vain above all things. While +his wits are not keen enough to enable him to behave discreetly at a +delicate crisis when his lowest passions are involved, his character +is weak, and he would very likely kill me provisionally even if he +died of remorse next day. But there is no fear of that fatal good +fortune." + +A brief pause followed. Both women were thinking of the real cause of +this state of affairs. Julie gave Louisa a glance which revealed her +thoughts. + +"I have been cruelly obeyed," she cried. "Yet I never forbade him to +write to me. Oh! /he/ has forgotten me, and he is right. If his life +had been spoiled, it would have been too tragical; one life is enough, +is it not? Would you believe it, dear; I read English newspapers +simply to see his name in print. But he has not yet taken his seat in +the House of Lords." + +"So you know English." + +"Did I not tell you?--Yes, I learned." + +"Poor little one!" cried Louisa, grasping Julie's hand in hers. "How +can you still live?" + +"That is the secret," said the Marquise, with an involuntary gesture +almost childlike in its simplicity. "Listen, I take laudanum. That +duchess in London suggested the idea; you know the story, Maturin made +use of it in one of his novels. My drops are very weak, but I sleep; I +am only awake for seven hours in the day, and those house I spend with +my child." + +Louisa gazed into the fire. The full extent of her friend's misery was +opening out before her for the first time, and she dared not look into +her face. + +"Keep my secret, Louisa," said Julie, after a moment's silence. + +Just as she spoke the footman brought in a letter for the Marquise. + +"Ah!" she cried, and her face grew white. + +"I need not ask from whom it comes," said Mme. de Wimphen, but the +Marquise was reading the letter, and heeded nothing else. + +Mme. de Wimphen, watching her friend, saw strong feeling wrought to +the highest pitch, ecstasy of the most dangerous kind painted on +Julie's face in swift changing white and red. At length Julie flung +the sheet into the fire. + +"It burns like fire," she said. "Oh! my heart beats till I cannot +breathe." + +She rose to her feet and walked up and down. Her eyes were blazing. + +"He did not leave Paris!" she cried. + +Mme. de Wimphen did not dare to interrupt the words that followed, +jerked-out sentences, measured by dreadful pauses in between. After +every break the deep notes of her voice sank lower and lower. There +was something awful about the last words. + +"He has seen me, constantly, and I have not known it.--A look, taken +by stealth, every day, helps him to live.--Louisa, you do not know!-- +He is dying.--He wants to say good-bye to me. He knows that my husband +has gone away for several days. He will be here in a moment. Oh! I +shall die: I am lost.--Listen, Louisa, stay with me!--/I am afraid!/" + +"But my husband knows that I have been dining with you; he is sure to +come for me," said Mme. de Wimphen. + +"Well, then, before you go I will send /him/ away. I will play the +executioner for us both. Oh me! he will think that I do not love him +any more--And that letter of his! Dear, I can see those words in +letters of fire." + +A carriage rolled in under the archway. + +"Ah!" cried the Marquise, with something like joy in her voice, "he is +coming openly. He makes no mystery of it." + +"Lord Grenville," announced the servant. + +The Marquise stood up rigid and motionless; but at the sight of +Arthur's white face, so thin and haggard, how was it possible to keep +up the show of severity? Lord Grenville saw that Julie was not alone, +but he controlled his fierce annoyance, and looked cool and +unperturbed. Yet for the two women who knew his secret, his face, his +tones, the look in his eyes had something of the power attributed to +the torpedo. Their faculties were benumbed by the sharp shock of +contact with his horrible pain. The sound of his voice set Julie's +heart beating so cruelly that she could not trust herself to speak; +she was afraid that he would see the full extent of his power over +her. Lord Grenville did not dare to look at Julie, and Mme. de Wimphen +was left to sustain a conversation to which no one listened. Julie +glanced at her friend with touching gratefulness in her eyes to thank +her for coming to her aid. + +By this time the lovers had quelled emotion into silence, and could +preserve the limits laid down by duty and convention. But M. de +Wimphen was announced, and as he came in the two friends exchanged +glances. Both felt the difficulties of this fresh complication. It was +impossible to enter into explanations with M. de Wimphen, and Louisa +could not think of any sufficient pretext for asking to be left. + +Julie went to her, ostensibly to wrap her up in her shawl. "I will be +brave," she said, in a low voice. "He came here in the face of all the +world, so what have I to fear? Yet but for you, in that first moment, +when I saw how changed he looked, I should have fallen at his feet." + +"Well, Arthur, you have broken your promise to me," she said, in a +faltering voice, when she returned. Lord Grenville did not venture to +take the seat upon the sofa by her side. + +"I could not resist the pleasure of hearing your voice, of being near +you. The thought of it came to be a sort of madness, a delirious +frenzy. I am no longer master of myself. I have taken myself to task; +it is no use, I am too weak, I ought to die. But to die without seeing +you, without having heard the rustle of your dress, or felt your +tears. What a death!" + +He moved further away from her; but in his hasty uprising a pistol +fell out of his pocket. The Marquise looked down blankly at the +weapon; all passion, all expression had died out of her eyes. Lord +Grenville stooped for the thing, raging inwardly over an accident +which seemed like a piece of lovesick strategy. + +"/Arthur!/" + +"Madame," he said, looking down, "I came here in utter desperation; I +meant----" he broke off. + +"You meant to die by your own hand here in my house!" + +"Not alone!" he said in a low voice. + +"Not alone! My husband, perhaps----?" + +"No, no," he cried in a choking voice. "Reassure yourself," he +continued, "I have quite given up my deadly purpose. As soon as I came +in, as soon as I saw you, I felt that I was strong enough to suffer in +silence, and to die alone." + +Julie sprang up, and flung herself into his arms. Through her sobbing +he caught a few passionate words, "To know happiness, and then to die. +--Yes, let it be so." + +All Julie's story was summed up in that cry from the depths; it was +the summons of nature and of love at which women without a religion +surrender. With the fierce energy of unhoped-for joy, Arthur caught +her up and carried her to the sofa; but in a moment she tore herself +from her lover's arms, looked at him with a fixed despairing gaze, +took his hand, snatched up a candle, and drew him into her room. When +they stood by the cot where Helene lay sleeping, she put the curtains +softly aside, shading the candle with her hand, lest the light should +dazzle the half-closed eyes beneath the transparent lids. Helene lay +smiling in her sleep, with her arms outstretched on the coverlet. +Julie glanced from her child to Arthur's face. That look told him all. + +"We may leave a husband, even though he loves us: a man is strong; he +has consolations.--We may defy the world and its laws. But a +motherless child!"--all these thoughts, and a thousand others more +moving still, found language in that glance. + +"We can take her with us," muttered he; "I will love her dearly." + +"Mamma!" cried little Helene, now awake. Julie burst into tears. Lord +Grenville sat down and folded his arms in gloomy silence. + +"Mamma!" At the sweet childish name, so many nobler feelings, so many +irresistible yearnings awoke, that for a moment love was effaced by +the all-powerful instinct of motherhood; the mother triumphed over the +woman in Julie, and Lord Grenville could not hold out, he was defeated +by Julie's tears. + +Just at that moment a door was flung noisily open. "Madame +d'Aiglemont, are you hereabouts?" called a voice which rang like a +crack of thunder through the hearts of the two lovers. The Marquis had +come home. + +Before Julie could recover her presence of mind, her husband was on +the way to the door of her room which opened into his. Luckily, at a +sign, Lord Grenville escaped into the dressing-closet, and she hastily +shut the door upon him. + +"Well, my lady, here am I," said Victor, "the hunting party did not +come off. I am just going to bed." + +"Good-night, so am I. So go and leave me to undress." + +"You are very cross to-night, Madame la Marquise." + +The General returned to his room, Julie went with him to the door and +shut it. Then she sprang to the dressing-close to release Arthur. All +her presence of mind returned; she bethought herself that it was quite +natural that her sometime doctor should pay her a visit; she might +have left him in the drawing-room while she put her little girl to +bed. She was about to tell him, under her breath, to go back to the +drawing-room, and had opened the door. Then she shrieked aloud. Lord +Grenville's fingers had been caught and crushed in the door. + +"Well, what is it?" demanded her husband. + +"Oh! nothing, I have just pricked my finger with a pin." + +The General's door opened at once. Julie imagined that the irruption +was due to a sudden concern for her, and cursed a solicitude in which +love had no part. She had barely time to close the dressing-closet, +and Lord Grenville had not extricated his hand. The General did, in +fact, appear, but his wife had mistaken his motives; his apprehensions +were entirely on his own account. + +"Can you lend me a bandana handkerchief? The stupid fool Charles +leaves me without a single one. In the early days you used to bother +me with looking after me so carefully. Ah, well, the honeymoon did not +last very long for me, nor yet for my cravats. Nowadays I am given +over to the secular arm, in the shape of servants who do not care one +jack straw for what I say." + +"There! There is a bandana for you. Did you go into the drawing-room?" + +"No." + +"Oh! you might perhaps have been in time to see Lord Grenville." + +"Is he in Paris?" + +"It seems so." + +"Oh! I will go at once. The good doctor." + +"But he will have gone by now!" exclaimed Julie. + +The Marquis, standing in the middle of the room, was tying the +handkerchief over his head. He looked complacently at himself in the +glass. + +"What has become of the servants is more than I know," he remarked. "I +have rung the bell for Charles, and he has not answered it. And your +maid is not here either. Ring for her. I should like another blanket +on my bed to-night." + +"Pauline is out," the Marquise said drily. + +"What, at midnight!" exclaimed the General. + +"I gave her leave to go to the Opera." + +"That is funny!" returned her husband, continuing to undress. "I +thought I saw her coming upstairs." + +"She has come in then, of course," said Julie, with assumed +impatience, and to allay any possible suspicion on her husband's part +she pretended to ring the bell. + + + +The whole history of that night has never been known, but no doubt it +was as simple and as tragically commonplace as the domestic incidents +that preceded it. + +Next day the Marquise d'Aiglemont took to her bed, nor did she leave +it for some days. + +"What can have happened in your family so extraordinary that every one +is talking about your wife?" asked M. de Ronquerolles of M. +d'Aiglemont a short time after that night of catastrophes. + +"Take my advice and remain a bachelor," said d'Aiglemont. "The +curtains of Helene's cot caught fire, and gave my wife such a shock +that it will be a twelvemonth before she gets over it; so the doctor +says. You marry a pretty wife, and her looks fall off; you marry a +girl in blooming health, and she turns into an invalid. You think she +has a passionate temperament, and find her cold, or else under her +apparent coldness there lurks a nature so passionate that she is the +death of you, or she dishonors your name. Sometimes the meekest of +them will turn out crotchety, though the crotchety ones never grow any +sweeter. Sometimes the mere child, so simple and silly at first, will +develop an iron will to thwart you and the ingenuity of a fiend. I am +tired of marriage." + +"Or of your wife?" + +"That would be difficult. By-the-by, do you feel inclined to go to +Saint-Thomas d'Aquin with me to attend Lord Grenville's funeral?" + +"A singular way of spending time.--Is it really known how he came by +his death?" added Ronquerolles. + +"His man says that he spent a whole night sitting on somebody's window +sill to save some woman's character, and it has been infernally cold +lately." + +"Such devotion would be highly creditable to one of us old stagers; +but Lord Grenville was a youngster and--an Englishman. Englishmen +never can do anything like anybody else." + +"Pooh!" returned d'Aiglemont, "these heroic exploits all depend upon +the woman in the case, and it certainly was not for one that I know, +that poor Arthur came by his death." + + + +II. + +A HIDDEN GRIEF + +Between the Seine and the little river Loing lies a wide flat country, +skirted on the one side by the Forest of Fontainebleau, and marked out +as to its southern limits by the towns of Moret, Montereau, and +Nemours. It is a dreary country; little knolls of hills appear only at +rare intervals, and a coppice here and there among the fields affords +for game; and beyond, upon every side, stretches the endless gray or +yellowish horizon peculiar to Beauce, Sologne, and Berri. + +In the very centre of the plain, at equal distances from Moret and +Montereau, the traveler passes the old chateau of Saint-Lange, +standing amid surroundings which lack neither dignity nor stateliness. +There are magnificent avenues of elm-trees, great gardens encircled by +the moat, and a circumference of walls about a huge manorial pile +which represents the profits of the /maltote/, the gains of farmers- +general, legalized malversation, or the vast fortunes of great houses +now brought low beneath the hammer of the Civil Code. + +Should any artist or dreamer of dreams chance to stray along the roads +full of deep ruts, or over the heavy land which secures the place +against intrusion, he will wonder how it happened that this romantic +old place was set down in a savanna of corn-land, a desert of chalk, +and sand, and marl, where gaiety dies away, and melancholy is a +natural product of the soil. The voiceless solitude, the monotonous +horizon line which weigh upon the spirits are negative beauties, which +only suit with sorrow that refuses to be comforted. + +Hither, at the close of the year 1820, came a woman, still young, well +known in Paris for her charm, her fair face, and her wit; and to the +immense astonishment of the little village a mile away, this woman of +high rank and corresponding fortune took up her abode at Saint-Lange. + +From time immemorial, farmers and laborers had seen no gentry at the +chateau. The estate, considerable though it was, had been left in +charge of a land-steward and the house to the old servants. Wherefore +the appearance of the lady of the manor caused a kind of sensation in +the district. + +A group had gathered in the yard of the wretched little wineshop at +the end of the village (where the road forks to Nemours and Moret) to +see the carriage pass. It went by slowly, for the Marquise had come +from Paris with her own horses, and those on the lookout had ample +opportunity of observing a waiting-maid, who sat with her back to the +horses holding a little girl, with a somewhat dreamy look, upon her +knee. The child's mother lay back in the carriage; she looked like a +dying woman sent out into the country air by her doctors as a last +resource. Village politicians were by no means pleased to see the +young, delicate, downcast face; they had hoped that the new arrival at +Saint-Lange would bring some life and stir into the neighborhood, and +clearly any sort of stir or movement must be distasteful to the +suffering invalid in the traveling carriage. + +That evening, when the notables of Saint-Lange were drinking in the +private room of the wineshop, the longest head among them declared +that such depression could admit of but one construction--the Marquise +was ruined. His lordship the Marquis was away in Spain with the Duc +d'Angouleme (so they said in the papers), and beyond a doubt her +ladyship had come to Saint-Lange to retrench after a run of ill-luck +on the Bourse. The Marquis was one of the greatest gamblers on the +face of the globe. Perhaps the estate would be cut up and sold in +little lots. There would be some good strokes of business to be made +in that case, and it behooved everybody to count up his cash, unearth +his savings and to see how he stood, so as to secure his share of the +spoil of Saint-Lange. + +So fair did this future seem, that the village worthies, dying to know +whether it was founded on fact, began to think of ways of getting at +the truth through the servants at the chateau. None of these, however, +could throw any light on the calamity which had brought their mistress +into the country at the beginning of winter, and to the old chateau of +Saint-Lange of all places, when she might have taken her choice of +cheerful country-houses famous for their beautiful gardens. + +His worship the mayor called to pay his respects; but he did not see +the lady. Then the land-steward tried with no better success. + +Madame la Marquise kept her room, only leaving it, while it was set in +order, for the small adjoining drawing-room, where she dined; if, +indeed, to sit down to a table, to look with disgust at the dishes, +and take the precise amount of nourishment required to prevent death +from sheer starvation, can be called dining. The meal over, she +returned at once to the old-fashioned low chair, in which she had sat +since the morning, in the embrasure of the one window that lighted her +room. + +Her little girl she only saw for a few minutes daily, during the +dismal dinner, and even for a short time she seemed scarcely able to +bear the child's presence. Surely nothing but the most unheard-of +anguish could have extinguished a mother's love so early. + +None of the servants were suffered to come near, her own woman was the +one creature whom she liked to have about her; the chateau must be +perfectly quiet, the child must play at the other end of the house. +The slightest sound had grown so intolerable, that any human voice, +even the voice of her own child, jarred upon her. + +At first the whole countryside was deeply interested in these +eccentricities; but time passed on, every possible hypothesis had been +advanced to account for them and the peasants and dwellers in the +little country towns thought no more of the invalid lady. + +So the Marquise was left to herself. She might live on, perfectly +silent, amid the silence which she herself had created; there was +nothing to draw her forth from the tapestried chamber where her +grandmother died, whither she herself had come that she might die, +gently, without witnesses, without importunate solicitude, without +suffering from the insincere demonstrations of egoism masquerading as +affection, which double the agony of death in great cities. + +She was twenty-six years old. At that age, with plenty of romantic +illusions still left, the mind loves to dwell on the thought of death +when death seems to come as a friend. But with youth, death is coy, +coming up close only to go away, showing himself and hiding again, +till youth has time to fall out of love with him during this +dalliance. There is that uncertainty too that hangs over death's +to-morrow. Youth plunges back into the world of living men, there to +find the pain more pitiless than death, that does not wait to strike. + +This woman who refused to live was to know the bitterness of these +reprieves in the depths of her loneliness; in moral agony, which death +would not come to end, she was to serve a terrible apprenticeship to +the egoism which must take the bloom from her heart and break her in +to the life of the world. + +This harsh and sorry teaching is the usual outcome of our early +sorrows. For the first, and perhaps for the last time in her life, the +Marquise d'Aiglemont was in very truth suffering. And, indeed, would +it not be an error to suppose that the same sentiment can be +reproduced in us? Once develop the power to feel, is it not always +there in the depths of our nature? The accidents of life may lull or +awaken it, but there it is, of necessity modifying the self, its +abiding place. Hence, every sensation should have its great day once +and for all, its first day of storm, be it long or short. Hence, +likewise, pain, the most abiding of our sensations, could be keenly +felt only at its first irruption, its intensity diminishing with every +subsequent paroxysm, either because we grow accustomed to these +crises, or perhaps because a natural instinct of self-preservation +asserts itself, and opposes to the destroying force of anguish an +equal but passive force of inertia. + +Yet of all kinds of suffering, to which does the name of anguish +belong? For the loss of parents, Nature has in a manner prepared us; +physical suffering, again, is an evil which passes over us and is +gone; it lays no hold upon the soul; if it persists, it ceases to be +an evil, it is death. The young mother loses her firstborn, but wedded +love ere long gives her a successor. This grief, too, is transient. +After all, these, and many other troubles like unto them, are in some +sort wounds and bruises; they do not sap the springs of vitality, and +only a succession of such blows can crush in us the instinct that +seeks happiness. Great pain, therefore, pain that arises to anguish, +should be suffering so deadly, that past, present, and future are +alike included in its grip, and no part of life is left sound and +whole. Never afterwards can we think the same thoughts as before. +Anguish engraves itself in ineffaceable characters on mouth and brow; +it passes through us, destroying or relaxing the springs that vibrate +to enjoyment, leaving behind in the soul the seeds of a disgust for +all things in this world. + +Yet, again, to be measureless, to weigh like this upon body and soul, +the trouble should befall when soul and body have just come to their +full strength, and smite down a heart that beats high with life. Then +it is that great scars are made. Terrible is the anguish. None, it may +be, can issue from this soul-sickness without undergoing some dramatic +change. Those who survive it, those who remain on earth, return to the +world to wear an actor's countenance and to play an actor's part. They +know the side-scenes where actors may retire to calculate chances, +shed their tears, or pass their jests. Life holds no inscrutable dark +places for those who have passed through this ordeal; their judgments +are Rhadamanthine. + +For young women of the Marquise d'Aiglemont's age, this first, this +most poignant pain of all, is always referable to the same cause. A +woman, especially if she is a young woman, greatly beautiful, and by +nature great, never fails to stake her whole life as instinct and +sentiment and society all unite to bid her. Suppose that that life +fails her, suppose that she still lives on, she cannot but endure the +most cruel pangs, inasmuch as a first love is the loveliest of all. +How comes it that this catastrophe has found no painter, no poet? And +yet, can it be painted? Can it be sung? No; for the anguish arising +from it eludes analysis and defies the colors of art. And more than +this, such pain is never confessed. To console the sufferer, you must +be able to divine the past which she hugs in bitterness to her soul +like a remorse; it is like an avalanche in a valley; it laid all waste +before it found a permanent resting-place. + +The Marquise was suffering from this anguish, which will for long +remain unknown, because the whole world condemns it, while sentiment +cherishes it, and the conscience of a true woman justifies her in it. +It is with such pain as with children steadily disowned of life, and +therefore bound more closely to the mother's heart than other children +more bounteously endowed. Never, perhaps, was the awful catastrophe in +which the whole world without dies for us, so deadly, so complete, so +cruelly aggravated by circumstance as it had been for the Marquise. +The man whom she had loved was young and generous; in obedience to the +laws of the world, she had refused herself to his love, and he had +died to save a woman's honor, as the world calls it. To whom could she +speak of her misery? Her tears would be an offence against her +husband, the origin of the tragedy. By all laws written and unwritten +she was bound over to silence. A woman would have enjoyed the story; a +man would have schemed for his own benefit. No; such grief as hers can +only weep freely in solitude and in loneliness; she must consume her +pain or be consumed by it; die or kill something within her--her +conscience, it may be. + +Day after day she sat gazing at the flat horizon. It lay out before +her like her own life to come. There was nothing to discover, nothing +to hope. The whole of it could be seen at a glance. It was the visible +presentment in the outward world of the chill sense of desolation +which was gnawing restlessly at her heart. The misty mornings, the +pale, bright sky, the low clouds scudding under the gray dome of +heaven, fitted with the moods of her soul-sickness. Her heart did not +contract, was neither more nor less seared, rather it seemed as if her +youth, in its full blossom, was slowly turned to stone by an anguish +intolerable because it was barren. She suffered through herself and +for herself. How could it end save in self-absorption? Ugly torturing +thoughts probed her conscience. Candid self-examination pronounced +that she was double, there were two selves within her; a woman who +felt and a woman who thought; a self that suffered and a self that +could fain suffer no longer. Her mind traveled back to the joys of +childish days; they had gone by, and she had never known how happy +they were. Scenes crowded up in her memory as in a bright mirror +glass, to demonstrate the deception of a marriage which, all that it +should be in the eyes of the world, was in reality wretched. What had +the delicate pride of young womanhood done for her--the bliss +foregone, the sacrifices made to the world? Everything in her +expressed love, awaited love; her movements still were full of perfect +grace; her smile, her charm, were hers as before; why? she asked +herself. The sense of her own youth and physical loveliness no more +affected her than some meaningless reiterated sound. Her very beauty +had grown intolerable to her as a useless thing. She shrank aghast +from the thought that through the rest of life she must remain an +incomplete creature; had not the inner self lost its power of +receiving impressions with that zest, that exquisite sense of +freshness which is the spring of so much of life's gladness? The +impressions of the future would for the most part be effaced as soon +as received, and many of the thoughts which once would have moved her +now would move her no more. + +After the childhood of the creature dawns the childhood of the heart; +but this second infancy was over, her lover had taken it down with him +into the grave. The longings of youth remained; she was young yet; but +the completeness of youth was gone, and with that lost completeness +the whole value and savor of life had diminished somewhat. Should she +not always bear within her the seeds of sadness and mistrust, ready to +grow up and rob emotion of its springtide of fervor? Conscious she +must always be that nothing could give her now the happiness so longed +for, that seemed so fair in her dreams. The fire from heaven that +sheds abroad its light in the heart, in the dawn of love, had been +quenched in tears, the first real tears which she had shed; henceforth +she must always suffer, because it was no longer in her power to be +what once she might have been. This is a belief which turns us in +aversion and bitterness of spirit from any proffered new delight. + +Julie had come to look at life from the point of view of age about to +die. Young though she felt, the heavy weight of joyless days had +fallen upon her, and left her broken-spirited and old before her time. +With a despairing cry, she asked the world what it could give her in +exchange for the love now lost, by which she had lived. She asked +herself whether in that vanished love, so chaste and pure, her will +had not been more criminal than her deeds, and chose to believe +herself guilty; partly to affront the world, partly for her own +consolation, in that she had missed the close union of body and soul, +which diminishes the pain of the one who is left behind by the +knowledge that once it has known and given joy to the full, and +retains within itself the impress of that which is no more. + +Something of the mortification of the actress cheated of her part +mingled with the pain which thrilled through every fibre of her heart +and brain. Her nature had been thwarted, her vanity wounded, her +woman's generosity cheated of self-sacrifice. Then, when she had +raised all these questions, set vibrating all the springs in those +different phases of being which we distinguish as social, moral, and +physical, her energies were so far exhausted and relaxed that she was +powerless to grasp a single thought amid the chase of conflicting +ideas. + +Sometimes as the mists fell, she would throw her window open, and +would stay there, motionless, breathing in unheedingly the damp +earthly scent in the air, her mind to all appearance an unintelligent +blank, for the ceaseless burden of sorrow humming in her brain left +her deaf to earth's harmonies and insensible to the delights of +thought. + +One day, towards noon, when the sun shone out for a little, her maid +came in without a summons. + +"This is the fourth time that M. le Cure has come to see Mme. la +Marquise; to-day he is so determined about it, that we did not know +what to tell him." + +"He has come to ask for some money for the poor, no doubt; take him +twenty-five louis from me." + +The woman went only to return. + +"M. le Cure will not take the money, my lady; he wants to speak to +you." + +"Then let him come!" said Mme. d'Aiglemont, with an involuntary shrug +which augured ill for the priest's reception. Evidently the lady meant +to put a stop to persecution by a short and sharp method. + +Mme. d'Aiglemont had lost her mother in her early childhood; and as a +natural consequence in her bringing-up, she had felt the influence of +the relaxed notions which loosened the hold of religion upon France +during the Revolution. Piety is a womanly virtue which women alone can +really instil; and the Marquise, a child of the eighteenth century, +had adopted her father's creed of philosophism, and practised no +religious observances. A priest, to her way of thinking, was a civil +servant of very doubtful utility. In her present position, the +teaching of religion could only poison her wounds; she had, moreover, +but scanty faith in the lights of country cures, and made up her mind +to put this one gently but firmly in his place, and to rid herself of +him, after the manner of the rich, by bestowing a benefit. + +At first sight of the cure the Marquise felt no inclination to change +her mind. She saw before her a stout, rotund little man, with a ruddy, +wrinkled, elderly face, which awkwardly and unsuccessfully tried to +smile. His bald, quadrant-shaped forehead, furrowed by intersecting +lines, was too heavy for the rest of his face, which seemed to be +dwarfed by it. A fringe of scanty white hair encircled the back of his +head, and almost reached his ears. Yet the priest looked as if by +nature he had a genial disposition; his thick lips, his slightly +curved nose, his chin, which vanished in a double fold of wrinkles,-- +all marked him out as a man who took cheerful views of life. + +At first the Marquise saw nothing but these salient characteristics, +but at the first word she was struck by the sweetness of the speaker's +voice. Looking at him more closely, she saw that the eyes under the +grizzled eyebrows had shed tears, and his face, turned in profile, +wore so sublime an impress of sorrow, that the Marquise recognized the +man in the cure. + +"Madame la Marquise, the rich only come within our province when they +are in trouble. It is easy to see that the troubles of a young, +beautiful, and wealthy woman, who has lost neither children nor +relatives, are caused by wounds whose pangs religion alone can soothe. +Your soul is in danger, madame. I am not speaking now of the hereafter +which awaits us. No, I am not in the confessional. But it is my duty, +is it not, to open your eyes to your future life here on earth? You +will pardon an old man, will you not, for importunity which has your +own happiness for its object?" + +"There is no more happiness for me, monsieur. I shall soon be, as you +say, in your province; but it will be for ever." + +"Nay, madame. You will not die of this pain which lies heavy upon you, +and can be read in your face. If you had been destined to die of it, +you would not be here at Saint-Lange. A definite regret is not so +deadly as hope deferred. I have known others pass through more +intolerable and more awful anguish, and yet they live." + +The Marquise looked incredulous. + +"Madame, I know a man whose affliction was so sore that your trouble +would seem to you to be light compared with his." + +Perhaps the long solitary hours had begun to hang heavily; perhaps in +the recesses of the Marquise's mind lay the thought that here was a +friendly heart to whom she might be able to pour out her troubles. +However, it was, she gave the cure a questioning glance which could +not be mistaken. + +"Madame," he continued, "the man of whom I tell you had but three +children left of a once large family circle. He lost his parents, his +daughter, and his wife, whom he dearly loved. He was left alone at +last on the little farm where he had lived so happily for so long. His +three sons were in the army, and each of the lads had risen in +proportion to his time of service. During the Hundred Days, the oldest +went into the Guard with a colonel's commission; the second was a +major in the artillery; the youngest a major in a regiment of +dragoons. Madame, those three boys loved their father as much as he +loved them. If you but knew how careless young fellows grow of home +ties when they are carried away by the current of their own lives, you +would realize from this one little thing how warmly they loved the +lonely old father, who only lived in and for them--never a week passed +without a letter from one of the boys. But then he on his side had +never been weakly indulgent, to lessen their respect for him; nor +unjustly severe, to thwart their affection; or apt to grudge +sacrifices, the thing that estranges children's hearts. He had been +more than a father; he had been a brother to them, and their friend. + +"At last he went to Paris to bid them good-bye before they set out for +Belgium; he wished to see that they had good horses and all that they +needed. And so they went, and the father returned to his home again. +Then the war began. He had letters from Fleurus, and again from Ligny. +All went well. Then came the battle of Waterloo, and you know the +rest. France was plunged into mourning; every family waited in intense +anxiety for news. You may imagine, madame, how the old man waited for +tidings, in anxiety that knew no peace nor rest. He used to read the +gazettes; he went to the coach office every day. One evening he was +told that the colonel's servant had come. The man was riding his +master's horse--what need was there to ask any questions?--the colonel +was dead, cut in two by a shell. Before the evening was out the +youngest son's servant arrived--the youngest had died on the eve of +the battle. At midnight came a gunner with tidings of the death of the +last; upon whom, in those few hours, the poor father had centered all +his life. Madame, they all had fallen." + +After a pause the good man controlled his feelings, and added gently: + +"And their father is still living, madame. He realized that if God had +left him on earth, he was bound to live on and suffer on earth; but he +took refuge in the sanctuary. What could he be?" + +The Marquise looked up and saw the cure's face, grown sublime in its +sorrow and resignation, and waited for him to speak. When the words +came, tears broke from her. + +"A priest, madame; consecrated by his own tears previously shed at the +foot of the altar." + +Silence prevailed for a little. The Marquise and the cure looked out +at the foggy landscape, as if they could see the figures of those who +were no more. + +"Not a priest in a city, but a simple country cure," added he. + +"At Saint-Lange," she said, drying her eyes. + +"Yes, madame." + +Never had the majesty of grief seemed so great to Julie. The two words +sank straight into her heart with the weight of infinite sorrow. The +gentle, sonorous tones troubled her heart. Ah! that full, deep voice, +charged with plangent vibration, was the voice of one who had suffered +indeed. + +"And if I do not die, monsieur, what will become of me?" The Marquise +spoke almost reverently. + +"Have you not a child, madame?" + +"Yes," she said stiffly. + +The cure gave her such a glance as a doctor gives a patient whose life +is in danger. Then he determined to do all that in him lay to combat +the evil spirit into whose clutches she had fallen. + +"We must live on with our sorrows--you see it yourself, madame, and +religion alone offers us real consolation. Will you permit me to come +again?--to speak to you as a man who can sympathize with every +trouble, a man about whom there is nothing very alarming, I think?" + +"Yes, monsieur, come back again. Thank you for your thought of me." + +"Very well, madame; then I shall return very shortly." + +This visit relaxed the tension of soul, as it were; the heavy strain +of grief and loneliness had been almost too much for the Marquise's +strength. The priest's visit had left a soothing balm in her heart, +his words thrilled through her with healing influence. She began to +feel something of a prisoner's satisfaction, when, after he has had +time to feel his utter loneliness and the weight of his chains, he +hears a neighbor knocking on the wall, and welcomes the sound which +brings a sense of human friendship. Here was an unhoped-for confidant. +But this feeling did not last for long. Soon she sank back into the +old bitterness of spirit, saying to herself, as the prisoner might +say, that a companion in misfortune could neither lighten her own +bondage nor her future. + +In the first visit the cure had feared to alarm the susceptibilities +of self-absorbed grief, in a second interview he hoped to make some +progress towards religion. He came back again two days later, and from +the Marquise's welcome it was plain that she had looked forward to the +visit. + +"Well, Mme. la Marquise, have you given a little thought to the great +mass of human suffering? Have you raised your eyes above our earth and +seen the immensity of the universe?--the worlds beyond worlds which +crush our vanity into insignificance, and with our vanity reduce our +sorrows?" + +"No, monsieur," she said; "I cannot rise to such heights, our social +laws lie too heavily upon me, and rend my heart with a too poignant +anguish. And laws perhaps are less cruel than the usages of the world. +Ah! the world!" + +"Madame, we must obey both. Law is the doctrine, and custom the +practice of society." + +"Obey society?" cried the Marquise, with an involuntary shudder. "Eh! +monsieur, it is the source of all our woes. God laid down no law to +make us miserable; but mankind, uniting together in social life, have +perverted God's work. Civilization deals harder measure to us women +than nature does. Nature imposes upon us physical suffering which you +have not alleviated; civilization has developed in us thoughts and +feelings which you cheat continually. Nature exterminates the weak; +you condemn them to live, and by so doing, consign them to a life of +misery. The whole weight of the burden of marriage, an institution on +which society is based, falls upon us; for the man liberty, duties for +the woman. We must give up our whole lives to you, you are only bound +to give us a few moments of yours. A man, in fact, makes a choice, +while we blindly submit. Oh, monsieur, to you I can speak freely. +Marriage, in these days, seems to me to be legalized prostitution. +This is the cause of my wretchedness. But among so many miserable +creatures so unhappily yoked, I alone am bound to be silent, I alone +am to blame for my misery. My marriage was my own doing." + +She stopped short, and bitter tears fell in the silence. + +"In the depths of my wretchedness, in the midst of this sea of +distress," she went on, "I found some sands on which to set foot and +suffer at leisure. A great tempest swept everything away. And here am +I, helpless and alone, too weak to cope with storms." + +"We are never weak while God is with us," said the priest. "And if +your cravings for affection cannot be satisfied here on earth, have +you no duties to perform?" + +"Duties continually!" she exclaimed, with something of impatience in +her tone. "But where for me are the sentiments which give us strength +to perform them? Nothing from nothing, nothing for nothing,--this, +monsieur, is one of the most inexorable laws of nature, physical or +spiritual. Would you have these trees break into leaf without the sap +which swells the buds? It is the same with our human nature; and in me +the sap is dried up at its source." + +"I am not going to speak to you of religious sentiments of which +resignation is born," said the cure, "but of motherhood, madame, +surely--" + +"Stop, monsieur!" said the Marquise, "with you I will be sincere. +Alas! in future I can be sincere with no one; I am condemned to +falsehood. The world requires continual grimaces, and we are bidden to +obey its conventions if we would escape reproach. There are two kinds +of motherhood, monsieur; once I knew nothing of such distinctions, but +I know them now. Only half of me has become a mother; it were better +for me if I had not been a mother at all. Helene is not /his/ child! +Oh! do not start. At Saint-Lange there are volcanic depths whence come +lurid gleams of light and earthquake shocks to shake the fragile +edifices of laws not based on nature. I have borne a child, that is +enough, I am a mother in the eyes of the law. But you, monsieur, with +your delicately compassionate soul, can perhaps understand this cry +from an unhappy woman who has suffered no lying illusions to enter her +heart. God will judge me, but surely I have only obeyed His laws by +giving way to the affections which He Himself set in me, and this I +have learned from my own soul.--What is a child, monsieur, but the +image of two beings, the fruit of two sentiments spontaneously +blended? Unless it is owned by every fibre of the body, as by every +chord of tenderness in the heart; unless it recalls the bliss of love, +the hours, the places where two creatures were happy, their words that +overflowed with the music of humanity, and their sweet imaginings, +that child is an incomplete creation. Yes, those two should find the +poetic dreams of their intimate double life realized in their child as +in an exquisite miniature; it should be for them a never-failing +spring of emotion, implying their whole past and their whole future. + +"My poor little Helene is her father's child, the offspring of duty +and of chance. In me she finds nothing but the affection of instinct, +the woman's natural compassion for the child of her womb. Socially +speaking, I am above reproach. Have I not sacrificed my life and my +happiness to my child? Her cries go to my heart; if she were to fall +into the water, I should spring to save her, but she is not in my +heart. + +"Ah! love set me dreaming of a motherhood far greater and more +complete. In a vanished dream I held in my arms a child conceived in +desire before it was begotten, the exquisite flower of life that +blossoms in the soul before it sees the light of day. I am Helene's +mother only in the sense that I brought her forth. When she needs me +no longer, there will be an end of my motherhood; with the extinction +of the cause, the effects will cease. If it is a woman's adorable +prerogative that her motherhood may last through her child's life, +surely that divine persistence of sentiment is due to the far-reaching +glory of the conception of the soul? Unless a child has lain wrapped +about from life's first beginnings by the mother's soul, the instinct +of motherhood dies in her as in the animals. This is true; I feel that +it is true. As my poor little one grows older, my heart closes. My +sacrifices have driven us apart. And yet I know, monsieur, that to +another child my heart would have gone out in inexhaustible love; for +that other I should not have known what sacrifice meant, all had been +delight. In this, monsieur, my instincts are stronger than reason, +stronger than religion or all else in me. Does the woman who is +neither wife nor mother sin in wishing to die when, for her +misfortune, she has caught a glimpse of the infinite beauty of love, +the limitless joy of motherhood? What can become of her? /I/ can tell +you what she feels. I cannot put that memory from me so resolutely but +that a hundred times, night and day, visions of a happiness, greater +it may be than the reality, rise before me, followed by a shudder +which shakes brain and heart and body. Before these cruel visions, my +feelings and thoughts grow colorless, and I ask myself, 'What would my +life have been /if/----?' " + +She hid her face in her hands and burst into tears. + +"There you see the depths of my heart!" she continued. "For /his/ +child I could have acquiesced in any lot however dreadful. He who +died, bearing the burden of the sins of the world will forgive this +thought of which I am dying; but the world, I know, is merciless. In +its ears my words are blasphemies; I am outraging all its codes. Oh! +that I could wage war against this world and break down and refashion +its laws and traditions! Has it not turned all my thoughts, and +feelings, and longings, and hopes, and every fibre in me into so many +sources of pain? Spoiled my future, present, and past? For me the +daylight is full of gloom, my thoughts pierce me like a sword, my +child is and is not. + +"Oh, when Helene speaks to me, I wish that her voice were different, +when she looks into my face I wish that she had other eyes. She +constantly keeps me in mind of all that should have been and is not. I +cannot bear to have her near me. I smile at her, I try to make up to +her for the real affection of which she is defrauded. I am wretched, +monsieur, too wretched to live. And I am supposed to be a pattern +wife. And I have committed no sins. And I am respected! I have fought +down forbidden love which sprang up at unawares within me; but if I +have kept the letter of the law, have I kept it in my heart? There has +never been but one here," she said, laying her right hand on her +breast, "one and no other; and my child feels it. Certain looks and +tones and gestures mould a child's nature, and my poor little one +feels no thrill in the arm I put about her, no tremor comes into my +voice, no softness into my eyes when I speak to her or take her up. +She looks at me, and I cannot endure the reproach in her eyes. There +are times when I shudder to think that some day she may be my judge +and condemn her mother unheard. Heaven grant that hate may not grow up +between us! Ah! God in heaven, rather let the tomb open for me, rather +let me end my days here at Saint-Lange!--I want to go back to the +world where I shall find my other soul and become wholly a mother. Ah! +forgive me, sir, I am mad. Those words were choking me; now they are +spoken. Ah! you are weeping too! You will not despise me--" + +She heard the child come in from a walk. "Helene, my child, come +here!" she called. The words sounded like a cry of despair. + +The little girl ran in, laughing and calling to her mother to see a +butterfly which she had caught; but at the sight of that mother's +tears she grew quiet of a sudden, and went up close, and received a +kiss on her forehead. + +"She will be very beautiful some day," said the priest. + +"She is her father's child," said the Marquise, kissing the little one +with eager warmth, as if she meant to pay a debt of affection or to +extinguish some feeling of remorse. + +"How hot you are, mamma!" + +"There, go away, my angel," said the Marquise. + +The child went. She did not seem at all sorry to go; she did not look +back; glad perhaps to escape from a sad face, and instinctively +comprehending already an antagonism of feeling in its expression. A +mother's love finds language in smiles, they are a part of the divine +right of motherhood. The Marquise could not smile. She flushed red as +she felt the cure's eyes. She had hoped to act a mother's part before +him, but neither she nor her child could deceive him. And, indeed, +when a woman loves sincerely, in the kiss she gives there is a divine +honey; it is as if a soul were breathed forth in the caress, a subtle +flame of fire which brings warmth to the heart; the kiss that lacks +this delicious unction is meagre and formal. The priest had felt the +difference. He could fathom the depths that lie between the motherhood +of the flesh and the motherhood of the heart. He gave the Marquise a +keen, scrutinizing glance, then he said: + +"You are right, madame; it would be better for you if you were +dead----" + +"Ah!" she cried, "then you know all my misery; I see you do if, +Christian priest as you are, you can guess my determination to die and +sanction it. Yes, I meant to die, but I have lacked the courage. The +spirit was strong, but the flesh was weak, and when my hand did not +tremble, the spirit within me wavered. + +"I do not know the reason of these inner struggles, and alternations. +I am very pitiably a woman no doubt, weak in my will, strong only to +love. Oh, I despise myself. At night, when all my household was +asleep, I would go out bravely as far as the lake; but when I stood on +the brink, my cowardice shrank from self-destruction. To you I will +confess my weakness. When I lay in my bed, again, shame would come +over me, and courage would come back. Once I took a dose of laudanum; +I was ill, but I did not die. I thought I had emptied the phial, but I +had only taken half the dose." + +"You are lost, madame," the cure said gravely, with tears in his +voice. "You will go back into the world, and you will deceive the +world. You will seek and find a compensation (as you imagine it to be) +for your woes; then will come a day of reckoning for your pleasures--" + +"Do you think," she cried, "that /I/ shall bestow the last, the most +precious treasures of my heart upon the first base impostor who can +play the comedy of passion? That I would pollute my life for a moment +of doubtful pleasure? No; the flame which shall consume my soul shall +be love, and nothing but love. All men, monsieur, have the senses of +their sex, but not all have the man's soul which satisfies all the +requirements of our nature, drawing out the melodious harmony which +never breaks forth save in response to the pressure of feeling. Such a +soul is not found twice in our lifetime. The future that lies before +me is hideous; I know it. A woman is nothing without love; beauty is +nothing without pleasure. And even if happiness were offered to me a +second time, would not the world frown upon it? I owe my daughter an +honored mother. Oh! I am condemned to live in an iron circle, from +which there is but one shameful way of escape. The round of family +duties, a thankless and irksome task, is in store for me. I shall +curse life; but my child shall have at least a fair semblance of a +mother. I will give her treasures of virtue for the treasures of love +of which I defraud her. + +"I have not even the mother's desire to live to enjoy her child's +happiness. I have no belief in happiness. What will Helene's fate be? +My own, beyond doubt. How can a mother ensure that the man to whom she +gives her daughter will be the husband of her heart? You pour scorn on +the miserable creatures who sell themselves for a few coins to any +passer-by, though want and hunger absolve the brief union; while +another union, horrible for quite other reasons, is tolerated, nay +encouraged, by society, and a young and innocent girl is married to a +man whom she has only met occasionally during the previous three +months. She is sold for her whole lifetime. It is true that the price +is high! If you allow her no compensation for her sorrows, you might +at least respect her; but no, the most virtuous of women cannot escape +calumny. This is our fate in its double aspect. Open prostitution and +shame; secret prostitution and unhappiness. As for the poor, +portionless girls, they may die or go mad, without a soul to pity +them. Beauty and virtue are not marketable in the bazaar where souls +and bodies are bought and sold--in the den of selfishness which you +call society. Why not disinherit daughters? Then, at least, you might +fulfil one of the laws of nature, and guided by your own inclinations, +choose your companions." + +"Madame, from your talk it is clear to me that neither the spirit of +family nor the sense of religion appeals to you. Why should you +hesitate between the claims of the social selfishness which irritates +you, and the purely personal selfishness which craves satisfactions--" + +"The family, monsieur--does such a thing exist? I decline to recognize +as a family a knot of individuals bidden by society to divide the +property after the death of father and mother, and to go their +separate ways. A family means a temporary association of persons +brought together by no will of their own, dissolved at once by death. +Our laws have broken up homes and estates, and the old family +tradition handed down from generation to generation. I see nothing but +wreck and ruin about me." + +"Madame, you will only return to God when His hand has been heavy upon +you, and I pray that you have time enough given to you in which to +make your peace with Him. Instead of looking to heaven for comfort, +you are fixing your eyes on earth. Philosophism and personal interest +have invaded your heart; like the children of the sceptical eighteenth +century, you are deaf to the voice of religion. The pleasures of this +life bring nothing but misery. You are about to make an exchange of +sorrows, that is all." + +She smiled bitterly. + +"I will falsify your predictions," she said. "I shall be faithful to +him who died for me." + +"Sorrow," he answered, "is not likely to live long save in souls +disciplined by religion," and he lowered his eyes respectfully lest +the Marquise should read his doubts in them. The energy of her +outburst had grieved him. He had seen the self that lurked beneath so +many forms, and despaired of softening a heart which affliction seemed +to sear. The divine Sower's seed could not take root in such a soil, +and His gentle voice was drowned by the clamorous outcry of self-pity. +Yet the good man returned again and again with an apostle's earnest +persistence, brought back by a hope of leading so noble and proud a +soul to God; until the day when he made the discovery that the +Marquise only cared to talk with him because it was sweet to speak of +him who was no more. He would not lower his ministry by condoning her +passion, and confined the conversation more and more to generalities +and commonplaces. + +Spring came, and with the spring the Marquise found distraction from +her deep melancholy. She busied herself for lack of other occupation +with her estate, making improvements for amusement. + +In October she left the old chateau. In the life of leisure at Saint- +Lange she had recovered from her grief and grown fair and fresh. Her +grief had been violent at first in its course, as the quoit hurled +forth with all the player's strength, and like the quoit after many +oscillations, each feebler than the last, it had slackened into +melancholy. Melancholy is made up of a succession of such +oscillations, the first touching upon despair, the last on the border +between pain and pleasure; in youth, it is the twilight of dawn; in +age, the dusk of night. + +As the Marquise drove through the village in her traveling carriage, +she met the cure on his way back from the church. She bowed in +response to his farewell greeting, but it was with lowered eyes and +averted face. She did not wish to see him again. The village cure had +judged this poor Diana of Ephesus only too well. + + + +III. + +AT THIRTY YEARS + +Madame Firmiani was giving a ball. M. Charles de Vandenesse, a young +man of great promise, the bearer of one of those historic names which, +in spite of the efforts of legislation, are always associated with the +glory of France, had received letters of introduction to some of the +great lady's friends in Naples, and had come to thank the hostess and +to take his leave. + +Vandenesse had already acquitted himself creditably on several +diplomatic missions; and now that he had received an appointment as +attache to a plenipotentiary at the Congress of Laybach, he wished to +take advantage of the opportunity to make some study of Italy on the +way. This ball was a sort of farewell to Paris and its amusements and +its rapid whirl of life, to the great eddying intellectual centre and +maelstrom of pleasure; and a pleasant thing it is to be borne along by +the current of this sufficiently slandered great city of Paris. Yet +Charles de Vandenesse had little to regret, accustomed as he had been +for the past three years to salute European capitals and turn his back +upon them at the capricious bidding of a diplomatist's destiny. Women +no longer made any impression upon him; perhaps he thought that a real +passion would play too large a part in a diplomatist's life; or +perhaps that the paltry amusements of frivolity were too empty for a +man of strong character. We all of us have huge claims to strength of +character. There is no man in France, be he ever so ordinary a member +of the rank and file of humanity, that will waive pretensions to +something beyond mere cleverness. + +Charles, young though he was--he was scarcely turned thirty--looked at +life with a philosophic mind, concerning himself with theories and +means and ends, while other men of his age were thinking of pleasure, +sentiments, and the like illusions. He forced back into some inner +depth the generosity and enthusiasms of youth, and by nature he was +generous. He tried hard to be cool and calculating, to coin the fund +of wealth which chanced to be in his nature into gracious manners, and +courtesy, and attractive arts; 'tis the proper task of an ambitious +man, to play a sorry part to gain "a good position," as we call it in +modern days. + +He had been dancing, and now he gave a farewell glance over the rooms, +to carry away a distinct impression of the ball, moved, doubtless, to +some extent by the feeling which prompts a theatre-goer to stay in his +box to see the final tableau before the curtain falls. But M. de +Vandenesse had another reason for his survey. He gazed curiously at +the scene before him, so French in character and in movement, seeking +to carry away a picture of the light and laughter and the faces at +this Parisian fete, to compare with the novel faces and picturesque +surroundings awaiting him at Naples, where he meant to spend a few +days before presenting himself at his post. He seemed to be drawing +the comparison now between this France so variable, changing even as +you study her, with the manners and aspects of that other land known +to him as yet only by contradictory hearsay tales or books of travel, +for the most part unsatisfactory. Thoughts of a somewhat poetical +cast, albeit hackneyed and trite to our modern ideas, crossed his +brain, in response to some longing of which, perhaps, he himself was +hardly conscious, a desire in the depths of a heart fastidious rather +than jaded, vacant rather than seared. + +"These are the wealthiest and most fashionable women and the greatest +ladies in Paris," he said to himself. "These are the great men of the +day, great orators and men of letters, great names and titles; artists +and men in power; and yet in it all it seems to me as if there were +nothing but petty intrigues and still-born loves, meaningless smiles +and causeless scorn, eyes lighted by no flame within, brain-power in +abundance running aimlessly to waste. All those pink-and-white faces +are here not so much for enjoyment, as to escape from dulness. None of +the emotion is genuine. If you ask for nothing but court feathers +properly adjusted, fresh gauzes and pretty toilettes and fragile, fair +women, if you desire simply to skim the surface of life, here is your +world for you. Be content with meaningless phrases and fascinating +simpers, and do not ask for real feeling. For my own part, I abhor the +stale intrigues which end in sub-prefectures and receiver-generals' +places and marriages; or, if love comes into the question, in stealthy +compromises, so ashamed are we of the mere semblance of passion. Not a +single one of all these eloquent faces tells you of a soul, a soul +wholly absorbed by one idea as by remorse. Regrets and misfortune go +about shame-facedly clad in jests. There is not one woman here whose +resistance I should care to overcome, not one who could drag you down +to the pit. Where will you find energy in Paris? A poniard here is a +curious toy to hang from a gilt nail, in a picturesque sheath to +match. The women, the brains, and hearts of Paris are all on a par. +There is no passion left, because we have no individuality. High birth +and intellect and fortune are all reduced to one level; we all have +taken to the uniform black coat by way of mourning for a dead France. +There is no love between equals. Between two lovers there should be +differences to efface, wide gulfs to fill. The charm of love fled from +us in 1789. Our dulness and our humdrum lives are the outcome of the +political system. Italy at any rate is the land of sharp contrasts. +Woman there is a malevolent animal, a dangerous unreasoning siren, +guided only by her tastes and appetites, a creature no more to be +trusted than a tiger--" + +Mme. Firmiani here came up to interrupt this soliloquy made up of +vague, conflicting, and fragmentary thoughts which cannot be +reproduced in words. The whole charm of such musing lies in its +vagueness--what is it but a sort of mental haze? + +"I want to introduce you to some one who has the greatest wish to make +your acquaintance, after all that she has heard of you," said the +lady, taking his arm. + +She brought him into the next room, and with such a smile and glance +as a Parisienne alone can give, she indicated a woman sitting by the +hearth. + +"Who is she?" the Comte de Vandenesse asked quickly. + +"You have heard her name more than once coupled with praise or blame. +She is a woman who lives in seclusion--a perfect mystery." + +"Oh! if ever you have been merciful in your life, for pity's sake tell +me her name." + +"She is the Marquise d'Aiglemont." + +"I will take lessons from her; she had managed to make a peer of +France of that eminently ordinary person her husband, and a dullard +into a power in the land. But, pray tell me this, did Lord Grenville +die for her sake, do you think, as some women say?" + +"Possibly. Since that adventure, real or imaginary, she is very much +changed, poor thing! She has not gone into society since. Four years +of constancy--that is something in Paris. If she is here to-night----" +Here Mme. Firmiani broke off, adding with a mysterious expression, "I +am forgetting that I must say nothing. Go and talk with her." + +For a moment Charles stood motionless, leaning lightly against the +frame of the doorway, wholly absorbed in his scrutiny of a woman who +had become famous, no one exactly knew how or why. Such curious +anomalies are frequent enough in the world. Mme. d'Aiglemont's +reputation was certainly no more extraordinary than plenty of other +great reputations. There are men who are always in travail of some +great work which never sees the light, statisticians held to be +profound on the score of calculations which they take very good care +not to publish, politicians who live on a newspaper article, men of +letters and artists whose performances are never given to the world, +men of science, much as Sganarelle is a Latinist for those who know no +Latin; there are the men who are allowed by general consent to possess +a peculiar capacity for some one thing, be it for the direction of +arts, or for the conduct of an important mission. The admirable +phrase, "A man with a special subject," might have been invented on +purpose for these acephalous species in the domain of literature and +politics. + +Charles gazed longer than he intended. He was vexed with himself for +feeling so strongly interested; it is true, however, that the lady's +appearance was a refutation of the young man's ballroom +generalizations. + +The Marquise had reached her thirtieth year. She was beautiful in +spite of her fragile form and extremely delicate look. Her greatest +charm lay in her still face, revealing unfathomed depths of soul. Some +haunting, ever-present thought veiled, as it were, the full brilliance +of eyes which told of a fevered life and boundless resignation. So +seldom did she raise the eyelids soberly downcast, and so listless +were her glances, that it almost seemed as if the fire in her eyes +were reserved for some occult contemplation. Any man of genius and +feeling must have felt strangely attracted by her gentleness and +silence. If the mind sought to explain the mysterious problem of a +constant inward turning from the present to the past, the soul was no +less interested in initiating itself into the secrets of a heart proud +in some sort of its anguish. Everything about her, moreover, was in +keeping with these thoughts which she inspired. Like almost all women +who have very long hair, she was very pale and perfectly white. The +marvelous fineness of her skin (that almost unerring sign) indicated a +quick sensibility which could be seen yet more unmistakably in her +features; there was the same minute and wonderful delicacy of finish +in them that the Chinese artist gives to his fantastic figures. +Perhaps her neck was rather too long, but such necks belong to the +most graceful type, and suggest vague affinities between a woman's +head and the magnetic curves of the serpent. Leave not a single one of +the thousand signs and tokens by which the most inscrutable character +betrays itself to an observer of human nature, he has but to watch +carefully the little movements of a woman's head, the ever-varying +expressive turns and curves of her neck and throat, to read her +nature. + +Mme. d'Aiglemont's dress harmonized with the haunting thought that +informed the whole woman. Her hair was gathered up into a tall coronet +of broad plaits, without ornament of any kind; she seemed to have +bidden farewell for ever to elaborate toilettes. Nor were any of the +small arts of coquetry which spoil so many women to be detected in +her. Perhaps her bodice, modest though it was, did not altogether +conceal the dainty grace of her figure, perhaps, too, her gown looked +rich from the extreme distinction of its fashion, and if it is +permissible to look for expression in the arrangement of stuffs, +surely those numerous straight folds invested her with a great +dignity. There may have been some lingering trace of the indelible +feminine foible in the minute care bestowed upon her hand and foot; +yet, if she allowed them to be seen with some pleasure, it would have +tasked the utmost malice of a rival to discover any affectation in her +gestures, so natural did they seem, so much a part of old childish +habit, that her careless grace absolved this vestige of vanity. + +All these little characteristics, the nameless trifles which combine +to make up the sum of a woman's prettiness or ugliness, her charm or +lack of charm, can only be indicated, when, as with Mme. d'Aiglemont, +a personality dominates and gives coherence to the details, informing +them, blending them all in an exquisite whole. Her manner was +perfectly in accord with her style of beauty and her dress. Only to +certain women at a certain age is it given to put language into their +attitude. Is it joy or is it sorrow that teaches a woman of thirty the +secret of that eloquence of carriage, so that she must always remain +an enigma which each interprets by the aid of his hopes, desires, or +theories? + +The way in which the Marquise leaned both elbows on the arm of her +chair, the toying of her interclasped fingers, the curve of her +throat, the indolent lines of her languid but lissome body as she lay +back in graceful exhaustion, as it were; her indolent limbs, her +unstudied pose, the utter lassitude of her movements,--all suggested +that this was a woman for whom life had lost its interest, a woman who +had known the joys of love only in dreams, a woman bowed down by the +burden of memories of the past, a woman who had long since despaired +of the future and despaired of herself, an unoccupied woman who took +the emptiness of her own life for the nothingness of life. + +Charles de Vandenesse saw and admired the beautiful picture before +him, as a kind of artistic success beyond an ordinary woman's powers +of attainment. He was acquainted with d'Aiglemont; and now, at the +first sight of d'Aiglemont's wife, the young diplomatist saw at a +glance a disproportionate marriage, an incompatibility (to use the +legal jargon) so great that it was impossible that the Marquise should +love her husband. And yet--the Marquise d'Aiglemont's life was above +reproach, and for any observer the mystery about her was the more +interesting on this account. The first impulse of surprise over, +Vandenesse cast about for the best way of approaching Mme. +d'Aiglemont. He would try a commonplace piece of diplomacy, he +thought; he would disconcert her by a piece of clumsiness and see how +she would receive it. + +"Madame," he said, seating himself near her, "through a fortunate +indiscretion I have learned that, for some reason unknown to me, I +have had the good fortune to attract your notice. I owe you the more +thanks because I have never been so honored before. At the same time, +you are responsible for one of my faults, for I mean never to be +modest again--" + +"You will make a mistake, monsieur," she laughed; "vanity should be +left to those who have nothing else to recommend them." + +The conversation thus opened ranged at large, in the usual way, over a +multitude of topics--art and literature, politics, men and things-- +till insensibly they fell to talking of the eternal theme in France +and all the world over--love, sentiment, and women. + +"We are bond-slaves." + +"You are queens." + +This was the gist and substance of all the more or less ingenious +discourse between Charles and the Marquise, as of all such discourses +--past, present, and to come. Allow a certain space of time, and the +two formulas shall begin to mean "Love me," and "I will love you." + +"Madame," Charles de Vandenesse exclaimed under his breath, "you have +made me bitterly regret that I am leaving Paris. In Italy I certainly +shall not pass hours in intellectual enjoyment such as this has been." + +"Perhaps, monsieur, you will find happiness, and happiness is worth +more than all the brilliant things, true and false, that are said +every evening in Paris." + +Before Charles took leave, he asked permission to pay a farewell call +on the Marquise d'Aiglemont, and very lucky did he feel himself when +the form of words in which he expressed himself for once was used in +all sincerity; and that night, and all day long on the morrow, he +could not put the thought of the Marquise out of his mind. + +At times he wondered why she had singled him out, what she had meant +when she asked him to come to see her, and thought supplied an +inexhaustible commentary. Again it seemed to him that he had +discovered the motives of her curiosity, and he grew intoxicated with +hope or frigidly sober with each new construction put upon that piece +of commonplace civility. Sometimes it meant everything, sometimes +nothing. He made up his mind at last that he would not yield to this +inclination, and--went to call on Mme. d'Aiglemont. + +There are thoughts which determine our conduct, while we do not so +much as suspect their existence. If at first sight this assertion +appears to be less a truth than a paradox, let any candid inquirer +look into his own life and he shall find abundant confirmation +therein. Charles went to Mme. d'Aiglemont, and so obeyed one of these +latent, pre-existent germs of thought, of which our experience and our +intellectual gains and achievements are but later and tangible +developments. + +For a young man a woman of thirty has irresistible attractions. There +is nothing more natural, nothing better established, no human tie of +stouter tissue than the heart-deep attachment between such a woman as +the Marquise d'Aiglemont and such a man as Charles de Vandenesse. You +can see examples of it every day in the world. A girl, as a matter of +fact, has too many young illusions, she is too inexperienced, the +instinct of sex counts for too much in her love for a young man to +feel flattered by it. A woman of thirty knows all that is involved in +the self-surrender to be made. Among the impulses of the first, put +curiosity and other motives than love; the second acts with integrity +of sentiment. The first yields; the second makes deliberate choice. Is +not that choice in itself an immense flattery? A woman armed with +experience, forewarned by knowledge, almost always dearly bought, +seems to give more than herself; while the inexperienced and credulous +girl, unable to draw comparisons for lack of knowledge, can appreciate +nothing at its just worth. She accepts love and ponders it. A woman is +a counselor and a guide at an age when we love to be guided and +obedience is delight; while a girl would fain learn all things, +meeting us with a girl's /naivete/ instead of a woman's tenderness. +She affords a single triumph; with a woman there is resistance upon +resistance to overcome; she has but joy and tears, a woman has rapture +and remorse. + +A girl cannot play the part of a mistress unless she is so corrupt +that we turn from her with loathing; a woman has a thousand ways of +preserving her power and her dignity; she has risked so much for love, +that she must bid him pass through his myriad transformations, while +her too submissive rival gives a sense of too serene security which +palls. If the one sacrifices her maidenly pride, the other immolates +the honor of a whole family. A girl's coquetry is of the simplest, she +thinks that all is said when the veil is laid aside; a woman's +coquetry is endless, she shrouds herself in veil after veil, she +satisfies every demand of man's vanity, the novice responds but to +one. + +And there are terrors, fears, and hesitations--trouble and storm in +the love of a woman of thirty years, never to be found in a young +girl's love. At thirty years a woman asks her lover to give her back +the esteem she has forfeited for his sake; she lives only for him, her +thoughts are full of his future, he must have a great career, she bids +him make it glorious; she can obey, entreat, command, humble herself, +or rise in pride; times without number she brings comfort when a young +girl can only make moan. And with all the advantages of her position, +the woman of thirty can be a girl again, for she can play all parts, +assume a girl's bashfulness, and grow the fairer even for a mischance. + +Between these two feminine types lies the immeasurable difference +which separates the foreseen from the unforeseen, strength from +weakness. The woman of thirty satisfies every requirement; the young +girl must satisfy none, under penalty of ceasing to be a young girl. +Such ideas as these, developing in a young man's mind, help to +strengthen the strongest of all passions, a passion in which all +spontaneous and natural feeling is blended with the artificial +sentiment created by conventional manners. + +The most important and decisive step in a woman's life is the very one +that she invariably regards as the most insignificant. After her +marriage she is no longer her own mistress, she is the queen and the +bond-slave of the domestic hearth. The sanctity of womanhood is +incompatible with social liberty and social claims; and for a woman +emancipation means corruption. If you give a stranger the right of +entry into the sanctuary of home, do you not put yourself at his +mercy? How then if she herself bids him enter it? Is not this an +offence, or, to speak more accurately, a first step towards an +offence? You must either accept this theory with all its consequences, +or absolve illicit passion. French society hitherto has chosen the +third and middle course of looking on and laughing when offences come, +apparently upon the Spartan principle of condoning the theft and +punishing clumsiness. And this system, it may be, is a very wise one. +'Tis a most appalling punishment to have all your neighbors pointing +the finger of scorn at you, a punishment that a woman feels in her +very heart. Women are tenacious, and all of them should be tenacious +of respect; without esteem they cannot exist, esteem is the first +demand that they make of love. The most corrupt among them feels that +she must, in the first place, pledge the future to buy absolution for +the past, and strives to make her lover understand that only for +irresistible bliss can she barter the respect which the world +henceforth will refuse to her. + +Some such reflections cross the mind of any woman who for the first +time and alone receives a visit from a young man; and this especially +when, like Charles de Vandenesse, the visitor is handsome or clever. +And similarly there are not many young men who would fail to base some +secret wish on one of the thousand and one ideas which justify the +instinct that attracts them to a beautiful, witty, and unhappy woman +like the Marquise d'Aiglemont. + +Mme. d'Aiglemont, therefore, felt troubled when M. de Vandenesse was +announced; and as for him, he was almost confused in spite of the +assurance which is like a matter of costume for a diplomatist. But not +for long. The Marquise took refuge at once in the friendliness of +manner which women use as a defence against the misinterpretations of +fatuity, a manner which admits of no afterthought, while it paves the +way to sentiment (to make use of a figure of speech), tempering the +transition through the ordinary forms of politeness. In this ambiguous +position, where the four roads leading respectively to Indifference, +Respect, Wonder, and Passion meet, a woman may stay as long as she +pleases, but only at thirty years does she understand all the +possibilities of the situation. Laughter, tenderness, and jest are all +permitted to her at the crossing of the ways; she has acquired the +tact by which she finds all the responsive chords in a man's nature, +and skill in judging the sounds which she draws forth. Her silence is +as dangerous as her speech. You will never read her at that age, nor +discover if she is frank or false, nor how far she is serious in her +admissions or merely laughing at you. She gives you the right to +engage in a game of fence with her, and suddenly by a glance, a +gesture of proved potency, she closes the combat and turns from you +with your secret in her keeping, free to offer you up in a jest, free +to interest herself in you, safe alike in her weakness and your +strength. + +Although the Marquise d'Aiglemont took up her position upon this +neutral ground during the first interview, she knew how to preserve a +high womanly dignity. The sorrows of which she never spoke seemed to +hang over her assumed gaiety like a light cloud obscuring the sun. +When Vandenesse went out, after a conversation which he had enjoyed +more than he had thought possible, he carried with him the conviction +that this was like to be too costly a conquest for his aspirations. + +"It would mean sentiment from here to yonder," he thought, "and +correspondence enough to wear out a deputy second-clerk on his +promotion. And yet if I really cared----" + +Luckless phrase that has been the ruin of many an infatuated mortal. +In France the way to love lies through self-love. Charles went back to +Mme. d'Aiglemont, and imagined that she showed symptoms of pleasure in +his conversion. And then, instead of giving himself up like a boy to +the joy of falling in love, he tried to play a double role. He did his +best to act passion and to keep cool enough to analyze the progress of +this flirtation, to be lover and diplomatist at once; but youth and +hot blood and analysis could only end in one way, over head and ears +in love; for, natural or artificial, the Marquise was more than his +match. Each time he went out from Mme. d'Aiglemont, he strenuously +held himself to his distrust, and submitted the progressive situations +of his case to a rigorous scrutiny fatal to his own emotions. + +"To-day she gave me to understand that she has been very unhappy and +lonely," said he to himself, after the third visit, "and that but for +her little girl she would have longed for death. She was perfectly +resigned. Now as I am neither her brother nor her spiritual director, +why should she confide her troubles to /me/? She loves me." + +Two days later he came away apostrophizing modern manners. + +"Love takes on the hue of every age. In 1822 love is a doctrinaire. +Instead of proving love by deeds, as in times past, we have taken to +argument and rhetoric and debate. Women's tactics are reduced to three +shifts. In the first place, they declare that we cannot love as they +love. (Coquetry! the Marquise simply threw it at me, like a challenge, +this evening!) Next they grow pathetic, to appeal to our natural +generosity or self-love; for does it not flatter a young man's vanity +to console a woman for a great calamity? And lastly, they have a craze +for virginity. She must have thought that I thought her very innocent. +My good faith is like to become an excellent speculation." + +But a day came when every suspicious idea was exhausted. He asked +himself whether the Marquise was not sincere; whether so much +suffering could be feigned, and why she should act the part of +resignation? She lived in complete seclusion; she drank in silence of +a cup of sorrow scarcely to be guessed unless from the accent of some +chance exclamation in a voice always well under control. From that +moment Charles felt a keen interest in Mme. d'Aiglemont. And yet, +though his visits had come to be a recognized thing, and in some sort +a necessity to them both, and though the hour was kept free by tacit +agreement, Vandenesse still thought that this woman with whom he was +in love was more clever than sincere. "Decidedly, she is an uncommonly +clever woman," he used to say to himself as he went away. + +When he came into the room, there was the Marquise in her favorite +attitude, melancholy expressed in her whole form. She made no movement +when he entered, only raised her eyes and looked full at him, but the +glance that she gave him was like a smile. Mme. d'Aiglemont's manner +meant confidence and sincere friendship, but of love there was no +trace. Charles sat down and found nothing to say. A sensation for +which no language exists troubled him. + +"What is the matter with you?" she asked in a softened voice. + +"Nothing. . . . Yes; I am thinking of something of which, as yet, you +have not thought at all." + +"What is it?" + +"Why--the Congress is over." + +"Well," she said, "and ought you to have been at the Congress?" + +A direct answer would have been the most eloquent and delicate +declaration of love; but Charles did not make it. Before the candid +friendship in Mme. d'Aiglemont's face all the calculations of vanity, +the hopes of love, and the diplomatist's doubts died away. She did not +suspect, or she seemed not to suspect, his love for her; and Charles, +in utter confusion turning upon himself, was forced to admit that he +had said and done nothing which could warrant such a belief on her +part. For M. de Vandenesse that evening, the Marquise was, as she had +always been, simple and friendly, sincere in her sorrow, glad to have +a friend, proud to find a nature responsive to her own--nothing more. +It had not entered her mind that a woman could yield twice; she had +known love--love lay bleeding still in the depths of her heart, but +she did not imagine that bliss could bring her its rapture twice, for +she believed not merely in the intellect, but in the soul; and for her +love was no simple attraction; it drew her with all noble attractions. + +In a moment Charles became a young man again, enthralled by the +splendor of a nature so lofty. He wished for a fuller initiation into +the secret history of a life blighted rather by fate than by her own +fault. Mme. d'Aiglemont heard him ask the cause of the overwhelming +sorrow which had blended all the harmonies of sadness with her beauty; +she gave him one glance, but that searching look was like a seal set +upon some solemn compact. + +"Ask no more such questions of me," she said. "Four years ago, on this +very day, the man who loved me, for whom I would have given up +everything, even my own self-respect, died, and died to save my name. +That love was still young and pure and full of illusions when it came +to an end. Before I gave way to passion--and never was a woman so +urged by fate--I had been drawn into the mistake that ruins many a +girl's life, a marriage with a man whose agreeable manners concealed +his emptiness. Marriage plucked my hopes away one by one. And now, +to-day, I have forfeited happiness through marriage, as well as the +happiness styled criminal, and I have known no happiness. Nothing is +left to me. If I could not die, at least I ought to be faithful to my +memories." + +No tears came with the words. Her eyes fell, and there was a slight +twisting of the fingers interclasped, according to her wont. It was +simply said, but in her voice there was a note of despair, deep as her +love seemed to have been, which left Charles without a hope. The +dreadful story of a life told in three sentences, with that twisting +of the fingers for all comment, the might of anguish in a fragile +woman, the dark depths masked by a fair face, the tears of four years +of mourning fascinated Vandenesse; he sat silent and diminished in the +presence of her woman's greatness and nobleness, seeing not the +physical beauty so exquisite, so perfectly complete, but the soul so +great in its power to feel. He had found, at last, the ideal of his +fantastic imaginings, the ideal so vigorously invoked by all who look +on life as the raw material of a passion for which many a one seeks +ardently, and dies before he has grasped the whole of the dreamed-of +treasure. + +With those words of hers in his ears, in the presence of her sublime +beauty, his own thoughts seemed poor and narrow. Powerless as he felt +himself to find words of his own, simple enough and lofty enough to +scale the heights of this exaltation, he took refuge in platitudes as +to the destiny of women. + +"Madame, we must either forget our pain, or hollow out a tomb for +ourselves." + +But reason always cuts a poor figure beside sentiment; the one being +essentially restricted, like everything that is positive, while the +other is infinite. To set to work to reason where you are required to +feel, is the mark of a limited nature. Vandenesse therefore held his +peace, sat awhile with his eyes fixed upon her, then came away. A prey +to novel thoughts which exalted woman for him, he was in something the +same position as a painter who has taken the vulgar studio model for a +type of womanhood, and suddenly confronts the /Mnemosyne/ of the Musee +--that noblest and least appreciated of antique statues. + +Charles de Vandenesse was deeply in love. He loved Mme. d'Aiglemont +with the loyalty of youth, with the fervor that communicates such +ineffable charm to a first passion, with a simplicity of heart of +which a man only recovers some fragments when he loves again at a +later day. Delicious first passion of youth, almost always deliciously +savored by the woman who calls it forth; for at the golden prime of +thirty, from the poetic summit of a woman's life, she can look out +over the whole course of love--backwards into the past, forwards into +the future--and, knowing all the price to be paid for love, enjoys her +bliss with the dread of losing it ever present with her. Her soul is +still fair with her waning youth, and passion daily gathers strength +from the dismaying prospect of the coming days. + +"This is love," Vandenesse said to himself this time as he left the +Marquise, "and for my misfortune I love a woman wedded to her +memories. It is hard work to struggle against a dead rival, never +present to make blunders and fall out of favor, nothing of him left +but his better qualities. What is it but a sort of high treason +against the Ideal to attempt to break the charm of memory, to destroy +the hopes that survive a lost lover, precisely because he only +awakened longings, and all that is loveliest and most enchanting in +love?" + +These sober reflections, due to the discouragement and dread of +failure with which love begins in earnest, were the last expiring +effort of diplomatic reasoning. Thenceforward he knew no +afterthoughts, he was the plaything of his love, and lost himself in +the nothings of that strange inexplicable happiness which is full fed +by a chance word, by silence, or a vague hope. He tried to love +Platonically, came daily to breathe the air that she breathed, became +almost a part of her house, and went everywhere with her, slave as he +was of a tyrannous passion compounded of egoism and devotion of the +completest. Love has its own instinct, finding the way to the heart, +as the feeblest insect finds the way to its flower, with a will which +nothing can dismay or turn aside. If feeling is sincere, its destiny +is not doubtful. Let a woman begin to think that her life depends on +the sincerity or fervor or earnestness which her lover shall put into +his longings, and is there not sufficient in the thought to put her +through all the tortures of dread? It is impossible for a woman, be +she wife or mother, to be secure from a young man's love. One thing it +is within her power to do--to refuse to see him as soon as she learns +a secret which she never fails to guess. But this is too decided a +step to take at an age when marriage has become a prosaic and tiresome +yoke, and conjugal affection is something less than tepid (if indeed +her husband has not already begun to neglect her). Is a woman plain? +she is flattered by a love which gives her fairness. Is she young and +charming? She is only to be won by a fascination as great as her own +power to charm, that is to say, a fascination well-nigh irresistible. +Is she virtuous? There is a love sublime in its earthliness which +leads her to find something like absolution in the very greatness of +the surrender and glory in a hard struggle. Everything is a snare. No +lesson, therefore, is too severe where the temptation is so strong. +The seclusion in which the Greeks and Orientals kept and keep their +women, an example more and more followed in modern England, is the +only safeguard of domestic morality; but under this system there is an +end of all the charm of social intercourse; and society, and good +breeding, and refinement of manners become impossible. The nations +must take their choice. + +So a few months went by, and Mme. d'Aiglemont discovered that her life +was closely bound with this young man's life, without overmuch +confusion in her surprise, and felt with something almost like +pleasure that she shared his tastes and his thoughts. Had she adopted +Vandenesse's ideas? Or was it Vandenesse who had made her lightest +whims his own? She was not careful to inquire. She had been swept out +already into the current of passion, and yet this adorable woman told +herself with the confident reiteration of misgiving; + +"Ah! no. I will be faithful to him who died for me." + +Pascal said that "the doubt of God implies belief in God." And +similarly it may be said that a woman only parleys when she has +surrendered. A day came when the Marquise admitted to herself that she +was loved, and with that admission came a time of wavering among +countless conflicting thoughts and feelings. The superstitions of +experience spoke their language. Should she be happy? Was it possible +that she should find happiness outside the limits of the laws which +society rightly or wrongly has set up for humanity to live by? +Hitherto her cup of life had been full of bitterness. Was there any +happy issue possible for the ties which united two human beings held +apart by social conventions? And might not happiness be bought too +dear? Still, this so ardently desired happiness, for which it is so +natural to seek, might perhaps be found after all. Curiosity is always +retained on the lover's side in the suit. The secret tribunal was +still sitting when Vandenesse appeared, and his presence put the +metaphysical spectre, reason, to flight. + +If such are the successive transformations through which a sentiment, +transient though it be, passes in a young man and a woman of thirty, +there comes a moment of time when the shades of difference blend into +each other, when all reasonings end in a single and final reflection +which is lost and absorbed in the desire which it confirms. Then the +longer the resistance, the mightier the voice of love. And here endeth +this lesson, or rather this study made from the /ecorche/, to borrow a +most graphic term from the studio, for in this history it is not so +much intended to portray love as to lay bare its mechanism and its +dangers. From this moment every day adds color to these dry bones, +clothes them again with living flesh and blood and the charm of youth, +and puts vitality into their movements; till they glow once more with +the beauty, the persuasive grace of sentiment, the loveliness of life. + + + +Charles found Mme. d'Aiglemont absorbed in thought, and to his "What +is it?" spoken in thrilling tones grown persuasive with the heart's +soft magic, she was careful not to reply. The delicious question bore +witness to the perfect unity of their spirits; and the Marquise felt, +with a woman's wonderful intuition, that to give any expression to the +sorrow in her heart would be to make an advance. If, even now, each +one of those words was fraught with significance for them both, in +what fathomless depths might she not plunge at the first step? She +read herself with a clear and lucid glance. She was silent, and +Vandenesse followed her example. + +"I am not feeling well," she said at last, taking alarm at the pause +fraught with such great moment for them both, when the language of the +eyes completely filled the blank left by the helplessness of speech. + +"Madame," said Charles, and his voice was tender but unsteady with +strong feeling, "soul and body are both dependent on each other. If +you were happy, you would be young and fresh. Why do you refuse to ask +of love all that love has taken from you? You think that your life is +over when it is only just beginning. Trust yourself to a friend's +care. It is so sweet to be loved." + +"I am old already," she said; "there is no reason why I should not +continue to suffer as in the past. And 'one must love,' do you say? +Well, I must not, and I cannot. Your friendship has put some sweetness +into my life, but beside you I care for no one, no one could efface my +memories. A friend I accept; I should fly from a lover. Besides, would +it be a very generous thing to do, to exchange a withered heart for a +young heart; to smile upon illusions which now I cannot share, to +cause happiness in which I should either have no belief, or tremble to +lose? I should perhaps respond to his devotion with egoism, should +weigh and deliberate while he felt; my memory would resent the +poignancy of his happiness. No, if you love once, that love is never +replaced, you see. Indeed, who would have my heart at this price?" + +There was a tinge of heartless coquetry in the words, the last effort +of discretion. + +"If he loses courage, well and good, I shall live alone and faithful." +The thought came from the very depths of the woman, for her it was the +too slender willow twig caught in vain by a swimmer swept out by the +current. + +Vandenesse's involuntary shudder at her dictum plead more eloquently +for him than all his past assiduity. Nothing moves a woman so much as +the discovery of a gracious delicacy in us, such a refinement of +sentiment as her own, for a woman the grace and delicacy are sure +tokens of truth. Charles' start revealed the sincerity of his love. +Mme. d'Aiglemont learned the strength of his affection from the +intensity of his pain. + +"Perhaps you are right," he said coldly. "New love, new vexation of +spirit." + +Then he changed the subject, and spoke of indifferent matters; but he +was visibly moved, and he concentrated his gaze on Mme. d'Aiglemont as +if he were seeing her for the last time. + +"Adieu, madame," he said, with emotion in his voice. + +"/Au revoir/," said she, with that subtle coquetry, the secret of a +very few among women. + +He made no answer and went. + +When Charles was no longer there, when his empty chair spoke for him, +regrets flocked in upon her, and she found fault with herself. Passion +makes an immense advance as soon as a woman persuades herself that she +has failed somewhat in generosity or hurt a noble nature. In love +there is never any need to be on our guard against the worst in us; +that is a safeguard; a woman only surrenders at the summons of a +virtue. "The floor of hell is paved with good intentions,"--it is no +preacher's paradox. + +Vandenesse stopped away for several days. Every evening at the +accustomed hour the Marquise sat expectant in remorseful impatience. +She could not write--that would be a declaration, and, moreover, her +instinct told her that he would come back. On the sixth day he was +announced, and never had she heard the name with such delight. Her joy +frightened her. + +"You have punished me well," she said, addressing him. + +Vandenesse gazed at her in astonishment. + +"Punished?" he echoed. "And for what?" He understood her quite well, +but he meant to be avenged for all that he had suffered as soon as she +suspected it. + +"Why have you not come to see me?" she demanded with a smile. + +"Then you have seen no visitors?" asked he, parrying the question. + +"Yes. M. de Ronquerolles and M. de Marsay and young d'Escrignon came +and stayed for nearly two hours, the first two yesterday, the last +this morning. And besides, I have had a call, I believe, from Mme. +Firmiani and from your sister, Mme. de Listomere." + +Here was a new infliction, torture which none can comprehend unless +they know love as a fierce and all-invading tyrant whose mildest +symptom is a monstrous jealousy, a perpetual desire to snatch away the +beloved from every other influence. + +"What!" thought he to himself, "she has seen visitors, she has been +with happy creatures, and talking to them, while I was unhappy and all +alone." + +He buried his annoyance forthwith, and consigned love to the depths of +his heart, like a coffin to the sea. His thoughts were of the kind +that never find expression in words; they pass through the mind +swiftly as a deadly acid, that poisons as it evaporates and vanishes. +His brow, however, was over-clouded; and Mme. d'Aiglemont, guided by +her woman's instinct, shared his sadness without understanding it. She +had hurt him, unwittingly, as Vandenesse knew. He talked over his +position with her, as if his jealousy were one of those hypothetical +cases which lovers love to discuss. Then the Marquise understood it +all. She was so deeply moved, that she could not keep back the tears-- +and so these lovers entered the heaven of love. + +Heaven and Hell are two great imaginative conceptions formulating our +ideas of Joy and Sorrow--those two poles about which human existence +revolves. Is not heaven a figure of speech covering now and for +evermore an infinite of human feeling impossible to express save in +its accidents--since that Joy is one? And what is Hell but the symbol +of our infinite power to suffer tortures so diverse that of our pain +it is possible to fashion works of art, for no two human sorrows are +alike? + +One evening the two lovers sat alone and side by side, silently +watching one of the fairest transformations of the sky, a cloudless +heaven taking hues of pale gold and purple from the last rays of the +sunset. With the slow fading of the daylight, sweet thoughts seem to +awaken, and soft stirrings of passion, and a mysterious sense of +trouble in the midst of calm. Nature sets before us vague images of +bliss, bidding us enjoy the happiness within our reach, or lament it +when it has fled. In those moments fraught with enchantment, when the +tender light in the canopy of the sky blends in harmony with the +spells working within, it is difficult to resist the heart's desires +grown so magically potent. Cares are blunted, joy becomes ecstasy; +pain, intolerable anguish. The pomp of sunset gives the signal for +confessions and draws them forth. Silence grows more dangerous than +speech for it gives to eyes all the power of the infinite of the +heavens reflected in them. And for speech, the least word has +irresistible might. Is not the light infused into the voice and purple +into the glances? Is not heaven within us, or do we feel that we are +in the heavens? + +Vandenesse and Julie--for so she had allowed herself to be called for +the past few days by him whom she loved to speak of as Charles-- +Vandenesse and Julie were talking together, but they had drifted very +far from their original subject; and if their spoken words had grown +meaningless they listened in delight to the unspoken thoughts that +lurked in the sounds. Her hand lay in his. She had abandoned it to him +without a thought that she had granted a proof of love. + +Together they leaned forward to look out upon a majestic cloud +country, full of snows and glaciers and fantastic mountain peaks with +gray stains of shadow on their sides, a picture composed of sharp +contrasts between fiery red and the shadows of darkness, filling the +skies with a fleeting vision of glory which cannot be reproduced-- +magnificent swaddling-bands of sunrise, bright shrouds of the dying +sun. As they leaned Julie's hair brushed lightly against Vandenesse's +cheek. She felt that light contact, and shuddered violently, and he +even more, for imperceptibly they both had reached one of those +inexplicable crises when quiet has wrought upon the senses until every +faculty of perception is so keen that the slightest shock fills the +heart lost in melancholy with sadness that overflows in tears; or +raises joy to ecstasy in a heart that is lost in the vertigo of love. +Almost involuntarily Julie pressed her lover's hand. That wooing +pressure gave courage to his timidity. All the joy of the present, all +the hopes of the future were blended in the emotion of a first caress, +the bashful trembling kiss that Mme. d'Aiglemont received upon her +cheek. The slighter the concession, the more dangerous and insinuating +it was. For their double misfortune it was only too sincere a +revelation. Two noble natures had met and blended, drawn each to each +by every law of natural attraction, held apart by every ordinance. + +General d'Aiglemont came in at that very moment. + +"The Ministry has gone out," he said. "Your uncle will be in the new +cabinet. So you stand an uncommonly good chance of an embassy, +Vandenesse." + +Charles and Julie looked at each other and flushed red. That blush was +one more tie to unite them; there was one thought and one remorse in +either mind; between two lovers guilty of a kiss there is a bond quite +as strong and terrible as the bond between two robbers who have +murdered a man. Something had to be said by way of reply. + +"I do not care to leave Paris now," Charles said. + +"We know why," said the General, with the knowing air of a man who +discovers a secret. "You do not like to leave your uncle, because you +do not wish to lose your chance of succeeding to the title." + +The Marquise took refuge in her room, and in her mind passed a +pitiless verdict upon her husband. + +"His stupidity is really beyond anything!" + + + +IV. + +THE FINGER OF GOD + +Between the Barriere d'Italie and the Barriere de la Sante, along the +boulevard which leads to the Jardin des Plantes, you have a view of +Paris fit to send an artist or the tourist, the most /blase/ in +matters of landscape, into ecstasies. Reach the slightly higher ground +where the line of boulevard, shaded by tall, thick-spreading trees, +curves with the grace of some green and silent forest avenue, and you +see spread out at your feet a deep valley populous with factories +looking almost countrified among green trees and the brown streams of +the Bievre or the Gobelins. + +On the opposite slope, beneath some thousands of roofs packed close +together like heads in a crowd, lurks the squalor of the Faubourg +Saint-Marceau. The imposing cupola of the Pantheon, and the grim +melancholy dome of the Val-du-Grace, tower proudly up above a whole +town in itself, built amphitheatre-wise; every tier being grotesquely +represented by a crooked line of street, so that the two public +monuments look like a huge pair of giants dwarfing into insignificance +the poor little houses and the tallest poplars in the valley. To your +left behold the observatory, the daylight, pouring athwart its windows +and galleries, producing such fantastical strange effects that the +building looks like a black spectral skeleton. Further yet in the +distance rises the elegant lantern tower of the Invalides, soaring up +between the bluish pile of the Luxembourg and the gray tours of Saint- +Sulpice. From this standpoint the lines of the architecture are +blended with green leaves and gray shadows, and change every moment +with every aspect of the heavens, every alteration of light or color +in the sky. Afar, the skyey spaces themselves seem to be full of +buildings; near, wind the serpentine curves of waving trees and green +footpaths. + +Away to your right, through a great gap in this singular landscape, +you see the canal Saint-Martin, a long pale stripe with its edging of +reddish stone quays and fringes of lime avenue. The long rows of +buildings beside it, in genuine Roman style, are the public granaries. + +Beyond, again, on the very last plane of all, see the smoke-dimmed +slopes of Belleville covered with houses and windmills, which blend +their freaks of outline with the chance effects of cloud. And still, +between that horizon, vague as some childish recollection, and the +serried range of roofs in the valley, a whole city lies out of sight: +a huge city, engulfed, as it were, in a vast hollow between the +pinnacles of the Hopital de la Pitie and the ridge line of the +Cimetiere de l'Est, between suffering on the one hand and death on the +other; a city sending up a smothered roar like Ocean grumbling at the +foot of a cliff, as if to let you know that "I am here!" + +When the sunlight pours like a flood over this strip of Paris, +purifying and etherealizing the outlines, kindling answering lights +here and there in the window panes, brightening the red tiles, flaming +about the golden crosses, whitening walls and transforming the +atmosphere into a gauzy veil, calling up rich contrasts of light and +fantastic shadow; when the sky is blue and earth quivers in the heat, +and the bells are pealing, then you shall see one of the eloquent +fairy scenes which stamp themselves for ever on the imagination, a +scene that shall find as fanatical worshipers as the wondrous views of +Naples and Byzantium or the isles of Florida. Nothing is wanting to +complete the harmony, the murmur of the world of men and the idyllic +quiet of solitude, the voices of a million human creatures and the +voice of God. There lies a whole capital beneath the peaceful +cypresses of Pere-Lachaise. + +The landscape lay in all its beauty, sparkling in the spring sunlight, +as I stood looking out over it one morning, my back against a huge +elm-tree that flung its yellow flowers to the wind. At the sight of +the rich and glorious view before me, I thought bitterly of the scorn +with which even in our literature we affect to hold this land of ours, +and poured maledictions on the pitiable plutocrats who fall out of +love with fair France, and spend their gold to acquire the right of +sneering at their own country, by going through Italy at a gallop and +inspecting that desecrated land through an opera-glass. I cast loving +eyes on modern Paris. I was beginning to dream dreams, when the sound +of a kiss disturbed the solitude and put philosophy to flight. Down +the sidewalk, along the steep bank, above the rippling water, I saw +beyond the Ponte des Gobelins the figure of a woman, dressed with the +daintiest simplicity; she was still young, as it seemed to me, and the +blithe gladness of the landscape was reflected in her sweet face. Her +companion, a handsome young man, had just set down a little boy. A +prettier child has never been seen, and to this day I do not know +whether it was the little one or his mother who received the kiss. In +their young faces, in their eyes, their smile, their every movement, +you could read the same deep and tender thought. Their arms were +interlaced with such glad swiftness; they drew close together with +such marvelous unanimity of impulse that, conscious of nothing but +themselves, they did not so much as see me. A second child, however--a +little girl, who had turned her back upon them in sullen discontent-- +threw me a glance, and the expression in her eyes startled me. She was +as pretty and engaging as the little brother whom she left to run +about by himself, sometimes before, sometimes after their mother and +her companion; but her charm was less childish, and now, as she stood +mute and motionless, her attitude and demeanor suggested a torpid +snake. There was something indescribably mechanical in the way in +which the pretty woman and her companion paced up and down. In absence +of mind, probably, they were content to walk to and fro between the +little bridge and a carriage that stood waiting nearby at a corner in +the boulevard, turning, stopping short now and again, looking into +each other's eyes, or breaking into laughter as their casual talk grew +lively or languid, grave or gay. + +I watched this delicious picture a while from my hiding-place by the +great elm-tree, and should have turned away no doubt and respected +their privacy, if it had not been for a chance discovery. In the face +of the brooding, silent, elder child I saw traces of thought overdeep +for her age. When her mother and the young man at her side turned and +came near, her head was frequently lowered; the furtive sidelong +glances of intelligence that she gave the pair and the child her +brother were nothing less than extraordinary. Sometimes the pretty +woman or her friend would stroke the little boy's fair curls, or lay a +caressing finger against the baby throat or the white collar as he +played at keeping step with them; and no words can describe the shrewd +subtlety, the ingenuous malice, the fierce intensity which lighted up +that pallid little face with the faint circles already round the eyes. +Truly there was a man's power of passion in the strange-looking, +delicate little girl. Here were traces of suffering or of thought in +her; and which is the more certain token of death when life is in +blossom--physical suffering, or the malady of too early thought +preying upon a soul as yet in bud? Perhaps a mother knows. For my own +part, I know of nothing more dreadful to see than an old man's +thoughts on a child's forehead; even blasphemy from girlish lips is +less monstrous. + +The almost stupid stolidity of this child who had begun to think +already, her rare gestures, everything about her, interested me. I +scrutinized her curiously. Then the common whim of the observer drew +me to compare her with her brother, and to note their likeness and +unlikeness. + +Her brown hair and dark eyes and look of precocious power made a rich +contrast with the little one's fair curled head and sea-green eyes and +winning helplessness. She, perhaps, was seven or eight years of age; +the boy was full four years younger. Both children were dressed alike; +but here again, looking closely, I noticed a difference. It was very +slight, a little thing enough; but in the light of after events I saw +that it meant a whole romance in the past, a whole tragedy to come. +The little brown-haired maid wore a linen collar with a plain hem, her +brother's was edged with dainty embroidery, that was all; but therein +lay the confession of a heart's secret, a tacit preference which a +child can read in the mother's inmost soul as clearly as if the spirit +of God revealed it. The fair-haired child, careless and glad, looked +almost like a girl, his skin was so fair and fresh, his movements so +graceful, his look so sweet; while his older sister, in spite of her +energy, in spite of the beauty of her features and her dazzling +complexion, looked like a sickly little boy. In her bright eyes there +was none of the humid softness which lends such charm to children's +faces; they seemed, like courtiers' eyes, to be dried by some inner +fire; and in her pallor there was a certain swarthy olive tint, the +sign of vigorous character. Twice her little brother came to her, +holding out a tiny hunting-horn with a touching charm, a winning look, +and wistful expression, which would have sent Charlet into ecstasies, +but she only scowled in answer to his "Here, Helene, will you take +it?" so persuasively spoken. The little girl, so sombre and vehement +beneath her apparent indifference, shuddered, and even flushed red +when her brother came near her; but the little one seemed not to +notice his sister's dark mood, and his unconsciousness, blended with +earnestness, marked a final difference in character between the child +and the little girl, whose brow was overclouded already by the gloom +of a man's knowledge and cares. + +"Mamma, Helene will not play," cried the little one, seizing an +opportunity to complain while the two stood silent on the Ponte des +Gobelins. + +"Let her alone, Charles; you know very well that she is always cross." + +Tears sprang to Helene's eyes at the words so thoughtlessly uttered by +her mother as she turned abruptly to the young man by her side. The +child devoured the speech in silence, but she gave her brother one of +those sagacious looks that seemed inexplicable to me, glancing with a +sinister expression from the bank where he stood to the Bievre, then +at the bridge and the view, and then at me. + +I as afraid lest my presence should disturb the happy couple; I +slipped away and took refuge behind a thicket of elder trees, which +completely screened me from all eyes. Sitting quietly on the summit of +the bank, I watched the ever-changing landscape and the fierce-looking +little girl, for with my head almost on a level with the boulevard I +could still see her through the leaves. Helene seemed uneasy over my +disappearance, her dark eyes looked for me down the alley and behind +the trees with indefinable curiosity. What was I to her? Then Charles' +baby laughter rang out like a bird's song in the silence. The tall, +young man, with the same fair hair, was dancing him in his arms, +showering kisses upon him, and the meaningless baby words of that +"little language" which rises to our lips when we play with children. +The mother looked on smiling, now and then, doubtless, putting in some +low word that came up from the heart, for her companion would stop +short in his full happiness, and the blue eyes that turned towards her +were full of glowing light and love and worship. Their voices, +blending with the child's voice, reached me with a vague sense of a +caress. The three figures, charming in themselves, composed a lovely +scene in a glorious landscape, filling it with a pervasive +unimaginable grace. A delicately fair woman, radiant with smiles, a +child of love, a young man with the irresistible charm of youth, a +cloudless sky; nothing was wanting in nature to complete a perfect +harmony for the delight of the soul. I found myself smiling as if +their happiness had been my own. + +The clocks struck nine. The young man gave a tender embrace to his +companion, and went towards the tilbury which an old servant drove +slowly to meet him. The lady had grown grave and almost sad. The +child's prattle sounded unchecked through the last farewell kisses. +Then the tilbury rolled away, and the lady stood motionless, listening +to the sound of the wheels, watching the little cloud of dust raised +by its passage along the road. Charles ran down the green pathway back +to the bridge to join his sister. I heard his silver voice calling to +her. + +"Why did you not come to say good-bye to my good friend?" cried he. + +Helene looked up. Never surely did such hatred gleam from a child's +eyes as from hers at that moment when she turned them on the brother +who stood beside her on the bank side. She gave him an angry push. +Charles lost his footing on the steep slope, stumbled over the roots +of a tree, and fell headlong forwards, dashing his forehead on the +sharp-edged stones of the embankment, and, covered with blood, +disappeared over the edge into the muddy river. The turbid water +closed over a fair, bright head with a shower of splashes; one sharp +shriek after another rang in my ears; then the sounds were stifled by +the thick stream, and the poor child sank with a dull sound as if a +stone had been thrown into the water. The accident had happened with +more than lightning swiftness. I sprang down the footpath, and Helene, +stupefied with horror, shrieked again and again: + +"Mamma! mamma!" + +The mother was there at my side. She had flown to the spot like a +bird. But neither a mother's eyes nor mine could find the exact place +where the little one had gone under. There was a wide space of black +hurrying water, and below in the bed of the Bievre ten feet of mud. +There was not the smallest possibility of saving the child. No one was +stirring at that hour on a Sunday morning, and there are neither +barges nor anglers on the Bievre. There was not a creature in sight, +not a pole to plumb the filthy stream. What need was there for me to +explain how the ugly-looking accident had happened--accident or +misfortune, whichever it might be? Had Helene avenged her father? Her +jealousy surely was the sword of God. And yet when I looked at the +mother I shivered. What fearful ordeal awaited her when she should +return to her husband, the judge before whom she must stand all her +days? And here with her was an inseparable, incorruptible witness. A +child's forehead is transparent, a child's face hides no thoughts, and +a lie, like a red flame set within glows out red that colors even the +eyes. But the unhappy woman had not thought as yet of the punishment +awaiting her at home; she was staring into the Bievre. + + + +Such an event must inevitably send ghastly echoes through a woman's +life, and here is one of the most terrible of the reverberations that +troubled Julie's love from time to time. + +Several years had gone by. The Marquis de Vandenesse wore mourning for +his father, and succeeded to his estates. One evening, therefore, +after dinner it happened that a notary was present in his house. This +was no pettifogging lawyer after Sterne's pattern, but a very solid, +substantial notary of Paris, one of your estimable men who do a stupid +thing pompously, set down a foot heavily upon your private corn, and +then ask what in the world there is to cry out about? If, by accident, +they come to know the full extent of the enormity, "Upon my word," cry +they, "I hadn't a notion!" This was a well-intentioned ass, in short, +who could see nothing in life but deeds and documents. + +Mme. de Aiglemont had been dining with M. de Vandenesse; her husband +had excused himself before dinner was over, for he was taking his two +children to the play. They were to go to some Boulevard theatre or +other, to the Ambigu-Comique or the Gaiete, sensational melodrama +being judged harmless here in Paris, and suitable pabulum for +childhood, because innocence is always triumphant in the fifth act. +The boy and girl had teased their father to be there before the +curtain rose, so he had left the table before dessert was served. + +But the notary, the imperturbable notary, utterly incapable of asking +himself why Mme. d'Aiglemont should have allowed her husband and +children to go without her to the play, sat on as if he were screwed +to his chair. Dinner was over, dessert had been prolonged by +discussion, and coffee delayed. All these things consumed time, +doubtless precious, and drew impatient movements from that charming +woman; she looked not unlike a thoroughbred pawing the ground before a +race; but the man of law, to whom horses and women were equally +unknown quantities, simply thought the Marquise a very lively and +sparkling personage. So enchanted was he to be in the company of a +woman of fashion and a political celebrity, that he was exerting +himself to shine in conversation, and taking the lady's forced smile +for approbation, talked on with unflagging spirit, till the Marquise +was almost out of patience. + +The master of the house, in concert with the lady, had more than once +maintained an eloquent silence when the lawyer expected a civil reply; +but these significant pauses were employed by the talkative nuisance +in looking for anecdotes in the fire. M. de Vandenesse had recourse to +his watch; the charming Marquise tried the experiment of fastening her +bonnet strings, and made as if she would go. But she did not go, and +the notary, blind and deaf, and delighted with himself, was quite +convinced that his interesting conversational powers were sufficient +to keep the lady on the spot. + +"I shall certainly have that woman for a client," said he to himself. + +Meanwhile the Marquise stood, putting on her gloves, twisting her +fingers, looking from the equally impatient Marquis de Vandenesse to +the lawyer, still pounding away. At every pause in the worthy man's +fire of witticisms the charming pair heaved a sigh of relief, and +their looks said plainly, "At last! He is really going!" + +Nothing of the kind. It was a nightmare which could only end in +exasperating the two impassioned creatures, on whom the lawyer had +something of the fascinating effect of a snake on a pair of birds; +before long they would be driven to cut him short. + +The clever notary was giving them the history of the discreditable +ways in which one du Tillet (a stockbroker then much in favor) had +laid the foundations of his fortune; all the ins and outs of the whole +disgraceful business were accurately put before them; and the narrator +was in the very middle of his tale when M. de Vandenesse heard the +clock strike nine. Then it became clear to him that his legal adviser +was very emphatically an idiot who must be sent forthwith about his +business. He stopped him resolutely with a gesture. + +"The tongs, my lord Marquis?" queried the notary, handing the object +in question to his client. + +"No, monsieur, I am compelled to send you away. Mme. d'Aiglemont +wishes to join her children, and I shall have the honor of escorting +her." + +"Nine o'clock already! Time goes like a shadow in pleasant company," +said the man of law, who had talked on end for the past hour. + +He looked for his hat, planted himself before the fire, with a +suppressed hiccough; and, without heeding the Marquise's withering +glances, spoke once more to his impatient client: + +"To sum up, my lord Marquis. Business before all things. To-morrow, +then, we must subpoena your brother; we will proceed to make out the +inventory, and faith, after that----" + +So ill had the lawyer understood his instructions, that his impression +was the exact opposite to the one intended. It was a delicate matter, +and Vandenesse, in spite of himself, began to put the thick-headed +notary right. The discussion which followed took up a certain amount +of time. + +"Listen," the diplomatist said at last at a sign from the lady, "You +are puzzling my brains; come back to-morrow, and if the writ is not +issued by noon to-morrow, the days of grace will expire, and then--" + +As he spoke, a carriage entered the courtyard. The poor woman turned +sharply away at the sound to hide the tears in her eyes. The Marquis +rang to give the servant orders to say that he was not at home; but +before the footman could answer the bell, the lady's husband +reappeared. He had returned unexpectedly from the Gaiete, and held +both children by the hand. The little girl's eyes were red; the boy +was fretful and very cross. + +"What can have happened?" asked the Marquise. + +"I will tell you by and by," said the General, and catching a glimpse +through an open door of newspapers on the table in the adjoining +sitting-room, he went off. The Marquise, at the end of her patience, +flung herself down on the sofa in desperation. The notary, thinking it +incumbent upon him to be amiable with the children, spoke to the +little boy in an insinuating tone: + +"Well, my little man, and what is there on at the theatre?" + +"/The Valley of the Torrent/," said Gustave sulkily. + +"Upon my word and honor," declared the notary, "authors nowadays are +half crazy. /The Valley of the Torrent/! Why not the Torrent of the +Valley? It is conceivable that a valley might be without a torrent in +it; now if they had said the Torrent of the Valley, that would have +been something clear, something precise, something definite and +comprehensible. But never mind that. Now, how is the drama to take +place in a torrent and in a valley? You will tell me that in these +days the principal attraction lies in the scenic effect, and the title +is a capital advertisement.--And did you enjoy it, my little friend?" +he continued, sitting down before the child. + +When the notary pursued his inquiries as to the possibilities of a +drama in the bed of a torrent, the little girl turned slowly away and +began to cry. Her mother did not notice this in her intense annoyance. + +"Oh! yes, monsieur, I enjoyed it very much," said the child. "There is +a dear little boy in the play, and he was all alone in the world, +because his papa could not have been his real papa. And when he came +to the top of the bridge over the torrent, a big, naughty man with a +beard, dressed all in black, came and threw him into the water. And +then Helene began to sob and cry, and everybody scolded us, and father +brought us away quick, quick----" + +M. de Vandenesse and the Marquise looked on in dull amazement, as if +all power to think or move had been suddenly paralyzed. + +"Do be quiet, Gustave!" cried the General. "I told you that you were +not to talk about anything that happened at the play, and you have +forgotten what I said already." + +"Oh, my lord Marquis, your lordship must excuse him," cried the +notary. "I ought not to have asked questions, but I had no idea--" + +"He ought not to have answered them," said the General, looking +sternly at the child. + +It seemed that the Marquise and the master of the house both perfectly +understood why the children had come back so suddenly. Mme. +d'Aiglemont looked at her daughter, and rose as if to go to her, but a +terrible convulsion passed over her face, and all that could be read +in it was relentless severity. + +"That will do, Helene," she said. "Go into the other room, and leave +off crying." + +"What can she have done, poor child!" asked the notary, thinking to +appease the mother's anger and to stop Helene's tears at one stroke. +"So pretty as she his, she must be as good as can be; never anything +but a joy to her mother, I will be bound. Isn't that so, my little +girl?" + +Helene cowered, looked at her mother, dried her eyes, struggled for +composure, and took refuge in the next room. + +"And you, madame, are too good a mother not to love all your children +alike. You are too good a woman, besides, to have any of those +lamentable preferences which have such fatal effects, as we lawyers +have only too much reason to know. Society goes through our hands; we +see its passions in that most revolting form, greed. Here it is the +mother of a family trying to disinherit her husband's children to +enrich the others whom she loves better; or it is the husband who +tries to leave all his property to the child who has done his best to +earn his mother's hatred. And then begin quarrels, and fears, and +deeds, and defeasances, and sham sales, and trusts, and all the rest +of it; a pretty mess, in fact, it is pitiable, upon my honor, +pitiable! There are fathers that will spend their whole lives in +cheating their children and robbing their wives. Yes, robbing is the +only word for it. We were talking of tragedy; oh! I can assure you of +this that if we were at liberty to tell the real reasons of some +donations that I know of, our modern dramatists would have the +material for some sensational /bourgeois/ dramas. How the wife manages +to get her way, as she invariably does, I cannot think; for in spite +of appearances, and in spite of their weakness, it is always the women +who carry the day. Ah! by the way, they don't take /me/ in. I always +know the reason at the bottom of those predilections which the world +politely styles 'unaccountable.' But in justice to the husbands, I +must say that /they/ never discover anything. You will tell me that +this is a merciful dispens--" + +Helene had come back to the drawing-room with her father, and was +listening attentively. So well did she understand all that was said, +that she gave her mother a frightened glance, feeling, with a child's +quick instinct, that these remarks would aggravate the punishment +hanging over her. The Marquise turned her white face to Vandenesse; +and, with terror in her eyes, indicated her husband, who stood with +his eyes fixed absently on the flower pattern of the carpet. The +diplomatist, accomplished man of the world though he was, could no +longer contain his wrath, he gave the man of law a withering glance. + +"Step this way, sir," he said, and he went hurriedly to the door of +the ante-chamber; the notary left his sentence half finished, and +followed, quaking, and the husband and wife were left together. + +"Now, sir" said the Marquise de Vandenesse--he banged the drawing-room +door, and spoke with concentrated rage--"ever since dinner you have +done nothing but make blunders and talk folly. For heaven's sake, go. +You will make the most frightful mischief before you have done. If you +are a clever man in your profession, keep to your profession; and if +by any chance you should go into society, endeavor to be more +circumspect." + +With that he went back to the drawing-room, and did not even wish the +notary good-evening. For a moment that worthy stood dumfounded, +bewildered, utterly at a loss. Then, when the buzzing in his ears +subsided, he thought he heard someone moaning in the next room. +Footsteps came and went, and bells were violently rung. He was by no +means anxious to meet the Marquis again, and found the use of his legs +to make good his escape, only to run against a hurrying crowd of +servants at the door. + +"Just the way of all these grand folk," said he to himself outside in +the street as he looked about for a cab. "They lead you on to talk +with compliments, and you think you are amusing them. Not a bit of it. +They treat you insolently; put you at a distance; even put you out at +the door without scruple. After all, I talked very cleverly, I said +nothing but what was sensible, well turned, and discreet; and, upon my +word, he advises me to be more circumspect in future. I will take good +care of that! Eh! the mischief take it! I am a notary and a member of +my chamber!--Pshaw! it was an ambassador's fit of temper, nothing is +sacred for people of that kind. To-morrow he shall explain what he +meant by saying that I had done nothing but blunder and talk nonsense +in his house. I will ask him for an explanation--that is, I will ask +him to explain my mistake. After all is done and said, I am in the +wrong perhaps---- Upon my word, it is very good of me to cudgel my +brains like this. What business is it of mine?" + +So the notary went home and laid the enigma before his spouse, with a +complete account of the evening's events related in sequence. + +And she replied, "My dear Crottat, His Excellency was perfectly right +when he said that you had done nothing but blunder and talk folly." + +"Why?" + +"My dear, if I told you why, it would not prevent you from doing the +same thing somewhere else to-morrow. I tell you again--talk of nothing +but business when you go out; that is my advice to you." + +"If you will not tell me, I shall ask him to-morrow--" + +"Why, dear me! the veriest noodle is careful to hide a thing of that +kind, and do you suppose that an ambassador will tell you about it? +Really, Crottat, I have never known you so utterly devoid of common- +sense." + +"Thank you, my dear." + + + +V. + +TWO MEETINGS + +One of Napoleon's orderly staff-officers, who shall be known in this +history only as the General or the Marquis, had come to spend the +spring at Versailles. He made a large fortune under the Restoration; +and as his place at Court would not allow him to go very far from +Paris, he had taken a country house between the church and the barrier +of Montreuil, on the road that leads to the Avenue de Saint-Cloud. + +The house had been built originally as a retreat for the short-lived +loves of some /grand seigneur/. The grounds were very large; the +gardens on either side extending from the first houses of Montreuil to +the thatched cottages near the barrier, so that the owner could enjoy +all the pleasures of solitude with the city almost at his gates. By an +odd piece of contradiction, the whole front of the house itself, with +the principal entrance, gave directly upon the street. Perhaps in time +past it was a tolerably lonely road, and indeed this theory looks all +the more probable when one comes to think of it; for not so very far +away, on this same road, Louis Quinze built a delicious summer villa +for Mlle. de Romans, and the curious in such things will discover that +the wayside /casinos/ are adorned in a style that recalls traditions +of the ingenious taste displayed in debauchery by our ancestors who, +with all the license paid to their charge, sought to invest it with +secrecy and mystery. + +One winter evening the family were by themselves in the lonely house. +The servants had received permission to go to Versailles to celebrate +the wedding of one of their number. It was Christmas time, and the +holiday makers, presuming upon the double festival, did not scruple to +outstay their leave of absence; yet, as the General was well known to +be a man of his word, the culprits felt some twinges of conscience as +they danced on after the hour of return. The clocks struck eleven, and +still there was no sign of the servants. + +A deep silence prevailed over the country-side, broken only by the +sound of the northeast wind whistling through the black branches, +wailing about the house, dying in gusts along the corridors. The hard +frost had purified the air, and held the earth in its grip; the roads +gave back every sound with the hard metallic ring which always strikes +us with a new surprise; the heavy footsteps of some belated reveler, +or a cab returning to Paris, could be heard for a long distance with +unwonted distinctness. Out in the courtyard a few dead leaves set a- +dancing by some eddying gust found a voice for the night which fain +had been silent. It was, in fact, one of those sharp, frosty evenings +that wring barren expressions of pity from our selfish ease for +wayfarers and the poor, and fills us with a luxurious sense of the +comfort of the fireside. + +But the family party in the salon at that hour gave not a thought to +absent servants nor houseless folk, nor to the gracious charm with +which a winter evening sparkles. No one played the philosopher out of +season. Secure in the protection of an old soldier, women and children +gave themselves up to the joys of home life, so delicious when there +is no restraint upon feeling; and talk and play and glances are bright +with frankness and affection. + +The General sat, or more properly speaking, lay buried, in the depths +of a huge, high-back armchair by the hearth. The heaped-up fire burned +scorching clear with the excessive cold of the night. The good father +leaned his head slightly to one side against the back of the chair, in +the indolence of perfect serenity and a glow of happiness. The +languid, half-sleepy droop of his outstretched arms seemed to complete +his expression of placid content. He was watching his youngest, a boy +of five or thereabouts, who, half clad as he was, declined to allow +his mother to undress him. The little one fled from the night-gown and +cap with which he was threatened now and again, and stoutly declined +to part with his embroidered collar, laughing when his mother called +to him, for he saw that she too was laughing at this declaration of +infant independence. The next step was to go back to a game of romps +with his sister. She was as much a child as he, but more mischievous; +and she was older by two years, and could speak distinctly already, +whereas his inarticulate words and confused ideas were a puzzle even +to his parents. Little Moina's playfulness, somewhat coquettish +already, provoked inextinguishable laughter, explosions of merriment +which went off like fireworks for no apparent cause. As they tumbled +about before the fire, unconcernedly displaying little plump bodies +and delicate white contours, as the dark and golden curls mingled in a +collision of rosy cheeks dimpled with childish glee, a father surely, +a mother most certainly, must have understood those little souls, and +seen the character and power of passion already developed for their +eyes. As the cherubs frolicked about, struggling, rolling, and +tumbling without fear of hurt on the soft carpet, its flowers looked +pale beside the glowing white and red of their cheeks and the +brilliant color of their shining eyes. + +On the sofa by the fire, opposite the great armchair, the children's +mother sat among a heap of scattered garments, with a little scarlet +shoe in her hand. She seemed to have given herself up completely to +the enjoyment of the moment; wavering discipline had relaxed into a +sweet smile engraved upon her lips. At the age of six-and-thirty, or +thereabouts, she was a beautiful woman still, by reason of the rare +perfection of the outlines of her face, and at this moment light and +warmth and happiness filled it with preternatural brightness. + +Again and again her eyes wandered from her children, and their tender +gaze was turned upon her husband's grave face; and now and again the +eyes of husband and wife met with a silent exchange of happiness and +thoughts from some inner depth. + +The General's face was deeply bronzed, a stray lock of gray hair +scored shadows on his forehead. The reckless courage of the +battlefield could be read in the lines carved in his hollow cheeks, +and gleams of rugged strength in the blue eyes; clearly the bit of red +ribbon flaunting at his button-hole had been paid for by hardship and +toil. An inexpressible kindliness and frankness shone out of the +strong, resolute face which reflected his children's merriment; the +gray-haired captain found it not so very hard to become a child again. +Is there not always a little love of children in the heart of a +soldier who has seen enough of the seamy side of life to know +something of the piteous limitations of strength and the privileges of +weakness? + +At a round table rather further away, in a circle of bright lamplight +that dimmed the feebler illumination of the wax candles on the +chimney-piece, sat a boy of thirteen, rapidly turning the pages of a +thick volume which he was reading, undisturbed by the shouts of the +children. There was a boy's curiosity in his face. From his /lyceens/ +uniform he was evidently a schoolboy, and the book he was reading was +the /Arabian Nights/. Small wonder that he was deeply absorbed. He sat +perfectly still in a meditative attitude, with his elbow on the table, +and his hand propping his head--the white fingers contrasting strongly +with the brown hair into which they were thrust. As he sat, with the +light turned full upon his face, and the rest of his body in shadow, +he looked like one of Raphael's dark portraits of himself--a bent head +and intent eyes filled with visions of the future. + +Between the table and the Marquise a tall, beautiful girl sat at her +tapestry frame; sometimes she drew back from her work, sometimes she +bent over it, and her hair, picturesque in its ebony smoothness and +darkness, caught the light of the lamp. Helene was a picture in +herself. In her beauty there was a rare distinctive character of power +and refinement. Though her hair was gathered up and drawn back from +her face, so as to trace a clearly marked line about her head, so +thick and abundant was it, so recalcitrant to the comb, that it sprang +back in curl-tendrils to the nape of her neck. The bountiful line of +eyebrows was evenly marked out in dark contrasting outline upon her +pure forehead. On her upper lip, beneath the Grecian nose with its +sensitively perfect curve of nostril, there lay a faint, swarthy +shadow, the sign-manual of courage; but the enchanting roundness of +contour, the frankly innocent expression of her other features, the +transparence of the delicate carnations, the voluptuous softness of +the lips, the flawless oval of the outline of the face, and with +these, and more than all these, the saintlike expression in the +girlish eyes, gave to her vigorous loveliness the distinctive touch of +feminine grace, that enchanting modesty which we look for in these +angels of peace and love. Yet there was no suggestion of fragility +about her; and, surely, with so grand a woman's frame, so attractive a +face, she must possess a corresponding warmth of heart and strength of +soul. + +She was as silent as her schoolboy brother. Seemingly a prey to the +fateful maiden meditations which baffle a father's penetration and +even a mother's sagacity, it was impossible to be certain whether it +was the lamplight that cast those shadows that flitted over her face +like thin clouds over a bright sky, or whether they were passing +shades of secret and painful thoughts. + +Husband and wife had quite forgotten the two older children at that +moment, though now and again the General's questioning glance traveled +to that second mute picture; a larger growth, a gracious realization, +as it were, of the hopes embodied in the baby forms rioting in the +foreground. Their faces made up a kind of living poem, illustrating +life's various phases. The luxurious background of the salon, the +different attitudes, the strong contrasts of coloring in the faces, +differing with the character of differing ages, the modeling of the +forms brought into high relief by the light--altogether it was a page +of human life, richly illuminated beyond the art of painter, sculptor, +or poet. Silence, solitude, night and winter lent a final touch of +majesty to complete the simplicity and sublimity of this exquisite +effect of nature's contriving. Married life is full of these sacred +hours, which perhaps owe their indefinable charm to some vague memory +of a better world. A divine radiance surely shines upon them, the +destined compensation for some portion of earth's sorrows, the solace +which enables man to accept life. We seem to behold a vision of an +enchanted universe, the great conception of its system widens out +before our eyes, and social life pleads for its laws by bidding us +look to the future. + +Yet in spite of the tender glances that Helene gave Abel and Moina +after a fresh outburst of merriment; in spite of the look of gladness +in her transparent face whenever she stole a glance at her father, a +deep melancholy pervaded her gestures, her attitude, and more than +all, her eyes veiled by their long lashes. Those white, strong hands, +through which the light passed, tinting them with a diaphanous, almost +fluid red--those hands were trembling. Once only did the eyes of the +mother and daughter clash without shrinking, and the two women read +each other's thoughts in a look, cold, wan, and respectful on Helene's +part, sombre and threatening on her mother's. At once Helene's eyes +were lowered to her work, she plied her needle swiftly, and it was +long before she raised her head, bowed as it seemed by a weight of +thought too heavy to bear. Was the Marquise over harsh with this one +of her children? Did she think this harshness needful? Was she jealous +of Helene's beauty?--She might still hope to rival Helene, but only by +the magic arts of the toilette. Or again, had her daughter, like many +a girl who reaches the clairvoyant age, read the secrets which this +wife (to all appearance so religiously faithful in the fulfilment of +her duties) believed to be buried in her own heart as deeply as in a +grave? + +Helene had reached an age when purity of soul inclines to pass over- +rigid judgments. A certain order of mind is apt to exaggerate +transgression into crime; imagination reacts upon conscience, and a +young girl is a hard judge because she magnifies the seriousness of +the offence. Helene seemed to think herself worthy of no one. Perhaps +there was a secret in her past life, perhaps something had happened, +unintelligible to her at the time, but with gradually developing +significance for a mind grown susceptible to religious influences; +something which lately seemed to have degraded her, as it were, in her +own eyes, and according to her own romantic standard. This change in +her demeanor dated from the day of reading Schiller's noble tragedy of +/Wilhelm Tell/ in a new series of translations. Her mother scolded her +for letting the book fall, and then remarked to herself that the +passage which had so worked on Helene's feelings was the scene in +which Wilhelm Tell, who spilt the blood of a tyrant to save a nation, +fraternizes in some sort with John the Parricide. Helene had grown +humble, dutiful, and self-contained; she no longer cared for gaiety. +Never had she made so much of her father, especially when the Marquise +was not by to watch her girlish caresses. And yet, if Helene's +affection for her mother had cooled at all, the change in her manner +was so slight as to be almost imperceptible; so slight that the +General could not have noticed it, jealous though he might be of the +harmony of home. No masculine insight could have sounded the depths of +those two feminine natures; the one was young and generous, the other +sensitive and proud; the first had a wealth of indulgence in her +nature, the second was full of craft and love. If the Marquise made +her daughter's life a burden to her by a woman's subtle tyranny, it +was a tyranny invisible to all but the victim; and for the rest, these +conjectures only called forth after the event must remain conjectures. +Until this night no accusing flash of light had escaped either of +them, but an ominous mystery was too surely growing up between them, a +mystery known only to themselves and God. + +"Come, Abel," called the Marquise, seizing on her opportunity when the +children were tired of play and still for a moment. "Come, come, +child; you must be put to bed--" + +And with a glance that must be obeyed, she caught him up and took him +on her knee. + +"What!" exclaimed the General. "Half-past ten o'clock, and not one of +the servants has come back! The rascals!--Gustave," he added, turning +to his son, "I allowed you to read that book only on the condition +that you should put it away at ten o'clock. You ought to have shut up +the book at the proper time and gone to bed, as you promised. If you +mean to make your mark in the world, you must keep your word; let it +be a second religion to you, and a point of honor. Fox, one of the +greatest English orators, was remarkable, above all things, for the +beauty of his character, and the very first of his qualities was the +scrupulous faithfulness with which he kept his engagements. When he +was a child, his father (an Englishman of the old school) gave him a +pretty strong lesson which he never forgot. Like most rich Englishmen, +Fox's father had a country house and a considerable park about it. +Now, in the park there was an old summer-house, and orders had been +given that this summer-house was to be pulled down and put up +somewhere else where there was a finer view. Fox was just about your +age, and had come home for the holidays. Boys are fond of seeing +things pulled to pieces, so young Fox asked to stay on at home for a +few days longer to see the old summer-house taken down; but his father +said that he must go back to school on the proper day, so there was +anger between father and son. Fox's mother (like all mammas) took the +boy's part. Then the father solemnly promised that the summer-house +should stay where it was till the next holidays. + +"So Fox went back to school; and his father, thinking that lessons +would soon drive the whole thing out of the boy's mind, had the +summer-house pulled down and put up in the new position. But as it +happened, the persistent youngster thought of nothing but that summer- +house; and as soon as he came home again, his first care was to go out +to look at the old building, and he came in to breakfast looking quite +doleful, and said to his father, 'You have broken your promise.' The +old English gentleman said with confusion full of dignity, 'That is +true, my boy; but I will make amends. A man ought to think of keeping +his word before he thinks of his fortune; for by keeping his word he +will gain fortune, while all the fortunes in the world will not efface +the stain left on your conscience by a breach of faith.' Then he gave +orders that the summer-house should be put up again in the old place, +and when it had been rebuilt he had it taken down again for his son to +see. Let this be a lesson to /you/, Gustave." + +Gustave had been listening with interest, and now he closed the book +at once. There was a moment's silence, while the General took +possession of Moina, who could scarcely keep her eyes open. The little +one's languid head fell back on her father's breast, and in a moment +she was fast asleep, wrapped round about in her golden curls. + +Just then a sound of hurrying footsteps rang on the pavement out in +the street, immediately followed by three knocks on the street door, +waking the echoes of the house. The reverberating blows told, as +plainly as a cry for help that here was a man flying for his life. The +house dog barked furiously. A thrill of excitement ran through Helene +and Gustave and the General and his wife; but neither Abel, with the +night-cap strings just tied under his chin, nor Moina awoke. + +"The fellow is in a hurry!" exclaimed the General. He put the little +girl down on the chair, and hastened out of the room, heedless of his +wife's entreating cry, "Dear, do not go down--" + +He stepped into his own room for a pair of pistols, lighted a dark +lantern, sprang at lightning speed down the staircase, and in another +minute reached the house door, his oldest boy fearlessly following. + +"Who is there?" demanded he. + +"Let me in," panted a breathless voice. + +"Are you a friend?" + +"Yes, friend," + +"Are you alone?" + +"Yes! But let me in; /they/ are after me!" + +The General had scarcely set the door ajar before a man slipped into +the porch with the uncanny swiftness of a shadow. Before the master of +the house could prevent him, the intruder had closed the door with a +well-directed kick, and set his back against it resolutely, as if he +were determined that it should not be opened again. In a moment the +General had his lantern and pistol at a level with the stranger's +breast, and beheld a man of medium height in a fur-lined pelisse. It +was an old man's garment, both too large and too long for its present +wearer. Chance or caution had slouched the man's hat over his eyes. + +"You can lower your pistol, sir," said this person. "I do not claim to +stay in your house against your will; but if I leave it, death is +waiting for me at the barrier. And what a death! You would be +answerable to God for it! I ask for your hospitality for two hours. +And bear this in mind, sir, that, suppliant as I am, I have a right to +command with the despotism of necessity. I want the Arab's +hospitality. Either I and my secret must be inviolable, or open the +door and I will go to my death. I want secrecy, a safe hiding-place, +and water. Oh! water!" he cried again, with a rattle in his throat. + +"Who are you?" demanded the General, taken aback by the stranger's +feverish volubility. + +"Ah! who am I? Good, open the door, and I will put a distance between +us," retorted the other, and there was a diabolical irony in his tone. + +Dexterously as the Marquis passed the light of the lantern over the +man's face, he could only see the lower half of it, and that in nowise +prepossessed him in favor of this singular claimant of hospitality. +The cheeks were livid and quivering, the features dreadfully +contorted. Under the shadow of the hat-brim a pair of eyes gleamed out +like flames; the feeble candle-light looked almost dim in comparison. +Some sort of answer must be made however. + +"Your language, sir, is so extraordinary that in my place you +yourself--" + +"My life is in your hands!" the intruder broke in. The sound of his +voice was dreadful to hear. + +"Two hours?" said the Marquis, wavering. + +"Two hours," echoed the other. + +Then quite suddenly, with a desperate gesture, he pushed back his hat +and left his forehead bare, and, as if he meant to try a final +expedient, he gave the General a glance that seemed to plunge like a +vivid flash into his very soul. That electrical discharge of +intelligence and will was swift as lightning and crushing as a +thunderbolt; for there are moments when a human being is invested for +a brief space with inexplicable power. + +"Come, whoever you may be, you shall be in safety under my roof," the +master of the house said gravely at last, acting, as he imagined, upon +one of those intuitions which a man cannot always explain to himself. + +"God will repay you!" said the stranger, with a deep, involuntary +sigh. + +"Have you weapons?" asked the General. + +For all answer the stranger flung open his fur pelisse, and scarcely +gave the other time for a glance before he wrapped it about him again. +To all appearance he was unarmed and in evening dress. Swift as the +soldier's scrutiny had been, he saw something, however, which made him +exclaim: + +"Where the devil have you been to get yourself in such a mess in such +dry weather?" + +"More questions!" said the stranger haughtily. + +At the words the Marquis caught sight of his son, and his own late +homily on the strict fulfilment of a given word came up to his mind. +In lively vexation, he exclaimed, not without a touch of anger: + +"What! little rogue, you here when you ought to be in bed?" + +"Because I thought I might be of some good in danger," answered +Gustave. + +"There, go up to your room," said his father, mollified by the reply. +--"And you" (addressing the stranger), "come with me." + +The two men grew as silent as a pair of gamblers who watch each +other's play with mutual suspicions. The General himself began to be +troubled with ugly presentiments. The strange visit weighed upon his +mind already like a nightmare; but he had passed his word, there was +no help for it now, and he led the way along the passages and +stairways till they reached a large room on the second floor +immediately above the salon. This was an empty room where linen was +dried in the winter. It had but the one door, and for all decoration +boasted one solitary shabby looking-glass above the chimney-piece, +left by the previous owner, and a great pier glass, placed +provisionally opposite the fireplace until such time as a use should +be found for it in the rooms below. The four yellowish walls were +bare. The floor had never been swept. The huge attic was icy-cold, and +the furniture consisted of a couple of rickety straw-bottomed chairs, +or rather frames of chairs. The General set the lantern down upon the +chimney-piece. Then he spoke: + +"It is necessary for your own safety to hide you in this comfortless +attic. And, as you have my promise to keep your secret, you will +permit me to lock you in." + +The other bent his head in acquiescence. + +"I asked for nothing but a hiding-place, secrecy, and water," returned +he. + +"I will bring you some directly," said the Marquis, shutting the door +cautiously. He groped his way down into the salon for a lamp before +going to the kitchen to look for a carafe. + +"Well, what is it?" the Marquise asked quickly. + +"Nothing, dear," he returned coolly. + +"But we listened, and we certainly heard you go upstairs with +somebody." + +"Helene," said the General, and he looked at his daughter, who raised +her face, "bear in mind that your father's honor depends upon your +discretion. You must have heard nothing." + +The girl bent her head in answer. The Marquise was confused and +smarting inwardly at the way in which her husband had thought fit to +silence her. + +Meanwhile the General went for the bottle and a tumbler, and returned +to the room above. His prisoner was leaning against the chimney-piece, +his head was bare, he had flung down his hat on one of the two chairs. +Evidently he had not expected to have so bright a light turned upon +him, and he frowned and looked anxious as he met the General's keen +eyes; but his face softened and wore a gracious expression as he +thanked his protector. When the latter placed the bottle and glass on +the mantel-shelf, the stranger's eyes flashed out on him again; and +when he spoke, it was in musical tones with no sign of the previous +guttural convulsion, though his voice was still unsteady with +repressed emotion. + +"I shall seem to you to be a strange being, sir, but you must pardon +the caprices of necessity. If you propose to remain in the room, I beg +that you will not look at me while I am drinking." + +Vexed at this continual obedience to a man whom he disliked, the +General sharply turned his back upon him. The stranger thereupon drew +a white handkerchief from his pocket and wound it about his right +hand. Then he seized the carafe and emptied it at a draught. The +Marquis, staring vacantly into the tall mirror across the room, +without a thought of breaking his implicit promise, saw the stranger's +figure distinctly reflected by the opposite looking-glass, and saw, +too, a red stain suddenly appear through the folds of the white +bandage. The man's hands were steeped in blood. + +"Ah! you saw me!" cried the other. He had drunk off the water and +wrapped himself again in his cloak, and now scrutinized the General +suspiciously. "It is all over with me! Here they come!" + +"I don't hear anything," said the Marquis. + +"You have not the same interest that I have in listening for sounds in +the air." + +"You have been fighting a duel, I suppose, to be in such a state?" +queried the General, not a little disturbed by the color of those +broad, dark patches staining his visitor's cloak. + +"Yes, a duel; you have it," said the other, and a bitter smile flitted +over his lips. + +As he spoke a sound rang along the distant road, a sound of galloping +horses; but so faint as yet, that it was the merest dawn of a sound. +The General's trained ear recognized the advance of a troop of +regulars. + +"That is the gendarmerie," said he. + +He glanced at his prisoner to reassure him after his own involuntary +indiscretion, took the lamp, and went down to the salon. He had +scarcely laid the key of the room above upon the chimney-piece when +the hoof beats sounded louder and came swiftly nearer and nearer the +house. The General felt a shiver of excitement, and indeed the horses +stopped at the house door; a few words were exchanged among the men, +and one of them dismounted and knocked loudly. There was no help for +it; the General went to open the door. He could scarcely conceal his +inward perturbation at the sight of half a dozen gendarmes outside, +the metal rims of their caps gleaming like silver in the moonlight. + +"My lord," said the corporal, "have you heard a man run past towards +the barrier within the last few minutes?" + +"Towards the barrier? No." + +"Have you opened the door to any one?" + +"Now, am I in the habit of answering the door myself--" + +"I ask your pardon, General, but just now it seems to me that--" + +"Really!" cried the Marquis wrathfully. "Have you a mind to try joking +with me? What right have you--?" + +"None at all, none at all, my lord," cried the corporal, hastily +putting in a soft answer. "You will excuse our zeal. We know, of +course, that a peer of France is not likely to harbor a murderer at +this time of night; but as we want any information we can get--" + +"A murderer!" cried the General. "Who can have been--" + +"M. le Baron de Mauny has just been murdered. It was a blow from an +axe, and we are in hot pursuit of the criminal. We know for certain +that he is somewhere in this neighborhood, and we shall hunt him down. +By your leave, General," and the man swung himself into the saddle as +he spoke. It was well that he did so, for a corporal of gendarmerie +trained to alert observation and quick surmise would have had his +suspicions at once if he had caught sight of the General's face. +Everything that passed through the soldier's mind was faithfully +revealed in his frank countenance. + +"Is it known who the murderer is?" asked he. + +"No," said the other, now in the saddle. "He left the bureau full of +banknotes and gold untouched." + +"It was revenge, then," said the Marquis. + +"On an old man? pshaw! No, no, the fellow hadn't time to take it, that +was all," and the corporal galloped after his comrades, who were +almost out of sight by this time. + +For a few minutes the General stood, a victim to perplexities which +need no explanation; but in a moment he heard the servants returning +home, their voices were raised in some sort of dispute at the cross- +roads of Montreuil. When they came in, he gave vent to his feelings in +an explosion of rage, his wrath fell upon them like a thunderbolt, and +all the echoes of the house trembled at the sound of his voice. In the +midst of the storm his own man, the boldest and cleverest of the +party, brought out an excuse; they had been stopped, he said, by the +gendarmerie at the gate of Montreuil, a murder had been committed, and +the police were in pursuit. In a moment the General's anger vanished, +he said not another word; then, bethinking himself of his own singular +position, drily ordered them all off to bed at once, and left them +amazed at his readiness to accept their fellow servant's lying excuse. + +While these incidents took place in the yard, an apparently trifling +occurrence had changed the relative positions of three characters in +this story. The Marquis had scarcely left the room before his wife +looked first towards the key on the mantel-shelf, and then at Helene; +and, after some wavering, bent towards her daughter and said in a low +voice, "Helene your father has left the key on the chimney-piece." + +The girl looked up in surprise and glanced timidly at her mother. The +Marquise's eyes sparkled with curiosity. + +"Well, mamma?" she said, and her voice had a troubled ring. + +"I should like to know what is going on upstairs. If there is anybody +up there, he has not stirred yet. Just go up--" + +"/I/?" cried the girl, with something like horror in her tones. + +"Are you afraid?" + +"No, mamma, but I thought I heard a man's footsteps." + +"If I could go myself, I should not have asked you to go, Helene," +said her mother with cold dignity. "If your father were to come back +and did not see me, he would go to look for me perhaps, but he would +not notice your absence." + +"Madame, if you bid me go, I will go," said Helene, "but I shall lose +my father's good opinion--" + +"What is this!" cried the Marquise in a sarcastic tone. "But since you +take a thing that was said in joke in earnest, I now /order/ you to go +upstairs and see who is in the room above. Here is the key, child. +When your father told you to say nothing about this thing that +happened, he did not forbid you to go up to the room. Go at once--and +learn that a daughter ought never to judge her mother." + +The last words were spoken with all the severity of a justly offended +mother. The Marquise took the key and handed it to Helene, who rose +without a word and left the room. + +"My mother can always easily obtain her pardon," thought the girl; +"but as for me, my father will never think the same of me again. Does +she mean to rob me of his tenderness? Does she want to turn me out of +his house?" + +These were the thoughts that set her imagination in a sudden ferment, +as she went down the dark passage to the mysterious door at the end. +When she stood before it, her mental confusion grew to a fateful +pitch. Feelings hitherto forced down into inner depths crowded up at +the summons of these confused thoughts. Perhaps hitherto she had never +believed that a happy life lay before her, but now, in this awful +moment, her despair was complete. She shook convulsively as she set +the key in the lock; so great indeed was her agitation, that she +stopped for a moment and laid her hand on her heart, as if to still +the heavy throbs that sounded in her ears. Then she opened the door. + +The creaking of the hinges sounded doubtless in vain on the murderer's +ears. Acute as were his powers of hearing, he stood as if lost in +thought, and so motionless that he might have been glued to the wall +against which he leaned. In the circle of semi-opaque darkness, dimly +lit by the bull's-eye lantern, he looked like the shadowy figure of +some dead knight, standing for ever in his shadowy mortuary niche in +the gloom of some Gothic chapel. Drops of cold sweat trickled over the +broad, sallow forehead. An incredible fearlessness looked out from +every tense feature. His eyes of fire were fixed and tearless; he +seemed to be watching some struggle in the darkness beyond him. Stormy +thoughts passed swiftly across a face whose firm decision spoke of a +character of no common order. His whole person, bearing, and frame +bore out the impression of a tameless spirit. The man looked power and +strength personified; he stood facing the darkness as if it were the +visible image of his own future. + +These physical characteristics had made no impression upon the +General, familiar as he was with the powerful faces of the group of +giants gathered about Napoleon; speculative curiosity, moreover, as to +the why and wherefore of the apparition had completely filled his +mind; but Helene, with feminine sensitiveness to surface impressions, +was struck by the blended chaos of light and darkness, grandeur and +passion, suggesting a likeness between this stranger and Lucifer +recovering from his fall. Suddenly the storm apparent in his face was +stilled as if by magic; and the indefinable power to sway which the +stranger exercised upon others, and perhaps unconsciously and as by +reflex action upon himself, spread its influence about him with the +progressive swiftness of a flood. A torrent of thought rolled away +from his brow as his face resumed its ordinary expression. Perhaps it +was the strangeness of this meeting, or perhaps it was the mystery +into which she had penetrated, that held the young girl spellbound in +the doorway, so that she could look at a face pleasant to behold and +full of interest. For some moments she stood in the magical silence; a +trouble had come upon her never known before in her young life. +Perhaps some exclamation broke from Helene, perhaps she moved +unconsciously; or it may be that the hunted criminal returned of his +own accord from the world of ideas to the material world, and heard +some one breathing in the room; however it was, he turned his head +towards his host's daughter, and saw dimly in the shadow a noble face +and queenly form, which he must have taken for an angel's, so +motionless she stood, so vague and like a spirit. + +"Monsieur . . ." a trembling voice cried. + +The murderer trembled. + +"A woman!" he cried under his breath. "Is it possible? Go," he cried, +"I deny that any one has a right to pity, to absolve, or condemn me. I +must live alone. Go, my child," he added, with an imperious gesture, +"I should ill requite the service done me by the master of the house +if I were to allow a single creature under his roof to breathe the +same air with me. I must submit to be judged by the laws of the +world." + +The last words were uttered in a lower voice. Even as he realized with +a profound intuition all the manifold misery awakened by that +melancholy thought, the glance that he gave Helene had something of +the power of the serpent, stirring a whole dormant world in the mind +of the strange girl before him. To her that glance was like a light +revealing unknown lands. She was stricken with strange trouble, +helpless, quelled by a magnetic power exerted unconsciously. Trembling +and ashamed, she went out and returned to the salon. She had scarcely +entered the room before her father came back, so that she had not time +to say a word to her mother. + +The General was wholly absorbed in thought. He folded his arms, and +paced silently to and fro between the windows which looked out upon +the street and the second row which gave upon the garden. His wife lay +the sleeping Abel on her knee, and little Moina lay in untroubled +slumber in the low chair, like a bird in its nest. Her older sister +stared into the fire, a skein of silk in one hand, a needle in the +other. + +Deep silence prevailed, broken only by lagging footsteps on the +stairs, as one by one the servants crept away to bed; there was an +occasional burst of stifled laughter, a last echo of the wedding +festivity, or doors were opened as they still talked among themselves, +then shut. A smothered sound came now and again from the bedrooms, a +chair fell, the old coachman coughed feebly, then all was silent. + +In a little while the dark majesty with which sleeping earth is +invested at midnight brought all things under its sway. No lights +shone but the light of the stars. The frost gripped the ground. There +was not a sound of a voice, nor a living creature stirring. The +crackling of the fire only seemed to make the depth of the silence +more fully felt. + +The church clock of Montreuil had just struck one, when an almost +inaudible sound of a light footstep came from the second flight of +stairs. The Marquis and his daughter, both believing that M. de +Mauny's murderer was a prisoner above, thought that one of the maids +had come down, and no one was at all surprised to hear the door open +in the ante-chamber. Quite suddenly the murderer appeared in their +midst. The Marquis himself was sunk in deep musings, the mother and +daughter were silent, the one from keen curiosity, the other from +sheer astonishment, so that the visitor was almost half-way across the +room when he spoke to the General. + +"Sir, the two hours are almost over," he said, in a voice that was +strangely calm and musical. + +"/You here/!" cried the General. "By what means----?" and he gave wife +and daughter a formidable questioning glance. Helene grew red as fire. + +"You!" he went on, in a tone filled with horror. "/You/ among us! A +murderer covered with blood! You are a blot on this picture! Go, go +out!" he added in a burst of rage. + +At that word "murderer," the Marquise cried out; as for Helene, it +seemed to mark an epoch in her life, there was not a trace of surprise +in her face. She looked as if she had been waiting for this--for him. +Those so vast thoughts of hers had found a meaning. The punishment +reserved by Heaven for her sins flamed out before her. In her own eyes +she was as great a criminal as this murderer; she confronted him with +her quiet gaze; she was his fellow, his sister. It seemed to her that +in this accident the command of God had been made manifest. If she had +been a few years older, reason would have disposed of her remorse, but +at this moment she was like one distraught. + +The stranger stood impassive and self-possessed; a scornful smile +overspread his features and his thick, red lips. + +"You appreciate the magnanimity of my behavior very badly," he said +slowly. "I would not touch with my fingers the glass of water you +brought me to allay my thirst; I did not so much as think of washing +my blood-stained hands under your roof; I am going away, leaving +nothing of /my crime/" (here his lips were compressed) "but the +memory; I have tried to leave no trace of my presence in this house. +Indeed, I would not even allow your daughter to--" + +"/My daughter/!" cried the General, with a horror-stricken glance at +Helene. "Vile wretch, go, or I will kill you--" + +"The two hours are not yet over," said the other; "if you kill me or +give me up, you must lower yourself in your own eyes--and in mine." + +At these last words, the General turned to stare at the criminal in +dumb amazement; but he could not endure the intolerable light in those +eyes which for the second time disorganized his being. He was afraid +of showing weakness once more, conscious as he was that his will was +weaker already. + +"An old man! You can never have seen a family," he said, with a +father's glance at his wife and children. + +"Yes, an old man," echoed the stranger, frowning slightly. + +"Fly!" cried the General, but he did not dare to look at his guest. +"Our compact is broken. I shall not kill you. No! I will never be +purveyor to the scaffold. But go out. You make us shudder." + +"I know that," said the other patiently. "There is not a spot on +French soil where I can set foot and be safe; but if man's justice, +like God's, took all into account, if man's justice deigned to inquire +which was the monster--the murderer or his victim--then I might hold +up my head among my fellows. Can you not guess that other crimes +preceded that blow from an axe? I constituted myself his judge and +executioner; I stepped in where man's justice failed. That was my +crime. Farewell, sir. Bitter though you have made your hospitality, I +shall not forget it. I shall always bear in my heart a feeling of +gratitude towards one man in the world, and you are that man. . . . +But I could wish that you had showed yourself more generous!" + +He turned towards the door, but in the same instant Helene leaned to +whisper something in her mother's ear. + +"Ah! . . ." + +At the cry that broke from his wife, the General trembled as if he had +seen Moina lying dead. There stood Helene and the murderer had turned +instinctively, with something like anxiety about these folk in his +face. + +"What is it, dear?" asked the General. + +"Helene wants to go with him." + +The murderer's face flushed. + +"If that is how my mother understands an almost involuntary +exclamation," Helene said in a low voice, "I will fulfil her wishes. +She glanced about her with something like fierce pride; then the +girl's eyes fell, and she stood, admirable in her modesty. + +"Helene, did you go up to the room where----?" + +"Yes, father." + +"Helene" (and his voice shook with a convulsive tremor), "is this the +first time that you have seen this man?" + +"Yes, father." + +"Then it is not natural that you should intend to--" + +"If it is not natural, father, at any rate it is true." + +"Oh! child," said the Marquise, lowering her voice, but not so much +but that her husband could hear her, "you are false to all the +principles of honor, modesty, and right which I have tried to +cultivate in your heart. If until this fatal hour you life has only +been one lie, there is nothing to regret in your loss. It can hardly +be the moral perfection of this stranger that attracts you to him? Can +it be the kind of power that commits crime? I have too good an opinion +of you to suppose that--" + +"Oh, suppose everything, madame," Helene said coldly. + +But though her force of character sustained this ordeal, her flashing +eyes could scarcely hold the tears that filled them. The stranger, +watching her, guessed the mother's language from the girl's tears, and +turned his eagle glance upon the Marquise. An irresistible power +constrained her to look at this terrible seducer; but as her eyes met +his bright, glittering gaze, she felt a shiver run through her frame, +such a shock as we feel at the sight of a reptile or the contact of a +Leyden jar. + +"Dear!" she cried, turning to her husband, "this is the Fiend himself. +He can divine everything!" + +The General rose to his feet and went to the bell. + +"He means ruin for you," Helene said to the murderer. + +The stranger smiled, took one forward stride, grasped the General's +arm, and compelled him to endure a steady gaze which benumbed the +soldier's brain and left him powerless. + +"I will repay you now for your hospitality," he said, "and then we +shall be quits. I will spare you the shame by giving myself up. After +all, what should I do now with my life?" + +"You could repent," answered Helene, and her glance conveyed such hope +as only glows in a young girl's eyes. + +"/I shall never repent/," said the murderer in a sonorous voice, as he +raised his head proudly. + +"His hands are stained with blood," the father said. + +"I will wipe it away," she answered. + +"But do you so much as know whether he cares for you?" said her +father, not daring now to look at the stranger. + +The murderer came up a little nearer. Some light within seemed to glow +through Helene's beauty, grave and maidenly though it was, coloring +and bringing into relief, as it were, the least details, the most +delicate lines in her face. The stranger, with that terrible face +still blazing in his eyes, gave one tender glance to her enchanting +loveliness, then he spoke, his tones revealing how deeply he had been +moved. + +"And if I refuse to allow this sacrifice of yourself, and so discharge +my debt of two hours of existence to your father; is not this love, +love for yourself alone?" + +"Then do you too reject me?" Helene's cry rang painfully through the +hearts of all who heard her. "Farewell, then, to you all; I will die." + +"What does this mean?" asked the father and mother. + +Helene gave her mother an eloquent glance and lowered her eyes. + +Since the first attempt made by the General and his wife to contest by +word or action the intruder's strange presumption to the right of +staying in their midst, from their first experience of the power of +those glittering eyes, a mysterious torpor had crept over them, and +their benumbed faculties struggled in vain with the preternatural +influence. The air seemed to have suddenly grown so heavy, that they +could scarcely breathe; yet, while they could not find the reason of +this feeling of oppression, a voice within told them that this +magnetic presence was the real cause of their helplessness. In this +moral agony, it flashed across the General that he must make every +effort to overcome this influence on his daughter's reeling brain; he +caught her by the waist and drew her into the embrasure of a window, +as far as possible from the murderer. + +"Darling," he murmured, "if some wild love has been suddenly born in +your heart, I cannot believe that you have not the strength of soul to +quell the mad impulse; your innocent life, your pure and dutiful soul, +has given me too many proofs of your character. There must be +something behind all this. Well, this heart of mine is full of +indulgence, you can tell everything to me; even if it breaks, dear +child, I can be silent about my grief, and keep your confession a +secret. What is it? Are you jealous of our love for your brothers or +your little sister? Is it some love trouble? Are you unhappy here at +home? Tell me about it, tell me the reasons that urge you to leave +your home, to rob it of its greatest charm, to leave your mother and +brothers and your little sister?" + +"I am in love with no one, father, and jealous of no one, not even of +your friend the diplomatist, M. de Vandenesse." + +The Marquise turned pale; her daughter saw this, and stopped short. + +"Sooner or later I must live under some man's protection, must I not?" + +"That is true." + +"Do we ever know," she went on, "the human being to whom we link our +destinies? Now, I believe in this man." + +"Oh, child," said the General, raising his voice, "you have no idea of +all the misery that lies in store for you." + +"I am thinking of /his/." + +"What a life!" groaned the father. + +"A woman's life," the girl murmured. + +"You have a great knowledge of life!" exclaimed the Marquise, finding +speech at last. + +"Madame, my answers are shaped by the questions; but if you desire it, +I will speak more clearly." + +"Speak out, my child . . . I am a mother." + +Mother and daughter looked each other in the face, and the Marquise +said no more. At last she said: + +"Helene, if you have any reproaches to make, I would rather bear them +than see you go away with a man from whom the whole world shrinks in +horror." + +"Then you see yourself, madame, that but for me he would be quite +alone." + +"That will do, madame," the General cried; "we have but one daughter +left to us now," and he looked at Moina, who slept on. "As for you," +he added, turning to Helene, "I will put you in a convent." + +"So be it, father," she said, in calm despair, "I shall die there. You +are answerable to God alone for my life and for /his/ soul." + +A deep sullen silence fell after these words. The on-lookers during +this strange scene, so utterly at variance with all the sentiments of +ordinary life, shunned each other's eyes. + +Suddenly the Marquis happened to glance at his pistols. He caught up +one of them, cocked the weapon, and pointed it at the intruder. At the +click of firearms the other turned his piercing gaze full upon the +General; the soldier's arm slackened indescribably and fell heavily to +his side. The pistol dropped to the floor. + +"Girl, you are free," said he, exhausted by this ghastly struggle. +"Kiss your mother, if she will let you kiss her. For my own part, I +wish never to see nor to hear of you again." + +"Helene," the mother began, "only think of the wretched life before +you." + +A sort of rattling sound came from the intruder's deep chest, all eyes +were turned to him. Disdain was plainly visible in his face. + +The General rose to his feet. "My hospitality has cost me dear," he +cried. "Before you came you had taken an old man's life; now your are +dealing a deadly blow at a whole family. Whatever happens, there must +be unhappiness in this house." + +"And if your daughter is happy?" asked the other, gazing steadily at +the General. + +The father made a superhuman effort for self-control. "If she is happy +with you," he said, "she is not worth regretting." + +Helene knelt timidly before her father. + +"Father, I love and revere you," she said, "whether you lavish all the +treasures of your kindness upon me, or make me feel to the full the +rigor of disgrace. . . . But I entreat that your last words of +farewell shall not be words of anger." + +The General could not trust himself to look at her. The stranger came +nearer; there was something half-diabolical, half-divine in the smile +that he gave Helene. + +"Angel of pity, you that do not shrink in horror from a murderer, +come, since you persist in your resolution of intrusting your life to +me." + +"Inconceivable!" cried her father. + +The Marquise then looked strangely at her daughter, opened her arms, +and Helene fled to her in tears. + +"Farewell," she said, "farewell, mother!" The stranger trembled as +Helene, undaunted, made sign to him that she was ready. She kissed her +father's hand; and, as if performing a duty, gave a hasty kiss to +Moina and little Abel, then she vanished with the murderer. + +"Which way are they going?" exclaimed the General, listening to the +footsteps of the two fugitives.--"Madame," he turned to his wife, "I +think I must be dreaming; there is some mystery behind all this, I do +not understand it; you must know what it means." + +The Marquise shivered. + +"For some time past your daughter has grown extraordinarily romantic +and strangely high-flown in her ideas. In spite of the pains I have +taken to combat these tendencies in her character--" + +"This will not do----" began the General, but fancying that he heard +footsteps in the garden, he broke off to fling open the window. + +"Helene!" he shouted. + +His voice was lost in the darkness like a vain prophecy. The utterance +of that name, to which there should never be answer any more, acted +like a counterspell; it broke the charm and set him free from the evil +enchantment which lay upon him. It was as if some spirit passed over +his face. He now saw clearly what had taken place, and cursed his +incomprehensible weakness. A shiver of heat rushed from his heart to +his head and feet; he became himself once more, terrible, thirsting +for revenge. He raised a dreadful cry. + +"Help!" he thundered, "help!" + +He rushed to the bell-pull, pulled till the bells rang with a strange +clamor of din, pulled till the cord gave way. The whole house was +roused with a start. Still shouting, he flung open the windows that +looked upon the street, called for the police, caught up his pistols, +and fired them off to hurry the mounted patrols, the newly-aroused +servants, and the neighbors. The dogs barked at the sound of their +master's voice; the horses neighed and stamped in their stalls. The +quiet night was suddenly filled with hideous uproar. The General on +the staircase, in pursuit of his daughter, saw the scared faces of the +servants flocking from all parts of the house. + +"My daughter!" he shouted. "Helene has been carried off. Search the +garden. Keep a lookout on the road! Open the gates for the +gendarmerie!--Murder! Help!" + +With the strength of fury he snapped the chain and let loose the great +house-dog. + +"Helene!" he cried, "Helene!" + +The dog sprang out like a lion, barking furiously, and dashed into the +garden, leaving the General far behind. A troop of horses came along +the road at a gallop, and he flew to open the gates himself. + +"Corporal!" he shouted, "cut off the retreat of M. de Mauny's +murderer. They have gone through my garden. Quick! Put a cordon of men +to watch the ways by the Butte de Picardie.--I will beat up the +grounds, parks, and houses.--The rest of you keep a lookout along the +road," he ordered the servants, "form a chain between the barrier and +Versailles. Forward, every man of you!" + +He caught up the rifle which his man had brought out, and dashed into +the garden. + +"Find them!" he called to the dog. + +An ominous baying came in answer from the distance, and he plunged in +the direction from which the growl seemed to come. + +It was seven o'clock in the morning; all the search made by gendarmes, +servants, and neighbors had been fruitless, and the dog had not come +back. The General entered the salon, empty now for him though the +other three children were there; he was worn out with fatigue, and +looked old already with that night's work. + +"You have been very cold to your daughter," he said, turning his eyes +on his wife.--"And now this is all that is left to us of her," he +added, indicating the embroidery frame, and the flower just begun. +"Only just now she was there, and now she is lost . . . lost!" + +Tears followed; he hid his face in his hands, and for a few minutes he +said no more; he could not bear the sight of the room, which so short +a time ago had made a setting to a picture of the sweetest family +happiness. The winter dawn was struggling with the dying lamplight; +the tapers burned down to their paper- wreaths and flared out; +everything was all in keeping with the father's despair. + +"This must be destroyed," he said after a pause, pointing to the +tambour-frame. "I shall never bear to see anything again that reminds +us of /her/!" + +The terrible Christmas night when the Marquis and his wife lost their +oldest daughter, powerless to oppose the mysterious influence +exercised by the man who involuntarily, as it were, stole Helene from +them, was like a warning sent by Fate. The Marquis was ruined by the +failure of his stock-broker; he borrowed money on his wife's property, +and lost it in the endeavor to retrieve his fortunes. Driven to +desperate expedients, he left France. Six years went by. His family +seldom had news of him; but a few days before Spain recognized the +independence of the American Republics, he wrote that he was coming +home. + +So, one fine morning, it happened that several French merchants were +on board a Spanish brig that lay a few leagues out from Bordeaux, +impatient to reach their native land again, with wealth acquired by +long years of toil and perilous adventures in Venezuela and Mexico. + +One of the passengers, a man who looked aged by trouble rather than by +years, was leaning against the bulwark netting, apparently quite +unaffected by the sight to be seen from the upper deck. The bright +day, the sense that the voyage was safely over, had brought all the +passengers above to greet their land. The larger number of them +insisted that they could see, far off in the distance, the houses and +lighthouses on the coast of Gascony and the Tower of Cardouan, melting +into the fantastic erections of white cloud along the horizon. But for +the silver fringe that played about their bows, and the long furrow +swiftly effaced in their wake, they might have been perfectly still in +mid-ocean, so calm was the sea. The sky was magically clear, the dark +blue of the vault above paled by imperceptible gradations, until it +blended with the bluish water, a gleaming line that sparkled like +stars marking the dividing line of sea. The sunlight caught myriads of +facets over the wide surface of the ocean, in such a sort that the +vast plains of salt water looked perhaps more full of light than the +fields of sky. + +The brig had set all her canvas. The snowy sails, swelled by the +strangely soft wind, the labyrinth of cordage, and the yellow flags +flying at the masthead, all stood out sharp and uncompromisingly clear +against the vivid background of space, sky, and sea; there was nothing +to alter the color but the shadow cast by the great cloudlike sails. + +A glorious day, a fair wind, and the fatherland in sight, a sea like a +mill-pond, the melancholy sound of the ripples, a fair, solitary +vessel, gliding across the surface of the water like a woman stealing +out to a tryst--it was a picture full of harmony. That mere speck full +of movement was a starting-point whence the soul of man could descry +the immutable vast of space. Solitude and bustling life, silence and +sound, were all brought together in strange abrupt contrast; you could +not tell where life, or sound, or silence, and nothingness lay, and no +human voice broke the divine spell. + +The Spanish captain, the crew, and the French passengers sat or stood, +in a mood of devout ecstasy, in which many memories blended. There was +idleness in the air. The beaming faces told of complete forgetfulness +of past hardships, the men were rocked on the fair vessel as in a +golden dream. Yet, from time to time the elderly passenger, leaning +over the bulwark nettings, looked with something like uneasiness at +the horizon. Distrust of the ways of Fate could be read in his whole +face; he seemed to fear that he should not reach the coast of France +in time. This was the Marquis. Fortune had not been deaf to his +despairing cry and struggles. After five years of endeavor and painful +toil, he was a wealthy man once more. In his impatience to reach his +home again and to bring the good news to his family, he had followed +the example set by some French merchants in Havana, and embarked with +them on a Spanish vessel with a cargo for Bordeaux. And now, grown +tired of evil forebodings, his fancy was tracing out for him the most +delicious pictures of past happiness. In that far-off brown line of +land he seemed to see his wife and children. He sat in his place by +the fireside; they were crowding about him; he felt their caresses. +Moina had grown to be a young girl; she was beautiful, and tall, and +striking. The fancied picture had grown almost real, when the tears +filled his eyes, and, to hide his emotion, he turned his face towards +the sea-line, opposite the hazy streak that meant land. + +"There she is again. . . . She is following us!" he said. + +"What?" cried the Spanish captain. + +"There is a vessel," muttered the General. + +"I saw her yesterday," answered Captain Gomez. He looked at his +interlocutor as if to ask what he thought; then he added in the +General's ear, "She has been chasing us all along." + +"Then why she has not come up with us, I do not know," said the +General, "for she is a faster sailor than your damned /Saint- +Ferdinand/." + +"She will have damaged herself, sprung a leak--" + +"She is gaining on us!" the General broke in. + +"She is a Columbian privateer," the captain said in his ear, "and we +are still six leagues from land, and the wind is dropping." + +"She is not /going/ ahead, she is flying, as if she knew that in two +hours' time her prey would escape her. What audacity!" + +"Audacity!" cried the captain. "Oh! she is not called the /Othello/ +for nothing. Not so long back she sank a Spanish frigate that carried +thirty guns! This is the one thing I was afraid of, for I had a notion +that she was cruising about somewhere off the Antilles.--Aha!" he +added after a pause, as he watched the sails of his own vessel, "the +wind is rising; we are making way. Get through we must, for 'the +Parisian' will show us no mercy." + +"She is making way too!" returned the General. + +The /Othello/ was scarce three leagues away by this time; and although +the conversation between the Marquis and Captain Gomez had taken place +apart, passengers and crew, attracted by the sudden appearance of a +sail, came to that side of the vessel. With scarcely an exception, +however, they took the privateer for a merchantman, and watched her +course with interest, till all at once a sailor shouted with some +energy of language: + +"By Saint-James, it is all up with us! Yonder is the Parisian +captain!" + +At that terrible name dismay, and a panic impossible to describe, +spread through the brig. The Spanish captain's orders put energy into +the crew for a while; and in his resolute determination to make land +at all costs, he set all the studding sails, and crowded on every +stitch of canvas on board. But all this was not the work of a moment; +and naturally the men did not work together with that wonderful +unanimity so fascinating to watch on board a man-of-war. The /Othello/ +meanwhile, thanks to the trimming of her sails, flew over the water +like a swallow; but she was making, to all appearance, so little +headway, that the unlucky Frenchmen began to entertain sweet delusive +hopes. At last, after unheard-of efforts, the /Saint-Ferdinand/ sprang +forward, Gomez himself directing the shifting of the sheets with voice +and gesture, when all at once the man at the tiller, steering at +random (purposely, no doubt), swung the vessel round. The wind +striking athwart the beam, the sails shivered so unexpectedly that the +brig heeled to one side, the booms were carried away, and the vessel +was completely out of hand. The captain's face grew whiter than his +sails with unutterable rage. He sprang upon the man at the tiller, +drove his dagger at him in such blind fury, that he missed him, and +hurled the weapon overboard. Gomez took the helm himself, and strove +to right the gallant vessel. Tears of despair rose to his eyes, for it +is harder to lose the result of our carefully-laid plans through +treachery than to face imminent death. But the more the captain swore, +the less the men worked, and it was he himself who fired the alarm- +gun, hoping to be heard on shore. The privateer, now gaining +hopelessly upon them, replied with a cannon-shot, which struck the +water ten fathoms away from the /Saint-Ferdinand/. + +"Thunder of heaven!" cried the General, "that was a close shave! They +must have guns made on purpose." + +"Oh! when that one yonder speaks, look you, you have to hold your +tongue," said a sailor. "The Parisian would not be afraid to meet an +English man-of-war." + +"It is all over with us," the captain cried in desperation; he had +pointed his telescope landwards, and saw not a sign from the shore. +"We are further from the coast than I thought." + +"Why do you despair?" asked the General. "All your passengers are +Frenchmen; they have chartered your vessel. The privateer is a +Parisian, you say? Well and good, run up the white flag, and--" + +"And he would run us down," retorted the captain. "He can be anything +he likes when he has a mind to seize on a rich booty!" + +"Oh! if he is a pirate--" + +"Pirate!" said the ferocious looking sailor. "Oh! he always has the +law on his side, or he knows how to be on the same side as the law." + +"Very well," said the General, raising his eyes, "let us make up our +minds to it," and his remaining fortitude was still sufficient to keep +back the tears. + +The words were hardly out of his mouth before a second cannon-shot, +better aimed, came crashing through the hull of the /Saint-Ferdinand/. + +"Heave to!" cried the captain gloomily. + +The sailor who had commended the Parisian's law-abiding proclivities +showed himself a clever hand at working a ship after this desperate +order was given. The crew waited for half an hour in an agony of +suspense and the deepest dismay. The /Saint-Ferdinand/ had four +millions of piastres on board, the whole fortunes of the five +passengers, and the General's eleven hundred thousand francs. At +length the /Othello/ lay not ten gunshots away, so that those on the +/Saint-Ferdinand/ could look into the muzzles of her loaded guns. The +vessel seemed to be borne along by a breeze sent by the Devil himself, +but the eyes of an expert would have discovered the secret of her +speed at once. You had but to look for a moment at the rake of her +stern, her long, narrow keel, her tall masts, to see the cut of her +sails, the wonderful lightness of her rigging, and the ease and +perfect seamanship with which her crew trimmed her sails to the wind. +Everything about her gave the impression of the security of power in +this delicately curved inanimate creature, swift and intelligent as a +greyhound or some bird of prey. The privateer crew stood silent, ready +in case of resistance to shatter the wretched merchantman, which, +luckily for her, remained motionless, like a schoolboy caught in +flagrant delict by a master. + +"We have guns on board!" cried the General, clutching the Spanish +captain's hand. But the courage in Gomez's eyes was the courage of +despair. + +"Have we men?" he said. + +The Marquis looked round at the crew of the /Saint-Ferdinand/, and a +cold chill ran through him. There stood the four merchants, pale and +quaking for fear, while the crew gathered about some of their own +number who appeared to be arranging to go over in a body to the enemy. +They watched the /Othello/ with greed and curiosity in their faces. +The captain, the Marquis, and the mate exchanged glances; they were +the only three who had a thought for any but themselves. + +"Ah! Captain Gomez, when I left my home and country, my heart was half +dead with the bitterness of parting, and now must I bid it good-bye +once more when I am bringing back happiness and ease for my children?" + +The General turned his head away towards the sea, with tears of rage +in his eyes--and saw the steersman swimming out to the privateer. + +"This time it will be good-bye for good," said the captain by way of +answer, and the dazed look in the Frenchman's eyes startled the +Spaniard. + +By this time the two vessels were almost alongside, and at the first +sight of the enemy's crew the General saw that Gomez's gloomy prophecy +was only too true. The three men at each gun might have been bronze +statues, standing like athletes, with their rugged features, their +bare sinewy arms, men whom Death himself had scarcely thrown off their +feet. + +The rest of the crew, well armed, active, light, and vigorous, also +stood motionless. Toil had hardened, and the sun had deeply tanned, +those energetic faces; their eyes glittered like sparks of fire with +infernal glee and clear-sighted courage. Perfect silence on the upper +deck, now black with men, bore abundant testimony to the rigorous +discipline and strong will which held these fiends incarnate in check. + +The captain of the /Othello/ stood with folded arms at the foot of the +main mast; he carried no weapons, but an axe lay on the deck beside +him. His face was hidden by the shadow of a broad felt hat. The men +looked like dogs crouching before their master. Gunners, soldiers, and +ship's crew turned their eyes first on his face, and then on the +merchant vessel. + +The two brigs came up alongside, and the shock of contact roused the +privateer captain from his musings; he spoke a word in the ear of the +lieutenant who stood beside him. + +"Grappling-irons!" shouted the latter, and the /Othello/ grappled the +/Saint-Ferdinand/ with miraculous quickness. The captain of the +privateer gave his orders in a low voice to the lieutenant, who +repeated them; the men, told off in succession for each duty, went on +the upper deck of the /Saint-Ferdinand/, like seminarists going to +mass. They bound crew and passengers hand and foot and seized the +booty. In the twinkling of an eye, provisions and barrels full of +piastres were transferred to the /Othello/; the General thought that +he must be dreaming when he himself, likewise bound, was flung down on +a bale of goods as if he had been part of the cargo. + +A brief conference took place between the captain of the privateer and +his lieutenant and a sailor, who seemed to be the mate of the vessel; +then the mate gave a whistle, and the men jumped on board the /Saint- +Ferdinand/, and completely dismantled her with the nimble dexterity of +a soldier who strips a dead comrade of a coveted overcoat and shoes. + +"It is all over with us," said the Spanish captain coolly. He had eyed +the three chiefs during their confabulation, and saw that the sailors +were proceeding to pull his vessel to pieces. + +"Why so?" asked the General. + +"What would you have them do with us?" returned the Spaniard. "They +have just come to the conclusion that they will scarcely sell the +/Saint-Ferdinand/ in any French or Spanish port, so they are going to +sink her to be rid of her. As for us, do you suppose that they will +put themselves to the expense of feeding us, when they don't know what +port they are to put into?" + +The words were scarcely out of the captain's mouth before a hideous +outcry went up, followed by a dull splashing sound, as several bodies +were thrown overboard. He turned, the four merchants were no longer to +be seen, but eight ferocious-looking gunners were still standing with +their arms raised above their heads. He shuddered. + +"What did I tell you?" the Spanish captain asked coolly. + +The Marquis rose to his feet with a spring. The surface of the sea was +quite smooth again; he could not so much as see the place where his +unhappy fellow-passengers had disappeared. By this time they were +sinking down, bound hand and foot, below the waves, if, indeed, the +fish had not devoured them already. + +Only a few paces away, the treacherous steersman and the sailor who +had boasted of the Parisian's power were fraternizing with the crew of +the /Othello/, and pointing out those among their own number, who, in +their opinion, were worthy to join the crew of the privateer. Then the +boys tied the rest together by the feet in spite of frightful oaths. +It was soon over; the eight gunners seized the doomed men and flung +them overboard without more ado, watching the different ways in which +the drowning victims met their death, their contortions, their last +agony, with a sort of malignant curiosity, but with no sign of +amusement, surprise, or pity. For them it was an ordinary event to +which seemingly they were quite accustomed. The older men looked +instead with grim, set smiles at the casks of piastres about the main +mast. + +The General and Captain Gomez, left seated on a bale of goods, +consulted each other with well-nigh hopeless looks; they were, in a +sense, the sole survivors of the /Saint-Ferdinand/, for the seven men +pointed out by the spies were transformed amid rejoicings into +Peruvians. + +"What atrocious villains!" the General cried. Loyal and generous +indignation silenced prudence and pain on his own account. + +"They do it because they must," Gomez answered coolly. "If you came +across one of those fellows, you would run him through the body, would +you not?" + +The lieutenant now came up to the Spaniard. + +"Captain," said he, "the Parisian has heard of you. He says that you +are the only man who really knows the passages of the Antilles and the +Brazilian coast. Will you--" + +The captain cut him short with a scornful exclamation. + +"I shall die like a sailor," he said, "and a loyal Spaniard and a +Christian. Do you hear?" + +"Heave him overboard!" shouted the lieutenant, and a couple of gunners +seized on Gomez. + +"You cowards!" roared the General, seizing hold of the men. + +"Don't get too excited, old boy," said the lieutenant. "If your red +ribbon has made some impression upon our captain, I myself do not care +a rap for it.--You and I will have our little bit of talk together +directly." + +A smothered sound, with no accompanying cry, told the General that the +gallant captain had died "like a sailor," as he had said. + +"My money or death!" cried the Marquis, in a fit of rage terrible to +see. + +"Ah! now you talk sensibly!" sneered the lieutenant. "That is the way +to get something out of us----" + +Two of the men came up at a sign and hastened to bind the Frenchmen's +feet, but with unlooked-for boldness he snatched the lieutenant's +cutlass and laid about him like a cavalry officer who knows his +business. + +"Brigands that you are! You shall not chuck one of Napoleon's troopers +over a ship's side like an oyster!" + +At the sound of pistol shots fired point blank at the Frenchman, "the +Parisian" looked round from his occupation of superintending the +transfer of the rigging from the /Saint-Ferdinand/. He came up behind +the brave General, seized him, dragged him to the side, and was about +to fling him over with no more concern than if the man had been a +broken spar. They were at the very edge when the General looked into +the tawny eyes of the man who had stolen his daughter. The recognition +was mutual. + +The captain of the privateer, his arm still upraised, suddenly swung +it in the contrary direction as if his victim was but a feather +weight, and set him down at the foot of the main mast. A murmur rose +on the upper deck, but the captain glanced round, and there was a +sudden silence. + +"This is Helene's father," said the captain in a clear, firm voice. +"Woe to any one who meddles with him!" + +A hurrah of joy went up at the words, a shout rising to the sky like a +prayer of the church; a cry like the first high notes of the /Te +Deum/. The lads swung aloft in the rigging, the men below flung up +their caps, the gunners pounded away on the deck, there was a general +thrill of excitement, an outburst of oaths, yells, and shrill cries in +voluble chorus. The men cheered like fanatics, the General's +misgivings deepened, and he grew uneasy; it seemed to him that there +was some horrible mystery in such wild transports. + +"My daughter!" he cried, as soon as he could speak. "Where is my +daughter?" + +For all answer, the captain of the privateer gave him a searching +glance, one of those glances which throw the bravest man into a +confusion which no theory can explain. The General was mute, not a +little to the satisfaction of the crew; it pleased them to see their +leader exercise the strange power which he possessed over all with +whom he came in contact. Then the captain led the way down a staircase +and flung open the door of a cabin. + +"There she is," he said, and disappeared, leaving the General in a +stupor of bewilderment at the scene before his eyes. + +Helene cried out at the sight of him, and sprang up from the sofa on +which she was lying when the door flew open. So changed was she that +none but a father's eyes could have recognized her. The sun of the +tropics had brought warmer tones into the once pale face, and +something of Oriental charm with that wonderful coloring; there was a +certain grandeur about her, a majestic firmness, a profound sentiment +which impresses itself upon the coarsest nature. Her long, thick hair, +falling in large curls about her queenly throat, gave an added idea of +power to the proud face. The consciousness of that power shone out +from every movement, every line of Helene's form. The rose-tinted +nostrils were dilated slightly with the joy of triumph; the serene +happiness of her life had left its plain tokens in the full +development of her beauty. A certain indefinable virginal grace met in +her with the pride of a woman who is loved. This was a slave and a +queen, a queen who would fain obey that she might reign. + +Her dress was magnificent and elegant in its richness; India muslin +was the sole material, but her sofa and cushions were of cashmere. A +Persian carpet covered the floor in the large cabin, and her four +children playing at her feet were building castles of gems and pearl +necklaces and jewels of price. The air was full of the scent of rare +flowers in Sevres porcelain vases painted by Madame Jacotot; tiny +South American birds, like living rubies, sapphires, and gold, hovered +among the Mexican jessamines and camellias. A pianoforte had been +fitted into the room, and here and there on the paneled walls, covered +with red silk, hung small pictures by great painters--a /Sunset/ by +Hippolyte Schinner beside a Terburg, one of Raphael's Madonnas +scarcely yielded in charm to a sketch by Gericault, while a Gerard Dow +eclipsed the painters of the Empire. On a lacquered table stood a +golden plate full of delicious fruit. Indeed, Helene might have been +the sovereign lady of some great country, and this cabin of hers a +boudoir in which her crowned lover had brought together all earth's +treasure to please his consort. The children gazed with bright, keen +eyes at their grandfather. Accustomed as they were to a life of +battle, storm, and tumult, they recalled the Roman children in David's +/Brutus/, watching the fighting and bloodshed with curious interest. + +"What! is it possible?" cried Helene, catching her father's arm as if +to assure herself that this was no vision. + +"Helene!" + +"Father!" + +They fell into each other's arms, and the old man's embrace was not so +close and warm as Helene's. + +"Were you on board that vessel?" + +"Yes," he answered sadly, and looking at the little ones, who gathered +about him and gazed with wide open eyes. + +"I was about to perish, but--" + +"But for my husband," she broke in. "I see how it was." + +"Ah!" cried the General, "why must I find you again like this, Helene? +After all the many tears that I have shed, must I still groan for your +fate?" + +"And why?" she asked, smiling. "Why should you be sorry to learn that +I am the happiest woman under the sun?" + +"/Happy/?" he cried with a start of surprise. + +"Yes, happy, my kind father," and she caught his hands in hers and +covered them with kisses, and pressed them to her throbbing heart. Her +caresses, and a something in the carriage of her head, were +interpreted yet more plainly by the joy sparkling in her eyes. + +"And how is this?" he asked, wondering at his daughter's life, +forgetful now of everything but the bright glowing face before him. + +"Listen, father; I have for lover, husband, servant, and master one +whose soul is as great as the boundless sea, as infinite in his +kindness as heaven, a god on earth! Never during these seven years has +a chance look, or word, or gesture jarred in the divine harmony of his +talk, his love, his caresses. His eyes have never met mine without a +gleam of happiness in them; there has always been a bright smile on +his lips for me. On deck, his voice rises above the thunder of storms +and the tumult of battle; but here below it is soft and melodious as +Rossini's music--for he has Rossini's music sent for me. I have +everything that woman's caprice can imagine. My wishes are more than +fulfilled. In short, I am a queen on the seas; I am obeyed here as +perhaps a queen may be obeyed.--Ah!" she cried, interrupting herself, +"/happy/ did I say? Happiness is no word to express such bliss as +mine. All the happiness that should have fallen to all the women in +the world has been my share. Knowing one's own great love and self- +devotion, to find in /his/ heart an infinite love in which a woman's +soul is lost, and lost for ever--tell me, is this happiness? I have +lived through a thousand lives even now. Here, I am alone; here, I +command. No other woman has set foot on this noble vessel, and Victor +is never more than a few paces distant from me,--he cannot wander +further from me than from stern to prow," she added, with a shade of +mischief in her manner. "Seven years! A love that outlasts seven years +of continual joy, that endures all the tests brought by all the +moments that make up seven years--is this love? Oh, no, no! it is +something better than all that I know of life . . . human language +fails to express the bliss of heaven." + +A sudden torrent of tears fell from her burning eyes. The four little +ones raised a piteous cry at this, and flocked like chickens about +their mother. The oldest boy struck the General with a threatening +look. + +"Abel, darling," said Helene, "I am crying for joy." + +Helene took him on her knee, and the child fondled her, putting his +arms about her queenly neck, as a lion's whelp might play with the +lioness. + +"Do you never weary of your life?" asked the General, bewildered by +his daughter's enthusiastic language. + +"Yes," she said, "sometimes, when we are on land, yet even then I have +never parted from my husband." + +"But you need to be fond of music and balls and fetes." + +"His voice is music for me; and for fetes, I devise new toilettes for +him to see. When he likes my dress, it is as if all the world admired +me. Simply for that reason I keep the diamonds and jewels, the +precious things, the flowers and masterpieces of art that he heaps +upon me, saying, 'Helene, as you live out of the world, I will have +the world come to you.' But for that I would fling them all +overboard." + +"But there are others on board, wild, reckless men whose passions--" + +"I understand, father," she said smiling. "Do not fear for me. Never +was empress encompassed with more observance than I. The men are very +superstitious; they look upon me as a sort of tutelary genius, the +luck of the vessel. But /he/ is their god; they worship him. Once, and +once only, one of the crew showed disrespect, mere words," she added, +laughing; "but before Victor knew of it, the others flung the offender +overboard, although I forgave him. They love me as their good angel; I +nurse them when they are ill; several times I have been so fortunate +as to save a life, by constant care such as a woman can give. Poor +fellows, they are giants, but they are children at the same time." + +"And when there is fighting overhead?" + +"I am used to it now; I quaked for fear during the first engagement, +but never since.--I am used to such peril, and--I am your daughter," +she said; "I love it." + +"But how if he should fall?" + +"I should die with him." + +"And your children?" + +"They are children of the sea and of danger; they share the life of +their parents. We have but one life, and we do not flinch from it. We +have but one life, our names are written on the same page of the book +of Fate, one skiff bears us and our fortunes, and we know it." + +"Do you so love him that he is more to you than all beside?" + +"All beside?" echoed she. "Let us leave that mystery alone. Yet stay! +there is this dear little one--well, this too is /he/," and straining +Abel to her in a tight clasp, she set eager kisses on his cheeks and +hair. + +"But I can never forget that he has just drowned nine men!" exclaimed +the General. + +"There was no help for it, doubtless," she said, "for he is generous +and humane. He sheds as little blood as may be, and only in the +interests of the little world which he defends, and the sacred cause +for which he is fighting. Talk to him about anything that seems to you +to be wrong, and he will convince you, you will see." + +"There was that crime of his," muttered the General to himself. + +"But how if that crime was a virtue?" she asked, with cold dignity. +"How if man's justice had failed to avenge a great wrong?" + +"But a private revenge!" exclaimed her father. + +"But what is hell," she cried, "but a revenge through all eternity for +the wrong done in a little day?" + +"Ah! you are lost! He has bewitched and perverted you. You are talking +wildly." + +"Stay with us one day, father, and if you will but listen to him, and +see him, you will love him." + +"Helene, France lies only a few leagues away," he said gravely. + +Helene trembled; then she went to the porthole and pointed to the +savannas of green water spreading far and wide. + +"There lies my country," she said, tapping the carpet with her foot. + +"But are you not coming with me to see your mother and your sister and +brothers?" + +"Oh! yes," she cried, with tears in her voice, "if /he/ is willing, if +he will come with me." + +"So," the General said sternly, "you have neither country nor kin now, +Helene?" + +"I am his wife," she answered proudly, and there was something very +noble in her tone. "This is the first happiness in seven years that +has not come to me through him," she said--then, as she caught her +father's hand and kissed it--"and this is the first word of reproach +that I have heard." + +"And your conscience?" + +"My conscience; he is my conscience!" she cried, trembling from head +to foot. "Here he is! Even in the thick of a fight I can tell his +footstep among all the others on deck," she cried. + +A sudden crimson flushed her cheeks and glowed in her features, her +eyes lighted up, her complexion changed to velvet whiteness, there was +joy and love in every fibre, in the blue veins, in the unconscious +trembling of her whole frame. That quiver of the sensitive plant +softened the General. + +It was as she had said. The captain came in, sat down in an easy- +chair, took up his oldest boy, and began to play with him. There was a +moment's silence, for the General's deep musing had grown vague and +dreamy, and the daintily furnished cabin and the playing children +seemed like a nest of halcyons, floating on the waves, between sky and +sea, safe in the protection of this man who steered his way amid the +perils of war and tempest, as other heads of household guide those in +their care among the hazards of common life. He gazed admiringly at +Helene--a dreamlike vision of some sea goddess, gracious in her +loveliness, rich in happiness; all the treasures about her grown poor +in comparison with the wealth of her nature, paling before the +brightness of her eyes, the indefinable romance expressed in her and +her surroundings. + +The strangeness of the situation took the General by surprise; the +ideas of ordinary life were thrown into confusion by this lofty +passion and reasoning. Chill and narrow social conventions faded away +before this picture. All these things the old soldier felt, and saw no +less how impossible it was that his daughter should give up so wide a +life, a life so variously rich, filled to the full with such +passionate love. And Helene had tasted danger without shrinking; how +could she return to the pretty stage, the superficial circumscribed +life of society? + +It was the captain who broke the silence at last. + +"Am I in the way?" he asked, looking at his wife. + +"No," said the General, answering for her. "Helene has told me all. I +see that she is lost to us--" + +"No," the captain put in quickly; "in a few years' time the statute of +limitations will allow me to go back to France. When the conscience is +clear, and a man has broken the law in obedience to----" he stopped +short, as if scorning to justify himself. + +"How can you commit new murders, such as I have seen with my own eyes, +without remorse?" + +"We had no provisions," the privateer captain retorted calmly. + +"But if you had set the men ashore--" + +"They would have given the alarm and sent a man-of-war after us, and +we should never have seen Chili again." + +"Before France would have given warning to the Spanish admiralty--" +began the General. + +"But France might take it amiss that a man, with a warrant still out +against him, should seize a brig chartered by Bordeaux merchants. And +for that matter, have you never fired a shot or so too many in +battle?" + +The General shrank under the other's eyes. He said no more, and his +daughter looked at him half sadly, half triumphant. + +"General," the privateer continued, in a deep voice, "I have made it a +rule to abstract nothing from booty. But even so, my share will be +beyond a doubt far larger than your fortune. Permit me to return it to +you in another form--" + +He drew a pile of banknotes from the piano, and without counting the +packets handed a million of francs to the Marquis. + +"You can understand," he said, "that I cannot spend my time in +watching vessels pass by to Bordeaux. So unless the dangers of this +Bohemian life of ours have some attraction for you, unless you care to +see South America and the nights of the tropics, and a bit of fighting +now and again for the pleasure of helping to win a triumph for a young +nation, or for the name of Simon Bolivar, we must part. The long boat +manned with a trustworthy crew is ready for you. And now let us hope +that our third meeting will be completely happy." + +"Victor," said Helene in a dissatisfied tone, "I should like to see a +little more of my father." + +"Ten minutes more or less may bring up a French frigate. However, so +be it, we shall have a little fun. The men find things dull." + +"Oh, father, go!" cried Helene, "and take these keepsakes from me to +my sister and brothers and--mother," she added. She caught up a +handful of jewels and precious stones, folded them in an Indian shawl, +and timidly held it out. + +"But what shall I say to them from you?" asked he. Her hesitation on +the word "mother" seemed to have struck him. + +"Oh! can you doubt me? I pray for their happiness every day." + +"Helene," he began, as he watched her closely, "how if we should not +meet again? Shall I never know why you left us?" + +"That secret is not mine," she answered gravely. "Even if I had the +right to tell it, perhaps I should not. For ten years I was more +miserable than words can say--" + +She broke off, and gave her father the presents for her family. The +General had acquired tolerably easy views as to booty in the course of +a soldier's career, so he took Helene's gifts and comforted himself +with the reflection that the Parisian captain was sure to wage war +against the Spaniards as an honorable man, under the influence of +Helene's pure and high-minded nature. His passion for courage carried +all before it. It was ridiculous, he thought, to be squeamish in the +matter; so he shook hands cordially with his captor, and kissed +Helene, his only daughter, with a soldier's expansiveness; letting +fall a tear on the face with the proud, strong look that once he had +loved to see. "The Parisian," deeply moved, brought the children for +his blessing. The parting was over, the last good-bye was a long +farewell look, with something of tender regret on either side. + + + +A strange sight to seaward met the General's eyes. The /Saint- +Ferdinand/ was blazing like a huge bonfire. The men told off to sink +the Spanish brig had found a cargo of rum on board; and as the +/Othello/ was already amply supplied, had lighted a floating bowl of +punch on the high seas, by way of a joke; a pleasantry pardonable +enough in sailors, who hail any chance excitement as a relief from the +apparent monotony of life at sea. As the General went over the side +into the long-boat of the /Saint-Ferdinand/, manned by six vigorous +rowers, he could not help looking at the burning vessel, as well as at +the daughter who stood by her husband's side on the stern of the +/Othello/. He saw Helene's white dress flutter like one more sail in +the breeze; he saw the tall, noble figure against a background of sea, +queenly still even in the presence of Ocean; and so many memories +crowded up in his mind, that, with a soldier's recklessness of life, +he forgot that he was being borne over the grave of the brave Gomez. + +A vast column of smoke rising spread like a brown cloud, pierced here +and there by fantastic shafts of sunlight. It was a second sky, a +murky dome reflecting the glow of the fire as if the under surface had +been burnished; but above it soared the unchanging blue of the +firmament, a thousand times fairer for the short-lived contrast. The +strange hues of the smoke cloud, black and red, tawny and pale by +turns, blurred and blending into each other, shrouded the burning +vessel as it flared, crackled and groaned; the hissing tongues of +flame licked up the rigging, and flashed across the hull, like a rumor +of riot flashing along the streets of a city. The burning rum sent up +blue flitting lights. Some sea god might have been stirring the +furious liquor as a student stirs the joyous flames of punch in an +orgy. But in the overpowering sunlight, jealous of the insolent blaze, +the colors were scarcely visible, and the smoke was but a film +fluttering like a thin scarf in the noonday torrent of light and heat. + +The /Othello/ made the most of the little wind she could gain to fly +on her new course. Swaying first to one side, then to the other, like +a stag beetle on the wing, the fair vessel beat to windward on her +zigzag flight to the south. Sometimes she was hidden from sight by the +straight column of smoke that flung fantastic shadows across the +water, then gracefully she shot out clear of it, and Helene, catching +sight of her father, waved her handkerchief for yet one more farewell +greeting. + +A few more minutes, and the /Saint-Ferdinand/ went down with a +bubbling turmoil, at once effaced by the ocean. Nothing of all that +had been was left but a smoke cloud hanging in the breeze. The +/Othello/ was far away, the long-boat had almost reached land, the +cloud came between the frail skiff and the brig, and it was through a +break in the swaying smoke that the General caught the last glimpse of +Helene. A prophetic vision! Her dress and her white handkerchief stood +out against the murky background. Then the brig was not even visible +between the green water and the blue sky, and Helene was nothing but +an imperceptible speck, a faint graceful line, an angel in heaven, a +mental image, a memory. + +The Marquis had retrieved his fortunes, when he died, worn out with +toil. A few months after his death, in 1833, the Marquise was obliged +to take Moina to a watering-place in the Pyrenees, for the capricious +child had a wish to see the beautiful mountain scenery. They left the +baths, and the following tragical incident occurred on their way home. + +"Dear me, mother," said Moina, "it was very foolish of us not to stay +among the mountains a few days longer. It was much nicer there. Did +you hear that horrid child moaning all night, and that wretched woman, +gabbling away in patois no doubt, for I could not understand a single +word she said. What kind of people can they have put in the next room +to ours? This is one of the horridest nights I have ever spent in my +life." + +"I heard nothing," said the Marquise, "but I will see the landlady, +darling, and engage the next room, and then we shall have the whole +suite of rooms to ourselves, and there will be no more noise. How do +you feel this morning? Are you tired?" + +As she spoke, the Marquise rose and went to Moina's bedside. + +"Let us see," she said, feeling for the girl's hand. + +"Oh! let me alone, mother," said Moina; "your fingers are cold." + +She turned her head round on the pillow as she spoke, pettishly, but +with such engaging grace, that a mother could scarcely have taken it +amiss. Just then a wailing cry echoed through the next room, a faint +prolonged cry, that must surely have gone to the heart of any woman +who heard it. + +"Why, if you heard /that/ all night long, why did you not wake me? We +should have--" + +A deeper moan than any that had gone before it interrupted the +Marquise. + +"Some one is dying there," she cried, and hurried out of the room. + +"Send Pauline to me!" called Moina. "I shall get up and dress." + +The Marquise hastened downstairs, and found the landlady in the +courtyard with a little group about her, apparently much interested in +something that she was telling them. + +"Madame, you have put some one in the next room who seems to be very +ill indeed--" + +"Oh! don't talk to me about it!" cried the mistress of the house. "I +have just sent some one for the mayor. Just imagine it; it is a woman, +a poor unfortunate creature that came here last night on foot. She +comes from Spain; she has no passport and no money; she was carrying +her baby on her back, and the child was dying. I could not refuse to +take her in. I went up to see her this morning myself; for when she +turned up yesterday, it made me feel dreadfully bad to look at her. +Poor soul! she and the child were lying in bed, and both of them at +death's door. 'Madame,' says she, pulling a gold ring off her finger, +'this is all that I have left; take it in payment, it will be enough; +I shall not stay here long. Poor little one! we shall die together +soon!' she said, looking at the child. I took her ring, and I asked +her who she was, but she never would tell me her name. . . . I have +just sent for the doctor and M. le Maire." + +"Why, you must do all that can be done for her," cried the Marquise. +"Good heavens! perhaps it is not too late! I will pay for everything +that is necessary----" + +"Ah! my lady, she looks to me uncommonly proud, and I don't know that +she would allow it." + +"I will go to see her at once." + +The Marquise went up forthwith to the stranger's room, without +thinking of the shock that the sight of her widow's weeds might give +to a woman who was said to be dying. At the sight of that dying woman +the Marquise turned pale. In spite of the changes wrought by fearful +suffering in Helene's beautiful face, she recognized her eldest +daughter. + +But Helene, when she saw a woman dressed in black, sat upright in bed +with a shriek of horror. Then she sank back; she knew her mother. + +"My daughter," said Mme. d'Aiglemont, "what is to be done? +Pauline! . . . Moina! . . ." + +"Nothing now for me," said Helene faintly. "I had hoped to see my +father once more, but your mourning--" she broke off, clutched her +child to her heart as if to give it warmth, and kissed its forehead. +Then she turned her eyes on her mother, and the Marquise met the old +reproach in them, tempered with forgiveness, it is true, but still +reproach. She saw it, and would not see it. She forgot that Helene was +the child conceived amid tears and despair, the child of duty, the +cause of one of the greatest sorrows in her life. She stole to her +eldest daughter's side, remembering nothing but that Helene was her +firstborn, the child who had taught her to know the joys of +motherhood. The mother's eyes were full of tears. "Helene, my +child! . . ." she cried, with her arms about her daughter. + +Helene was silent. Her own babe had just drawn its last breath on her +breast. + +Moina came into the room with Pauline, her maid, and the landlady and +the doctor. The Marquise was holding her daughter's ice-cold hand in +both of hers, and gazing at her in despair; but the widowed woman, who +had escaped shipwreck with but one of all her fair band of children, +spoke in a voice that was dreadful to hear. "All this is your work," +she said. "If you had but been for me all that--" + +"Moina, go! Go out of the room, all of you!" cried Mme. d'Aiglemont, +her shrill tones drowning Helene's voice.--"For pity's sake," she +continued, "let us not begin these miserable quarrels again now----" + +"I will be silent," Helene answered with a preternatural effort. "I am +a mother; I know that Moina ought not . . . Where is my child?" + +Moina came back, impelled by curiosity. + +"Sister," said the spoiled child, "the doctor--" + +"It is all of no use," said Helene. "Oh! why did I not die as a girl +of sixteen when I meant to take my own life? There is no happiness +outside the laws. Moina . . . you . . ." + +Her head sank till her face lay against the face of the little one; in +her agony she strained her babe to her breast, and died. + +"Your sister, Moina," said Mme. d'Aiglemont, bursting into tears when +she reached her room, "your sister meant no doubt to tell you that a +girl will never find happiness in a romantic life, in living as nobody +else does, and, above all things, far away from her mother." + + + +VI. + +THE OLD AGE OF A GUILTY MOTHER + +It was one of the earliest June days of the year 1844. A lady of fifty +or thereabouts, for she looked older than her actual age, was pacing +up and down one of the sunny paths in the garden of a great mansion in +the Rue Plument in Paris. It was noon. The lady took two or three +turns along the gently winding garden walk, careful never to lose +sight of a certain row of windows, to which she seemed to give her +whole attention; then she sat down on a bench, a piece of elegant +semi-rusticity made of branches with the bark left on the wood. From +the place where she sat she could look through the garden railings +along the inner boulevards to the wonderful dome of the Invalides +rising above the crests of a forest of elm-trees, and see the less +striking view of her own grounds terminating in the gray stone front +of one of the finest hotels in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. + +Silence lay over the neighboring gardens, and the boulevards +stretching away to the Invalides. Day scarcely begins at noon in that +aristocratic quarter, and masters and servants are all alike asleep, +or just awakening, unless some young lady takes it into her head to go +for an early ride, or a gray-headed diplomatist rises betimes to +redraft a protocol. + +The elderly lady stirring abroad at that hour was the Marquise +d'Aiglemont, the mother of Mme. de Saint-Hereen, to whom the great +house belonged. The Marquise had made over the mansion and almost her +whole fortune to her daughter, reserving only an annuity for herself. + +The Comtesse Moina de Saint-Hereen was Mme. d'Aiglemont's youngest +child. The Marquise had made every sacrifice to marry her daughter to +the eldest son of one of the greatest houses of France; and this was +only what might have been expected, for the lady had lost her sons, +first one and then the other. Gustave, Marquis d'Aiglemont, had died +of the cholera; Abel, the second, had fallen in Algeria. Gustave had +left a widow and children, but the dowager's affection for her sons +had been only moderately warm, and for the next generation it was +decidedly tepid. She was always civil to her daughter-in-law, but her +feeling towards the young Marquise was the distinctly conventional +affection which good taste and good manners require us to feel for our +relatives. The fortunes of her dead children having been settled, she +could devote her savings and her own property to her darling Moina. + +Moina, beautiful and fascinating from childhood, was Mme. +d'Aiglemont's favorite; loved beyond all the others with an +instinctive or involuntary love, a fatal drawing of the heart, which +sometimes seems inexplicable, sometimes, and to a close observer, only +too easy to explain. Her darling's pretty face, the sound of Moina's +voice, her ways, her manner, her looks and gestures, roused all the +deepest emotions that can stir a mother's heart with trouble, rapture, +or delight. The springs of the Marquise's life, of yesterday, +to-morrow, and to-day, lay in that young heart. Moina, with better +fortune, had survived four older children. As a matter of fact, Mme. +d'Aiglemont had lost her eldest daughter, a charming girl, in a most +unfortunate manner, said gossip, nobody knew exactly what became of +her; and then she lost a little boy of five by a dreadful accident. + +The child of her affections had, however, been spared to her, and +doubtless the Marquise saw the will of Heaven in that fact; for those +who had died, she kept but very shadowy recollections in some far-off +corner of her heart; her memories of her dead children were like the +headstones on a battlefield, you can scarcely see them for the flowers +that have sprung up about them since. Of course, if the world had +chosen, it might have said some hard truths about the Marquise, might +have taken her to task for shallowness and an overweening preference +for one child at the expense of the rest; but the world of Paris is +swept along by the full flood of new events, new ideas, and new +fashions, and it was inevitable the Mme. d'Aiglemont should be in some +sort allowed to drop out of sight. So nobody thought of blaming her +for coldness or neglect which concerned no one, whereas her quick, +apprehensive tenderness for Moina was found highly interesting by not +a few who respected it as a sort of superstition. Besides, the +Marquise scarcely went into society at all; and the few families who +knew her thought of her as a kindly, gentle, indulgent woman, wholly +devoted to her family. What but a curiosity, keen indeed, would seek +to pry beneath the surface with which the world is quite satisfied? +And what would we not pardon to old people, if only they will efface +themselves like shadows, and consent to be regarded as memories and +nothing more! + +Indeed, Mme. d'Aiglemont became a kind of example complacently held up +by the younger generation to fathers of families, and frequently cited +to mothers-in-law. She had made over her property to Moina in her own +lifetime; the young Countess' happiness was enough for her, she only +lived in her daughter. If some cautious old person or morose uncle +here and there condemned the course with--"Perhaps Mme. d'Aiglemont +may be sorry some day that she gave up her fortune to her daughter; +she may be sure of Moina, but how can she be equally sure of her son- +in-law?"--these prophets were cried down on all sides, and from all +sides a chorus of praise went up for Moina. + +"It ought to be said, in justice to Mme. de Saint-Hereen, that her +mother cannot feel the slightest difference," remarked a young married +woman. "Mme. d'Aiglemont is admirably well housed. She has a carriage +at her disposal, and can go everywhere just as she used to do--" + +"Except to the Italiens," remarked a low voice. (This was an elderly +parasite, one of those persons who show their independence--as they +think--by riddling their friends with epigrams.) "Except to the +Italiens. And if the dowager cares for anything on this earth but her +daughter--it is music. Such a good performer she was in her time! But +the Countess' box is always full of young butterflies, and the +Countess' mother would be in the way; the young lady is talked about +already as a great flirt. So the poor mother never goes to the +Italiens." + +"Mme. de Saint-Hereen has delightful 'At Homes' for her mother," said +a rosebud. "All Paris goes to her salon. + +"And no one pays any attention to the Marquise," returned the +parasite. + +"The fact is that Mme. d'Aiglemont is never alone," remarked a +coxcomb, siding with the young women. + +"In the morning," the old observer continued in a discreet voice, "in +the morning dear Moina is asleep. At four o'clock dear Moina drives in +the Bois. In the evening dear Moina goes to a ball or to the Bouffes. +--Still, it is certainly true that Mme. d'Aiglemont has the privilege +of seeing her dear daughter while she dresses, and again at dinner, if +dear Moina happens to dine with her mother. Not a week ago, sir," +continued the elderly person, laying his hand on the arm of the shy +tutor, a new arrival in the house, "not a week ago, I saw the poor +mother, solitary and sad, by her own fireside.--'What is the matter?' +I asked. The Marquise looked up smiling, but I am quite sure that she +had been crying.--'I was thinking that it is a strange thing that I +should be left alone when I have had five children,' she said, 'but +that is our destiny! And besides, I am happy when I know that Moina is +enjoying herself.'--She could say that to me, for I knew her husband +when he was alive. A poor stick he was, and uncommonly lucky to have +such a wife; it was certainly owing to her that he was made a peer of +France, and had a place at Court under Charles X." + +Yet such mistaken ideas get about in social gossip, and such mischief +is done by it, that the historian of manners is bound to exercise his +discretion, and weigh the assertions so recklessly made. After all, +who is to say that either mother or daughter was right or wrong? There +is but One who can read and judge their hearts! And how often does He +wreak His vengeance in the family circle, using throughout all time +children as His instruments against their mothers, and fathers against +their sons, raising up peoples against kings, and princes against +peoples, sowing strife and division everywhere? And in the world of +ideas, are not opinions and feelings expelled by new feelings and +opinions, much as withered leaves are thrust forth by the young leaf- +buds in the spring?--all in obedience to the immutable Scheme; all to +some end which God alone knows. Yet, surely, all things proceed to +Him, or rather, to Him all things return. + +Such thoughts of religion, the natural thoughts of age, floated up now +and again on the current of Mme. d'Aiglemont's thoughts; they were +always dimly present in her mind, but sometimes they shone out +clearly, sometimes they were carried under, like flowers tossed on the +vexed surface of a stormy sea. + +She sat on a garden-seat, tired with walking, exhausted with much +thinking--with the long thoughts in which a whole lifetime rises up +before the mind, and is spread out like a scroll before the eyes of +those who feel that Death is near. + +If a poet had chanced to pass along the boulevard, he would have found +an interesting picture in the face of this woman, grown old before her +time. As she sat under the dotted shadow of the acacia, the shadow the +acacia casts at noon, a thousand thoughts were written for all the +world to see on her features, pale and cold even in the hot, bright +sunlight. There was something sadder than the sense of waning life in +that expressive face, some trouble that went deeper than the weariness +of experience. It was a face of a type that fixes you in a moment +among a host of characterless faces that fail to draw a second glance, +a face to set you thinking. Among a thousand pictures in a gallery, +you are strongly impressed by the sublime anguish on the face of some +Madonna of Murillo's; by some /Beatrice Cenci/ in which Guido's art +portrays the most touching innocence against a background of horror +and crime; by the awe and majesty that should encircle a king, caught +once and for ever by Velasquez in the sombre face of a Philip II., and +so is it with some living human faces; they are tyrannous pictures +which speak to you, submit you to searching scrutiny, and give +response to your inmost thoughts, nay, there are faces that set forth +a whole drama, and Mme. d'Aiglemont's stony face was one of these +awful tragedies, one of such faces as Dante Alighieri saw by thousands +in his vision. + +For the little season that a woman's beauty is in flower it serves her +admirably well in the dissimulation to which her natural weakness and +our social laws condemn her. A young face and rich color, and eyes +that glow with light, a gracious maze of such subtle, manifold lines +and curves, flawless and perfectly traced, is a screen that hides +everything that stirs the woman within. A flush tells nothing, it only +heightens the coloring so brilliant already; all the fires that burn +within can add little light to the flame of life in eyes which only +seem the brighter for the flash of a passing pain. Nothing is so +discreet as a young face, for nothing is less mobile; it has the +serenity, the surface smoothness, and the freshness of a lake. There +is not character in women's faces before the age of thirty. The +painter discovers nothing there but pink and white, and the smile and +expression that repeat the same thought in the same way--a thought of +youth and love that goes no further than youth and love. But the face +of an old woman has expressed all that lay in her nature; passion has +carved lines on her features; love and wifehood and motherhood, and +extremes of joy and anguish, having wrung them, and left their traces +in a thousand wrinkles, all of which speak a language of their own; +then it is that a woman's face becomes sublime in its horror, +beautiful in its melancholy, grand in its calm. If it is permissible +to carry the strange metaphor still further, it might be said that in +the dried-up lake you can see the traces of all the torrents that once +poured into it and made it what it is. An old face is nothing to the +frivolous world; the frivolous world is shocked by the sight of the +destruction of such comeliness as it can understand; a commonplace +artist sees nothing there. An old face is the province of the poets +among poets of those who can recognize that something which is called +Beauty, apart from all the conventions underlying so many +superstitions in art and taste. + + + +Though Mme. d'Aiglemont wore a fashionable bonnet, it was easy to see +that her once black hair had been bleached by cruel sorrows; yet her +good taste and the gracious acquired instincts of a woman of fashion +could be seen in the way she wore it, divided into two /bandeaux/, +following the outlines of a forehead that still retained some traces +of former dazzling beauty, worn and lined though it was. The contours +of her face, the regularity of her features, gave some idea, faint in +truth, of that beauty of which surely she had once been proud; but +those traces spoke still more plainly of the anguish which had laid it +waste, of sharp pain that had withered the temples, and made those +hollows in her cheeks, and empurpled the eyelids, and robbed them of +their lashes, and the eyes of their charm. She was in every way so +noiseless; she moved with a slow, self-contained gravity that showed +itself in her whole bearing, and struck a certain awe into others. Her +diffident manner had changed to positive shyness, due apparently to a +habit now of some years' growth, of effacing herself in her daughter's +presence. She spoke very seldom, and in the low tones used by those +who perforce must live within themselves a life of reflection and +concentration. This demeanor led others to regard her with an +indefinable feeling which was neither awe nor compassion, but a +mysterious blending of the many ideas awakened in us by compassion and +awe. Finally, there was something in her wrinkles, in the lines of her +face, in the look of pain in those wan eyes of hers, that bore +eloquent testimony to tears that never had fallen, tears that had been +absorbed by her heart. Unhappy creatures, accustomed to raise their +eyes to heaven, in mute appeal against the bitterness of their lot, +would have seen at once from her eyes that she was broken in to the +cruel discipline of ceaseless prayer, would have discerned the almost +imperceptible symptoms of the secret bruises which destroy all the +flowers of the soul, even the sentiment of motherhood. + +Painters have colors for these portraits, but words, and the mental +images called up by words, fail to reproduce such impressions +faithfully; there are mysterious signs and tokens in the tones of the +coloring and in the look of human faces, which the mind only seizes +through the sense of sight; and the poet is fain to record the tale of +the events which wrought the havoc to make their terrible ravages +understood. + +The face spoke of cold and steady storm, an inward conflict between a +mother's long-suffering and the limitations of our nature, for our +human affections are bounded by our humanity, and the infinite has no +place in finite creatures. Sorrow endured in silence had at last +produced an indefinable morbid something in this woman. Doubtless +mental anguish had reacted on the physical frame, and some disease, +perhaps an aneurism, was undermining Julie's life. Deep-seated grief +lies to all appearance very quietly in the depths where it is +conceived, yet, so still and apparently dormant as it is, it +ceaselessly corrodes the soul, like the terrible acid which eats away +crystal. + +Two tears made their way down the Marquise's cheeks; she rose to her +feet as if some thought more poignant than any that preceded it had +cut her to the quick. She had doubtless come to a conclusion as to +Moina's future; and now, foreseeing clearly all the troubles in store +for her child, the sorrows of her own unhappy life had begun to weigh +once more upon her. The key of her position must be sought in her +daughter's situation. + +The Comte de Saint-Hereen had been away for nearly six months on a +political mission. The Countess, whether from sheer giddiness, or in +obedience to the countless instincts of woman's coquetry, or to essay +its power--with all the vanity of a frivolous fine lady, all the +capricious waywardness of a child--was amusing herself, during her +husband's absence, by playing with the passion of a clever but +heartless man, distracted (so he said) with love, the love that +combines readily with every petty social ambition of a self-conceited +coxcomb. Mme. d'Aiglemont, whose long experience had given her a +knowledge of life, and taught her to judge of men and to dread the +world, watched the course of this flirtation, and saw that it could +only end in one way, if her daughter should fall into the hands of an +utterly unscrupulous intriguer. How could it be other than a terrible +thought for her that her daughter listened willingly to this /roue/? +Her darling stood on the brink of a precipice, she felt horribly sure +of it, yet dared not hold her back. She was afraid of the Countess. +She knew too that Moina would not listen to her wise warnings; she +knew that she had no influence over that nature--iron for her, silken- +soft for all others. Her mother's tenderness might have led her to +sympathize with the troubles of a passion called forth by the nobler +qualities of a lover, but this was no passion--it was coquetry, and +the Marquise despised Alfred de Vandenesse, knowing that he had +entered upon this flirtation with Moina as if it were a game of chess. + +But if Alfred de Vandenesse made her shudder with disgust, she was +obliged--unhappy mother!--to conceal the strongest reason for her +loathing in the deepest recesses of her heart. She was on terms of +intimate friendship with the Marquis de Vandenesse, the young man's +father; and this friendship, a respectable one in the eyes of the +world, excused the son's constant presence in the house, he professing +an old attachment, dating from childhood, for Mme. de Saint-Hereen. +More than this, in vain did Mme. d'Aiglemont nerve herself to come +between Moina and Alfred de Vandenesse with a terrible word, knowing +beforehand that she should not succeed; knowing that the strong reason +which ought to separate them would carry no weight; that she should +humiliate herself vainly in her daughter's eyes. Alfred was too +corrupt; Moina too clever to believe the revelation; the young +Countess would turn it off and treat it as a piece of maternal +strategy. Mme. d'Aiglemont had built her prison walls with her own +hands; she had immured herself only to see Moina's happiness ruined +thence before she died; she was to look on helplessly at the ruin of +the young life which had been her pride and joy and comfort, a life a +thousand times dearer to her than her own. What words can describe +anguish so hideous beyond belief, such unfathomed depths of pain? + +She waited for Moina to rise, with the impatience and sickening dread +of a doomed man, who longs to have done with life, and turns cold at +the thought of the headsman. She had braced herself for a last effort, +but perhaps the prospect of the certain failure of the attempt was +less dreadful to her than the fear of receiving yet again one of those +thrusts that went to her very heart--before that fear her courage +ebbed away. Her mother's love had come to this. To love her child, to +be afraid of her, to shrink from the thought of the stab, yet to go +forward. So great is a mother's affection in a loving nature, that +before it can fade away into indifference the mother herself must die +or find support in some great power without her, in religion or +another love. Since the Marquise rose that morning, her fatal memory +had called up before her some of those things, so slight to all +appearance, that make landmarks in a life. Sometimes, indeed, a whole +tragedy grows out of a single gesture; the tone in which a few words +were spoken rends a whole life in two; a glance into indifferent eyes +is the deathblow of the gladdest love; and, unhappily, such gestures +and such words were only too familiar to Mme. d'Aiglemont--she had met +so many glances that wound the soul. No, there was nothing in those +memories to bid her hope. On the contrary, everything went to show +that Alfred had destroyed her hold on her daughter's heart, that the +thought of her was now associated with duty--not with gladness. In +ways innumerable, in things that were mere trifles in themselves, the +Countess' detestable conduct rose up before her mother; and the +Marquise, it may be, looked on Moina's undutifulness as a punishment, +and found excuses for her daughter in the will of Heaven, that so she +still might adore the hand that smote her. + +All these things passed through her memory that morning, and each +recollection wounded her afresh so sorely, that with a very little +additional pain her brimming cup of bitterness must have overflowed. A +cold look might kill her. + +The little details of domestic life are difficult to paint; but one or +two perhaps will suffice to give an idea of the rest. + +The Marquise d'Aiglemont, for instance, had grown rather deaf, but she +could never induce Moina to raise her voice for her. Once, with the +naivete of suffering, she had begged Moina to repeat some remark which +she had failed to catch, and Moina obeyed, but with so bad a grace, +the Mme. d'Aiglemont had never permitted herself to make her modest +request again. Ever since that day when Moina was talking or retailing +a piece of news, her mother was careful to come near to listen; but +this infirmity of deafness appeared to put the Countess out of +patience, and she would grumble thoughtlessly about it. This instance +is one from among very many that must have gone to the mother's heart; +and yet nearly all of them might have escaped a close observer, they +consisted in faint shades of manner invisible to any but a woman's +eyes. Take another example. Mme. d'Aiglemont happened to say one day +that the Princesse de Cadignan had called upon her. "Did she come to +see /you/!" Moina exclaimed. That was all, but the Countess' voice and +manner expressed surprise and well-bred contempt in semitones. Any +heart, still young and sensitive, might well have applauded the +philanthropy of savage tribes who kill off their old people when they +grow too feeble to cling to a strongly shaken bough. Mme. d'Aiglemont +rose smiling, and went away to weep alone. + +Well-bred people, and women especially, only betray their feelings by +imperceptible touches; but those who can look back over their own +experience on such bruises as this mother's heart received, know also +how the heart-strings vibrate to these light touches. Overcome by her +memories, Mme. d'Aiglemont recollected one of those microscopically +small things, so stinging and so painful was it that never till this +moment had she felt all the heartless contempt that lurked beneath +smiles. + +At the sound of shutters thrown back at her daughter's windows, she +dried her tears, and hastened up the pathway by the railings. As she +went, it struck her that the gardener had been unusually careful to +rake the sand along the walk which had been neglected for some little +time. As she stood under her daughter's windows, the shutters were +hastily closed. + +"Moina, is it you?" she asked. + +No answer. + +The Marquise went on into the house. + +"Mme. la Comtesse is in the little drawing-room," said the maid, when +the Marquise asked whether Mme. de Saint-Hereen had finished dressing. + +Mme. d'Aiglemont hurried to the little drawing-room; her heart was too +full, her brain too busy to notice matters so slight; but there on the +sofa sat the Countess in her loose morning-gown, her hair in disorder +under the cap tossed carelessly on he head, her feet thrust into +slippers. The key of her bedroom hung at her girdle. Her face, aglow +with color, bore traces of almost stormy thought. + +"What makes people come in!" she cried, crossly. "Oh! it is you, +mother," she interrupted herself, with a preoccupied look. + +"Yes, child; it is your mother----" + +Something in her tone turned those words into an outpouring of the +heart, the cry of some deep inward feeling, only to be described by +the word "holy." So thoroughly in truth had she rehabilitated the +sacred character of a mother, that her daughter was impressed, and +turned towards her, with something of awe, uneasiness, and remorse in +her manner. The room was the furthest of a suite, and safe from +indiscreet intrusion, for no one could enter it without giving warning +of approach through the previous apartments. The Marquise closed the +door. + +"It is my duty, my child, to warn you in one of the most serious +crises in the lives of us women; you have perhaps reached it +unconsciously, and I am come to speak to you as a friend rather than +as a mother. When you married, you acquired freedom of action; you are +only accountable to your husband now; but I asserted my authority so +little (perhaps I was wrong), that I think I have a right to expect +you to listen to me, for once at least, in a critical position when +you must need counsel. Bear in mind, Moina that you are married to a +man of high ability, a man of whom you may well be proud, a man who--" + +"I know what you are going to say, mother!" Moina broke in pettishly. +"I am to be lectured about Alfred--" + +"Moina," the Marquise said gravely, as she struggled with her tears, +"you would not guess at once if you did not feel--" + +"What?" asked Moina, almost haughtily. "Why, really, mother--" + +Mme. d'Aiglemont summoned up all her strength. "Moina," she said, "you +must attend carefully to this that I ought to tell you--" + +"I am attending," returned the Countess, folding her arms, and +affecting insolent submission. "Permit me, mother, to ring for +Pauline," she added with incredible self-possession; "I will send her +away first." + +She rang the bell. + +"My dear child, Pauline cannot possibly hear--" + +"Mamma," interrupted the Countess, with a gravity which must have +struck her mother as something unusual, "I must--" + +She stopped short, for the woman was in the room. + +"Pauline, go /yourself/ to Baudran's, and ask why my hat has not yet +been sent." + +Then the Countess reseated herself and scrutinized her mother. The +Marquise, with a swelling heart and dry eyes, in painful agitation, +which none but a mother can fully understand, began to open Moina's +eyes to the risk that she was running. But either the Countess felt +hurt and indignant at her mother's suspicions of a son of the Marquis +de Vandenesse, or she was seized with a sudden fit of inexplicable +levity caused by the inexperience of youth. She took advantage of a +pause. + +"Mamma, I thought you were only jealous of /the father/--" she said, +with a forced laugh. + +Mme. d'Aiglemont shut her eyes and bent her head at the words, with a +very faint, almost inaudible sigh. She looked up and out into space, +as if she felt the common overmastering impulse to appeal to God at +the great crises of our lives; then she looked at her daughter, and +her eyes were full of awful majesty and the expression of profound +sorrow. + +"My child," she said, and her voice was hardly recognizable, "you have +been less merciful to your mother than he against whom she sinned; +less merciful than perhaps God Himself will be!" + +Mme. d'Aiglemont rose; at the door she turned; but she saw nothing but +surprise in her daughter's face. She went out. Scarcely had she +reached the garden when her strength failed her. There was a violent +pain at her heart, and she sank down on a bench. As her eyes wandered +over the path, she saw fresh marks on the path, a man's footprints +were distinctly recognizable. It was too late, then, beyond a doubt. +Now she began to understand the reason for that order given to +Pauline, and with these torturing thoughts came a revelation more +hateful than any that had gone before it. She drew her own +inferences--the son of the Marquis de Vandenesse had destroyed all +feeling of respect for her in her daughter's mind. The physical pain +grew worse; by degrees she lost consciousness, and sat like one asleep +upon the garden-seat. + +The Countess de Saint-Hereen, left to herself, thought that her mother +had given her a somewhat shrewd home-thrust, but a kiss and a few +attentions that evening would make all right again. + +A shrill cry came from the garden. She leaned carelessly out, as +Pauline, not yet departed on her errand, called out for help, holding +the Marquise in her arms. + +"Do not frighten my daughter!" those were the last words the mother +uttered. + +Moina saw them carry in a pale and lifeless form that struggled for +breath, and arms moving restlessly as in protest or effort to speak; +and overcome by the sight, Moina followed in silence, and helped to +undress her mother and lay her on her bed. The burden of her fault was +greater than she could bear. In that supreme hour she learned to know +her mother--too late, she could make no reparation now. She would have +them leave her alone with her mother; and when there was no one else +in the room, when she felt that the hand which had always been so +tender for her was now grown cold to her touch, she broke out into +weeping. Her tears aroused the Marquise; she could still look at her +darling Moina; and at the sound of sobbing, that seemed as if it must +rend the delicate, disheveled breast, could smile back at her +daughter. That smile taught the unnatural child that forgiveness is +always to be found in the great deep of a mother's heart. + + + +Servants on horseback had been dispatched at once for the physician +and surgeon and for Mme. d'Aiglemont's grandchildren. Mme. d'Aiglemont +the younger and her little sons arrived with the medical men, a +sufficiently impressive, silent, and anxious little group, which the +servants of the house came to join. The young Marquise, hearing no +sound, tapped gently at the door. That signal, doubtless, roused Moina +from her grief, for she flung open the doors and stood before them. No +words could have spoken more plainly than that disheveled figure +looking out with haggard eyes upon the assembled family. Before that +living picture of Remorse the rest were dumb. It was easy to see that +the Marquise's feet were stretched out stark and stiff with the agony +of death; and Moina, leaning against the door-frame, looking into +their faces, spoke in a hollow voice: + +"I have lost my mother!" + + + +PARIS, 1828-1844. + + + + +ADDENDUM + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +Aiglemont, General, Marquis Victor d' + At the Sign of the Cat and Racket + The Firm of Nucingen + +Bonaparte, Napoleon + The Vendetta + The Gondreville Mystery + Colonel Chabert + Domestic Peace + The Seamy Side of History + +Camps, Madame Octave de (nee Cadignan) + Madame Firmiani + The Government Clerks + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + +Chatillonest, De + Modeste Mignon + +Crottat, Alexandre + Cesar Birotteau + Colonel Chabert + A Start in Life + Cousin Pons + +Desroches (son) + A Bachelor's Establishment + Colonel Chabert + A Start in Life + The Commission in Lunacy + The Government Clerks + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + The Firm of Nucingen + A Man of Business + The Middle Classes + +Duroc, Gerard-Christophe-Michel + The Gondreville Mystery + +Ronquerolles, Marquis de + The Imaginary Mistress + The Peasantry + Ursule Mirouet + Another Study of Woman + The Thirteen + The Member for Arcis + +Saint-Hereen, Comtesse Moina de + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + +Serizy, Comtesse de + A Start in Life + The Thirteen + Ursule Mirouet + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Another Study of Woman + The Imaginary Mistress + +Vandenesse, Marquis Charles de + A Start in Life + A Daughter of Eve + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext A Woman of Thirty, by Honore de Balzac + |