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diff --git a/3946-h/3946-h.htm b/3946-h/3946-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d3ac507 --- /dev/null +++ b/3946-h/3946-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12276 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Monsieur de Camors, by Octave Feuillet + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Project Gutenberg's Monsieur de Camors, Complete, by Octave Feuillet + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Monsieur de Camors, Complete + +Author: Octave Feuillet + +Release Date: October 5, 2006 [EBook #3946] +Last Updated: August 23, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR DE CAMORS, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + MONSIEUR DE CAMORS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Octave Feuillet + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + With a Preface by MAXIME DU CAMP, of the French Academy + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> OCTAVE FEUILLET </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>MONSIEUR DE CAMORS</b> </a><br /><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>BOOK 1.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>"THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH” <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>FRUIT FROM THE HOTBED OF PARIS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>DEBRIS FROM THE + REVOLUTION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>A NEW + ACTRESS IN A NOVEL ROLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. + </a>THE COUNT LOSES A LADY AND FINDS A MISSION <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>THE OLD DOMAIN OF REUILLY <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>ELISE DE TECLE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>A DISH OF + POLITICS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> <b>BOOK 2.</b> </a> <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>LOVE CONQUERS PHILOSOPHY <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>THE PROLOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>NEW MAN OF THE NEW + EMPIRE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>CIRCE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>THE FIRST ACT OF THE TRAGEDY + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>AN ANONYMOUS LETTER + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> <b>BOOK 3.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a>THE COUNTESS DE CAMORS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>THE REPTILE STRIVES TO CLIMB + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>LIGHTNING FROM A + CLEAR SKY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>ONE + GLEAM OF HOPE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>THE + REPTILE TURNS TO STING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. + </a>THE SECOND ACT OF THE TRAGEDY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> + CHAPTER XXI. </a>THE FEATHER IN THE BALANCE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a>THE CURTAIN FALLS <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + OCTAVE FEUILLET + </h2> + <p> + OCTAVE FEUILLET’S works abound with rare qualities, forming a harmonious + ensemble; they also exhibit great observation and knowledge of humanity, + and through all of them runs an incomparable and distinctive charm. He + will always be considered the leader of the idealistic school in the + nineteenth century. It is now fifteen years since his death, and the + judgment of posterity is that he had a great imagination, linked to great + analytical power and insight; that his style is neat, pure, and fine, and + at the same time brilliant and concise. He unites suppleness with force, + he combines grace with vigor. + </p> + <p> + Octave Feuillet was born at Saint-Lo (Manche), August 11, 1821, his father + occupying the post of Secretary-General of the Prefecture de la Manche. + Pupil at the Lycee Louis le Grand, he received many prizes, and was + entered for the law. But he became early attracted to literature, and like + many of the writers at that period attached himself to the “romantic + school.” He collaborated with Alexander Dumas pere and with Paul Bocage. + It can not now be ascertained what share Feuillet may have had in any of + the countless tales of the elder Dumas. Under his own name he published + the novels ‘Onesta’ and ‘Alix’, in 1846, his first romances. He then + commenced writing for the stage. We mention ‘Echec et Mat’ (Odeon, 1846); + ‘Palma, ou la Nuit du Vendredi-Saint’ (Porte St. Martin, 1847); ‘La + Vieillesse de Richelieu’ (Theatre Francais, 1848); ‘York’ (Palais Royal, + 1852). Some of them are written in collaboration with Paul Bocage. They + are dramas of the Dumas type, conventional, not without cleverness, but + making no lasting mark. + </p> + <p> + Realizing this, Feuillet halted, pondered, abruptly changed front, and + began to follow in the footsteps of Alfred de Musset. ‘La Grise’ (1854), + ‘Le Village’ (1856), ‘Dalila’ (1857), ‘Le Cheveu Blanc’, and other plays + obtained great success, partly in the Gymnase, partly in the Comedie + Francaise. In these works Feuillet revealed himself as an analyst of + feminine character, as one who had spied out all their secrets, and could + pour balm on all their wounds. ‘Le Roman d’un Jeune Homme Pauvre’ + (Vaudeville, 1858) is probably the best known of all his later dramas; it + was, of course, adapted for the stage from his romance, and is well known + to the American public through Lester Wallack and Pierrepont Edwards. + ‘Tentation’ was produced in the year 1860, also well known in this country + under the title ‘Led Astray’; then followed ‘Montjoye’ (1863), etc. The + influence of Alfred de Musset is henceforth less perceptible. Feuillet now + became a follower of Dumas fils, especially so in ‘La Belle au Bois + Dormant’ (Vaudeville, 1865); ‘Le Cas de Conscience (Theatre Francais, + 1867); ‘Julie’ (Theatre Francais 1869). These met with success, and are + still in the repertoire of the Comedie Francaise. + </p> + <p> + As a romancer, Feuillet occupies a high place. For thirty years he was the + representative of a noble and tender genre, and was preeminently the + favorite novelist of the brilliant society of the Second Empire. Women + literally devoured him, and his feminine public has always remained + faithful to him. He is the advocate of morality and of the aristocracy of + birth and feeling, though under this disguise he involves his heroes and + heroines in highly romantic complications, whose outcome is often for a + time in doubt. Yet as the accredited painter of the Faubourg Saint-Germain + he contributed an essential element to the development of realistic + fiction. No one has rendered so well as he the high-strung, neuropathic + women of the upper class, who neither understand themselves nor are wholly + comprehensible to others. In ‘Monsieur de Camors’, crowned by the Academy, + he has yielded to the demands of a stricter realism. Especially after the + fall of the Empire had removed a powerful motive for gilding the vices of + aristocratic society, he painted its hard and selfish qualities as none of + his contemporaries could have done. Octave Feuillet was elected to the + Academie Francaise in 1862 to succeed Scribe. He died December 29, 1890. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MAXIME DU CAMP + de l’Acadamie Francaise. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MONSIEUR DE CAMORS + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK 1. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. “THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH” + </h2> + <p> + Near eleven o’clock, one evening in the month of May, a man about fifty + years of age, well formed, and of noble carriage, stepped from a coupe in + the courtyard of a small hotel in the Rue Barbet-de-Jouy. He ascended, + with the walk of a master, the steps leading to the entrance, to the hall + where several servants awaited him. One of them followed him into an + elegant study on the first floor, which communicated with a handsome + bedroom, separated from it by a curtained arch. The valet arranged the + fire, raised the lamps in both rooms, and was about to retire, when his + master spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Has my son returned home?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Monsieur le Comte. Monsieur is not ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Ill! Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Monsieur le Comte is so pale.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! It is only a slight cold I have taken this evening on the banks of + the lake.” + </p> + <p> + “Will Monsieur require anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” replied the Count briefly, and the servant retired. Left alone, + his master approached a cabinet curiously carved in the Italian style, and + took from it a long flat ebony box. + </p> + <p> + This contained two pistols. He loaded them with great care, adjusting the + caps by pressing them lightly to the nipple with his thumb. That done, he + lighted a cigar, and for half an hour the muffled beat of his regular + tread sounded on the carpet of the gallery. He finished his cigar, paused + a moment in deep thought, and then entered the adjoining room, taking the + pistols with him. + </p> + <p> + This room, like the other, was furnished in a style of severe elegance, + relieved by tasteful ornament. It showed some pictures by famous masters, + statues, bronzes, and rare carvings in ivory. The Count threw a glance of + singular interest round the interior of this chamber, which was his own—on + the familiar objects—on the sombre hangings—on the bed, + prepared for sleep. Then he turned toward a table, placed in a recess of + the window, laid the pistols upon it, and dropping his head in his hands, + meditated deeply many minutes. Suddenly he raised his head, and wrote + rapidly as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “TO MY SON: + + “Life wearies me, my son, and I shall relinquish it. The true + superiority of man over the inert or passive creatures that surround + him, lies in his power to free himself, at will, from those, + pernicious servitudes which are termed the laws of nature. Man, + if he will it, need not grow old: the lion must. Reflect, my son, + upon this text, for all human power lies in it. + + “Science asserts and demonstrates it. Man, intelligent and free, + is an animal wholly unpremeditated upon this planet. Produced by + unexpected combinations and haphazard transformations, in the midst + of a general subordination of matter, he figures as a dissonance and + a revolt! + + “Nature has engendered without having conceived him. The result is + as if a turkey-hen had unconsciously hatched the egg of an eagle. + Terrified at the monster, she has sought to control it, and has + overloaded it with instincts, commonly called duties, and police + regulations known as religion. Each one of these shackles broken, + each one of these servitudes overthrown, marks a step toward the + thorough emancipation of humanity. + + “I must say to you, however, that I die in the faith of my century, + believing in matter uncreated, all-powerful, and eternal—the Nature + of the ancients. There have been in all ages philosophers who have + had conceptions of the truth. But ripe to-day, it has become the + common property of all who are strong enough to stand it—for, in + sooth, this latest religion of humanity is food fit only for the + strong. It carries sadness with it, for it isolates man; but it + also involves grandeur, making man absolutely free, or, as it were, + a very god. It leaves him no actual duties except to himself, and + it opens a superb field to one of brain and courage. + + “The masses still remain, and must ever remain, submissive under the + yoke of old, dead religions, and under the tyranny of instincts. + There will still be seen very much the same condition of things as + at present in Paris; a society the brain of which is atheistic, and + the heart religious. And at bottom there will be no more belief in + Christ than in Jupiter; nevertheless, churches will continue to be + built mechanically. There are no longer even Deists; for the old + chimera of a personal, moral God-witness, sanction, and judge,—is + virtually extinct; and yet hardly a word is said, or a line written, + or a gesture made, in public or private life, which does not ever + affirm that chimera. This may have its uses perchance, but it is + nevertheless despicable. Slip forth from the common herd, my son, + think for yourself, and write your own catechism upon a virgin page. + + “As for myself, my life has been a failure, because I was born many + years too soon. As yet the earth and the heavens were heaped up and + cumbered with ruins, and people did not see. Science, moreover, was + relatively still in its infancy. And, besides, I retained the + prejudices and the repugnance to the doctrines of the new world that + belonged to my name. I was unable to comprehend that there was + anything better to be done than childishly to pout at the conqueror; + that is, I could not recognize that his weapons were good, and that + I should seize and destroy him with them. In short, for want of a + definite principle of action I have drifted at random, my life + without plan—I have been a mere trivial man of pleasure. + + “Your life shall be more complete, if you will only follow my + advice. + + “What, indeed, may not a man of this age become if he have the good + sense and energy to conform his life rigidly to his belief! + + “I merely state the question, you must solve it; I can leave you + only some cursory ideas, which I am satisfied are just, and upon + which you may meditate at your leisure. Only for fools or the weak + does materialism become a debasing dogma; assuredly, in its code + there are none of those precepts of ordinary morals which our + fathers entitled virtue; but I do find there a grand word which may + well counterbalance many others, that is to say, Honor, self-esteem! + Unquestionably a materialist may not be a saint; but he can be a + gentleman, which is something. You have happy gifts, my son, and I + know of but one duty that you have in the world—that of developing + those gifts to the utmost, and through them to enjoy life + unsparingly. Therefore, without scruple, use woman for your + pleasure, man for your advancement; but under no circumstances do + anything ignoble. + + “In order that ennui shall not drive you, like myself, prematurely + from the world so soon as the season for pleasure shall have ended, + you should leave the emotions of ambition and of public life for the + gratification of your riper age. Do not enter into any engagements + with the reigning government, and reserve for yourself to hear its + eulogium made by those who will have subverted it. That is the + French fashion. Each generation must have its own prey. You will + soon feel the impulse of the coming generation. Prepare yourself, + from afar, to take the lead in it. + + “In politics, my son, you are not ignorant that we all take our + principles from our temperament. The bilious are demagogues, the + sanguine, democrats, the nervous, aristocrats. You are both + sanguine and nervous, an excellent constitution, for it gives you a + choice. You may, for example, be an aristocrat in regard to + yourself personally, and, at the same time, a democrat in relation + to others; and in that you will not be exceptional. + + “Make yourself master of every question likely to interest your + contemporaries, but do not become absorbed in any yourself. In + reality, all principles are indifferent—true or false according to + the hour and circumstance. Ideas are mere instruments with which + you should learn to play seasonably, so as to sway men. In that + path, likewise, you will have associates. + + “Know, my son, that having attained my age, weary of all else, you + will have need of strong sensations. The sanguinary diversions of + revolution will then be for you the same as a love-affair at twenty. + + “But I am fatigued, my son, and shall recapitulate. To be loved by + women, to be feared by men, to be as impassive and as imperturbable + as a god before the tears of the one and the blood of the other, and + to end in a whirlwind—such has been the lot in which I have failed, + but which, nevertheless, I bequeath to you. With your great + faculties you, however, are capable of accomplishing it, unless + indeed you should fail through some ingrained weakness of the heart + that I have noticed in you, and which, doubtless, you have imbibed + with your mother’s milk. + + “So long as man shall be born of woman, there will be something + faulty and incomplete in his character. In fine, strive to relieve + yourself from all thraldom, from all natural instincts, affections, + and sympathies as from so many fetters upon your liberty, your + strength. + + “Do not marry unless some superior interest shall impel you to do + so. In that event, have no children. + + “Have no intimate friends. Caesar having grown old, had a friend. + It was Brutus! + + “Contempt for men is the beginning of wisdom. + + “Change somewhat your style of fencing, it is altogether too open, + my son. Do not get angry. Rarely laugh, and never weep. Adieu. + + “CAMORS.” + </pre> + <p> + The feeble rays of dawn had passed through the slats of the blinds. The + matin birds began their song in the chestnut-tree near the window. M. de + Camors raised his head and listened in an absent mood to the sound which + astonished him. Seeing that it was daybreak, he folded in some haste the + pages he had just finished, pressed his seal upon the envelope, and + addressed it, “For the Comte Louis de Camors.” Then he rose. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors was a great lover of art, and had carefully preserved a + magnificent ivory carving of the sixteenth century, which had belonged to + his wife. It was a Christ the pallid white relieved by a medallion of dark + velvet. + </p> + <p> + His eye, meeting this pale, sad image, was attracted to it for a moment + with strange fascination. Then he smiled bitterly, seized one of the + pistols with a firm hand and pressed it to his temple. + </p> + <p> + A shot resounded through the house; the fall of a heavy body shook the + floor-fragments of brains strewed the carpet. The Comte de Camors had + plunged into eternity! + </p> + <p> + His last will was clenched in his hand. + </p> + <p> + To whom was this document addressed? Upon what kind of soil will these + seeds fall? + </p> + <p> + At this time Louis de Camors was twenty-seven years old. His mother had + died young. It did not appear that she had been particularly happy with + her husband; and her son barely remembered her as a young woman, pretty + and pale, and frequently weeping, who used to sing him to sleep in a low, + sweet voice. He had been brought up chiefly by his father’s mistress, who + was known as the Vicomtesse d’Oilly, a widow, and a rather good sort of + woman. Her natural sensibility, and the laxity of morals then reigning at + Paris, permitted her to occupy herself at the same time with the happiness + of the father and the education of the son. When the father deserted her + after a time, he left her the child, to comfort her somewhat by this mark + of confidence and affection. She took him out three times a week; she + dressed him and combed him; she fondled him and took him with her to + church, and made him play with a handsome Spaniard, who had been for some + time her secretary. Besides, she neglected no opportunity of inculcating + precepts of sound morality. Thus the child, being surprised at seeing her + one evening press a kiss upon the forehead of her secretary, cried out, + with the blunt candor of his age: + </p> + <p> + “Why, Madame, do you kiss a gentleman who is not your husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, my dear,” replied the Countess, “our good Lord commands us to be + charitable and affectionate to the poor, the infirm, and the exile; and + Monsieur Perez is an exile.” + </p> + <p> + Louis de Camors merited better care, for he was a generous-hearted child; + and his comrades of the college of Louis-le-Grand always remembered the + warm-heartedness and natural grace which made them forgive his successes + during the week, and his varnished boots and lilac gloves on Sunday. + Toward the close of his college course, he became particularly attached to + a poor bursar, by name Lescande, who excelled in mathematics, but who was + very ungraceful, awkwardly shy and timid, with a painful sensitiveness to + the peculiarities of his person. He was nicknamed “Wolfhead,” from the + refractory nature of his hair; but the elegant Camors stopped the scoffers + by protecting the young man with his friendship. Lescande felt this + deeply, and adored his friend, to whom he opened the inmost recesses of + his heart, letting out some important secrets. + </p> + <p> + He loved a very young girl who was his cousin, but was as poor as himself. + Still it was a providential thing for him that she was poor, otherwise he + never should have dared to aspire to her. It was a sad occurrence that had + first thrown Lescande with his cousin—the loss of her father, who + was chief of one of the Departments of State. + </p> + <p> + After his death she lived with her mother in very straitened + circumstances; and Lescande, on occasion of his last visit, found her with + soiled cuffs. Immediately after he received the following note: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Pardon me, dear cousin! Pardon my not wearing white cuffs. But I + must tell you that we can change our cuffs—my mother and I—only + three times a week. As to her, one would never discover it. She is + neat as a bird. I also try to be; but, alas! when I practise the + piano, my cuffs rub. After this explanation, my good Theodore, I + hope you will love me as before. + + “JULIETTE.” + </pre> + <p> + Lescande wept over this note. Luckily he had his prospects as an + architect; and Juliette had promised to wait for him ten years, by which + time he would either be dead, or living deliciously in a humble house with + his cousin. He showed the note, and unfolded his plans to Camors. “This is + the only ambition I have, or which I can have,” added Lescande. “You are + different. You are born for great things.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, my old Lescande,” replied Camors, who had just passed his + rhetoric examination in triumph. “I do not know but that my destiny may be + ordinary; but I am sure my heart can never be. There I feel transports—passions, + which give me sometimes great joy, sometimes inexpressible suffering. I + burn to discover a world—to save a nation—to love a queen! I + understand nothing but great ambitions and noble alliances, and as for + sentimental love, it troubles me but little. My activity pants for a + nobler and a wider field! + </p> + <p> + “I intend to attach myself to one of the great social parties, political + or religious, that agitate the world at this era. Which one I know not + yet, for my opinions are not very fixed. But as soon as I leave college I + shall devote myself to seeking the truth. And truth is easily found. I + shall read all the newspapers. + </p> + <p> + “Besides, Paris is an intellectual highway, so brilliantly lighted it is + only necessary to open one’s eyes and have good faith and independence, to + find the true road. + </p> + <p> + “And I am in excellent case for this, for though born a gentleman, I have + no prejudices. My father, who is himself very enlightened and very + liberal, leaves me free. I have an uncle who is a Republican; an aunt who + is a Legitimist—and what is still more, a saint; and another uncle + who is a Conservative. It is not vanity that leads me to speak of these + things; but only a desire to show you that, having a foot in all parties, + I am quite willing to compare them dispassionately and make a good choice. + Once master of the holy truth, you may be sure, dear old Lescande, I shall + serve it unto death—with my tongue, with my pen, and with my sword!” + </p> + <p> + Such sentiments as these, pronounced with sincere emotion and accompanied + by a warm clasp of the hand, drew tears from the old Lescande, otherwise + called Wolfhead. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. FRUIT FROM THE HOTBED OF PARIS + </h2> + <p> + Early one morning, about eight years after these high resolves, Louis de + Camors rode out from the ‘porte-cochere’ of the small hotel he had + occupied with his father. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could be gayer than Paris was that morning, at that charming + golden hour of the day when the world seems peopled only with good and + generous spirits who love one another. Paris does not pique herself on her + generosity; but she still takes to herself at this charming hour an air of + innocence, cheerfulness, and amiable cordiality. + </p> + <p> + The little carts with bells, that pass one another rapidly, make one + believe the country is covered with roses. The cries of old Paris cut with + their sharp notes the deep murmur of a great city just awaking. + </p> + <p> + You see the jolly concierges sweeping the white footpaths; half-dressed + merchants taking down their shutters with great noise; and groups of + ostlers, in Scotch caps, smoking and fraternizing on the hotel steps. + </p> + <p> + You hear the questions of the sociable neighborhood; the news proper to + awakening; speculations on the weather bandied across from door to door, + with much interest. + </p> + <p> + Young milliners, a little late, walk briskly toward town with elastic + step, making now a short pause before a shop just opened; again taking + wing like a bee just scenting a flower. + </p> + <p> + Even the dead in this gay Paris morning seem to go gayly to the cemetery, + with their jovial coachmen grinning and nodding as they pass. + </p> + <p> + Superbly aloof from these agreeable impressions, Louis de Camors, a little + pale, with half-closed eyes and a cigar between his teeth, rode into the + Rue de Bourgogne at a walk, broke into a canter on the Champs Elysees, and + galloped thence to the Bois. After a brisk run, he returned by chance + through the Porte Maillot, then not nearly so thickly inhabited as it is + to-day. Already, however, a few pretty houses, with green lawns in front, + peeped out from the bushes of lilac and clematis. Before the green + railings of one of these a gentleman played hoop with a very young, + blond-haired child. His age belonged in that uncertain area which may + range from twenty-five to forty. He wore a white cravat, spotless as snow; + and two triangles of short, thick beard, cut like the boxwood at + Versailles, ornamented his cheeks. If Camors saw this personage he did not + honor him with the slightest notice. He was, notwithstanding, his former + comrade Lescande, who had been lost sight of for several years by his + warmest college friend. Lescande, however, whose memory seemed better, + felt his heart leap with joy at the majestic appearance of the young + cavalier who approached him. He made a movement to rush forward; a smile + covered his good-natured face, but it ended in a grimace. Evidently he had + been forgotten. Camors, now not more than a couple of feet from him, was + passing on, and his handsome countenance gave not the slightest sign of + emotion. Suddenly, without changing a single line of his face, he drew + rein, took the cigar from his lips, and said, in a tranquil voice: + </p> + <p> + “Hello! You have no longer a wolf head!” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! Then you know me?” cried Lescande. + </p> + <p> + “Know you? Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought—I was afraid—on account of my beard—” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! your beard does not change you—except that it becomes you. But + what are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “Doing here! Why, my dear friend, I am at home here. Dismount, I pray you, + and come into my house.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why not?” replied Camors, with the same voice and manner of supreme + indifference; and, throwing his bridle to the servant who followed him, he + passed through the gardengate, led, supported, caressed by the trembling + hand of Lescande. + </p> + <p> + The garden was small, but beautifully tended and full of rare plants. At + the end, a small villa, in the Italian style, showed its graceful porch. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is pretty!” exclaimed Camors, at last. + </p> + <p> + “And you recognize my plan, Number Three, do you not?” asked Lescande, + eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Your plan Number Three? Ah, yes, perfectly,” replied Camors, absently. + “And your pretty little cousin—is she within?” + </p> + <p> + “She is there, my dear friend,” answered Lescande, in a low voice—and + he pointed to the closed shutters of a large window of a balcony + surmounting the veranda. “She is there; and this is our son.” + </p> + <p> + Camors let his hand pass listlessly over the child’s hair. “The deuce!” he + said; “but you have not wasted time. And you are happy, my good fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “So happy, my dear friend, that I am sometimes uneasy, for the good God is + too kind to me. It is true, though, I had to work very hard. For instance, + I passed two years in Spain—in the mountains of that infernal + country. There I built a fairy palace for the Marquis of Buena-Vista, a + great nobleman, who had seen my plan at the Exhibition and was delighted + with it. This was the beginning of my fortune; but you must not imagine + that my profession alone has enriched me so quickly. I made some + successful speculations—some unheard of chances in lands; and, I beg + you to believe, honestly, too. Still, I am not a millionaire; but you know + I had nothing, and my wife less; now, my house paid for, we have ten + thousand francs’ income left. It is not a fortune for us, living in this + style; but I still work and keep good courage, and my Juliette is happy in + her paradise!” + </p> + <p> + “She wears no more soiled cuffs, then?” said Camors. + </p> + <p> + “I warrant she does not! Indeed, she has a slight tendency to luxury—like + all women, you know. But I am delighted to see you remember so well our + college follies. I also, through all my distractions, never forgot you a + moment. I even had a foolish idea of asking you to my wedding, only I did + not dare. You are so brilliant, so petted, with your establishment and + your racers. My wife knows you very well; in fact, we have talked of you a + hundred thousand times. Since she patronizes the turf and subscribes for + ‘The Sport’, she says to me, ‘Your friend’s horse has won again’; and in + our family circle we rejoice over your triumphs.” + </p> + <p> + A flush tinged the cheek of Camors as he answered, quietly, “You are + really too good.” + </p> + <p> + They walked a moment in silence over the gravel path bordered by grass, + before Lescande spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “And yourself, dear friend, I hope that you also are happy.” + </p> + <p> + “I—happy!” Camors seemed a little astonished. “My happiness is + simple enough, but I believe it is unclouded. I rise in the morning, ride + to the Bois, thence to the club, go to the Bois again, and then back to + the club. If there is a first representation at any theatre, I wish to see + it. Thus, last evening they gave a new piece which was really exquisite. + There was a song in it, beginning: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘He was a woodpecker, + A little woodpecker, + A young woodpecker—’ +</pre> + <p> + and the chorus imitated the cry of the woodpecker! Well, it was charming, + and the whole of Paris will sing that song with delight for a year. I also + shall do like the whole of Paris, and I shall be happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! my friend,” laughed Lescande, “and that suffices you for + happiness?” + </p> + <p> + “That and—the principles of ‘eighty-nine,” replied Camors, lighting + a fresh cigar from the old one. + </p> + <p> + Here their dialogue was broken by the fresh voice of a woman calling from + the blinds of the balcony— + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Theodore?” + </p> + <p> + Camors raised his eyes and saw a white hand, resting on the slats of the + blind, bathed in sunlight. + </p> + <p> + “That is my wife. Conceal yourself!” cried Lescande, briskly; and he + pushed Camors behind a clump of catalpas, as he turned to the balcony and + lightly answered: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear; do you wish anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Maxime is with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother. I am here,” cried the child. “It is a beautiful morning. Are + you quite well?” + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know. I have slept too long, I believe.” She opened the + shutters, and, shading her eyes from the glare with her hand, appeared on + the balcony. + </p> + <p> + She was in the flower of youth, slight, supple, and graceful, and + appeared, in her ample morning-gown of blue cashmere, plumper and taller + than she really was. Bands of the same color interlaced, in the Greek + fashion, her chestnut hair—which nature, art, and the night had + dishevelled—waved and curled to admiration on her small head. + </p> + <p> + She rested her elbows on the railing, yawned, showing her white teeth, and + looking at her husband, asked: + </p> + <p> + “Why do you look so stupid?” + </p> + <p> + At the instant she observed Camors—whom the interest of the moment + had withdrawn from his concealment—gave a startled cry, gathered up + her skirts, and retired within the room. + </p> + <p> + Since leaving college up to this hour, Louis de Camors had never formed + any great opinion of the Juliet who had taken Lescande as her Romeo. He + experienced a flash of agreeable surprise on discovering that his friend + was more happy in that respect than he had supposed. + </p> + <p> + “I am about to be scolded, my friend,” said Lescande, with a hearty laugh, + “and you also must stay for your share. You will stay and breakfast with + us?” + </p> + <p> + Camors hesitated; then said, hastily, “No, no! Impossible! I have an + engagement which I must keep.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding Camors’s unwillingness, Lescande detained him until he had + extorted a promise to come and dine with them—that is, with him, his + wife, and his mother-in-law, Madame Mursois—on the following + Tuesday. This acceptance left a cloud on the spirit of Camors until the + appointed day. Besides abhorring family dinners, he objected to being + reminded of the scene of the balcony. The indiscreet kindness of Lescande + both touched and irritated him; for he knew he should play but a silly + part near this pretty woman. He felt sure she was a coquette, + notwithstanding which, the recollections of his youth and the character of + her husband should make her sacred to him. So he was not in the most + agreeable frame of mind when he stepped out of his dog-cart, that Tuesday + evening, before the little villa of the Avenue Maillot. + </p> + <p> + At his reception by Madame Lescande and her mother he took heart a little. + They appeared to him what they were, two honest-hearted women, surrounded + by luxury and elegance. The mother—an ex-beauty—had been left + a widow when very young, and to this time had avoided any stain on her + character. With them, innate delicacy held the place of those solid + principles so little tolerated by French society. Like a few other women + of society, Madame had the quality of virtue just as ermine has the + quality of whiteness. Vice was not so repugnant to her as an evil as it + was as a blemish. Her daughter had received from her those instincts of + chastity which are oftener than we imagine hidden under the appearance of + pride. But these amiable women had one unfortunate caprice, not uncommon + at this day among Parisians of their position. Although rather clever, + they bowed down, with the adoration of bourgeoises, before that + aristocracy, more or less pure, that paraded up and down the Champs + Elysees, in the theatres, at the race-course, and on the most frequented + promenades, its frivolous affairs and rival vanities. + </p> + <p> + Virtuous themselves, they read with interest the daintiest bits of scandal + and the most equivocal adventures that took place among the elite. It was + their happiness and their glory to learn the smallest details of the high + life of Paris; to follow its feasts, speak in its slang, copy its toilets, + and read its favorite books. So that if not the rose, they could at least + be near the rose and become impregnated with her colors and her perfumes. + Such apparent familiarity heightened them singularly in their own + estimation and in that of their associates. + </p> + <p> + Now, although Camors did not yet occupy that bright spot in the heaven of + fashion which was surely to be his one day, still he could here pass for a + demigod, and as such inspire Madame Lescande and her mother with a + sentiment of most violent curiosity. His early intimacy with Lescande had + always connected a peculiar interest with his name: and they knew the + names of his horses—most likely knew the names of his mistresses. + </p> + <p> + So it required all their natural tact to conceal from their guest the + flutter of their nerves caused by his sacred presence; but they did + succeed, and so well that Camors was slightly piqued. If not a coxcomb, he + was at least young: he was accustomed to please: he knew the Princess de + Clam-Goritz had lately applied to him her learned definition of an + agreeable man—“He is charming, for one always feels in danger near + him!” + </p> + <p> + Consequently, it seemed a little strange to him that the simple mother of + the simple wife of simple Lescande should be able to bear his radiance + with such calmness; and this brought him out of his premeditated reserve. + </p> + <p> + He took the trouble to be irresistible—not to Madame Lescande, to + whom he was studiously respectful—but to Madame Mursois. The whole + evening he scattered around the mother the social epigrams intended to + dazzle the daughter; Lescande meanwhile sitting with his mouth open, + delighted with the success of his old schoolfellow. + </p> + <p> + Next afternoon, Camors, returning from his ride in the Bois, by chance + passed the Avenue Maillot. Madame Lescande was embroidering on the + balcony, by chance, and returned his salute over her tapestry. He + remarked, too, that she saluted very gracefully, by a slight inclination + of the head, followed by a slight movement of her symmetrical, sloping + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + When he called upon her two or three days after—as was only his duty—Camors + reflected on a strong resolution he had made to keep very cool, and to + expatiate to Madame Lescande only on her husband’s virtues. This pious + resolve had an unfortunate effect; for Madame, whose virtue had been + piqued, had also reflected; and while an obtrusive devotion had not failed + to frighten her, this course only reassured her. So she gave up without + restraint to the pleasure of receiving in her boudoir one of the brightest + stars from the heaven of her dreams. + </p> + <p> + It was now May, and at the races of La Marche—to take place the + following Sunday—Camors was to be one of the riders. Madame Mursois + and her daughter prevailed upon Lescande to take them, while Camors + completed their happiness by admitting them to the weighing-stand. + Further, when they walked past the judge’s stand, Madame Mursois, to whom + he gave his arm, had the delight of being escorted in public by a cavalier + in an orange jacket and topboots. Lescande and his wife followed in the + wake of the radiant mother-in-law, partaking of her ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + These agreeable relations continued for several weeks, without seeming to + change their character. One day Camors would seat himself by the lady, + before the palace of the Exhibition, and initiate her into the mysteries + of all the fashionables who passed before them. Another time he would drop + into their box at the opera, deign to remain there during an act or two, + and correct their as yet incomplete views of the morals of the ballet. But + in all these interviews he held toward Madame Lescande the language and + manner of a brother: perhaps because he secretly persisted in his delicate + resolve; perhaps because he was not ignorant that every road leads to Rome—and + one as surely as another. + </p> + <p> + Madame Lescande reassured herself more and more; and feeling it + unnecessary to be on her guard, as at first, thought she might permit + herself a little levity. No woman is flattered at being loved only as a + sister. + </p> + <p> + Camors, a little disquieted by the course things were taking, made some + slight effort to divert it. But, although men in fencing wish to spare + their adversaries, sometimes they find habit too strong for them, and + lunge home in spite of themselves. Besides, he began to be really + interested in Madame Lescande—in her coquettish ways, at once artful + and simple, provoking and timid, suggestive and reticent—in short, + charming. + </p> + <p> + The same evening that M. de Camors, the elder, returned to his home bent + on suicide, his son, passing up the Avenue Maillot, was stopped by + Lescande on the threshold of his villa. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” said the latter, “as you are here you can do me a great + favor. A telegram calls me suddenly to Melun—I must go on the + instant. The ladies will be so lonely, pray stay and dine with them! I + can’t tell what the deuce ails my wife. She has been weeping all day over + her tapestry; my mother-in-law has a headache. Your presence will cheer + them. So stay, I beg you.” + </p> + <p> + Camors refused, hesitated, made objections, and consented. He sent back + his horse, and his friend presented him to the ladies, whom the presence + of the unexpected guest seemed to cheer a little. Lescande stepped into + his carriage and departed, after receiving from his wife an embrace more + fervent than usual. + </p> + <p> + The dinner was gay. In the atmosphere was that subtle suggestion of coming + danger of which both Camors and Madame Lescande felt the exhilarating + influence. Their excitement, as yet innocent, employed itself in those + lively sallies—those brilliant combats at the barriers—that + ever precede the more serious conflict. About nine o’clock the headache of + Madame Mursois—perhaps owing to the cigar they had allowed Camors—became + more violent. She declared she could endure it no longer, and must retire + to her chamber. Camors wished to withdraw, but his carriage had not yet + arrived and Madame Mursois insisted that he should wait for it. + </p> + <p> + “Let my daughter amuse you with a little music until then,” she added. + </p> + <p> + Left alone with her guest, the younger lady seemed embarrassed. “What + shall I play for you?” she asked, in a constrained voice, taking her seat + at the piano. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! anything—play a waltz,” answered Camors, absently. + </p> + <p> + The waltz finished, an awkward silence ensued. To break it she arose + hesitatingly; then clasping her hands together exclaimed, “It seems to me + there is a storm. Do you not think so?” She approached the window, opened + it, and stepped out on the balcony. In a second Camors was at her side. + </p> + <p> + The night was beautifully clear. Before them stretched the sombre shadow + of the wood, while nearer trembling rays of moonlight slept upon the lawn. + </p> + <p> + How still all was! Their trembling hands met and for a moment did not + separate. + </p> + <p> + “Juliette!” whispered the young man, in a low, broken voice. She + shuddered, repelled the arm that Camors passed round her, and hastily + reentered the room. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me, I pray you!” she cried, with an impetuous gesture of her hand, + as she sank upon the sofa, and buried her face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + Of course Camors did not obey. He seated himself by her. + </p> + <p> + In a little while Juliette awoke from her trance; but she awoke a lost + woman! + </p> + <p> + How bitter was that awakening! She measured at a first glance the depth of + the awful abyss into which she had suddenly plunged. Her husband, her + mother, her infant, whirled like spectres in the mad chaos of her brain. + </p> + <p> + Sensible of the anguish of an irreparable wrong, she rose, passed her hand + vacantly across her brow, and muttering, “Oh, God! oh, God!” peered vainly + into the dark for light—hope—refuge! There was none! + </p> + <p> + Her tortured soul cast herself utterly on that of her lover. She turned + her swimming eyes on him and said: + </p> + <p> + “How you must despise me!” + </p> + <p> + Camors, half kneeling on the carpet near her, kissed her hand + indifferently and half raised his shoulders in sign of denial. “Is it not + so?” she repeated. “Answer me, Louis.” + </p> + <p> + His face wore a strange, cruel smile—“Do not insist on an answer, I + pray you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then I am right? You do despise me?” + </p> + <p> + Camors turned himself abruptly full toward her, looked straight in her + face, and said, in a cold, hard voice, “I do!” + </p> + <p> + To this cruel speech the poor child replied by a wild cry that seemed to + rend her, while her eyes dilated as if under the influence of strong + poison. Camors strode across the room, then returned and stood by her as + he said, in a quick, violent tone: + </p> + <p> + “You think I am brutal? Perhaps I am, but that can matter little now. + After the irreparable wrong I have done you, there is one service—and + only one which I can now render you. I do it now, and tell you the truth. + Understand me clearly; women who fall do not judge themselves more harshly + than their accomplices judge them. For myself, what would you have me + think of you? + </p> + <p> + “To his misfortune and my shame, I have known your husband since his + boyhood. There is not a drop of blood in his veins that does not throb for + you; there is not a thought of his day nor a dream of his night that is + not yours; your every comfort comes from his sacrifices—your every + joy from his exertion! See what he is to you! + </p> + <p> + “You have only seen my name in the journals; you have seen me ride by your + window; I have talked a few times with you, and you yield to me in one + moment the whole of his life with your own—the whole of his + happiness with your own. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, woman, every man like me, who abuses your vanity and your + weakness and afterward tells you he esteems you—lies! And if after + all you still believe he loves you, you do yourself fresh injury. No: we + soon learn to hate those irksome ties that become duties where we only + sought pleasures; and the first effort after they are formed is to shatter + them. + </p> + <p> + “As for the rest: women like you are not made for unholy love like ours. + Their charm is their purity, and losing that, they lose everything. But it + is a blessing to them to encounter one wretch, like myself, who cares to + say—Forget me, forever! Farewell!” + </p> + <p> + He left her, passed from the room with rapid strides, and, slamming the + door behind him, disappeared. Madame Lescande, who had listened, + motionless, and pale as marble, remained in the same lifeless attitude, + her eyes fixed, her hands clenched—yearning from the depths of her + heart that death would summon her. Suddenly a singular noise, seeming to + come from the next room, struck her ear. It was only a convulsive sob, or + violent and smothered laughter. The wildest and most terrible ideas + crowded to the mind of the unhappy woman; the foremost of them, that her + husband had secretly returned, that he knew all—that his brain had + given way, and that the laughter was the gibbering of his madness. + </p> + <p> + Feeling her own brain begin to reel, she sprang from the sofa, and rushing + to the door, threw it open. The next apartment was the dining-room, dimly + lighted by a hanging lamp. There she saw Camors, crouched upon the floor, + sobbing furiously and beating his forehead against a chair which he + strained in a convulsive embrace. Her tongue refused its office; she could + find no word, but seating herself near him, gave way to her emotion, and + wept silently. He dragged himself nearer, seized the hem of her dress and + covered it with kisses; his breast heaved tumultuously, his lips trembled + and he gasped the almost inarticulate words, “Pardon! Oh, pardon me!” + </p> + <p> + This was all. Then he rose suddenly, rushed from the house, and the + instant after she heard the rolling of the wheels as his carriage whirled + him away. + </p> + <p> + If there were no morals and no remorse, French people would perhaps be + happier. But unfortunately it happens that a young woman, who believes in + little, like Madame Lescande, and a young man who believes in nothing, + like M. de Camors, can not have the pleasures of an independent code of + morals without suffering cruelly afterward. + </p> + <p> + A thousand old prejudices, which they think long since buried, start up + suddenly in their consciences; and these revived scruples are nearly fatal + to them. + </p> + <p> + Camors rushed toward Paris at the greatest speed of his thoroughbred, + Fitz-Aymon, awakening along the route, by his elegance and style, + sentiments of envy which would have changed to pity were the wounds of the + heart visible. Bitter weariness, disgust of life and disgust for himself, + were no new sensations to this young man; but he never had experienced + them in such poignant intensity as at this cursed hour, when flying from + the dishonored hearth of the friend of his boyhood. No action of his life + had ever thrown such a flood of light on the depths of his infamy in doing + such gross outrage to the friend of his purer days, to the dear confidant + of the generous thoughts and proud aspirations of his youth. He knew he + had trampled all these under foot. Like Macbeth, he had not only murdered + one asleep, but had murdered sleep itself. + </p> + <p> + His reflections became insupportable. He thought successively of becoming + a monk, of enlisting as a soldier, and of getting drunk—ere he + reached the corner of the Rue Royale and the Boulevard. Chance favored his + last design, for as he alighted in front of his club, he found himself + face to face with a pale young man, who smiled as he extended his hand. + Camors recognized the Prince d’Errol. + </p> + <p> + “The deuce! You here, my Prince! I thought you in Cairo.” + </p> + <p> + “I arrived only this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then you are better?—Your chest?” + </p> + <p> + “So—so.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! you look perfectly well. And isn’t Cairo a strange place?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather; but I really believe Providence has sent you to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You really think so, my Prince? But why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—pshaw! I’ll tell you by-and-bye; but first I want to hear + all about your quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + “What quarrel?” + </p> + <p> + “Your duel for Sarah.” + </p> + <p> + “That is to say, against Sarah!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, tell me all that passed; I heard of it only vaguely while abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I only strove to do a good action, and, according to custom, I was + punished for it. I heard it said that that little imbecile La Brede + borrowed money from his little sister to lavish it upon that Sarah. This + was so unnatural that you may believe it first disgusted, and then + irritated me. One day at the club I could not resist saying, ‘You are an + ass, La Bride, to ruin yourself—worse than that, to ruin your + sister, for the sake of a snail, as little sympathetic as Sarah, a girl + who always has a cold in her head, and who has already deceived you.’ + ‘Deceived me!’ cried La Brede, waving his long arms. ‘Deceived me! and + with whom?’—‘With me.’ As he knew I never lied, he panted for my + life. Luckily my life is a tough one.” + </p> + <p> + “You put him in bed for three months, I hear.” + </p> + <p> + “Almost as long as that, yes. And now, my friend, do me a service. I am a + bear, a savage, a ghost! Assist me to return to life. Let us go and sup + with some sprightly people whose virtue is extraordinary.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed! That is recommended by my physician.” + </p> + <p> + “From Cairo? Nothing could be better, my Prince.” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Louis de Camors, the Prince d’Errol, and a half-dozen + guests of both sexes, took possession of an apartment, the closed doors of + which we must respect. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, at gray dawn, the party was about to disperse; and at the + moment a ragpicker, with a gray beard, was wandering up and down before + the restaurant, raking with his hook in the refuse that awaited the public + sweepers. In closing his purse, with an unsteady hand, Camors let fall a + shining louis d’or, which rolled into the mud on the sidewalk. The + ragpicker looked up with a timid smile. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Monsieur,” he said, “what falls into the trench should belong to the + soldier.” + </p> + <p> + “Pick it up with your teeth, then,” answered Camors, laughing, “and it is + yours.” + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated, flushed under his sunburned cheeks, and threw a look of + deadly hatred upon the laughing group round him. Then he knelt, buried his + chest in the mire, and sprang up next moment with the coin clenched + between his sharp white teeth. The spectators applauded. The chiffonnier + smiled a dark smile, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, my friend!” cried Camors, touching his arm, “would you like to + earn five Louis? If so, give me a knock-down blow. That will give you + pleasure and do me good.” + </p> + <p> + The man turned, looked him steadily in the eye, then suddenly dealt him + such a blow in the face that he reeled against the opposite wall. The + young men standing by made a movement to fall upon the graybeard. + </p> + <p> + “Let no one harm him!” cried Camors. “Here, my man, are your hundred + francs.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep them,” replied the other, “I am paid;” and walked away. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Belisarius!” laughed Camors. “Faith, gentlemen, I do not know + whether you agree with me, but I am really charmed with this little + episode. I must go dream upon it. By-bye, young ladies! Good-day, Prince!” + </p> + <p> + An early cab was passing, he jumped in, and was driven rapidly to his + hotel, on the Rue Babet-de-Jouy. + </p> + <p> + The door of the courtyard was open, but being still under the influence of + the wine he had drunk, he failed to notice a confused group of servants + and neighbors standing before the stable-doors. Upon seeing him, these + people became suddenly silent, and exchanged looks of sympathy and + compassion. Camors occupied the second floor of the hotel; and ascending + the stairs, found himself suddenly facing his father’s valet. The man was + very pale, and held a sealed paper, which he extended with a trembling + hand. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Joseph?” asked Camors. + </p> + <p> + “A letter which—which Monsieur le Comte wrote for you before he + left.” + </p> + <p> + “Before he left! my father is gone, then? But—where—how? What, + the devil! why do you weep?” + </p> + <p> + Unable to speak, the servant handed him the paper. Camors seized it and + tore it open. + </p> + <p> + “Good God! there is blood! what is this!” He read the first words—“My + son, life is a burden to me. I leave it—” and fell fainting to the + floor. + </p> + <p> + The poor lad loved his father, notwithstanding the past. + </p> + <p> + They carried him to his chamber. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. DEBRIS FROM THE REVOLUTION + </h2> + <p> + De Camors, on leaving college had entered upon life with a heart swelling + with the virtues of youth—confidence, enthusiasm, sympathy. The + horrible neglect of his early education had not corrupted in his veins + those germs of weakness which, as his father declared, his mother’s milk + had deposited there; for that father, by shutting him up in a college to + get rid of him for twelve years, had rendered him the greatest service in + his power. + </p> + <p> + Those classic prisons surely do good. The healthy discipline of the + school; the daily contact of young, fresh hearts; the long familiarity + with the best works, powerful intellects, and great souls of the ancients—all + these perhaps may not inspire a very rigid morality, but they do inspire a + certain sentimental ideal of life and of duty which has its value. + </p> + <p> + The vague heroism which Camors first conceived he brought away with him. + He demanded nothing, as you may remember, but the practical formula for + the time and country in which he was destined to live. He found, + doubtless, that the task he set himself was more difficult than he had + imagined; that the truth to which he would devote himself—but which + he must first draw from the bottom of its well—did not stand upon + many compliments. But he failed no preparation to serve her valiantly as a + man might, as soon as she answered his appeal. He had the advantage of + several years of opposing to the excitements of his age and of an opulent + life the austere meditations of the poor student. + </p> + <p> + During that period of ardent, laborious youth, he faithfully shut himself + up in libraries, attended public lectures, and gave himself a solid + foundation of learning, which sometimes awakened surprise when discovered + under the elegant frivolity of the gay turfman. But while arming himself + for the battle of life, he lost, little by little, what was more essential + than the best weapons-true courage. + </p> + <p> + In proportion as he followed Truth day by day, she flew before and eluded + him, taking, like an unpleasant vision, the form of the thousand-headed + Chimera. + </p> + <p> + About the middle of the last century, Paris was so covered with political + and religious ruins, that the most piercing vision could scarcely + distinguish the outlines of the fresh structures of the future. One could, + see that everything was overthrown; but one could not see any power that + was to raise the ruins. Over the confused wrecks and remains of the Past, + the powerful intellectual life of the Present-Progress—the collision + of ideas—the flame of French wit, criticism and the sciences—threw + a brilliant light, which, like the sun of earlier ages, illuminated the + chaos without making it productive. The phenomena of Life and of Death + were commingled in one huge fermentation, in which everything decomposed + and whence nothing seemed to spring up again. + </p> + <p> + At no period of history, perhaps, has Truth been less simple, more + enveloped in complications; for it seemed that all essential notions of + humanity had been fused in a great furnace, and none had come out whole. + </p> + <p> + The spectacle is grand; but it troubles profoundly all souls—or at + least those that interest and curiosity do not suffice to fill; which is + to say, nearly all. To disengage from this bubbling chaos one pure + religious moral, one positive social idea, one fixed political creed, were + an enterprise worthy of the most sincere. This should not be beyond the + strength of a man of good intentions; and Louis de Camors might have + accomplished the task had he been aided by better instruction and + guidance. + </p> + <p> + It is the common misfortune of those just entering life to find in it less + than their ideal. But in this respect Camors was born under a particularly + unfortunate star, for he found in his surroundings—in his own family + even—only the worst side of human nature; and, in some respects, of + those very opinions to which he was tempted to adhere. + </p> + <p> + The Camors were originally from Brittany, where they had held, in the + eighteenth century, large possessions, particularly some extensive + forests, which still bear their name. The grandfather of Louis, the Comte + Herve de Camors, had, on his return from the emigration, bought back a + small part of the hereditary demesne. There he established himself in the + old-fashioned style, and nourished until his death incurable prejudices + against the French Revolution and against Louis XVIII. + </p> + <p> + Count Herve had four children, two boys and two girls, and, feeling it his + duty to protest against the levelling influences of the Civil Code, he + established during his life, by a legal subterfuge, a sort of entail in + favor of his eldest son, Charles-Henri, to the prejudice of + Robert-Sosthene, Eleanore-Jeanne and Louise-Elizabeth, his other heirs. + Eleanore-Jeanne and Louise-Elizabeth accepted with apparent willingness + the act that benefited their brother at their expense—notwithstanding + which they never forgave him. But Robert-Sosthene, who, in his position as + representative of the younger branch, affected Liberal leanings and was + besides loaded with debt, rebelled against the paternal procedure. He + burned his visiting-cards, ornamented with the family crest and his name + “Chevalier Lange d’Ardennes”—and had others printed, simply + “Dardennes, junior (du Morbihan).” + </p> + <p> + Of these he sent a specimen to his father, and from that hour became a + declared Republican. + </p> + <p> + There are people who attach themselves to a party by their virtues; + others, again, by their vices. No recognized political party exists which + does not contain some true principle; which does not respond to some + legitimate aspiration of human society. At the same time, there is not one + which can not serve as a pretext, as a refuge, and as a hope, for the + basest passions of our nature. + </p> + <p> + The most advanced portion of the Liberal party of France is composed of + generous spirits, ardent and absolute, who torture a really elevated + ideal; that of a society of manhood, constituted with a sort of + philosophic perfection; her own mistress each day and each hour; + delegating few of her powers, and yielding none; living, not without laws, + but without rulers; and, in short, developing her activity, her + well-being, her genius, with that fulness of justice, of independence, and + of dignity, which republicanism alone gives to all and to each one. + </p> + <p> + Every other system appears to them to preserve some of the slaveries and + iniquities of former ages; and it also appears open to the suspicion of + generating diverse interests—and often hostile ones—between + the governors and the governed. They claim for all that political system + which, without doubt, holds humanity in the most esteem; and however one + may despise the practical working of their theory, the grandeur of its + principles can not be despised. + </p> + <p> + They are in reality a proud race, great-hearted and high-spirited. They + have had in their age their heroes and their martyrs; but they have had, + on the other hand, their hypocrites, their adventurers, and their radicals—their + greatest enemies. + </p> + <p> + Young Dardennes, to obtain grace for the equivocal origin of his + convictions, placed himself in the front rank of these last. + </p> + <p> + Until he left college Louis de Camors never knew his uncle, who had + remained on bad terms with his father; but he entertained for him, in + secret; an enthusiastic admiration, attributing to him all the virtues of + that principle of which he seemed the exponent. + </p> + <p> + The Republic of ‘48 soon died: his uncle was among the vanquished; and + this, to the young man, had but an additional attraction. Without his + father’s knowledge, he went to see him, as if on a pilgrimage to a holy + shrine; and he was well received. + </p> + <p> + He found his uncle exasperated—not so much against his enemies as + against his own party, to which he attributed all the disasters of the + cause. + </p> + <p> + “They never can make revolutions with gloves on,” he said in a solemn, + dogmatic tone. “The men of ‘ninety-three did not wear them. You can not + make an omelette without first breaking the eggs. + </p> + <p> + “The pioneers of the future should march on, axe in hand! + </p> + <p> + “The chrysalis of the people is not hatched upon roses! + </p> + <p> + “Liberty is a goddess who demands great holocausts. Had they made a Reign + of Terror in ‘forty-eight, they would now be masters!” + </p> + <p> + These high-flown maxims astonished Louis de Camors. In his youthful + simplicity he had an infinite respect for the men who had governed his + country in her darkest hour; not more that they had given up power as poor + as when they assumed it, than that they left it with their hands unstained + with blood: To this praise—which will be accorded them in history, + which redresses many contemporary injustices—he added a reproach + which he could not reconcile with the strange regrets of his uncle. He + reproached them with not having more boldly separated the New Republic, in + its management and minor details, from the memories of the old one. Far + from agreeing with his uncle that a revival of the horrors of + ‘ninety-three would have assured the triumph of the New Republic, he + believed it had sunk under the bloody shadow of its predecessor. He + believed that, owing to this boasted Terror, France had been for centuries + the only country in which the dangers of liberty outweighed its benefits. + </p> + <p> + It is useless to dwell longer on the relations of Louis de Camors with his + uncle Dardennes. It is enough that he was doubtful and discouraged, and + made the error of holding the cause responsible for the violence of its + lesser apostles, and that he adopted the fatal error, too common in France + at that period, of confounding progress with discord, liberty with + license, and revolution with terrorism! + </p> + <p> + The natural result of irritation and disenchantment on this ardent spirit + was to swing it rapidly around to the opposite pole of opinion. After all, + Camors argued, his birth, his name, his family ties all pointed out his + true course, which was to combat the cruel and despotic doctrines which he + believed he detected under these democratic theories. Another thing in the + habitual language of his uncle also shocked and repelled him—the + profession of an absolute atheism. He had within him, in default of a + formal creed, a fund of general belief and respect for holy things—that + kind of religious sensibility which was shocked by impious cynicism. + Further he could not comprehend then, or ever afterward, how principles + alone, without faith in some higher sanction, could sustain themselves by + their own strength in the human conscience. + </p> + <p> + God—or no principles! This was the dilemma from which no German + philosophy could rescue him. + </p> + <p> + This reaction in his mind drew him closer to those other branches of his + family which he had hitherto neglected. His two aunts, living at Paris, + had been compelled, in consequence of their small fortunes, to make some + sacrifices to enter into the blessed state of matrimony. The elder, + Eleanore-Jeanne, had married, during her father’s life, the Comte de la + Roche-Jugan—a man long past fifty, but still well worthy of being + loved. Nevertheless, his wife did not love him. Their views on many + essential points differed widely. M. de la Roche-Jugan was one of those + who had served the Government of the Restoration with an unshaken but + hopeless devotion. In his youth he had been attached to the person and to + the ministry of the Duc de Richelieu; and he had preserved the memory of + that illustrious man—of the elevated moderation of his sentiments—of + the warmth of his patriotism and of his constancy. He saw the pitfalls + ahead, pointed them out to his prince—displeased him by so doing, + but still followed his fortunes. Once more retired to private life with + but small means, he guarded his political principles rather like a + religion than a hope. His hopes, his vivacity, his love of right—all + these he turned toward God. + </p> + <p> + His piety, as enlightened as profound, ranked him among the choicest + spirits who then endeavored to reconcile the national faith of the past + with the inexorable liberty of thought of the present. Like his + co-laborers in this work, he experienced only a mortal sadness under which + he sank. True, his wife contributed no little to hasten his end by the + intemperance of her zeal and the acrimony of her bigotry. + </p> + <p> + She had little heart and great pride, and made her God subserve her + passions, as Dardennes made liberty subserve his malice. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had she become a widow than she purified her salons. Thenceforth + figured there only parishioners more orthodox than their bishops, French + priests who denied Bossuet; consequently she believed that religion was + saved in France. Louis de Camors, admitted to this choice circle by title + both of relative and convert, found there the devotion of Louis XI and the + charity of Catherine de Medicis; and he there lost very soon the little + faith that remained to him. + </p> + <p> + He asked himself sadly whether there was no middle ground between Terror + and Inquisition; whether in this world one must be a fanatic or nothing. + He sought a middle course, possessing the force and cohesion of a party; + but he sought in vain. It seemed to him that the whole world of politics + and religion rushed to extremes; and that what was not extreme was inert + and indifferent—dragging out, day by day, an existence without faith + and without principle. + </p> + <p> + Thus at least appeared to him those whom the sad changes of his life + showed him as types of modern politics. + </p> + <p> + His younger aunt, Louise-Elizabeth, who enjoyed to the full all the + pleasures of modern life, had already profited by her father’s death to + make a rich misalliance. She married the Baron Tonnelier, whose father, + although the son of a miller, had shown ability and honesty enough to fill + high positions under the First Empire. + </p> + <p> + The Baron Tonnelier had a large fortune, increasing every day by + successful speculation. In his youth he had been a good horseman, a + Voltairian, and a Liberal. + </p> + <p> + In time—though he remained a Voltairian—he renounced + horsemanship, and Liberalism. Although he was a simple deputy, he had a + twinge of democracy now and then; but after he was invested with the + peerage, he felt sure from that moment that the human species had no more + progress to make. + </p> + <p> + The French Revolution was ended; its giddiest height attained. No longer + could any one walk, talk, write, or rise. That perplexed him. Had he been + sincere, he would have avowed that he could not comprehend that there + could be storms, or thunder-clouds in the heavens—that the world was + not perfectly happy and tranquil, while he himself was so. When his nephew + was old enough to comprehend him, Baron Tonnelier was no longer peer of + France; but being one who does himself no hurt—and sometimes much + good by a fall, he filled a high office under the new government. He + endeavored to discharge its duties conscientiously, as he had those of the + preceding reign. + </p> + <p> + He spoke with peculiar ease of suppressing this or that journal—such + an orator, such a book; of suppressing everything, in short, except + himself. In his view, France had been in the wrong road since 1789, and he + sought to lead her back from that fatal date. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, he never spoke of returning, in his proper person, to his + grandfather’s mill; which, to say the least, was inconsistent. Had Liberty + been mother to this old gentleman, and had he met her in a clump of woods, + he would have strangled her. We regret to add that he had the habit of + terming “old duffers” such ministers as he suspected of liberal views, and + especially such as were in favor of popular education. A more hurtful + counsellor never approached a throne; but luckily, while near it in + office, he was far from it in influence. + </p> + <p> + He was still a charming man, gallant and fresh—more gallant, + however, than fresh. Consequently his habits were not too good, and he + haunted the greenroom of the opera. He had two daughters, recently + married, before whom he repeated the most piquant witticisms of Voltaire, + and the most improper stories of Tallemant de Reaux; and consequently both + promised to afford the scandalmongers a series of racy anecdotes, as their + mother had before them. + </p> + <p> + While Louis de Camors was learning rapidly, by the association and example + of the collateral branches of his family, to defy equally all principles + and all convictions, his terrible father finished the task. + </p> + <p> + Worldling to the last extreme, depraved to his very core; past-master in + the art of Parisian high life; an unbridled egotist, thinking himself + superior to everything because he abased everything to himself; and, + finally, flattering himself for despising all duties, which he had all his + life prided himself on dispensing with—such was his father. But for + all this, he was the pride of his circle, with a pleasing presence and an + indefinable charm of manner. + </p> + <p> + The father and son saw little of each other. M. de Camors was too proud to + entangle his son in his own debaucheries; but the course of every-day life + sometimes brought them together at meal-time. He would then listen with + cool mockery to the enthusiastic or despondent speeches of the youth. He + never deigned to argue seriously, but responded in a few bitter words, + that fell like drops of sleet on the few sparks still glowing in the son’s + heart. + </p> + <p> + Becoming gradually discouraged, the latter lost all taste for work, and + gave himself up, more and more, to the idle pleasures of his position. + Abandoning himself wholly to these, he threw into them all the seductions + of his person, all the generosity of his character—but at the same + time a sadness always gloomy, sometimes desperate. + </p> + <p> + The bitter malice he displayed, however, did not prevent his being loved + by women and renowned among men. And the latter imitated him. + </p> + <p> + He aided materially in founding a charming school of youth without smiles. + His air of ennui and lassitude, which with him at least had the excuse of + a serious foundation, was servilely copied by the youth around him, who + never knew any greater distress than an overloaded stomach, but whom it + pleased, nevertheless, to appear faded in their flower and contemptuous of + human nature. + </p> + <p> + We have seen Camors in this phase of his existence. But in reality nothing + was more foreign to him than the mask of careless disdain that the young + man assumed. Upon falling into the common ditch, he, perhaps, had one + advantage over his fellows: he did not make his bed with base resignation; + he tried persistently to raise himself from it by a violent struggle, only + to be hurled upon it once more. + </p> + <p> + Strong souls do not sleep easily: indifference weighs them down. + </p> + <p> + They demand a mission—a motive for action—and faith. + </p> + <p> + Louis de Camors was yet to find his. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. A NEW ACTRESS IN A NOVEL ROLE + </h2> + <h3> + Louis de Camor’s father had not I told him all in that last letter. + </h3> + <p> + Instead of leaving him a fortune, he left him only embarrassments, for he + was three fourths ruined. The disorder of his affairs had begun a long + time before, and it was to repair them that he had married; a process that + had not proved successful. A large inheritance on which he had relied as + coming to his wife went elsewhere—to endow a charity hospital. The + Comte de Camors began a suit to recover it before the tribunal of the + Council of State, but compromised it for an annuity of thirty thousand + francs. This stopped at his death. He enjoyed, besides, several fat + sinecures, which his name, his social rank, and his personal address + secured him from some of the great insurance companies. But these + resources did not survive him; he only rented the house he had occupied; + and the young Comte de Camors found himself suddenly reduced to the + provision of his mother’s dowry—a bare pittance to a man of his + habits and rank. + </p> + <p> + His father had often assured him he could leave him nothing, so the son + was accustomed to look forward to this situation. Therefore, when he + realized it, he was neither surprised nor revolted by the improvident + egotism of which he was the victim. His reverence for his father continued + unabated, and he did not read with the less respect or confidence the + singular missive which figures at the beginning of this story. The moral + theories which this letter advanced were not new to him. They were a part + of the very atmosphere around him; he had often revolved them in his + feverish brain; yet, never before had they appeared to him in the + condensed form of a dogma, with the clear precision of a practical code; + nor as now, with the authorization of such a voice and of such an example. + </p> + <p> + One incident gave powerful aid in confirming the impression of these last + pages on his mind. Eight days after his father’s death, he was reclining + on the lounge in his smoking-room, his face dark as night and as his + thoughts, when a servant entered and handed him a card. He took it + listlessly, and read “Lescande, architect.” Two red spots rose to his pale + cheeks—“I do not see any one,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “So I told this gentleman,” replied the servant, “but he insists in such + an extraordinary manner—” + </p> + <p> + “In an extraordinary manner?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; as if he had something very serious to communicate.” + </p> + <p> + “Something serious—aha! Then let him in.” Camors rose and paced the + chamber, a smile of bitter mockery wreathing his lips. “And must I now + kill him?” he muttered between his teeth. + </p> + <p> + Lescande entered, and his first act dissipated the apprehension his + conduct had caused. He rushed to the young Count and seized him by both + hands, while Camors remarked that his face was troubled and his lips + trembled. “Sit down and be calm,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” said the other, after a pause, “I come late to see you, for + which I crave pardon; but—I am myself so miserable! See, I am in + mourning!” + </p> + <p> + Camors felt a chill run to his very marrow. “In mourning! and why?” he + asked, mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “Juliette is dead!” sobbed Lescande, and covered his eyes with his great + hands. + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” cried Camors in a hollow voice. He listened a moment to + Lescande’s bitter sobs, then made a movement to take his hand, but dared + not do it. “Great God! is it possible?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “It was so sudden!” sobbed Lescande, brokenly. “It seems like a dream—a + frightful dream! You know the last time you visited us she was not well. + You remember I told you she had wept all day. Poor child! The morning of + my return she was seized with congestion—of the lungs—of the + brain—I don’t know!—but she is dead! And so good!—so + gentle, so loving! to the last moment! Oh, my friend! my friend! A few + moments before she died, she called me to her side. ‘Oh, I love you so! I + love you so!’ she said. ‘I never loved any but you—you only! Pardon + me!—oh, pardon me!’ Pardon her, poor child! My God, for what? for + dying?—for she never gave me a moment’s grief before in this world. + Oh, God of mercy!” + </p> + <p> + “I beseech you, my friend—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I do wrong. You also have your griefs. + </p> + <p> + “But we are all selfish, you know. However, it was not of that that I came + to speak. Tell me—I know not whether a report I hear is correct. + Pardon me if I mistake, for you know I never would dream of offending you; + but they say that you have been left in very bad circumstances. If this is + indeed so, my friend—” + </p> + <p> + “It is not,” interrupted Camors, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if it were—I do not intend keeping my little house. Why + should I, now? My little son can wait while I work for him. Then, after + selling my house, I shall have two hundred thousand francs. Half of this + is yours—return it when you can!” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, my unselfish friend,” replied Camors, much moved, “but I + need nothing. My affairs are disordered, it is true; but I shall still + remain richer than you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but with your tastes—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “At all events, you know where to find me. I may count upon you—may + I not?” + </p> + <p> + “You may.” + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, my friend! I can do you no good now; but I shall see you again—shall + I not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—another time.” + </p> + <p> + Lescande departed, and the young Count remained immovable, with his + features convulsed and his eyes fixed on vacancy. + </p> + <p> + This moment decided his whole future. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes a man feels a sudden, unaccountable impulse to smother in + himself all human love and sympathy. + </p> + <p> + In the presence of this unhappy man, so unworthily treated, so + broken-spirited, so confiding, Camors—if there be any truth in old + spiritual laws—should have seen himself guilty of an atrocious act, + which should have condemned him to a remorse almost unbearable. + </p> + <p> + But if it were true that the human herd was but the product of material + forces in nature, producing, haphazard, strong beings and weak ones—lambs + and lions—he had played only the lion’s part in destroying his + companion. He said to himself, with his father’s letter beneath his eyes, + that this was the fact; and the reflection calmed him. + </p> + <p> + The more he thought, that day and the next, in depth of the retreat in + which he had buried himself, the more was he persuaded that this doctrine + was that very truth which he had sought, and which his father had + bequeathed to him as the whole rule of his life. His cold and barren heart + opened with a voluptuous pleasure under this new flame that filled and + warmed it. + </p> + <p> + From this moment he possessed a faith—a principle of action—a + plan of life—all that he needed; and was no longer oppressed by + doubts, agitation, and remorse. This doctrine, if not the most elevated, + was at least above the level of the most of mankind. It satisfied his + pride and justified his scorn. + </p> + <p> + To preserve his self-esteem, it was only necessary for him to preserve his + honor, to do nothing low, as his father had said; and he determined never + to do anything which, in his eyes, partook of that character. Moreover, + were there not men he himself had met thoroughly steeped in materialism, + who were yet regarded as the most honorable men of their day? + </p> + <p> + Perhaps he might have asked himself whether this incontestable fact might + not, in part, have been attributed rather to the individual than to the + doctrine; and whether men’s beliefs did not always influence their + actions. However that might have been, from the date of this crisis Louis + de Camors made his father’s will the rule of his life. + </p> + <p> + To develop in all their strength the physical and intellectual gifts which + he possessed; to make of himself the polished type of the civilization of + the times; to charm women and control men; to revel in all the joys of + intellect, of the senses, and of rank; to subdue as servile instincts all + natural sentiments; to scorn, as chimeras and hypocrisies, all vulgar + beliefs; to love nothing, fear nothing, respect nothing, save honor—such, + in fine, were the duties which he recognized, and the rights which he + arrogated to himself. + </p> + <p> + It was with these redoubtable weapons, and strengthened by a keen + intelligence and vigorous will, that he would return to the world—his + brow calm and grave, his eye caressing while unyielding, a smile upon his + lips, as men had known him. + </p> + <p> + From this moment there was no cloud either upon his mind or upon his face, + which wore the aspect of perpetual youth. He determined, above all, not to + retrench, but to preserve, despite the narrowness of his present fortune, + those habits of elegant luxury in which he still might indulge for several + years, by the expenditure of his principal. + </p> + <p> + Both pride and policy gave him this council in an equal degree. He was not + ignorant that the world is as cold toward the needy as it is warm to those + not needing its countenance. Had he been thus ignorant, the attitude of + his family, just after the death of his father, would have opened his eyes + to the fact. + </p> + <p> + His aunt de la Roche-Jugan and his uncle Tonnelier manifested toward him + the cold circumspection of people who suspected they were dealing with a + ruined man. They had even, for greater security, left Paris, and neglected + to notify the young Count in what retreat they had chosen to hide their + grief. Nevertheless he was soon to learn it, for while he was busied in + settling his father’s affairs and organizing his own projects of fortune + and ambition, one fine morning in August he met with a lively surprise. + </p> + <p> + He counted among his relatives one of the richest landed proprietors of + France, General the Marquis de Campvallon d’Armignes, celebrated for his + fearful outbursts in the Corps Legislatif. He had a voice of thunder, and + when he rolled out, “Bah! Enough! Stop this order of the day!” the senate + trembled, and the government commissioners bounced on their chairs. Yet he + was the best fellow in the world, although he had killed two + fellow-creatures in duels—but then he had his reasons for that. + </p> + <p> + Camors knew him but slightly, paid him the necessary respect that + politeness demanded toward a relative; met him sometimes at the club, over + a game of whist, and that was all. + </p> + <p> + Two years before, the General had lost a nephew, the direct heir to his + name and fortune. Consequently he was hunted by an eager pack of cousins + and relatives; and Madame de la Roche-Jugan and the Baroness Tonnelier + gave tongue in their foremost rank. + </p> + <p> + Camors was indifferent, and had, since that event, been particularly + reserved in his intercourse with the General. Therefore he was + considerably astonished when he received the following letter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “DEAR KINSMAN: + + “Your two aunts and their families are with me in the country. + When it is agreeable to you to join them, I shall always feel happy + to give a cordial greeting to the son of an old friend and + companion-in-arms. + + “I presented myself at your house before leaving Paris, but you were + not visible. + + “Believe me, I comprehend your grief: that you have experienced an + irreparable loss, in which I sympathize with you most sincerely. + + “Receive, my dear kinsman, the best wishes of + GENERAL, THE MARQUIS DE CAMPVALLON D’ARMIGNES. + + “CHATEAU DE CAMPVALLON, Voie de l’ouest. + + “P.S.—It is probable, my young cousin, that I may have something of + interest to communicate to you!” + </pre> + <p> + This last sentence, and the exclamation mark that followed it, failed not + to shake slightly the impassive calm that Camors was at that moment + cultivating. He could not help seeing, as in a mirror, under the veil of + the mysterious postscript, the reflection of seven hundred thousand francs + of ground-rent which made the splendid income of the General. He recalled + that his father, who had served some time in Africa, had been attached to + the staff of M. de Campvallon as aide-de-camp, and that he had besides + rendered him a great service of a different nature. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding that he felt the absurdity of these dreams, and wished to + keep his heart free from them, he left the next day for Campvallon. After + enjoying for seven or eight hours all the comforts and luxuries the + Western line is reputed to afford its guests, Camors arrived in the + evening at the station, where the General’s carriage awaited him. The + seignorial pile of the Chateau Campvallon soon appeared to him on a + height, of which the sides were covered with magnificent woods, sloping + down nearly to the plain, there spreading out widely. + </p> + <p> + It was almost the dinner-hour; and the young man, after arranging his + toilet, immediately descended to the drawing-room, where his presence + seemed to throw a wet blanket over the assembled circle. To make up for + this, the General gave him the warmest welcome; only—as he had a + short memory or little imagination—he found nothing better to say + than to repeat the expressions of his letter, while squeezing his hand + almost to the point of fracture. + </p> + <p> + “The son of my old friend and companion-in-arms,” he cried; and the words + rang out in such a sonorous voice they seemed to impress even himself—for + it was noticeable that after a remark, the General always seemed + astonished, as if startled by the words that came out of his mouth—and + that seemed suddenly to expand the compass of his ideas and the depth of + his sentiments. + </p> + <p> + To complete his portrait: he was of medium size, square, and stout; + panting when he ascended stairs, or even walking on level ground; a face + massive and broad as a mask, and reminding one of those fabled beings who + blew fire from their nostrils; a huge moustache, white and grizzly; small + gray eyes, always fixed, like those of a doll, but still terrible. He + marched toward a man slowly, imposingly, with eyes fixed, as if beginning + a duel to the death, and demanded of him imperatively—the time of + day! + </p> + <p> + Camors well knew this innocent weakness of his host, but, notwithstanding, + was its dupe for one instant during the evening. + </p> + <p> + They had left the dining-table, and he was standing carelessly in the + alcove of a window, holding a cup of coffee, when the General approached + him from the extreme end of the room with a severe yet confidential + expression, which seemed to preface an announcement of the greatest + importance. + </p> + <p> + The postscript rose before him. He felt he was to have an immediate + explanation. + </p> + <p> + The General approached, seized him by the buttonhole, and withdrawing him + from the depth of the recess, looked into his eyes as if he wished to + penetrate his very soul. Suddenly he spoke, in his thunderous voice. He + said: + </p> + <p> + “What do you take in the morning, young man?” + </p> + <p> + “Tea, General.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha! Then give your orders to Pierre—just as if you were at home;” + and, turning on his heel and joining the ladies, he left Camors to digest + his little comedy as he might. + </p> + <p> + Eight days passed. Twice the General made his guest the object of his + formidable advance. The first time, having put him out of countenance, he + contented himself with exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “Well, young man!” and turned on his heel. + </p> + <p> + The next time he bore down upon Camors, he said not a word, and retired in + silence. + </p> + <p> + Evidently the General had not the slightest recollection of the + postscript. Camors tried to be contented, but would continually ask + himself why he had come to Campvallon, in the midst of his family, of whom + he was not overfond, and in the depths of the country, which he execrated. + Luckily, the castle boasted a library well stocked with works on civil and + international law, jurisprudence, and political economy. He took advantage + of it; and, resuming the thread of those serious studies which had been + broken off during his period of hopelessness, plunged into those recondite + themes that pleased his active intelligence and his awakened ambition. + Thus he waited patiently until politeness would permit him to bring to an + explanation the former friend and companion-in-arms of his father. In the + morning he rode on horseback; gave a lesson in fencing to his cousin + Sigismund, the son of Madame de la Roche-Jugan; then shut himself up in + the library until the evening, which he passed at bezique with the + General. Meantime he viewed with the eye of a philosopher the strife of + the covetous relatives who hovered around their rich prey. + </p> + <p> + Madame de la Roche-Jugan had invented an original way of making herself + agreeable to the General, which was to persuade him he had disease of the + heart. She continually felt his pulse with her plump hand, sometimes + reassuring him, and at others inspiring him with a salutary terror, + although he denied it. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! my dear cousin!” he would exclaim, “let me alone. I know I + am mortal like everybody else. What of that? But I see your aim-it is to + convert me! Ta-ta!” + </p> + <p> + She not only wished to convert him, but to marry him, and bury him + besides. + </p> + <p> + She based her hopes in this respect chiefly on her son Sigismund; knowing + that the General bitterly regretted having no one to inherit his name. He + had but to marry Madame de la Roche-Jugan and adopt her son to banish this + care. Without a single allusion to this fact, the Countess failed not to + turn the thoughts of the General toward it with all the tact of an + accomplished intrigante, with all the ardor of a mother, and with all the + piety of an unctuous devotee. + </p> + <p> + Her sister, the Baroness Tonnelier, bitterly confessed her own + disadvantage. She was not a widow. And she had no son. But she had two + daughters, both of them graceful, very elegant and sparkling. One was + Madame Bacquiere, the wife of a broker; the other, Madame Van-Cuyp, wife + of a young Hollander, doing business at Paris. + </p> + <p> + Both interpreted life and marriage gayly; both floated from one year into + another dancing, riding, hunting, coquetting, and singing recklessly the + most risque songs of the minor theatres. Formerly, Camors, in his pensive + mood, had taken an aversion to these little examples of modern feminine + frivolity. Since he had changed his views of life he did them more + justice. He said, calmly: + </p> + <p> + “They are pretty little animals that follow their instincts.” + </p> + <p> + Mesdames Bacquiere and Van-Cuyp, instigated by their mother, applied + themselves assiduously to making the General feel all the sacred joys that + cluster round the domestic hearth. They enlivened his household, exercised + his horses, killed his game, and tortured his piano. They seemed to think + that the General, once accustomed to their sweetness and animation, could + not do without it, and that their society would become indispensable to + him. They mingled, too, with their adroit manoeuvres, familiar and + delicate attentions, likely to touch an old man. They sat on his knees + like children, played gently with his moustache, and arranged in the + latest style the military knot of his cravat. + </p> + <p> + Madame de la Roche-Jugan never ceased to deplore confidentially to the + General the unfortunate education of her nieces; while the Baroness, on + her side, lost no opportunity of holding up in bold relief the emptiness, + impertinence, and sulkiness of young Count Sigismund. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these honorable conflicts one person, who took no part in + them, attracted the greatest share of Camors’s interest; first for her + beauty and afterward for her qualities. This was an orphan of excellent + family, but very poor, of whom Madame de la Roche-Jugan and Madame + Tonnelier had taken joint charge. Mademoiselle Charlotte de Luc + d’Estrelles passed six months of each year with the Countess and six with + the Baroness. She was twenty-five years of age, tall and blonde, with + deep-set eyes under the shadow of sweeping, black lashes. Thick masses of + hair framed her sad but splendid brow; and she was badly, or rather poorly + dressed, never condescending to wear the cast-off clothes of her + relatives, but preferring gowns of simplest material made by her own + hands. These draperies gave her the appearance of an antique statue. + </p> + <p> + Her Tonnelier cousins nicknamed her “the goddess.” They hated her; she + despised them. The name they gave her, however, was marvellously suitable. + </p> + <p> + When she walked, you would have imagined she had descended from a + pedestal; the pose of her head was like that of the Greek Venus; her + delicate, dilating nostrils seemed carved by a cunning chisel from + transparent ivory. She had a startled, wild air, such as one sees in + pictures of huntress nymphs. She used a naturally fine voice with great + effect; and had already cultivated, so far as she could, a taste for art. + </p> + <p> + She was naturally so taciturn one was compelled to guess her thoughts; and + long since Camors had reflected as to what was passing in that + self-centred soul. Inspired by his innate generosity, as well as his + secret admiration, he took pleasure in heaping upon this poor cousin the + attentions he might have paid a queen; but she always seemed as + indifferent to them as she was to the opposite course of her involuntary + benefactress. Her position at Campvallon was very odd. After Camors’s + arrival, she was more taciturn than ever; absorbed, estranged, as if + meditating some deep design, she would suddenly raise the long lashes of + her blue eyes, dart a rapid glance here and there, and finally fix it on + Camors, who would feel himself tremble under it. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon, when he was seated in the library, he heard a gentle tap at + the door, and Mademoiselle entered, looking very pale. Somewhat + astonished, he rose and saluted her. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to speak with you, cousin,” she said. The accent was pure and + grave, but slightly touched with evident emotion. Camors stared at her, + showed her to a divan, and took a chair facing her. + </p> + <p> + “You know very little of me, cousin,” she continued, “but I am frank and + courageous. I will come at once to the object that brings me here. Is it + true that you are ruined?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask, Mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + “You always have been very good to me—you only. I am very grateful + to you; and I also—” She stopped, dropped her eyes, and a bright + flush suffused her cheeks. Then she bent her head, smiling like one who + has regained courage under difficulty. “Well, then,” she resumed, “I am + ready to devote my life to you. You will deem me very romantic, but I have + wrought out of our united poverty a very charming picture, I believe. I am + sure I should make an excellent wife for the husband I loved. If you must + leave France, as they tell me you must, I will follow you—I will be + your brave and faithful helpmate. Pardon me, one word more, Monsieur de + Camors. My proposition would be immodest if it concealed any afterthought. + It conceals none. I am poor. I have but fifteen hundred francs’ income. If + you are richer than I, consider I have said nothing; for nothing in the + world would then induce me to marry you!” + </p> + <p> + She paused; and with a manner of mingled yearning, candor, and anguish, + fixed on him her large eyes full of fire. + </p> + <p> + There was a solemn pause. Between these strange natures, both high and + noble, a terrible destiny seemed pending at this moment, and both felt it. + </p> + <p> + At length Camors responded in a grave, calm voice: “It is impossible, + Mademoiselle, that you can appreciate the trial to which you expose me; + but I have searched my heart, and I there find nothing worthy of you. Do + me the justice to believe that my decision is based neither upon your + fortune nor upon my own: but I am resolved never to marry.” She sighed + deeply, and rose. “Adieu, cousin,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I beg—I pray you to remain one moment,” cried the young man, + reseating her with gentle force upon the sofa. He walked half across the + room to repress his agitation; then leaning on a table near the young + girl, said: + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Charlotte, you are unhappy; are you not?” + </p> + <p> + “A little, perhaps,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “I do not mean at this moment, but always?” + </p> + <p> + “Always!” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt de la Roche-Jugan treats you harshly?” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly; she dreads that I may entrap her son. Good heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “The little Tonneliers are jealous of you, and Uncle Tonnelier torments + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Basely!” she said; and two tears swam on her eyelashes, then glistened + like diamonds on her cheek. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you believe of the religion of our aunt?” + </p> + <p> + “What would you have me believe of religion that bestows no virtue—restrains + no vice?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are a non-believer?” + </p> + <p> + “One may believe in God and the Gospel without believing in the religion + of our aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “But she will drive you into a convent. Why, then, do you not enter one?” + </p> + <p> + “I love life,” the girl said. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her silently a moment, then continued “Yes, you love life—the + sunlight, the thoughts, the arts, the luxuries—everything that is + beautiful, like yourself. Then, Mademoiselle Charlotte, all these are in + your hands; why do you not grasp them?” + </p> + <p> + “How?” she queried, surprised and somewhat startled. + </p> + <p> + “If you have, as I believe you have, as much strength of soul as + intelligence and beauty, you can escape at once and forever the miserable + servitude fate has imposed upon you. Richly endowed as you are, you might + become to-morrow a great artiste, independent, feted, rich, adored—the + mistress of Paris and of the world!” + </p> + <p> + “And yours also?—No!” said this strange girl. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, Mademoiselle Charlotte. I did not suspect you of any improper + idea, when you offered to share my uncertain fortunes. Render me, I pray + you, the same justice at this moment. My moral principles are very lax, it + is true, but I am as proud as yourself. I never shall reach my aim by any + subterfuge. No; strive to study art. I find you beautiful and seductive, + but I am governed by sentiments superior to personal interests. I was + profoundly touched by your sympathetic leaning toward me, and have sought + to testify my gratitude by friendly counsel. Since, however, you now + suspect me of striving to corrupt you for my own ends, I am silent, + Mademoiselle, and permit you to depart.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray proceed, Monsieur de Camors.” + </p> + <p> + “You will then listen to me with confidence?” + </p> + <p> + “I will do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Mademoiselle, you have seen little of the world, but you have + seen enough to judge and to be certain of the value of its esteem. The + world! That is your family and mine: Monsieur and Madame Tonnelier, + Monsieur and Madame de la Roche-Jugan, and the little Sigismund!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Mademoiselle Charlotte, the day that you become a great + artiste, rich, triumphant, idolized, wealthy—drinking, in deep + draughts, all the joys of life—that day Uncle Tonnelier will invoke + outraged morals, our aunt will swoon with prudery in the arms of her old + lovers, and Madame de la Roche-Jugan will groan and turn her yellow eyes + to heaven! But what will all that matter to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Monsieur, you advise me to lead an immoral life.” + </p> + <p> + “By no manner of means. I only urge you, in defiance of public opinion, to + become an actress, as the only sure road to independence, fame, and + fortune. And besides, there is no law preventing an actress marrying and + being ‘honorable,’ as the world understands the word. You have heard of + more than one example of this.” + </p> + <p> + “Without mother, family, or protector, it would be an extraordinary thing + for me to do! I can not fail to see that sooner or later I should be a + lost girl.” + </p> + <p> + Camors remained silent. “Why do you not answer?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! Mademoiselle, because this is so delicate a subject, and our + ideas are so different about it. I can not change mine; I must leave you + yours. As for me, I am a very pagan.” + </p> + <p> + “How? Are good and bad indifferent to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but to me it seems bad to fear the opinion of people one despises, to + practise what one does not believe, and to yield before prejudices and + phantoms of which one knows the unreality. It is bad to be a slave or a + hypocrite, as are three fourths of the world. Evil is ugliness, ignorance, + folly, and baseness. Good is beauty, talent, ability, and courage! That is + all.” + </p> + <p> + “And God?” the girl cried. He did not reply. She looked fixedly at him a + moment without catching the eyes he kept turned from her. Her head drooped + heavily; then raising it suddenly, she said: “There are sentiments men can + not understand. In my bitter hours I have often dreamed of this free life + you now advise; but I have always recoiled before one thought—only + one.” + </p> + <p> + “And that?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps the sentiment is not peculiar to me—perhaps it is excessive + pride, but I have a great regard for myself—my person is sacred to + me. Should I come to believe in nothing, like you—and I am far from + that yet, thank God!—I should even then remain honest and true—faithful + to one love, simply from pride. I should prefer,” she added, in a voice + deep and sustained, but somewhat strained, “I should prefer to desecrate + an altar rather than myself!” + </p> + <p> + Saying these words, she rose, made a haughty movement of the head in sign + of an adieu, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE COUNT LOSES A LADY AND FINDS A MISSION + </h2> + <h3> + Camors sat for some time plunged in thought. + </h3> + <p> + He was astonished at the depths he had discovered in her character; he was + displeased with himself without well knowing why; and, above all, he was + much struck by his cousin. + </p> + <p> + However, as he had but a slight opinion of the sincerity of women, he + persuaded himself that Mademoiselle de Luc d’Estrelles, when she came to + offer him her heart and hand, nevertheless knew he was not altogether a + despicable match for her. He said to himself that a few years back he + might have been duped by her apparent sincerity, and congratulated himself + on not having fallen into this attractive snare—on not having + listened to the first promptings of credulity and sincere emotion. + </p> + <p> + He might have spared himself these compliments. Mademoiselle de Luc + d’Estrelles, as he was soon to discover, had been in that perfectly frank, + generous, and disinterested state of mind in which women sometimes are. + </p> + <p> + Only, would it happen to him to find her so in the future? That was + doubtful, thanks to M. de Camors. It often happens that by despising men + too much, we degrade them; in suspecting women too much, we lose them. + </p> + <p> + About an hour passed; there was another rap at the library door. Camors + felt a slight palpitation and a secret wish that it should prove + Mademoiselle Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + It was the General who entered. He advanced with measured stride, puffed + like some sea-monster, and seized Camors by the lapel of his coat. Then he + said, impressively: + </p> + <p> + “Well, young gentleman!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, General.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing in here?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am at work.” + </p> + <p> + “At work? Um! Sit down there—sit down, sit down!” He threw himself + on the sofa where Mademoiselle had been, which rather changed the + perspective for Camors. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” he repeated, after a long pause. + </p> + <p> + “But what then, General?” + </p> + <p> + “What then? The deuce! Why, have you not noticed that I have been for some + days extraordinarily agitated?” + </p> + <p> + “No, General, I have not noticed it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not very observing! I am extraordinarily agitated—enough to + fatigue the eyes. So agitated, upon my word of honor, that there are + moments when I am tempted to believe your aunt is right: that I have + disease of the heart!” + </p> + <p> + “Bah, General! My aunt is dreaming; you have the pulse of an infant.” + </p> + <p> + “You believe so, really? I do not fear death; but it is always annoying to + think of it. But I am too much agitated—it is necessary to put a + stop to it. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly; but how can it concern me?” + </p> + <p> + “Concern you? You are about to hear. You are my cousin, are you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Truly, General, I have that honor.” + </p> + <p> + “But very distant, eh? I have thirty-six cousins as near as you, and—the + devil! To speak plainly, I owe you nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “And I have never demanded payment even of that, General.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I know that! Well, you are my cousin, very far removed! But you are + more than that. Your father saved my life in the Atlas. He has related it + all to you—No? Well, that does not astonish me; for he was no + braggart, that father of yours; he was a man! Had he not quitted the army, + a brilliant career was before him. People talk a great deal of Pelissier, + of Canrobert, of MacMahon, and of others. I say nothing against them; they + are good men doubtless—at least I hear so; but your father would + have eclipsed them all had he taken the trouble. But he didn’t take the + trouble! + </p> + <p> + “Well, for the story: We were crossing a gorge of the Atlas; we were in + retreat; I had lost my command; I was following as a volunteer. It is + useless to weary you with details; we were in retreat; a shower of stones + and bullets poured upon us, as if from the moon. Our column was slightly + disordered; I was in the rearguard—whack! my horse was down, and I + under him! + </p> + <p> + “We were in a narrow gorge with sloping sides some fifteen feet high; five + dirty guerillas slid down the sides and fell upon me and on the beast—forty + devils! I can see them now! Just here the gorge took a sudden turn, so no + one could see my trouble; or no one wished to see it, which comes to the + same thing. + </p> + <p> + “I have told you things were in much disorder; and I beg you to remember + that with a dead horse and five live Arabs on top of me, I was not very + comfortable. I was suffocating; in fact, I was devilish far from + comfortable. + </p> + <p> + “Just then your father ran to my assistance, like the noble fellow he was! + He drew me from under my horse; he fell upon the Arabs. When I was up, I + aided him a little—but that is nothing to the point—I never + shall forget him!” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, when the General added: + </p> + <p> + “Let us understand each other, and speak plainly. Would it be very + repugnant to your feelings to have seven hundred thousand francs a year, + and to be called, after me, Marquis de Campvallon d’Armignes? Come, speak + up, and give me an answer.” + </p> + <p> + The young Count reddened slightly. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Camors,” he said, gently. + </p> + <p> + “What! You would not wish me to adopt you? You refuse to become the heir + of my name and of my fortune?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, General.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not wish time to reflect upon it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, General. I am sincerely grateful for your goodness; your generous + intentions toward me touch me deeply, but in a question of honor I never + reflect or hesitate.” + </p> + <p> + The General puffed fiercely, like a locomotive blowing off steam. Then he + rose and took two or three turns up and down the gallery, shuffling his + feet, his chest heaving. Then he returned and reseated himself. + </p> + <p> + “What are your plans for the future?” he asked, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I shall try, in the first place, General, to repair my fortune, which is + much shattered. I am not so great a stranger to business as people + suppose, and my father’s connections and my own will give me a footing in + some great financial or industrial enterprise. Once there, I shall succeed + by force of will and steady work. Besides, I shall fit myself for public + life, and aspire, when circumstances permit me, to become a deputy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, a man must do something. Idleness is the parent of all vices. + See; like yourself, I am fond of the horse—a noble animal. I approve + of racing; it improves the breed of horses, and aids in mounting our + cavalry efficiently. But sport should be an amusement, not a profession. + Hem! so you aspire to become a deputy?” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I can help you in that, at least. When you are ready I will send in + my resignation, and recommend to my brave and faithful constituents that + you take my place. Will that suit you?” + </p> + <p> + “Admirably, General; and I am truly grateful. But why should you resign?” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Well, to be useful to you in the first place; in the second, I am + sick of it. I shall not be sorry to give personally a little lesson to the + government, which I trust will profit by it. You know me—I am no + Jacobin; at first I thought that would succeed. But when I see what is + going on!” + </p> + <p> + “What is going on, General?” + </p> + <p> + “When I see a Tonnelier a great dignitary! It makes me long for the pen of + Tacitus, on my word. When I was retired in ‘forty-eight, under a mean and + cruel injustice they did me, I had not reached the age of exemption. I was + still capable of good and loyal service; but probably I could have waited + until an amendment. I found it at least in the confidence of my brave and + faithful constituents. But, my young friend, one tires of everything. The + Assemblies at the Luxembourg—I mean the Palace of the Bourbons—fatigue + me. In short, whatever regret I may feel at parting from my honorable + colleagues, and from my faithful constituents, I shall abdicate my + functions whenever you are ready and willing to accept them. Have you not + some property in this district?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, General, a little property which belonged to my mother; a small + manor, with a little land round it, called Reuilly.” + </p> + <p> + “Reuilly! Not two steps from Des Rameures! Certainly—certainly! + Well, that is one foot in the stirrup.” + </p> + <p> + “But then there is one difficulty; I am obliged to sell it.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! And why?” + </p> + <p> + “It is all that is left to me, and it only brings me eleven thousand + francs a year; and to embark in business I need capital—a beginning. + I prefer not to borrow.” + </p> + <p> + The General rose, and once more his military tramp shook the gallery. Then + he threw himself back on the sofa. + </p> + <p> + “You must not sell that property! I owe you nothing, ‘tis true, but I have + an affection for you. You refuse to be my adopted son. Well, I regret + this, and must have recourse to other projects to aid you. I warn you I + shall try other projects. You must not sell your lands if you wish to + become a deputy, for the country people—especially those of Des + Rameures—will not hear of it. Meantime you will need funds. Permit + me to offer you three hundred thousand francs. You may return them when + you can, without interest, and if you never return them you will confer a + very great favor upon me.” + </p> + <p> + “But in truth, General—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come! Accept it as from a relative—from a friend—from + your father’s friend—on any ground you please, so you accept. If + not, you will wound me seriously.” + </p> + <p> + Camors rose, took the General’s hand, and pressing it with emotion, said, + briefly: + </p> + <p> + “I accept, sir. I thank you!” + </p> + <p> + The General sprang up at these words like a furious lion, his moustache + bristling, his nostrils dilating, his chest heaving. Staring at the young + Count with real ferocity, he suddenly drew him to his breast and embraced + him with great fervor. Then he strode to the door with his usual + solemnity, and quickly brushing a tear from his cheek, left the room. + </p> + <p> + The General was a good man; but, like many good people, he had not been + happy. You might smile at his oddities: you never could reproach him with + vices. + </p> + <p> + He was a small man, but he had a great soul. Timid at heart, especially + with women, he was delicate, passionate, and chaste. He had loved but + little, and never had been loved at all. He declared that he had retired + from all friendship with women, because of a wrong that he had suffered. + At forty years of age he had married the daughter of a poor colonel who + had been killed by the enemy. Not long after, his wife had deceived him + with one of his aides-de-camp. + </p> + <p> + The treachery was revealed to him by a rival, who played on this occasion + the infamous role of Iago. Campvallon laid aside his starred epaulettes, + and in two successive duels, still remembered in Africa, killed on two + successive days the guilty one and his betrayer. His wife died shortly + after, and he was left more lonely than ever. He was not the man to + console himself with venal love; a gross remark made him blush; the corps + de ballet inspired him with terror. He did not dare to avow it, but the + dream of his old age, with his fierce moustache and his grim countenance, + was the devoted love of some young girl, at whose feet he might pour out, + without shame, without distrust even, all the tenderness of his simple and + heroic heart. + </p> + <p> + On the evening of the day which had been marked for Camors by these two + interesting episodes, Mademoiselle de Luc d’Estrelles did not come down to + dinner, but sent word she had a headache. This message was received with a + general murmur, and with some sharp remarks from Madame de la Roche-Jugan, + which implied Mademoiselle was not in a position which justified her in + having a headache. The dinner, however, was not less gay than usual, + thanks to Mesdames Bacquiere and Van-Cuyp, and to their husbands, who had + arrived from Paris to pass Sunday with them. + </p> + <p> + To celebrate this happy meeting, they drank very freely of champagne, + talked slang, and imitated actors, causing much amusement to the servants. + Returning to the drawing-room, these innocent young things thought it very + funny to take their husbands’ hats, put their feet in them, and, thus + shod, to run a steeplechase across the room. Meantime Madame de la + Roche-Jagan felt the General’s pulse frequently, and found it variable. + </p> + <p> + Next morning at breakfast all the General’s guests assembled, except + Mademoiselle d’Estrelles, whose headache apparently was no better. They + remarked also the absence of the General, who was the embodiment of + politeness and punctuality. A sense of uneasiness was beginning to creep + over all, when suddenly the door opened and the General appeared leading + Mademoiselle d’Estrelles by the hand. + </p> + <p> + The young girl’s eyes were red; her face was very pale. The General’s face + was scarlet. He advanced a few steps, like an actor about to address his + audience; cast fierce glances on all sides of him, and cleared his throat + with a sound that echoed like the bass notes of a grand piano. Then he + spoke in a voice of thunder: + </p> + <p> + “My dear guests and friends, permit me to present to you the Marquise de + Campvallon d’Armignes!” + </p> + <p> + An iceberg at the North Pole is not colder than was the General’s salon at + this announcement. + </p> + <p> + He held the young lady by the hand, and retaining his position in the + centre of the room, launched out fierce glances. Then his eyes began to + wander and roll convulsively in their sockets, as if he was himself + astonished at the effect his announcement had produced. + </p> + <p> + Camors was the first to come to the rescue, and taking his hand, said: + “Accept, my dear General, my congratulations. I am extremely happy, and + rejoice at your good fortune; the more so, as I feel the lady is so well + worthy of you.” Then, bowing to Mademoiselle d’Estrelles with a grave + grace, he pressed her hand, and turning away, was struck dumb at seeing + Madame de la Roche-Jugan in the arms of the General. She passed from his + into those of Mademoiselle d’Estrelles, who feared at first, from the + violence of the caresses, that there was a secret design to strangle her. + </p> + <p> + “General,” said Madame de la Roche-Jugan in a plaintive voice, “you + remember I always recommended her to you. I always spoke well of her. She + is my daughter—my second child. Sigismund, embrace your sister! You + permit it, General? Ah, we never know how much we love these children + until we lose them! I always spoke well of her; did I not—Ge—General?” + And here Madame de la Roche-Jugan burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + The General, who began to entertain a high opinion of the Countess’s + heart, declared that Mademoiselle d’Estrelles would find in him a friend + and father. After which flattering assurance, Madame de la Roche-Jugan + seated herself in a solitary corner, behind a curtain, whence they heard + sobs and moans issue for a whole hour. She could not even breakfast; + happiness had taken away her appetite. + </p> + <p> + The ice once broken, all tried to make themselves agreeable. The + Tonneliers did not behave, however, with the same warmth as the tender + Countess, and it was easy to see that Mesdames Bacquiere and Van Cuyp + could not picture to themselves, without envy, the shower of gold and + diamonds about to fall into the lap of their cousin. Messrs. Bacquiere and + Van-Cuyp were naturally the first sufferers, and their charming wives made + them understand, at intervals during the day, that they thoroughly + despised them. It was a bitter Sunday for those poor fellows. The + Tonnelier family also felt that little more was to be done there, and left + the next morning with a very cold adieu. + </p> + <p> + The conduct of the Countess was more noble. She declared she would wait + upon her dearly beloved Charlotte from the altar to the very threshold of + the nuptial chamber; that she would arrange her trousseau, and that the + marriage should take place from her house. + </p> + <p> + “Deuce take me, my dear Countess!” cried the General, “I must declare one + thing—you astonish me. I was unjust, cruelly unjust, toward you. I + reproach myself, on my faith! I believed you worldly, interested, not + open-hearted. But you are none of these; you are an excellent woman—a + heart of gold—a noble soul! My dear friend, you have found the best + way to convert me. I have always believed the religion of honor was + sufficient for a man—eh, Camors? But I am not an unbeliever, my dear + Countess, and, on my sacred word, when I see a perfect creature like you, + I desire to believe everything she believes, if only to be pleasant to + her!” + </p> + <p> + When Camors, who was not quite so innocent, asked himself what was the + secret of his aunt’s politic conduct, but little effort was necessary to + understand it. + </p> + <p> + Madame de la Roche-Jugan, who had finally convinced herself that the + General had an aneurism, flattered herself that the cares of matrimony + would hasten the doom of her old friend. In any event, he was past seventy + years of age. But Charlotte was young, and so also was Sigismund. + Sigismund could become tender; if necessary, could quietly court the young + Marquise until the day when he could marry her, with all her + appurtenances, over the mausoleum of the General. It was for this that + Madame de la Roche-Jugan, crushed for a moment under the unexpected blow + that ruined her hopes, had modified her tactics and drawn her batteries, + so to speak, under cover of the enemy. This was what she was contriving + while she was weeping behind the curtain. + </p> + <p> + Camors’s personal feelings at the announcement of this marriage were not + of the most agreeable description. First, he was obliged to acknowledge + that he had unjustly judged Mademoiselle d’Estrelles, and that at the + moment of his accusing her of speculating on his small fortune, she was + offering to sacrifice for him the annual seven hundred thousand francs of + the General. + </p> + <p> + He felt his vanity injured, that he had not had the best part of this + affair. Besides, he felt obliged to stifle from this moment the secret + passion with which the beautiful and singular girl had inspired him. Wife + or widow of the General, it was clear that Mademoiselle d’Estrelles had + forever escaped him. To seduce the wife of this good old man from whom he + accepted such favors, or even to marry her, widowed and rich, after + refusing her when poor, were equal unworthiness and baseness that honor + forbade in the same degree and with the same rigor as if this honor, which + he made the only law of his life, were not a mockery and an empty word. + </p> + <p> + Camors, however, did not fail to comprehend the position in this light, + and he resigned himself to it. + </p> + <p> + During the four or five days he remained at Campvallon his conduct was + perfect. The delicate and reserved attentions with which he surrounded + Mademoiselle d’Estrelles were tinged with a melancholy that showed her at + the same time his gratitude, his respect, and his regrets. + </p> + <p> + M. de Campvallon had not less reason to congratulate himself on the + conduct of the young Count. He entered into the folly of his host with + affectionate grace. He spoke to him little of the beauty of his fiancee: + much of her high moral qualities; and let him see his most flattering + confidence in the future of this union. + </p> + <p> + On the eve of his departure Camors was summoned into the General’s study. + Handing his young relative a check for three hundred thousand francs, the + General said: + </p> + <p> + “My dear young friend, I ought to tell you, for the peace of your + conscience, that I have informed Mademoiselle d’Estrelles of this little + service I render you. She has a great deal of love and affection for you, + my dear young friend; be sure of that. + </p> + <p> + “She therefore received my communication with sincere pleasure. I also + informed her that I did not intend taking any receipt for this sum, and + that no reclamation of it should be made at any time, on any account. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear Camors, do me one favor. To tell you my inmost thought, I + shall be most happy to see you carry into execution your project of + laudable ambition. My own new position, my age, my tastes, and those I + perceive in the Marquise, claim all my leisure—all my liberty of + action. Consequently, I desire as soon as possible to present you to my + generous and faithful constituents, as well for the Corps Legislatif as + for the General Council. You had better make your preliminary arrangements + as soon as possible. Why should you defer it? You are very well cultivated—very + capable. Well, let us go ahead—let us begin at once. What do you + say?” + </p> + <p> + “I should prefer, General, to be more mature; but it would be both folly + and ingratitude in me not to accede to your kind wish. What shall I do + first?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my young friend, instead of leaving tomorrow for Paris, you must go + to your estate at Reuilly: go there and conquer Des Rameures.” + </p> + <p> + “And who are the Des Rameures, General?” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know the Des Rameures? The deuce! no; you can not know them! + That is unfortunate, too. + </p> + <p> + “Des Rameures is a clever fellow, a very clever fellow, and all-powerful + in his neighborhood. He is an original, as you will see; and with him + lives his niece, a charming woman. I tell you, my boy, you must please + them, for Des Rameures is the master of the county. He protects me, or + else, upon my honor, I should be stopped on the road!” + </p> + <p> + “But, General, what shall I do to please this Des Rameures?” + </p> + <p> + “You will see him. He is, as I tell you, a great oddity. He has not been + in Paris since 1825; he has a horror of Paris and Parisians. Very well, it + only needs a little tact to flatter his views on that point. We always + need a little tact in this world, young man.” + </p> + <p> + “But his niece, General?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the deuce! You must please the niece also. He adores her, and she + manages him completely, although he grumbles a little sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “And what sort of woman is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a respectable woman—a perfectly respectable woman. A widow; + somewhat a devotee, but very well informed. A woman of great merit.” + </p> + <p> + “But what course must I take to please this lady?” + </p> + <p> + “What course? By my faith, young man, you ask a great many questions. I + never yet learned to please a woman. I am green as a goose with them + always. It is a thing I can not understand; but as for you, my young + comrade, you have little need to be instructed in that matter. You can’t + fail to please her; you have only to make yourself agreeable. But you will + know how to do it—you will conduct yourself like an angel, I am + sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Captivate Des Rameures and his niece—this is your advice!” + </p> + <p> + Early next morning Camors left the Chateau de Campvallon, armed with these + imperfect instructions; and, further, with a letter from the General to + Des Rameures. + </p> + <p> + He went in a hired carriage to his own domain of Reuilly, which lay ten + leagues off. While making this transit he reflected that the path of + ambition was not one of roses; and that it was hard for him, at the outset + of his enterprise, to by compelled to encounter two faces likely to be as + disquieting as those of Des Rameures and his niece. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE OLD DOMAIN OF REUILLY + </h2> + <p> + The domain of Reuilly consisted of two farms and of a house of some + pretension, inhabited formerly by the maternal family of M. de Camors. He + had never before seen this property when he reached it on the evening of a + beautiful summer day. A long and gloomy avenue of elms, interlacing their + thick branches, led to the dwelling-house, which was quite unequal to the + imposing approach to it; for it was but an inferior construction of the + past century, ornamented simply by a gable and a bull’s-eye, but flanked + by a lordly dovecote. + </p> + <p> + It derived a certain air of dignity from two small terraces, one above the + other, in front of it, while the triple flight of steps was supported by + balusters of granite. Two animals, which had once, perhaps, resembled + lions, were placed one upon each side of the balustrade at the platform of + the highest terrace; and they had been staring there for more than a + hundred and fifty years. Behind the house stretched the garden; and in its + midst, mounted on a stone arch, stood a dismal sun-dial with hearts and + spades painted between its figures; while the trees around it were trimmed + into the shapes of confessionals and chess-pawns. To the right, a + labyrinth of young trees, similarly clipped in the fashion of the time, + led by a thousand devious turns to a mysterious valley, where one heard + continually a low, sad murmur. This proceeded from a nymph in terra-cotta, + from whose urn dripped, day and night, a thin rill of water into a small + fishpond, bordered by grand old poplars, whose shadows threw upon its + surface, even at mid-day, the blackness of Acheron. + </p> + <p> + Camors’s first reflection at viewing this prospect was an exceedingly + painful one; and the second was even more so. + </p> + <p> + At another time he would doubtless have taken an interest in searching + through these souvenirs of the past for traces of an infant nurtured + there, who had a mother, and who had perhaps loved these old relics. But + his system did not admit of sentiment, so he crushed the ideas that + crowded to his mind, and, after a rapid glance around him, called for his + dinner. + </p> + <p> + The old steward and his wife—who for thirty years had been the sole + inhabitants of Reuilly—had been informed of his coming. They had + spent the day in cleaning and airing the house; an operation which added + to the discomfort they sought to remove, and irritated the old residents + of the walls, while it disturbed the sleep of hoary spiders in their dusty + webs. A mixed odor of the cellar, of the sepulchre, and of an old coach, + struck Camors when he penetrated into the principal room, where his dinner + was to be served. + </p> + <p> + Taking up one or two flickering candles, the like of which he had never + seen before, Camors proceeded to inspect the quaint portraits of his + ancestors, who seemed to stare at him in great surprise from their cracked + canvases. They were a dilapidated set of old nobles, one having lost a + nose, another an arm, others again sections of their faces. One of them—a + chevalier of St. Louis—had received a bayonet thrust through the + centre in the riotous times of the Revolution; but he still smiled at + Camors, and sniffed at a flower, despite the daylight shining through him. + </p> + <p> + Camors finished his inspection, thinking to himself they were a highly + respectable set of ancestors, but not worth fifteen francs apiece. The + housekeeper had passed half the previous night in slaughtering various + dwellers in the poultry-yard; and the results of the sacrifice now + successively appeared, swimming in butter. Happily, however, the fatherly + kindness of the General had despatched a hamper of provisions from + Campvallon, and a few slices of pate, accompanied by sundry glasses of + Chateau-Yquem helped the Count to combat the dreary sadness with which his + change of residence, solitude, the night, and the smoke of his candles, + all conspired to oppress him. + </p> + <p> + Regaining his usual good spirits, which had deserted him for a moment, he + tried to draw out the old steward, who was waiting on him. He strove to + glean from him some information of the Des Rameures; but the old servant, + like every Norman peasant, held it as a tenet of faith that he who gave a + plain answer to any question was a dishonored man. With all possible + respect he let Camors understand plainly that he was not to be deceived by + his affected ignorance into any belief that M. le Comte did not know a + great deal better than he who and what M. des Rameures was—where he + lived, and what he did; that M. le Comte was his master, and as such was + entitled to his respect, but that he was nevertheless a Parisian, and—as + M. des Rameures said—all Parisians were jesters. + </p> + <p> + Camors, who had taken an oath never to get angry, kept it now; drew from + the General’s old cognac a fresh supply of patience, lighted a cigar, and + left the room. + </p> + <p> + For a few moments he leaned over the balustrade of the terrace and looked + around. The night, clear and beautiful, enveloped in its shadowy veil the + widestretching fields, and a solemn stillness, strange to Parisian ears, + reigned around him, broken only at intervals by the distant bay of a + hound, rising suddenly, and dying into peace again. His eyes becoming + accustomed to the darkness, Camors descended the terrace stairs and passed + into the old avenue, which was darker and more solemn than a + cathedral-aisle at midnight, and thence into an open road into which it + led by chance. + </p> + <p> + Strictly speaking, Camors had never, until now, been out of Paris; for + wherever he had previously gone, he had carried its bustle, worldly and + artificial life, play, and the races with him; and the watering-places and + the seaside had never shown him true country, or provincial life. It gave + him a sensation for the first time; but the sensation was an odious one. + </p> + <p> + As he advanced up this silent road, without houses or lights, it seemed to + him he was wandering amid the desolation of some lunar region. This part + of Normandy recalled to him the least cultivated parts of Brittany. It was + rustic and savage, with its dense shrubbery, tufted grass, dark valleys, + and rough roads. + </p> + <p> + Some dreamers love this sweet but severe nature, even at night; they love + the very things that grated most upon the pampered senses of Camors, who + strode on in deep disgust, flattering himself, however, that he should + soon reach the Boulevard de Madeleine. But he found, instead, peasants’ + huts scattered along the side of the road, their low, mossy roofs seeming + to spring from the rich soil like an enormous fungus growth. Two or three + of the dwellers in these huts were taking the fresh evening air on their + thresholds, and Camors could distinguish through the gloom their heavy + figures and limbs, roughened by coarse toil in the fields, as they stood + mute, motionless, and ruminating in the darkness like tired beasts. + </p> + <p> + Camors, like all men possessed by a dominant idea, had, ever since he + adopted the religion of his father as his rule of life, taken the pains to + analyze every impression and every thought. He now said to himself, that + between these countrymen and a refined man like himself there was + doubtless a greater difference than between them and their beasts of + burden; and this reflection was as balm to the scornful aristocracy that + was the cornerstone of his theory. Wandering on to an eminence, his + discouraged eye swept but a fresh horizon of apple-trees and heads of + barley, and he was about to turn back when a strange sound suddenly + arrested his steps. It was a concert of voice and instruments, which in + this lost solitude seemed to him like a dream, or a miracle. The music was + good-even excellent. He recognized a prelude of Bach, arranged by Gounod. + Robinson Crusoe, on discovering the footprint in the sand, was not more + astonished than Camors at finding in this desert so lively a symptom of + civilization. + </p> + <p> + Filled with curiosity, and led by the melody he heard, he descended + cautiously the little hill, like a king’s son in search of the enchanted + princess. The palace he found in the middle of the path, in the shape of + the high back wall of a dwelling, fronting on another road. One of the + upper windows on this side, however, was open; a bright light streamed + from it, and thence he doubted not the sweet sounds came. + </p> + <p> + To an accompaniment of the piano and stringed instruments rose a fresh, + flexible woman’s voice, chanting the mystic words of the master with such + expression and power as would have given even him delight. Camors, himself + a musician, was capable of appreciating the masterly execution of the + piece; and was so much struck by it that he felt an irresistible desire to + see the performers, especially the singer. With this impulse he climbed + the little hedge bordering the road, placed himself on the top, and found + himself several feet above the level of the lighted window. He did not + hesitate to use his skill as a gymnast to raise himself to one of the + branches of an old oak stretching across the lawn; but during the ascent + he could not disguise from himself that his was scarcely a dignified + position for the future deputy of the district. He almost laughed aloud at + the idea of being surprised in this position by the terrible Des Rameures, + or his niece. + </p> + <p> + He established himself on a large, leafy branch, directly in front of the + interesting window; and notwithstanding that he was at a respectful + distance, his glance could readily penetrate into the chamber where the + concert was taking place. A dozen persons, as he judged, were there + assembled; several women, of different ages, were seated at a table + working; a young man appeared to be drawing; while other persons lounged + on comfortable seats around the room. Around the piano was a group which + chiefly attracted the attention of the young Count. At the instrument was + seated a grave young girl of about twelve years; immediately behind her + stood an old man, remarkable for his great height, his head bald, with a + crown of white hair, and his bushy black eyebrows. He played the violin + with priestly dignity. Seated near him was a man of about fifty, in the + dress of an ecclesiastic, and wearing a huge pair of silver-rimmed + spectacles, who played the violincello with great apparent gusto. + </p> + <p> + Between them stood the singer. She was a pale brunette, slight and + graceful, and apparently not more than twenty-five years of age. The + somewhat severe oval of her face was relieved by a pair of bright black + eyes that seemed to grow larger as she sang. One hand rested gently on the + shoulder of the girl at the piano, and with this she seemed to keep time, + pressing gently on the shoulder of the performer to stimulate her zeal. + And that hand was delicious! + </p> + <p> + A hymn by Palestrina had succeeded the Bach prelude. It was a quartette, + to which two new voices lent their aid. The old priest laid aside his + violoncello, stood up, took off his spectacles, and his deep bass + completed the full measure of the melody. + </p> + <p> + After the quartette followed a few moments of general conversation, during + which—after embracing the child pianist, who immediately left the + room—the songstress walked to the window. She leaned out as if to + breathe the fresh air, and her profile was sharply relieved against the + bright light behind her, in which the others formed a group around the + priest, who once more donned his spectacles, and drew from his pocket a + paper that appeared to be a manuscript. + </p> + <p> + The lady leaned from the window, gently fanning herself, as she looked now + at the sky, now at the dark landscape. Camors imagined he could + distinguish her gentle breathing above the sound of the fan; and leaning + eagerly forward for a better view, he caused the leaves to rustle + slightly. She started at the sound, then remained immovable, and the fixed + position of her head showed that her gaze was fastened upon the oak in + which he was concealed. + </p> + <p> + He felt the awkwardness of his position, but could not judge whether or + not he was visible to her; but, under the danger of her fixed regard, he + passed the most painful moments of his life. + </p> + <p> + She turned into the room and said, in a calm voice, a few words which + brought three or four of her friends to the window; and among them Camors + recognized the old man with the violin. + </p> + <p> + The moment was a trying one. He could do nothing but lie still in his + leafy retreat—silent and immovable as a statue. The conduct of those + at the window went far to reassure him, for their eyes wandered over the + gloom with evident uncertainty, convincing him that his presence was only + suspected, not discovered. But they exchanged animated observations, to + which the hidden Count lent an attentive ear. Suddenly a strong voice—which + he recognized as belonging to him of the violin-rose over them all in the + pleasing order: “Loose the dog!” + </p> + <p> + This was sufficient for Camors. He was not a coward; he would not have + budged an inch before an enraged tiger; but he would have travelled a + hundred miles on foot to avoid the shadow of ridicule. Profiting by the + warning and a moment when he seemed unobserved, he slid from the tree, + jumped into the next field, and entered the wood at a point somewhat + farther down than the spot where he had scaled the hedge. This done, he + resumed his walk with the assured tread of a man who had a right to be + there. He had gone but a few steps, when he heard behind him the wild + barking of the dog, which proved his retreat had been opportune. + </p> + <p> + Some of the peasants he had noticed as he passed before, were still + standing at their doors. Stopping before one of them he asked: + </p> + <p> + “My friend, to whom does that large house below there, facing the other + road, belong? and whence comes that music?” + </p> + <p> + “You probably know that as well as I,” replied the man, stolidly. + </p> + <p> + “Had I known, I should hardly have asked you,” said Camors. + </p> + <p> + The peasant did not deign further reply. His wife stood near him; and + Camors had remarked that in all classes of society women have more wit and + goodhumor than their husbands. Therefore he turned to her and said: + </p> + <p> + “You see, my good woman, I am a stranger here. To whom does that house + belong? Probably to Monsieur des Rameures?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” replied the woman, “Monsieur des Rameures lives much farther + on.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Then who lives here?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Monsieur de Tecle, of course!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Monsieur de Tecle! But tell me, he does not live alone? There is a + lady who sings—his wife?—his sister? Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is his daughter-in-law, Madame de Tecle Madame Elise, who—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! thank you, thank you, my good woman! You have children? Buy them + sabots with this,” and drop ping a gold piece in the lap of the obliging + peasant, Camors walked rapidly away. Returning home the road seemed less + gloomy and far shorter than when he came. As he strode on, humming the + Bach prelude, the moon rose, the country looked more beautiful, and, in + short, when he perceived, at the end of its gloomy avenue, his chateau + bathed in the white light, he found the spectacle rather enjoyable than + otherwise. And when he had once more ensconced himself in the maternal + domicile, and inhaled the odor of damp paper and mouldy trees that + constituted its atmosphere, he found great consolation in the reflection + that there existed not very far away from him a young woman who possessed + a charming face, a delicious voice, and a pretty name. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, after plunging into a cold bath, to the profound + astonishment of the old steward and his wife, the Comte de Camors went to + inspect his farms. He found the buildings very similar in construction to + the dams of beavers, though far less comfortable; but he was amazed to + hear his farmers arguing, in their patois, on the various modes of culture + and crops, like men who were no strangers to all modern improvements in + agriculture. The name of Des Rameures frequently occurred in the + conversation as confirmation of their own theories, or experiments. M. des + Rameures gave preference to this manure, to this machine for winnowing; + this breed of animals was introduced by him. M. des Rameures did this, M. + des Rameures did that, and the farmers did like him, and found it to their + advantage. Camors found the General had not exaggerated the local + importance of this personage, and that it was most essential to conciliate + him. Resolving therefore to call on him during the day, he went to + breakfast. + </p> + <p> + This duty toward himself fulfilled, the young Count lounged on the + terrace, as he had the evening before, and smoked his cigar. Though it was + near midday, it was doubtful to him whether the solitude and silence + appeared less complete and oppressive than on the preceding night. A + hushed cackling of fowls, the drowsy hum of bees, and the muffled chime of + a distant bell—these were all the sounds to be heard. + </p> + <p> + Camors lounged on the terrace, dreaming of his club, of the noisy Paris + crowd, of the rumbling omnibuses, of the playbill of the little kiosk, of + the scent of heated asphalt—and the memory of the least of these + enchantments brought infinite peace to his soul. The inhabitant of Paris + has one great blessing, which he does not take into account until he + suffers from its loss—one great half of his existence is filled up + without the least trouble to himself. The all-potent vitality which + ceaselessly envelops him takes away from him in a vast degree the exertion + of amusing himself. The roar of the city, rising like a great bass around + him, fills up the gaps in his thoughts, and never leaves that disagreeable + sensation—a void. + </p> + <p> + There is no Parisian who is not happy in the belief that he makes all the + noise he hears, writes all the books he reads, edits all the journals on + which he breakfasts, writes all the vaudevilles on which he sups, and + invents all the ‘bon mots’ he repeats. + </p> + <p> + But this flattering allusion vanishes the moment chance takes him a mile + away from the Rue Vivienne. The proof confounds him, for he is bored + terribly, and becomes sick of himself. Perhaps his secret soul, weakened + and unnerved, may even be assailed by the suspicion that he is a feeble + human creature after all! But no! He returns to Paris; the collective + electricity again inspires him; he rebounds; he recovers; he is busy, keen + to discern, active, and recognizes once more, to his intense satisfaction, + that he is after all one of the elect of God’s creatures—momentarily + degraded, it may be, by contact with the inferior beings who people the + departments. + </p> + <p> + Camors had within himself more resources than most men to conquer the + blue-devils; but in these early hours of his experience in country life, + deprived of his club, his horses, and his cook, banished from all his old + haunts and habits, he began to feel terribly the weight of time. He, + therefore, experienced a delicious sensation when suddenly he heard that + regular beat of hoofs upon the road which to his trained ear announced the + approach of several riding-horses. The next moment he saw advancing up his + shaded avenue two ladies on horseback, followed by a groom with a black + cockade. + </p> + <p> + Though quite amazed at this charming spectacle, Camors remembered his duty + as a gentleman and descended the steps of the terrace. But the two ladies, + at sight of him, appeared as surprised as himself, suddenly drew rein and + conferred hastily. Then, recovering, they continued their way, traversed + the lower court below the terraces, and disappeared in the direction of + the lake. + </p> + <p> + As they passed the lower balustrade Camors bowed low, and they returned + his salutation by a slight inclination; but he was quite sure, in spite of + the veils that floated from their riding-hats, that he recognized the + black-eyed singer and the young pianist. After a moment he called to his + old steward, + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Leonard,” he said, “is this a public way?” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly is not a public way, Monsieur le Comte,” replied Leonard. + </p> + <p> + “Then what do these ladies mean by using this road?” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, Monsieur le Comte, it is so long since any of the owners have + been at Reuilly! These ladies mean no harm by passing through your woods; + and sometimes they even stop at the chateau while my wife gives them fresh + milk. Shall I tell them that this displeases Monsieur le Comte?” + </p> + <p> + “My good Leonard, why the deuce do you suppose it displeases me? I only + asked for information. And now who are the ladies?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Monsieur, they are quite respectable ladies; Madame de Tecle, and her + daughter, Mademoiselle Marie.” + </p> + <p> + “So? And the husband of Madame, Monsieur de Tecle, never rides out with + them?” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! no, Monsieur. He never rides with them.” And the old steward + smiled a dry smile. “He has been among the dead men for a long time, as + Monsieur le Comte well knows.” + </p> + <p> + “Granting that I know it, Monsieur Leonard, I wish it understood these + ladies are not to be interfered with. You comprehend?” + </p> + <p> + Leonard seemed pleased that he was not to be the bearer of any + disagreeable message; and Camors, suddenly conceiving that his stay at + Reuilly might be prolonged for some time, reentered the chateau and + examined the different rooms, arranging with the steward the best plan of + making the house habitable. The little town of I———, but + two leagues distant, afforded all the means, and M. Leonard proposed going + there at once to confer with the architect. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. ELISE DE TECLE + </h2> + <p> + Meantime Camors directed his steps toward the residence of M. des + Rameures, of which he at last obtained correct information. He took the + same road as the preceding evening, passed the monastic-looking building + that held Madame de Tecle, glanced at the old oak that had served him for + an observatory, and about a mile farther on he discovered the small house + with towers that he sought. + </p> + <p> + It could only be compared to those imaginary edifices of which we have all + read in childhood’s happy days in taking text, under an attractive + picture: “The castle of M. de Valmont was agreeably situated at the summit + of a pretty hill.” It had a really picturesque surrounding of fields + sloping away, green as emerald, dotted here and there with great bouquets + of trees, or cut by walks adorned with huge roses or white bridges thrown + over rivulets. Cattle and sheep were resting here and there, which might + have figured at the Opera Comique, so shining were the skins of the cows + and so white the wool of the sheep. Camors swung open the gate, took the + first road he saw, and reached the top of the hill amid trees and flowers. + An old servant slept on a bench before the door, smiling in his dreams. + </p> + <p> + Camors waked him, inquired for the master of the house, and was ushered + into a vestibule. Thence he entered a charming apartment, where a young + lady in a short skirt and round hat was arranging bouquets in Chinese + vases. + </p> + <p> + She turned at the noise of the opening door, and Camors saw—Madame + de Tecle! + </p> + <p> + As he saluted her with an air of astonishment and doubt, she looked + fixedly at him with her large eyes. He spoke first, with more of + hesitation than usual. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Madame, but I inquired for Monsieur des Rameures.” + </p> + <p> + “He is at the farm, but will soon return. Be kind enough to wait.” + </p> + <p> + She pointed to a chair, and seated herself, pushing away with her foot the + branches that strewed the floor. + </p> + <p> + “But, Madame, in the absence of Monsieur des Rameures may I have the honor + of speaking with his niece?” + </p> + <p> + The shadow of a smile flitted over Madame de Tecle’s brown but charming + face. “His niece?” she said: “I am his niece.” + </p> + <p> + “You I Pardon me, Madame, but I thought—they said—I expected + to find an elderly—a—person—that is, a respectable” he + hesitated, then added simply—“and I find I am in error.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle seemed completely unmoved by this compliment. + </p> + <p> + “Will you be kind enough, Monsieur,” she said, “to let me know whom I have + the honor of receiving?” + </p> + <p> + “I am Monsieur de Camors.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Then I have excuses also to make. It was probably you whom we saw + this morning. We have been very rude—my daughter and I—but we + were ignorant of your arrival; and Reuilly has been so long deserted.” + </p> + <p> + “I sincerely hope, Madame, that your daughter and yourself will make no + change in your rides.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle replied by a movement of the hand that implied certainly + she appreciated the offer, and certainly she should not accept it. Then + there was a pause long enough to embarrass Camors, during which his eye + fell upon the piano, and his lips almost formed the original remark—“You + are a musician, Madame.” Suddenly recollecting his tree, however, he + feared to betray himself by the allusion, and was silent. + </p> + <p> + “You come from Paris, Monsieur de Camors?” Madame de Tecle at length + asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, Madame, I have been passing several weeks with my kinsman, General de + Campvallon, who has also the honor, I believe, to be a friend of yours; + and who has requested me to call upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “We are delighted that you have done so; and what an excellent man the + General is!” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent indeed, Madame.” There was another pause. + </p> + <p> + “If you do not object to a short walk in the sun,” said Madame de Tecle at + length, “let us walk to meet my uncle. We are almost sure to meet him.” + Camors bowed. Madame de Tecle rose and rang the bell: “Ask Mademoiselle + Marie,” she said to the servant, “to be kind enough to put on her hat and + join us.” + </p> + <p> + A moment after, Mademoiselle Marie entered, cast on the stranger the + steady, frank look of an inquisitive child, bowed slightly to him, and + they all left the room by a door opening on the lawn. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle, while responding courteously to the graceful speeches of + Camors, walked on with a light and rapid step, her fairy-like little shoes + leaving their impression on the smooth fine sand of the path. + </p> + <p> + She walked with indescribable, unconscious grace; with that supple, + elastic undulation which would have been coquettish had it not been + undeniably natural. Reaching the wall that enclosed the right side of the + park, she opened a wicket that led into a narrow path through a large + field of ripe corn. She passed into this path, followed in single file by + Mademoiselle Marie and by Camors. Until now the child had been very quiet, + but the rich golden corn-tassels, entangled with bright daisies, red + poppies, and hollyhocks, and the humming concert of myriads of flies-blue, + yellow, and reddish-brown, which sported amid the sweets, excited her + beyond self-control. Stopping here and there to pluck a flower, she would + turn and cry, “Pardon, Monsieur;” until, at length, on an apple-tree + growing near the path she descried on a low branch a green apple, no + larger than her finger. This temptation proved irresistible, and with one + spring into the midst of the corn, she essayed to reach the prize, if + Providence would permit. Madame de Tecle, however, would not permit. She + seemed much displeased, and said, sharply: + </p> + <p> + “Marie, my child! In the midst of the corn! Are you crazy!” + </p> + <p> + The child returned promptly to the path, but unable to conquer her wish + for the apple, turned an imploring eye to Camors and said, softly: + “Pardon, Monsieur, but that apple would make my bouquet complete.” + </p> + <p> + Camors had only to reach up, stretch out his hand, and detach the branch + from the tree. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand thanks!” cried the child, and adding this crowning glory to + her bouquet, she placed the whole inside the ribbon around her hat and + walked on with an air of proud satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + As they approached the fence running across the end of the field, Madame + de Tecle suddenly said: “My uncle, Monsieur;” and Camors, raising his + head, saw a very tall man looking at them over the fence and shading his + eyes with his hand. His robust limbs were clad in gaiters of yellow + leather with steel buttons, and he wore a loose coat of maroon velvet and + a soft felt hat. Camors immediately recognized the white hair and heavy + black eyebrows as the same he had seen bending over the violin the night + before. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle,” said Madame de Tecle, introducing the young Count by a wave of + the hand: “This is Monsieur de Camors.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Camors,” repeated the old man, in a deep and sonorous voice, + “you are most welcome;” and opening the gate he gave his guest a soft, + brown hand, as he continued: “I knew your mother intimately, and am + charmed to have her son under my roof. Your mother was a most amiable + person, Monsieur, and certainly merited—” The old man hesitated, and + finished his sentence by a sonorous “Hem!” that resounded and rumbled in + his chest as if in the vault of a church. + </p> + <p> + Then he took the letter Camors handed to him, held it a long distance from + his eyes, and began reading it. The General had told the Count it would be + impolite to break suddenly to M. des Rameures the plan they had concocted. + The latter, therefore, found the note only a very warm introduction of + Camors. The postscript gave him the announcement of the marriage. + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” he cried. “Did you know this, Elise? Campvallon is to be + married!” + </p> + <p> + All women, widows, matrons, or maids, are deeply interested in matters + pertaining to marriage. + </p> + <p> + “What, uncle! The General! Can it be? Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Um—rather. He writes the news himself. Do you know the lady, + Monsieur le Comte?” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle de Luc d’Estrelles is my cousin,” Camors replied. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! That is right; and she is of a certain age?” + </p> + <p> + “She is about twenty-five.” + </p> + <p> + M. des Rameures received this intelligence with one of the resonant coughs + peculiar to him. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask, without indiscretion, whether she is endowed with a pleasing + person?” + </p> + <p> + “She is exceedingly beautiful,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Hem! So much the better. It seems to me the General is a little old for + her: but every one is the best judge of his own affairs: Hem! the best + judge of his own affairs. Elise, my dear, whenever you are ready we will + follow you. Pardon me, Monsieur le Comte, for receiving you in this rustic + attire, but I am a laborer. Agricola—a mere herdsman—‘custos + gregis’, as the poet says. Walk before me, Monsieur le Comte, I beg you. + Marie, child, respect my corn! + </p> + <p> + “And can we hope, Monsieur de Camors, that you have the happy idea of + quitting the great Babylon to install yourself among your rural + possessions? It will be a good example, Monsieur—an excellent + example! For unhappily today more than ever we can say with the poet: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Non ullus aratro + + Dignus honos; squalent abductis arva colonis, + Et—et—’ +</pre> + <p> + “And, by gracious! I’ve forgotten the rest—poor memory! Ah, young + sir, never grow old-never grow old!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Et curvae rigidum falces conflantur in ensem,”’ +</pre> + <p> + said Camors, continuing the broken quotation. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you quote Virgil. You read the classics. I am charmed, really + charmed. That is not the characteristic of our rising generation, for + modern youth has an idea it is bad taste to quote the ancients. But that + is not my idea, young sir—not in the least. Our fathers quoted + freely because they were familiar with them. And Virgil is my poet. Not + that I approve of all his theories of cultivation. With all the respect I + accord him, there is a great deal to be said on that point; and his plan + of breeding in particular will never do—never do! Still, he is + delicious, eh? Very well, Monsieur Camors, now you see my little domain—‘mea + paupera regna’—the retreat of the sage. Here I live, and live + happily, like an old shepherd in the golden age—loved by my + neighbors, which is not easy; and venerating the gods, which is perhaps + easier. Ah, young sir, as you read Virgil, you will excuse me once more. + It was for me he wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Fortunate senex, hic inter flumina nota, + Et fontes sacros frigus captabis opacum.’ +</pre> + <p> + “And this as well: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Fortunatus et ille deos qui novit agrestes, + Panaque, Silvanumque senem!’” + </pre> + <p> + “Nymphasque sorores!” finished Camors, smiling and moving his head + slightly in the direction of Madame de Tecle and her daughter, who + preceded them. + </p> + <p> + “Quite to the point. That is pure truth!” cried M. des Rameures, gayly. + “Did you hear that, niece?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you understand it, niece?” + </p> + <p> + “No, uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe you, my dear! I do not believe you!” The old man laughed + heartily. “Do not believe her, Monsieur de Camors; women have the faculty + of understanding compliments in every language.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation brought them to the chateau, where they sat down on a + bench before the drawing-room windows to enjoy the view. + </p> + <p> + Camors praised judiciously the well-kept park, accepted an invitation to + dinner the next week, and then discreetly retired, flattering himself that + his introduction had made a favorable impression upon M. des Rameures, but + regretting his apparent want of progress with the fairy-footed niece. + </p> + <p> + He was in error. + </p> + <p> + “This youth,” said M. des Rameures, when he was left alone with Madame de + Tecle, “has some touch of the ancients, which is something; but he still + resembles his father, who was vicious as sin itself. His eyes and his + smile recall some traits of his admirable mother; but positively, my dear + Elise, he is the portrait of his father, whose manners and whose + principles they say he has inherited.” + </p> + <p> + “Who says so, uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “Current rumor, niece.” + </p> + <p> + “Current rumor, my dear uncle, is often mistaken, and always exaggerates. + For my part, I like the young man, who seems thoroughly refined and at his + ease.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! I suppose because he compared you to a nymph in the fable.” + </p> + <p> + “If he compared me to a nymph in the fable he was wrong; but he never + addressed to me a word in French that was not in good taste. Before we + condemn him, uncle, let us see for ourselves. It is a habit you have + always recommended to me, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “You can not deny, niece,” said the old man with irritation, “that he + exhales the most decided and disagreeable odor of Paris! He is too polite—too + studied! Not a shadow of enthusiasm—no fire of youth! He never + laughs as I should wish to see a man of his age laugh; a young man should + roar to split his waistband!” + </p> + <p> + “What! you would see him merry so soon after losing his father in such a + tragic manner, and he himself nearly ruined! Why, uncle, what can you + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, perhaps you are right. I retract all I have said against him. + If he be half ruined I will offer him my advice—and my purse if he + need it—for the sake of the memory of his mother, whom you resemble. + Ah, ‘tis thus we end all our disputes, naughty child! I grumble; I am + passionate; I act like a Tartar. Then you speak with your good sense and + sweetness, my darling, and the tiger becomes a lamb. All unhappy beings + whom you approach in the same way submit to your subtle charm. And that is + the reason why my old friend, La Fontaine, said of you: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Sur differentes fleurs l’abeille se repose, + Et fait du miel de toute chose!’” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. A DISH OF POLITICS + </h2> + <p> + Elise de Tecle was thirty years of age, but appeared much younger. At + seventeen she had married, under peculiar conditions, her cousin Roland de + Tecle. She had been left an orphan at an early age and educated by her + mother’s brother, M. des Rameures. Roland lived very near her Everything + brought them together—the wishes of the family, compatibility of + fortune, their relations as neighbors, and a personal sympathy. They were + both charming; they were destined for each other from infancy, and the + time fixed for their marriage was the nineteenth birthday of Elise. In + anticipation of this happy event the Comte de Tecle rebuilt almost + entirely one wing of his castle for the exclusive use of the young pair. + Roland was continually present, superintending and urging on the work with + all the ardor of a lover. + </p> + <p> + One morning loud and alarming cries from the new wing roused all the + inhabitants of the castle; the Count burned to the spot, and found his son + stunned and bleeding in the arms of one of the workmen. He had fallen from + a high scaffolding to the pavement. For several months the unfortunate + young man hovered between life and death; but in the paroxysms of fever he + never ceased calling for his cousin—his betrothed; and they were + obliged to admit the young girl to his bedside. Slowly he recovered, but + was ever after disfigured and lame; and the first time they allowed him to + look in a glass he had a fainting-fit that proved almost fatal. + </p> + <p> + But he was a youth of high principle and true courage. On recovering from + his swoon he wept a flood of bitter tears, which would not, however, wash + the scars from his disfigured face. He prayed long and earnestly; then + shut himself up with his father. Each wrote a letter, the one to M. des + Rameures, the other to Elise. M. des Rameures and his niece were then in + Germany. The excitement and fatigue consequent upon nursing her cousin had + so broken her health that the physicians urged a trial of the baths of + Ems. There she received these letters; they released her from her + engagement and gave her absolute liberty. + </p> + <p> + Roland and his father implored her not to return in haste; explained that + their intention was to leave the country in a few weeks’ time and + establish themselves at Paris; and added that they expected no answer, and + that their resolution—impelled by simple justice to her—was + irrevocable. + </p> + <p> + Their wishes were complied with. No answer came. + </p> + <p> + Roland, his sacrifice once made, seemed calm and resigned; but he fell + into a sort of languor, which made fearful progress and hinted at a speedy + and fatal termination, for which in fact he seemed to long. One evening + they had taken him to the lime-tree terrace at the foot of the garden. He + gazed with absent eye on the tints with which the setting sun purpled the + glades of the wood, while his father paced the terrace with long + strides-smiling as he passed him and hastily brushing away a tear as he + turned his back. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Elise de Tecle appeared before them, like an angel dropped from + heaven. She knelt before the crippled youth, kissed his hand, and, + brightening him with the rays of her beautiful eyes, told him she never + had loved him half so well before. He felt she spoke truly; he accepted + her devotion, and they were married soon after. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle was happy—but she alone was so. Her husband, + notwithstanding the tenderness with which she treated him—notwithstanding + the happiness which he could not fail to read in her tranquil glance—notwithstanding + the birth of a daughter—seemed never to console himself. Even with + her he was always possessed by a cold constraint; some secret sorrow + consumed him, of which they found the key only on the day of his death. + </p> + <p> + “My darling,” he then said to his young wife—“my darling, may God + reward you for your infinite goodness! Pardon me, if I never have told you + how entirely I love you. With a face like mine, how could I speak of love + to one like you! But my poor heart has been brimming over with it all the + while. Oh, Elise! how I have suffered when I thought of what I was before—how + much more worthy of you! But we shall be reunited, dearest—shall we + not?—where I shall be as perfect as you, and where I may tell you + how much I adore you! Do not weep for me, my own Elise! I am happy now, + for the first time, for I have dared to open my heart to you. Dying men do + not fear ridicule. Farewell, Elise—darling-wife! I love you!” These + tender words were his last. + </p> + <p> + After her husband’s death, Madame de Tecle lived with her father-in-law, + but passed much of her time with her uncle. She busied herself with the + greatest solicitude in the education of her daughter, and kept house for + both the old men, by both of whom she was equally idolized. + </p> + <p> + From the lips of the priest at Reuilly, whom he called on next day, Camors + learned some of these details, while the old man practiced the violoncello + with his heavy spectacles on his nose. Despite his fixed resolution of + preserving universal scorn, Camors could not resist a vague feeling of + respect for Madame de Tecle; but it did not entirely eradicate the impure + sentiment he was disposed to dedicate to her. Fully determined to make + her, if not his victim, at least his ally, he felt that this enterprise + was one of unusual difficulty. But he was energetic, and did not object to + difficulties—especially when they took such charming shape as in the + present instance. + </p> + <p> + His meditations on this theme occupied him agreeably the rest of that + week, during which time he overlooked his workmen and conferred with his + architect. Besides, his horses, his books, his domestics, and his journals + arrived successively to dispel ennui. Therefore he looked remarkably well + when he jumped out of his dog-cart the ensuing Monday in front of M. des + Rameures’s door under the eyes of Madame de Tecle. As the latter gently + stroked with her white hand the black and smoking shoulder of the + thoroughbred Fitz-Aymon, Camors was for the first time presented to the + Comte de Tecle, a quiet, sad, and taciturn old gentleman. The cure, the + subprefect of the district and his wife, the tax-collector, the family + physician, and the tutor completed, as the journals say, the list of the + guests. + </p> + <p> + During dinner Camors, secretly excited by the immediate vicinity of Madame + de Tecle, essayed to triumph over that hostility that the presence of a + stranger invariably excites in the midst of intimacies which it disturbs. + His calm superiority asserted itself so mildly it was pardoned for its + grace. Without a gayety unbecoming his mourning, he nevertheless made such + lively sallies and such amusing jokes about his first mishaps at Reuilly + as to break up the stiffness of the party. He conversed pleasantly with + each one in turn, and, seeming to take the deepest interest in his + affairs, put him at once at his ease. + </p> + <p> + He skilfully gave M. des Rameures the opportunity for several happy + quotations; spoke naturally to him of artificial pastures, and + artificially of natural pastures; of breeding and of non-breeding cows; of + Dishley sheep—and of a hundred other matters he had that morning + crammed from an old encyclopaedia and a county almanac. + </p> + <p> + To Madame de Tecle directly he spoke little, but he did not speak one word + during the dinner that was not meant for her; and his manner to women was + so caressing, yet so chivalric, as to persuade them, even while pouring + out their wine, that he was ready to die for them. The dear charmers + thought him a good, simple fellow, while he was the exact reverse. + </p> + <p> + On leaving the table they went out of doors to enjoy the starlight + evening, and M. des Rameures—whose natural hospitality was somewhat + heightened by a goblet of his own excellent wine—said to Camors: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Count, you eat honestly, you talk admirably, you drink like a + man. On my word, I am disposed to regard you as perfection—as a + paragon of neighbors—if in addition to all the rest you add the + crowning one. Do you love music?” + </p> + <p> + “Passionately!” answered Camors, with effusion. + </p> + <p> + “Passionately? Bravo! That is the way one should love everything that is + worth loving. I am delighted, for we make here a troupe of fanatical + melomaniacs, as you will presently perceive. As for myself, I scrape + wildly on the violin, as a simple country amateur—‘Orpheus in + silvis’. Do not imagine, however, Monsieur le Comte, that we let the + worship of this sweet art absorb all our faculties—all our + time-certainly not. When you take part in our little reunions, which of + course you will do, you will find we disdain no pursuit worthy of thinking + beings. We pass from music to literature—to science—even to + philosophy; but we do this—I pray you to believe—without + pedantry and without leaving the tone of familiar converse. Sometimes we + read verses, but we never make them; we love the ancients and do not fear + the moderns: we only fear those who would lower the mind and debase the + heart. We love the past while we render justice to the present; and + flatter ourselves at not seeing many things that to you appear beautiful, + useful, and true. + </p> + <p> + “Such are we, my young friend. We call ourselves the ‘Colony of + Enthusiasts,’ but our malicious neighbors call us the ‘Hotel de + Rambouillet.’ Envy, you know, is a plant that does not flourish in the + country; but here, by way of exception, we have a few jealous people—rather + bad for them, but of no consequence to us. + </p> + <p> + “We are an odd set, with the most opposite opinions. For me, I am a + Legitimist; then there is Durocher, my physician and friend, who is a + rabid Republican; Hedouin, the tutor, is a parliamentarian; while Monsieur + our sub-prefect is a devotee to the government, as it is his duty to be. + Our cure is a little Roman—I am Gallican—‘et sic ceteris’. + Very well—we all agree wonderfully for two reasons: first, because + we are sincere, which is a very rare thing; and then because all opinions + contain at bottom some truth, and because, with some slight mutual + concessions, all really honest people come very near having the same + opinions. + </p> + <p> + “Such, my dear Count, are the views that hold in my drawing-room, or + rather in the drawing-room of my niece; for if you would see the divinity + who makes all our happiness—look at her! It is in deference to her + good taste, her good sense, and her moderation, that each of us avoids + that violence and that passion which warps the best intentions. In one + word, to speak truly, it is love that makes our common tie and our mutual + protection. We are all in love with my niece—myself first, of + course; next Durocher, for thirty years; then the subprefect and all the + rest of them. + </p> + <p> + “You, too, Cure! you know that you are in love with Elise, in all honor + and all good faith, as we all are, and as Monsieur de Camors shall soon + be, if he is not so already—eh, Monsieur le Comte?” + </p> + <p> + Camors protested, with a sinister smile, that he felt very much inclined + to fulfil the prophecy of his host; and they reentered the dining-room to + find the circle increased by the arrival of several visitors. Some of + these rode, others came on foot from the country-seats around. + </p> + <p> + M. des Rameures soon seized his violin; while he tuned it, little Marie + seated herself at the piano, and her mother, coming behind her, rested her + hand lightly on her shoulder, as if to beat the measure. + </p> + <p> + “The music will be nothing new to you,” Camors’s host said to him. “It is + simply Schubert’s Serenade, which we have arranged, or deranged, after our + own fancy; of which you shall judge. My niece sings, and the curate and I—‘Arcades + ambo’—respond successively—he on the bass-viol and I on my + Stradivarius. Come, my dear Cure, let us begin—‘incipe, Mopse, + prior.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of the masterly execution of the old gentleman and of the + delicate science of the cure, it was Madame de Tecle who appeared to + Camors the most remarkable of the three virtuosi. The calm repose of her + features, and the gentle dignity of her attitude, contrasting with the + passionate swell of her voice, he found most attractive. + </p> + <p> + In his turn he seated himself at the piano, and played a difficult + accompaniment with real taste; and having a good tenor voice, and a + thorough knowledge of its powers, he exerted them so effectually as to + produce a profound sensation. During the rest of the evening he kept much + in the background in order to observe the company, and was much astonished + thereby. The tone of this little society, as much removed from vulgar + gossip as from affected pedantry, was truly elevated. There was nothing to + remind him of a porter’s lodge, as in most provincial salons; or of the + greenroom of a theatre, as in many salons of Paris; nor yet, as he had + feared, of a lecture-room. + </p> + <p> + There were five or six women—some pretty, all well bred—who, + in adopting the habit of thinking, had not lost the habit of laughing, nor + the desire to please. But they all seemed subject to the same charm; and + that charm was sovereign. Madame de Tecle, half hidden on her sofa, and + seemingly busied with her embroidery, animated all by a glance, softened + all by a word. The glance was inspiring; the word always appropriate. Her + decision on all points they regarded as final—as that of a judge who + sentences, or of a woman who is beloved. + </p> + <p> + No verses were read that evening, and Camors was not bored. In the + intervals of the music, the conversation touched on the new comedy by + Augier; the last work of Madame Sand; the latest poem of Tennyson; or the + news from America. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mopsus,” M. des Rameures said to the cure, “you were about to + read us your sermon on superstition last Thursday, when you were + interrupted by that joker who climbed the tree in order to hear you + better. Now is the time to recompense us. Take this seat and we will all + listen to you.” + </p> + <p> + The worthy cure took the seat, unfolded his manuscript, and began his + discourse, which we shall not here report: profiting by the example of our + friend Sterne, not to mingle the sacred with the profane. + </p> + <p> + The sermon met with general approval, though some persons, M. des Rameures + among them, thought it above the comprehension of the humble class for + whom it was intended. M. de Tecle, however, backed by republican Durocher, + insisted that the intelligence of the people was underrated; that they + were frequently debased by those who pretended to speak only up to their + level—and the passages in dispute were retained. + </p> + <p> + How they passed from the sermon on superstition to the approaching + marriage of the General, I can not say; but it was only natural after all, + for the whole country, for twenty miles around, was ringing with it. This + theme excited Camors’s attention at once, especially when the sub-prefect + intimated with much reserve that the General, busied with his new + surroundings, would probably resign his office as deputy. + </p> + <p> + “But that would be embarrassing,” exclaimed Des Rameures. “Who the deuce + would replace him? I give you warning, Monsieur Prefect, if you intend + imposing on us some Parisian with a flower in his buttonhole, I shall pack + him back to his club—him, his flower, and his buttonhole! You may + set that down for a sure thing—” + </p> + <p> + “Dear uncle!” said Madame de Tecle, indicating Camors with a glance. + </p> + <p> + “I understand you, Elise,” laughingly rejoined M. des Rameures, “but I + must beg Monsieur de Camors to believe that I do not in any case intend to + offend him. I shall also beg him to tolerate the monomania of an old man, + and some freedom of language with regard to the only subject which makes + him lose his sang froid.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is that subject, Monsieur?” said Camors, with his habitual + captivating grace of manner. + </p> + <p> + “That subject, Monsieur, is the arrogant supremacy assumed by Paris over + all the rest of France. I have not put my foot in the place since 1825, in + order to testify the abhorrence with which it inspires me. You are an + educated, sensible young man, and, I trust, a good Frenchman. Very well! + Is it right, I ask, that Paris shall every morning send out to us our + ideas ready-made, and that all France shall become a mere humble, servile + faubourg to the capital? Do me the favor, I pray you, Monsieur, to answer + that?” + </p> + <p> + “There is doubtless, my dear sir,” replied Camors, “some excess in this + extreme centralization of France; but all civilized countries must have + their capitals, and a head is just as necessary to a nation as to an + individual.” + </p> + <p> + “Taking your own image, Monsieur, I shall turn it against you. Yes, + doubtless a head is as necessary to a nation as to an individual; if, + however, the head becomes monstrous and deformed, the seat of intelligence + will be turned into that of idiocy, and in place of a man of intellect, + you have a hydrocephalus. Pray give heed to what Monsieur the Sub-prefect, + may say in answer to what I shall ask him. Now, my dear Sub-prefect, be + frank. If tomorrow, the deputation of this district should become vacant, + can you find within its broad limits, or indeed within the district, a man + likely to fill all functions, good and bad?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” answered the official, “if you continue to refuse the + office, I really know of no one else fit for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall persist all my life, Monsieur, for at my age assuredly I shall + not expose myself to the buffoonery of your Parisian jesters.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well! In that event you will be obliged to take some stranger—perhaps, + even one of those Parisian jesters.” + </p> + <p> + “You have heard him, Monsieur de Camors,” said M. des Rameures, with + exultation. “This district numbers six hundred thousand souls, and yet + does not contain within it the material for one deputy. There is no other + civilized country, I submit, in which we can find a similar instance so + scandalous. For the people of France this shame is reserved exclusively, + and it is your Paris that has brought it upon us. Paris, absorbing all the + blood, life, thought, and action of the country, has left a mere + geographical skeleton in place of a nation! These are the benefits of your + centralization, since you have pronounced that word, which is quite as + barbarous as the thing itself.” + </p> + <p> + “But pardon me, uncle,” said Madame de Tecle, quietly plying her needle, + “I know nothing of these matters, but it seems to me that I have heard you + say this centralization was the work of the Revolution and of the First + Consul. Why, therefore, do you call Monsieur de Camors to account for it? + That certainly does not seem to me just.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor does it seem so to me,” said Camors, bowing to Madame de Tecle. + </p> + <p> + “Nor to me either,” rejoined M. des Rameures, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “However, Madame,” resumed Camors, “I may to some extent be held + responsible in this matter, for though, as you justly suggest, I have not + brought about this centralization, yet I confess I strongly approve the + course of those who did.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! So much the better, Monsieur. I like that. One should have his own + positive opinions, and defend them.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Camors, “I shall make an exception in your honor, for + when I dine out, and especially when I dine well, I always have the same + opinion with my host; but I respect you too highly not to dare to differ + with you. Well, then, I think the revolutionary Assembly, and subsequently + the First Consul, were happily inspired in imposing a vigorous centralized + political administration upon France. I believe, indeed, that it was + indispensable at the time, in order to mold and harden our social body in + its new form, to adjust it in its position, and fix it firmly under the + new laws—that is, to establish and maintain this powerful French + unity which has become our national peculiarity, our genius and our + strength.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak rightly, sir,” exclaimed Durocher. + </p> + <p> + “Parbleu I unquestionably you are right,” warmly rejoined M. des Rameures. + “Yes, that is quite true. The excessive centralization of which I complain + has had its hour of utility, nay, even of necessity, I will admit; but, + Monsieur, in what human institution do you pretend to implant the + absolute, the eternal? Feudalism, also, my dear sir, was a benefit and a + progress in its day, but that which was a benefit yesterday may it not + become an evil to-morrow—a danger? That which is progress to-day, + may it not one hundred years hence have become mere routine, and a + downright trammel? Is not that the history of the world? And if you wish + to know, Monsieur, by what sign we may recognize the fact that a social or + political system has attained its end, I will tell you: it is when it is + manifest only in its inconveniences and abuses. Then the machine has + finished its work, and should be replaced. Indeed, I declare that French + centralization has reached its critical term, that fatal point at which, + after protecting, it oppresses; at which, after vivifying, it paralyzes; + at which, having saved France, it crushes her.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear uncle, you are carried away by your subject,” said Madame de Tecle. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Elise, I am carried away, I admit, but I am right. Everything + justifies me—the past and the present, I am sure; and so will the + future, I fear. Did I say the past? Be assured, Monsieur de Camors, I am + not a narrow-minded admirer of the past. Though a Legitimist from personal + affections, I am a downright Liberal in principles. You know that, + Durocher? Well, then, in short, formerly between the Alps, the Rhine, and + the Pyrenees, was a great country which lived, thought, and acted, not + exclusively through its capital, but for itself. It had a head, assuredly; + but it had also a heart, muscles, nerves, and veins with blood in them, + and yet the head lost nothing by that. There was then a France, Monsieur. + The province had an existence, subordinate doubtless, but real, active, + and independent. Each government, each office, each parliamentary centre + was a living intellectual focus. The great provincial institutions and + local liberties exercised the intellect on all sides, tempered the + character, and developed men. And now note well, Durocher! If France had + been centralized formerly as to-day, your dear Revolution never would have + occurred—do you understand? Never! because there would have been no + men to make it. For may I not ask, whence came that prodigious concourse + of intelligences all fully armed, and with heroic hearts, which the great + social movement of ‘78 suddenly brought upon the scene? Please recall to + mind the most illustrious men of that era—lawyers, orators, + soldiers. How many were from Paris? All came from the provinces, the + fruitful womb of France! But to-day we have simply need of a deputy, + peaceful times; and yet, out of six hundred thousand souls, as we have + seen, we can not find one suitable man. Why is this the case, gentlemen? + Because upon the soil of uncentralized France men grew, while only + functionaries germinate in the soil of centralized France.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, Monsieur!” said the Sub-prefect, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, my dear Sub-prefect, but you, too, should understand that I + really plead your cause as well as my own, when I claim for the provinces, + and for all the functions of provincial life, more independence, dignity, + and grandeur. In the state to which these functions are reduced at + present, the administration and the judiciary are equally stripped of + power, prestige, and patronage. You smile, Monsieur, but no longer, as + formerly, are they the centres of life, of emulation, and of light, civic + schools and manly gymnasiums; they have become merely simple, passive + clockwork; and that is the case with the rest, Monsieur de Camors. Our + municipal institutions are a mere farce, our provincial assemblies only a + name, our local liberties naught! Consequently, we have not now a man for + a deputy. But why should we complain? Does not Paris undertake to live, to + think for us? Does she not deign to cast to us, as of yore the Roman + Senate cast to the suburban plebeians, our food for the day-bread and + vaudevilles—‘panem et circenses’. Yes, Monsieur, let us turn from + the past to the present—to France of to-day! A nation of forty + millions of people who await each morning from Paris the signal to know + whether it is day or night, or whether, indeed, they shall laugh or weep! + A great people, once the noblest, the cleverest in the world, repeating + the same day, at the same hour, in all the salons, and at all the + crossways in the empire, the same imbecile gabble engendered the evening + before in the mire of the boulevards. I tell you? Monsieur, it is + humiliating that all Europe, once jealous of us, should now shrug her + shoulders in our faces.—Besides, it is fatal even for Paris, which, + permit me to add, drunk with prosperity in its haughty isolation and + self-fetishism, not a little resembles the Chinese Empire-a focus of + warmed-over, corrupt, and frivolous civilization! As for the future, my + dear sir, may God preserve me from despair, since it concerns my country! + This age has already seen great things, great marvels, in fact; for I beg + you to remember I am by no means an enemy to my time. I approve the + Revolution, liberty, equality, the press, railways, and the telegraph; and + as I often say to Monsieur le Cure, every cause that would live must + accommodate itself cheerfully to the progress of its epoch, and study how + to serve itself by it. Every cause that is in antagonism with its age + commits suicide. Indeed, Monsieur, I trust this century will see one more + great event, the end of this Parisian tyranny, and the resuscitation of + provincial life; for I must repeat, my dear sir, that your centralization, + which was once an excellent remedy, is a detestable regimen! It is a + horrible instrument of oppression and tyranny, ready-made for all hands, + suitable for every despotism, and under it France stifles and wastes away. + You must agree with me yourself, Durocher; in this sense the Revolution + overshot its mark, and placed in jeopardy even its purposes; for you, who + love liberty, and do not wish it merely for yourself alone, as some of + your friends do, but for all the world, surely you can not admire + centralization, which proscribes liberty as manifestly as night obscures + the day. As for my part, gentlemen, there are two things which I love + equally—liberty and France. Well, then, as I believe in God, do I + believe that both must perish in the throes of some convulsive catastrophe + if all the life of the nation shall continue to be concentrated in the + brain, and the great reform for which I call is not made: if a vast system + of local franchise, if provincial institutions, largely independent and + conformable to the modern spirit, are not soon established to yield fresh + blood for our exhausted veins, and to fertilize our impoverished soil. + Undoubtedly the work will be difficult and complicated; it will demand a + firm resolute hand, but the hand that may accomplish it will have achieved + the most patriotic work of the century. Tell that to your sovereign, + Monsieur Sub-prefect; say to him that if he do that, there is one old + French heart that will bless him. Tell him, also, that he will encounter + much passion, much derision, much danger, peradventure; but that he will + have a commensurate recompense when he shall see France, like Lazarus, + delivered from its swathings and its shroud, rise again, sound and whole, + to salute him!” + </p> + <p> + These last words the old gentleman had pronounced with fire, emotion, and + extraordinary dignity; and the silence and respect with which he had been + listened to were prolonged after he had ceased to speak. This appeared to + embarrass him, but taking the arm of Camors he said, with a smile, “‘Semel + insanivimus omnes.’ My dear sir, every one has his madness. I trust that + mine has not offended you. Well, then, prove it to me by accompanying me + on the piano in this song of the sixteenth century.” + </p> + <p> + Camors complied with his usual good taste; and the song of the sixteenth + century terminated the evening’s entertainment; but the young Count, + before leaving, found the means of causing Madame de Tecle the most + profound astonishment. He asked her, in a low voice, and with peculiar + emphasis, whether she would be kind enough, at her leisure, to grant him + the honor of a moment’s private conversation. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle opened still wider those large eyes of hers, blushed + slightly, and replied that she would be at home the next afternoon at four + o’clock. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK 2. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. LOVE CONQUERS PHILOSOPHY + </h2> + <p> + To M. de Camors, in principle it was a matter of perfect indifference + whether France was centralized or decentralized. But his Parisian instinct + induced him to prefer the former. In spite of this preference, he would + not have scrupled to adopt the opinions of M. des Rameures, had not his + own fine tact shown him that the proud old gentleman was not to be won by + submission. + </p> + <p> + He therefore reserved for him the triumph of his gradual conversion. Be + that as it might, it was neither of centralization nor of decentralization + that the young Count proposed to speak to Madame de Tecle, when, at the + appointed hour, he presented himself before her. He found her in the + garden, which, like the house, was of an ancient, severe, and monastic + style. A terrace planted with limetrees extended on one side of the + garden. It was at this spot that Madame de Tecle was seated under a group + of lime-trees, forming a rustic bower. + </p> + <p> + She was fond of this place, because it recalled to her that evening when + her unexpected apparition had suddenly inspired with a celestial joy the + pale, disfigured face of her betrothed. + </p> + <p> + She was seated on a low chair beside a small rustic table, covered with + pieces of wool and silk; her feet rested on a stool, and she worked on a + piece of tapestry, apparently with great tranquillity. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors, an expert in all the niceties and exquisite devices of the + feminine mind, smiled to himself at this audience in the open air. He + thought he fathomed its meaning. Madame de Tecle desired to deprive this + interview of the confidential character which closed doors would have + given it. + </p> + <p> + It was the simple truth. This young woman, who was one of the noblest of + her sex, was not at all simple. She had not passed ten years of her youth, + her beauty, and her widowhood without receiving, under forms more or less + direct, dozens of declarations that had inspired her with impressions, + which, although just, were not always too flattering to the delicacy and + discretion of the opposite sex. Like all women of her age, she knew her + danger, and, unlike most of them, she did not love it. She had invariably + turned into the broad road of friendship all those she had surprised + rambling within the prohibited limits of love. The request of M. de Camors + for a private interview had seriously preoccupied her since the previous + evening. What could be the object of this mysterious interview? She + puzzled her brain to imagine, but could not divine. + </p> + <p> + It was not probable that M. de Camors, at the beginning of their + acquaintance, would feel himself entitled to declare a passion. However + vividly the famed gallantry of the young Count rose to her memory, she + thought so noted a ladykiller as he might adopt unusual methods, and might + think himself entitled to dispense with much ceremony in dealing with an + humble provincial. + </p> + <p> + Animated by these ideas, she resolved to receive him in the garden, having + remarked, during her short experience, that open air and a wide, open + space were not favorable to bold wooers. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors bowed to Madame de Tecle as an Englishman would have bowed to + his queen; then seating himself, drew his chair nearer to hers, + mischievously perhaps, and lowering his voice into a confidential tone, + said: “Madame, will you permit me to confide a secret to you, and to ask + your counsel?” + </p> + <p> + She raised her graceful head, fixed upon the Count her soft, bright gaze, + smiled vaguely, and by a slight movement of the hand intimated to him, + “You surprise me; but I will listen to you.” + </p> + <p> + “This is my first secret, Madame—I desire to become deputy for this + district.” + </p> + <p> + At this unexpected declaration, Madame de Tecle looked at him, breathed a + slight sigh of relief, and gravely awaited what he had to say. + </p> + <p> + “The General de Campvallon, Madame,” continued the young man, “has + manifested a father’s kindness to me. He intends to resign in my favor, + and has not concealed from me that the support of your uncle is + indispensable to my success as a candidate. I have therefore come here, by + the General’s advice, in the hope of obtaining this support, but the ideas + and opinions expressed yesterday by your uncle appear to me so directly + opposed to my pretensions that I feel truly discouraged. To be brief, + Madame, in my perplexity I conceived the idea—indiscreet doubtless—to + appeal to your kindness, and ask your advice—which I am determined + to follow, whatever it may be.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Monsieur! you embarrass me greatly,” said the young woman, whose + pretty face, at first clouded, brightened up immediately with a frank + smile. + </p> + <p> + “I have no special claims on your kindness—on the contrary perhaps—but + I am a human being, and you are charitable. Well, in truth, Madame, this + matter seriously concerns my fortune, my future, and my whole destiny. + This opportunity which now presents itself for me to enter public life so + young is exceptional. I should regret very much to lose it; would you + therefore be so kind as to aid me?” + </p> + <p> + “But how can I?” replied Madame de Tecle. “I never interfere in politics, + and that is precisely what you ask me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, Madame, I pray you not to oppose me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I oppose you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Madame! You have a right more than any other person to be severe. My + youth was a little dissipated. My reputation, in some respects, is not + over-good, I know, and I doubt not you may have heard so, and I can not + help fearing it has inspired you with some dislike to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, we lived a retired life here. We know nothing of what passes in + Paris. If we did, this would not prevent my assisting you, if I knew how, + for I think that serious and elevated labors could not fail happily to + change your ordinary habits.” + </p> + <p> + “It is truly a delicious thing,” thought the young Count, “to mystify so + spiritual a person.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he continued, with his quiet grace, “I join in your hopes, and + as you deign to encourage my ambition, I believe I shall succeed in + obtaining your uncle’s support. You know him well. What shall I do to + conciliate him? What course shall I adopt?—because I can not do + without his assistance. Were I to renounce that, I should be compelled to + renounce my projects.” + </p> + <p> + “It is truly difficult,” said Madame de Tecle, with a reflective air—“very + difficult!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not, Madame?” + </p> + <p> + Camors’s voice expressed such confidence and submission that Madame de + Tecle was quite touched, and even the devil himself would have been + charmed by it, had he heard it in Gehenna. + </p> + <p> + “Let me reflect on this a little,” she said, and she placed her elbows on + the table, leaned her head on her hands, her fingers, like a fan, half + shading her eyes, while sparks of fire from her rings glittered in the + sunshine, and her ivory nails shone against her smooth brow. M. de Camors + continued to regard her with the same submissive and candid air. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Monsieur,” she said at last, smiling, “I think you can do nothing + better than keep on.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, but how?” + </p> + <p> + “By persevering in the same system you have already adopted with my uncle! + Say nothing to him for the present. Beg the General also to be silent. + Wait quietly until intimacy, time, and your own good qualities have + sufficiently prepared my uncle for your nomination. My role is very + simple. I cannot, at this moment, aid you, without betraying you. My + assistance would only injure you, until a change comes in the aspect of + affairs. You must conciliate him.” + </p> + <p> + “You overpower me,” said Camors, “in taking you for my confidante in my + ambitious projects, I have committed a blunder and an impertinence, which + a slight contempt from you has mildly punished. But speaking seriously, + Madame, I thank you with all my heart. I feared to find in you a powerful + enemy, and I find in you a strong neutral, almost an ally.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! altogether an ally, however secret,” responded Madame de Tecle, + laughing. “I am glad to be useful to you; as I love General Campvallon + very much, I am happy to enter into his views. Come here, Marie?” These + last words were addressed to her daughter, who appeared on the steps of + the terrace, her cheeks scarlet, and her hair dishevelled, holding a card + in her hand. She immediately approached her mother, giving M. de Camors + one of those awkward salutations peculiar to young, growing girls. + </p> + <p> + “Will you permit me,” said Madame de Tecle, “to give to my daughter a few + orders in English, which we are translating? You are too warm—do not + run any more. Tell Rosa to prepare my bodice with the small buttons. While + I am dressing, you may say your catechism to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you written your exercise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother. How do you say ‘joli’ in English for a man?” asked the + little girl. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “That question is in my exercise, to be said of a man who is ‘beau, joli, + distingue.’” + </p> + <p> + “Handsome, nice, and charming,” replied her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, mother, this gentleman, our neighbor, is altogether handsome, + nice, and charming.” + </p> + <p> + “Silly child!” exclaimed Madame de Tecle, while the little girl rushed + down the steps. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors, who had listened to this dialogue with cool calmness, rose. + “I thank you again, Madame,” he said; “and will you now excuse me? You + will allow me, from time to time, to confide in you my political hopes and + fears?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed and retired. As he was crossing the courtyard, he found himself + face to face with Mademoiselle Marie. He gave her a most respectful bow. + “Another time, Miss Mary, be more careful. I understand English perfectly + well!” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marie remained in the same attitude, blushed up to the roots + of her hair, and cast on M. de Camors a startled look of mingled shame and + anger. + </p> + <p> + “You are not satisfied, Miss Mary,” continued Camors. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said the child, quickly, her strong voice somewhat husky. + </p> + <p> + M. Camors laughed, bowed again, and departed, leaving Mademoiselle Marie + in the midst of the court, transfixed with indignation. + </p> + <p> + A few moments later Marie threw herself into the arms of her mother, + weeping bitterly, and told her, through her tears, of her cruel mishap. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle, in using this opportunity of giving her daughter a lesson + on reserve and on convenance, avoided treating the matter too seriously + and even seemed to laugh heartily at it, although she had little + inclination to do so, and the child finished by laughing with her. + </p> + <p> + Camors, meanwhile, remained at home, congratulating himself on his + campaign, which seemed to him, not without reason, to have been a + masterpiece of stratagem. By a clever mingling of frankness and cunning he + had quickly enlisted Madame de Tecle in his interest. From that moment the + realization of his ambitious dreams seemed assured, for he was not + ignorant of the incomparable value of woman’s assistance, and knew all the + power of that secret and continued labor, of those small but cumulative + efforts, and of those subterranean movements which assimilate feminine + influence with the secret and irresistible forces of nature. Another point + gained-he had established a secret between that pretty woman and himself, + and had placed himself on a confidential footing with her. He had gained + the right to keep secret their clandestine words and private conversation, + and such a situation, cleverly managed, might aid him to pass very + agreeably the period occupied in his political canvass. + </p> + <p> + Camors on entering the house sat down to write the General, to inform him + of the opening of his operations, and admonish him to have patience. From + that day he turned his attention to following up the two persons who could + control his election. + </p> + <p> + His policy as regarded M. des Rameures was as simple as it was clever. It + has already been clearly indicated, and further details would be + unnecessary. Profiting by his growing familiarity as neighbor, he went to + school, as it were, at the model farm of the gentleman-farmer, and + submitted to him the direction of his own domain. By this quiet + compliment, enhanced by his captivating courtesy, he advanced insensibly + in the good graces of the old man. But every day, as he grew to know M. de + Rameures better, and as he felt more the strength of his character, he + began to fear that on essential points he was quite inflexible. + </p> + <p> + After some weeks of almost daily intercourse, M. des Rameures graciously + praised his young neighbor as a charming fellow, an excellent musician, an + amiable associate; but, regarding him as a possible deputy, he saw some + things which might disqualify him. Madame de Tecle feared this, and did + not hide it from M. de Camors. The young Count did not preoccupy himself + so much on this subject as might be supposed, for his second ambition had + superseded his first; in other words his fancy for Madame de Tecle had + become more ardent and more pressing than his desire for the deputyship. + We are compelled to admit, not to his credit, that he first proposed to + himself, to ensnare his charming neighbor as a simple pastime, as an + interesting adventure, and, above all, as a work of art, which was + extremely difficult and would greatly redound to his honor. Although he + had met few women of her merit, he judged her correctly. He believed + Madame de Tecle was not virtuous simply from force of habit or duty. She + had passion. She was not a prude, but was chaste. She was not a devotee, + but was pious. He discerned in her at the same time a spirit elevated, yet + not narrow; lofty and dignified sentiments, and deeply rooted principles; + virtue without rigor, pure and lambent as flame. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless he did not despair, trusting to his own principles, to the + fascinations of his manner and his previous successes. Instinctively, he + knew that the ordinary forms of gallantry would not answer with her. All + his art was to surround her with absolute respect, and to leave the rest + to time and to the growing intimacy of each day. + </p> + <p> + There was something very touching to Madame de Tecle in the reserved and + timid manner of this ‘mauvais sujet’, in her presence—the homage of + a fallen spirit, as if ashamed of being such, in presence of a spirit of + light. + </p> + <p> + Never, either in public or when tete-a-tete, was there a jest, a word, or + a look which the most sensitive virtue could fear. + </p> + <p> + This young man, ironical with all the rest of the world, was serious with + her. From the moment he turned toward her, his voice, face, and + conversation became as serious as if he had entered a church. He had a + great deal of wit, and he used and abused it beyond measure in + conversations in the presence of Madame de Tecle, as if he were making a + display of fireworks in her honor. But on coming to her this was suddenly + extinguished, and he became all submission and respect. + </p> + <p> + Not every woman who receives from a superior man such delicate flattery as + this necessarily loves him, but she does like him. In the shadow of the + perfect security in which M. de Camors had placed her, Madame de Tecle + could not but be pleased in the company of the most distinguished man she + had ever met, who had, like herself, a taste for art, music, and for high + culture. + </p> + <p> + Thus these innocent relations with a young man whose reputation was rather + equivocal could not but awaken in the heart of Madame de Tecle a + sentiment, or rather an illusion, which the most prudish could not + condemn. + </p> + <p> + Libertines offer to vulgar women an attraction which surprises, but which + springs from a reprehensible curiosity. To a woman of society they offer + another, more noble yet not less dangerous—the attraction of + reforming them. It is rare that virtuous women do not fall into the error + of believing that it is for virtue’s sake alone such men love them. These, + in brief, were the secret sympathies whose slight tendrils intertwined, + blossomed, and flowered little by little in this soul, as tender as it was + pure. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors had vaguely foreseen all this: that which he had not foreseen + was that he himself would be caught in his own snare, and would be sincere + in the role which he had so judiciously adopted. From the first, Madame de + Tecle had captivated him. Her very puritanism, united with her native + grace and worldly elegance, composed a kind of daily charm which piqued + the imagination of the cold young man. If it was a powerful temptation for + the angels to save the tempted, the tempted could not harbor with more + delight the thought of destroying the angels. They dream, like the + reckless Epicureans of the Bible, of mingling, in a new intoxication, the + earth with heaven. To these sombre instincts of depravity were soon united + in the feelings of Camors a sentiment more worthy of her. Seeing her every + day with that childlike intimacy which the country encourages—enhancing + the graceful movements of this accomplished person, ever self-possessed + and equally prepared for duty or for pleasure—as animated as + passion, yet as severe as virtue—he conceived for her a genuine + worship. It was not respect, for that requires the effort of believing in + such merits, and he did not wish to believe. He thought Madame de Tecle + was born so. He admired her as he would admire a rare plant, a beautiful + object, an exquisite work, in which nature had combined physical and moral + grace with perfect proportion and harmony. His deportment as her slave + when near her was not long a mere bit of acting. Our fair readers have + doubtless remarked an odd fact: that where a reciprocal sentiment of two + feeble human beings has reached a certain point of maturity, chance never + fails to furnish a fatal occasion which betrays the secret of the two + hearts, and suddenly launches the thunderbolt which has been gradually + gathering in the clouds. This is the crisis of all love. This occasion + presented itself to Madame de Tecle and M. de Camors in the form of an + unpoetic incident. + </p> + <p> + It occurred at the end of October. Camors had gone out after dinner to + take a ride in the neighborhood. Night had already fallen, clear and cold; + but as the Count could not see Madame de Tecle that evening, he began only + to think of being near her, and felt that unwillingness to work common to + lovers—striving, if possible, to kill time, which hung heavy on his + hands. + </p> + <p> + He hoped also that violent exercise might calm his spirit, which never had + been more profoundly agitated. Still young and unpractised in his pitiless + system, he was troubled at the thought of a victim so pure as Madame de + Tecle. To trample on the life, the repose, and the heart of such a woman, + as the horse tramples on the grass of the road, with as little care or + pity, was hard for a novice. + </p> + <p> + Strange as it may appear, the idea of marrying her had occurred to him. + Then he said to himself that this weakness was in direct contradiction to + his principles, and that she would cause him to lose forever his mastery + over himself, and throw him back into the nothingness of his past life. + Yet with the corrupt inspirations of his depraved soul he foresaw that the + moment he touched her hands with the lips of a lover a new sentiment would + spring up in her soul. As he abandoned himself to these passionate + imaginings, the recollection of young Madame Lescande came back suddenly + to his memory. He grew pale in the darkness. At this moment he was passing + the edge of a little wood belonging to the Comte de Tecle, of which a + portion had recently been cleared. It was not chance alone that had + directed the Count’s ride to this point. Madame de Tecle loved this spot, + and had frequently taken him there, and on the preceding evening, + accompanied by her daughter and her father-in-law, had visited it with + him. + </p> + <p> + The site was a peculiar one. Although not far from houses, the wood was + very wild, as if a thousand miles distant from any inhabited place. + </p> + <p> + You would have said it was a virgin forest, untouched by the axe of the + pioneer. Enormous stumps without bark, trunks of gigantic trees, covered + the declivity of the hill, and barricaded, here and there, in a + picturesque manner, the current of the brook which ran into the valley. A + little farther up the dense wood of tufted trees contributed to diffuse + that religious light half over the rocks, the brushwood and the fertile + soil, and on the limpid water, which is at once the charm and the horror + of old neglected woods. In this solitude, and on a space of cleared + ground, rose a sort of rude hut, constructed by a poor devil who was a + sabot-maker by trade, and who had been allowed to establish himself there + by the Comte de Tecle, and to use the beech-trees to gain his humble + living. This Bohemian interested Madame de Tecle, probably because, like + M. de Camors, he had a bad reputation. He lived in his cabin with a woman + who was still pretty under her rags, and with two little boys with golden + curls. + </p> + <p> + He was a stranger in the neighborhood, and the woman was said not to be + his wife. He was very taciturn, and his features seemed fine and + determined under his thick, black beard. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle amused herself seeing him make his sabots. She loved the + children, who, though dirty, were beautiful as angels; and she pitied the + woman. She had a secret project to marry her to the man, in case she had + not yet been married, which seemed probable. + </p> + <p> + Camors walked his horse slowly over the rocky and winding path on the + slope of the hillock. This was the moment when the ghost of Madame + Lescande had risen before him, and he believed he could almost hear her + weep. Suddenly this illusion gave place to a strange reality. The voice of + a woman plainly called him by name, in accents of distress—“Monsieur + de Camors!” + </p> + <p> + Stopping his horse on the instant, he felt an icy shudder pass through his + frame. The same voice rose higher and called him again. He recognized it + as the voice of Madame de Tecle. Looking around him in the obscure light + with a rapid glance, he saw a light shining through the foliage in the + direction of the cottage of the sabot-maker. Guided by this, he put spurs + to his horse, crossed the cleared ground up the hillside, and found + himself face to face with Madame de Tecle. She was standing at the + threshold of the hut, her head bare, and her beautiful hair dishevelled + under a long, black lace veil. She was giving a servant some hasty orders. + When she saw Camors approach, she came toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” she said, “but I thought I recognized you, and I called you. + I am so much distressed—so distressed! The two children of this man + are dying! What is to be done? Come in—come in, I beg of you!” + </p> + <p> + He leaped to the ground, threw the reins to his servant, and followed + Madame de Tekle into the interior of the cabin. + </p> + <p> + The two children with the golden hair were lying side by side on a little + bed, immovable, rigid, their eyes open and the pupils strangely dilated—their + faces red, and agitated by slight convulsions. They seemed to be in the + agony of death. The old doctor, Du Rocher, was leaning over them, looking + at them with a fixed, anxious, and despairing eye. The mother was on her + knees, her head clasped in her hands, and weeping bitterly. At the foot of + the bed stood the father, with his savage mien—his arms crossed, and + his eyes dry. He shuddered at intervals, and murmured, in a hoarse, hollow + voice: “Both of them! Both of them!” Then he relapsed into his mournful + attitude. M. Durocher, approached Camors quickly. “Monsieur,” said he, + “what can this be? I believe it to be poisoning, but can detect no + definite symptoms: otherwise, the parents should know—but they know + nothing! A sunstroke, perhaps; but as both were struck at the same time—and + then at this season—ah! our profession is quite useless sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + Camors made rapid inquiries. They had sought M. Durocher, who was dining + with Madame de Tecle an hour before. He had hastened, and found the + children already speechless, in a state of fearful congestion. It appeared + they had fallen into this state when first attacked, and had become + delirious. + </p> + <p> + Camors conceived an idea. He asked to see the clothes the children had + worn during the day. The mother gave them to him. He examined them with + care, and pointed out to the doctor several red stains on the poor rags. + The doctor touched his forehead, and turned over with a feverish hand the + small linen—the rough waistcoat—searched the pockets, and + found dozens of a small fruit-like cherries, half crushed. “Belladonna!” + he exclaimed. “That idea struck me several times, but how could I be sure? + You can not find it within twenty miles of this place, except in this + cursed wood—of that I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think there is yet time?” asked the young Count, in a low voice. + “The children seem to me to be very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Lost, I fear; but everything depends on the time that has passed, the + quantity they have taken, and the remedies I can procure.” + </p> + <p> + The old man consulted quickly with Madame de Tecle, who found she had not + in her country pharmacy the necessary remedies, or counter-irritants, + which the urgency of the case demanded. The doctor was obliged to content + himself with the essence of coffee, which the servant was ordered to + prepare in haste, and to send to the village for the other things needed. + </p> + <p> + “To the village!” cried Madame de Tecle. “Good heavens! it is four leagues—it + is night, and we shall have to wait probably three or four hours!” + </p> + <p> + Camors heard this: “Doctor, write your prescription,” he said: “Trilby is + at the door, and with him I can do the four leagues in an hour—in + one hour I promise to return here.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! thank you, Monsieur!” said Madame de Tecle. + </p> + <p> + He took the prescription which Dr. Durocher had rapidly traced on a leaf + of his pocketbook, mounted his horse, and departed. + </p> + <p> + The highroad was fortunately not far distant. When he reached it he rode + like the phantom horseman. + </p> + <p> + It was nine o’clock when Madame de Tecle witnessed his departure—it + was a few moments after ten when she heard the tramp of his horse at the + foot of the hill and ran to the door of the hut. The condition of the two + children seemed to have grown worse in the interval, but the old doctor + had great hopes in the remedies which Camors was to bring. She waited with + impatience, and received him like the dawn of the last hope. She contented + herself with pressing his hand, when, breathless, he descended from his + horse. But this adorable creature threw herself on Trilby, who was covered + with foam and steaming like a furnace. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Trilby,” she said, embracing him in her two arms, “dear Trilby—good + Trilby! you are half dead, are you not? But I love you well. Go quickly, + Monsieur de Camors, I will attend to Trilby”—and while the young man + entered the cabin, she confided Trilby to the charge of her servant, with + orders to take him to the stable, and a thousand minute directions to take + good care of him after his noble conduct. Dr. Durocher had to obtain the + aid of Camors to pass the new medicine through the clenched teeth of the + unfortunate children. While both were engaged in this work, Madame de + Tecle was sitting on a stool with her head resting against the cabin wall. + Durocher suddenly raised his eyes and fixed them on her. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Madame,” he said, “you are ill. You have had too much excitement, + and the odors here are insupportable. You must go home.” + </p> + <p> + “I really do not feel very well,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “You must go at once. We shall send you the news. One of your servants + will take you home.” + </p> + <p> + She raised herself, trembling; but one look from the young wife of the + sabot-maker arrested her. To this poor woman, it seemed that Providence + deserted her with Madame de Tecle. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she said with a divine sweetness; “I will not go. I shall only + breathe a little fresh air. I will remain until they are safe, I promise + you;” and she left the room smiling upon the poor woman. After a few + minutes, Durocher said to M. de Camors: + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir, I thank you—but I really have no further need of your + services; so you too may go and rest yourself, for you also are growing + pale.” + </p> + <p> + Camors, exhausted by his long ride, felt suffocated by the atmosphere of + the hut, and consented to the suggestion of the old man, saying that he + would not go far. + </p> + <p> + As he put his foot outside of the cottage, Madame de Tecle, who was + sitting before the door, quickly rose and threw over his shoulders a cloak + which they had brought for her. She then reseated herself without + speaking. + </p> + <p> + “But you can not remain here all night,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I should be too uneasy at home.” + </p> + <p> + “But the night is very cold—shall I make you a fire?” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Let us see where we can make this little fire. In the midst of this wood + it is impossible—we should have a conflagration to finish the + picture. Can you walk? + </p> + <p> + “Then take my arm, and we shall go and search for a place for our + encampment.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned lightly on his arm, and took a few steps with him toward the + forest. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think they are saved?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” he replied. “The face of Doctor Durocher is more cheerful.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how glad I am!” + </p> + <p> + Both of them stumbled over a root, and laughed like two children for + several minutes. + </p> + <p> + “We shall soon be in the woods,” said Madame de Tecle, “and I declare I + can go no farther: good or bad, I choose this spot.” + </p> + <p> + They were still quite close to the hut, but the branches of the old trees + which had been spared by the axe spread like a sombre dome over their + heads. Near by was a large rock, slightly covered with moss, and a number + of old trunks of trees, on which Madame de Tecle took her seat. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing could be better,” said Camors, gayly. “I must collect my + materials.” + </p> + <p> + A moment after he reappeared, bringing in his arms brushwood, and also a + travelling-rug which his servant had brought him. + </p> + <p> + He got on his knees in front of the rock, prepared the fagots, and lighted + them with a match. When the flame began to flicker on the rustic hearth + Madame de Tecle trembled with joy, and held out both hands to the blaze. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! how nice that is!” she said; “and then it is so amusing; one would + say we had been shipwrecked. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Monsieur, if you would be perfect go and see what Durocher reports.” + </p> + <p> + He ran to the hut. When he returned he could not avoid stopping half way + to admire the elegant and simple silhouette of the young woman, defined + sharply against the blackness of the wood, her fine countenance slightly + illuminated by the firelight. The moment she saw him: + </p> + <p> + “Well!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “A great deal of hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what happiness, Monsieur!” She pressed his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down there,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He sat down on a rock contiguous to hers, and replied to her eager + questions. He repeated, in detail, his conversation with the doctor, and + explained at length the properties of belladonna. She listened at first + with interest, but little by little, with her head wrapped in her veil and + resting on the boughs interlaced behind her, she seemed to be + uncomfortably resting from fatigue. + </p> + <p> + “You are likely to fall asleep there,” he said, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps!” she murmured—smiled, and went to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Her sleep resembled death, it was so profound, and so calm was the beating + of her heart, so light her breathing. + </p> + <p> + Camors knelt down again by the fire, to listen breathlessly and to gaze + upon her. From time to time he seemed to meditate, and the solitude was + disturbed only by the rustling of the leaves. His eyes followed the + flickering of the flame, sometimes resting on the white cheek, sometimes + on the grove, sometimes on the arches of the high trees, as if he wished + to fix in his memory all the details of this sweet scene. Then his gaze + rested again on the young woman, clothed in her beauty, grace, and + confiding repose. + </p> + <p> + What heavenly thoughts descended at that moment on this sombre soul—what + hesitation, what doubt assailed it! What images of peace, truth, virtue, + and happiness passed into that brain full of storm, and chased away the + phantoms of the sophistries he cherished! He himself knew, but never told. + </p> + <p> + The brisk crackling of the wood awakened her. She opened her eyes in + surprise, and as soon as she saw the young man kneeling before her, + addressed him: + </p> + <p> + “How are they now, Monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + He did not know how to tell her that for the last hour he had had but one + thought, and that was of her. Durocher appeared suddenly before them. + </p> + <p> + “They are saved, Madame,” said the old man, brusquely; “come quickly, + embrace them, and return home, or we shall have to treat you to-morrow. + You are very imprudent to have remained in this damp wood, and it was + absurd of Monsieur to let you do so.” + </p> + <p> + She took the arm of the old doctor, smiling, and reentered the hut. The + two children, now roused from the dangerous torpor, but who seemed still + terrified by the threatened death, raised their little round heads. She + made them a sign to keep quiet, and leaned over their pillow smiling upon + them, and imprinted two kisses on their golden curls. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, my angels,” she said. But the mother, half laughing, half + crying, followed Madame de Tecle step by step, speaking to her, and + kissing her garments. + </p> + <p> + “Let her alone,” cried the old doctor, querulously. “Go home, Madame. + Monsieur de Camors, take her home.” + </p> + <p> + She was going out, when the man, who had not before spoken, and who was + sitting in the corner of his but as if stupefied, rose suddenly, seized + the arm of Madame de Tecle, who, slightly terrified, turned round, for the + gesture of the man was so violent as to seem menacing; his eyes, hard and + dry, were fixed upon her, and he continued to press her arm with a + contracted hand. + </p> + <p> + “My friend!” she said, although rather uncertain. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your friend,” muttered the man with a hollow voice; “yes, your + friend.” + </p> + <p> + He could not continue, his mouth worked as if in a convulsion, suppressed + weeping shook his frame; he then threw himself on his knees, and they saw + a shower of tears force themselves through the hands clasped over his + face. + </p> + <p> + “Take her away, Monsieur,” said the old doctor. + </p> + <p> + Camors gently pushed her out of the but and followed her. She took his arm + and descended the rugged path which led to her home. + </p> + <p> + It was a walk of twenty minutes from the wood. Half the distance was + passed without interchanging a word. Once or twice, when the rays of the + moon pierced through the clouds, Camors thought he saw her wipe away a + tear with the end of her glove. He guided her cautiously in the darkness, + although the light step of the young woman was little slower in the + obscurity. Her springy step pressed noiselessly the fallen leaves—avoided + without assistance the ruts and marshes, as if she had been endowed with a + magical clairvoyance. When they reached a crossroad, and Camors seemed + uncertain, she indicated the way by a slight pressure of the arm. Both + were no doubt embarrassed by the long silence—it was Madame de Tecle + who first broke it. + </p> + <p> + “You have been very good this evening, Monsieur,” she said in a low and + slightly agitated voice. + </p> + <p> + “I love you so much!” said the young man. + </p> + <p> + He pronounced these simple words in such a deep impassioned tone that + Madame de Tecle trembled and stood still in the road. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Camors!” + </p> + <p> + “What, Madame?” he demanded, in a strange tone. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!—in fact-nothing!” said she, “for this is a declaration of + friendship, I suppose—and your friendship gives me much pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + He let go her arm at once, and in a hoarse and angry voice said—“I + am not your friend!” + </p> + <p> + “What are you then, Monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + Her voice was calm, but she recoiled a few steps, and leaned against one + of the trees which bordered the road. The explosion so long pent up burst + forth, and a flood of words poured from the young man’s lips with + inexpressible impetuosity. + </p> + <p> + “What I am I know not! I no longer know whether I am myself—if I am + dead or alive—if I am good or bad—whether I am dreaming or + waking. Oh, Madame, what I wish is that the day may never rise again—that + this night would never finish—that I should wish to feel always—always—in + my head, my heart, my entire being—that which I now feel, near you—of + you—for you! I should wish to be stricken with some sudden illness, + without hope, in order to be watched and wept for by you, like those + children—and to be embalmed in your tears; and to see you bowed down + in terror before me is horrible to me! By the name of your God, whom you + have made me respect, I swear you are sacred to me—the child in the + arms of its mother is not more so!” + </p> + <p> + “I have no fear,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!—have no fear!” he repeated in a tone of voice infinitely + softened and tender. “It is I who am afraid—it is I who tremble—you + see it; for since I have spoken, all is finished. I expect nothing more—I + hope for nothing—this night has no possible tomorrow. I know it. + Your husband I dare not be—your lover I should not wish to be. I ask + nothing of you—understand well! I should like to burn my heart at + your feet, as on an altar—this is all. Do you believe me? Answer! + Are you tranquil? Are you confident? Will you hear me? May I tell you what + image I carry of you in the secret recesses of my heart? Dear creature + that you are, you do not—ah, you do not know how great is your + worth; and I fear to tell you; so much am I afraid of stripping you of + your charms, or of one of your virtues. If you had been proud of yourself, + as you have a right to be, you would be less perfect, and I should love + you less. But I wish to tell you how lovable and how charming you are. You + alone do not know it. You alone do not see the soft flame of your large + eyes—the reflection of your heroic soul on your young but serene + brow. Your charm is over everything you do—your slightest gesture is + engraven on my heart. Into the most ordinary duties of every-day life you + carry a peculiar grace, like a young priestess who recites her daily + devotions. Your hand, your touch, your breath purifies everything—even + the most humble and the most wicked beings—and myself first of all! + </p> + <p> + “I am astonished at the words which I dare to pronounce, and the + sentiments which animate me, to whom you have made clear new truths. Yes, + all the rhapsodies of the poets, all the loves of the martyrs, I + comprehend in your presence. This is truth itself. I understand those who + died for their faith by the torture—because I should like to suffer + for you—because I believe in you—because I respect you—I + cherish you—I adore you!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, shivering, and half prostrating himself before her, seized the + end of her veil and kissed it. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he continued, with a kind of grave sadness, “go, Madame, I have + forgotten too long that you require repose. Pardon me—proceed. I + shall follow you at a distance, until you reach your home, to protect you—but + fear nothing from me.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle had listened, without once interrupting him even by a + sigh. Words would only excite the young man more. Probably she understood, + for the first time in her life, one of those songs of love—one of + those hymns alive with passion, which every woman wishes to hear before + she dies. Should she die because she had heard it? She remained without + speaking, as if just awakening from a dream, and said quite simply, in a + voice as soft and feeble as a sigh, “My God!” After another pause she + advanced a few steps on the road. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your arm as far as my house, Monsieur,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He obeyed her, and they continued their walk toward the house, the lights + of which they soon saw. They did not exchange a word—only as they + reached the gate, Madame de Tecle turned and made him a slight gesture + with her hand, in sign of adieu. In return, M. de Camors bowed low, and + withdrew. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE PROLOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY + </h2> + <p> + The Comte de Camors had been sincere. When true passion surprises the + human soul, it breaks down all resolves, sweeps away all logic, and + crushes all calculations. + </p> + <p> + In this lies its grandeur, and also its danger. It suddenly seizes on you, + as the ancient god inspired the priestess on her tripod—speaks + through your lips, utters words you hardly comprehend, falsifies your + thoughts, confounds your reason, and betrays your secrets. When this + sublime madness possesses you, it elevates you—it transfigures you. + It can suddenly convert a common man into a poet, a coward into a hero, an + egotist into a martyr, and Don Juan himself into an angel of purity. + </p> + <p> + With women—and it is to their honor—this metamorphosis can be + durable, but it is rarely so with men. Once transported to this stormy + sky, women frankly accept it as their proper home, and the vicinity of the + thunder does not disquiet them. + </p> + <p> + Passion is their element—they feel at home there. There are few + women worthy of the name who are not ready to put in action all the words + which passion has caused to bubble from their lips. If they speak of + flight, they are ready for exile. If they talk of dying, they are ready + for death. Men are far less consistent with their ideas. + </p> + <p> + It was not until late the next morning that Camors regretted his outbreak + of sincerity; for, during the remainder of the night, still filled with + his excitement, agitated and shaken by the passage of the god, sunk into a + confused and feverish reverie, he was incapable of reflection. But when, + on awakening, he surveyed the situation calmly and by the plain light of + day, and thought over the preceding evening and its events, he could not + fail to recognize the fact that he had been cruelly duped by his own + nervous system. To love Madame de Tecle was perfectly proper, and he loved + her still—for she was a person to be loved and desired—but to + elevate that love or any other as the master of his life, instead of its + plaything, was one of those weaknesses interdicted by his system more than + any other. In fact, he felt that he had spoken and acted like a school-boy + on a holiday. He had uttered words, made promises, and taken engagements + on himself which no one demanded of him. No conduct could have been more + ridiculous. Happily, nothing was lost. He had yet time to give his love + that subordinate place which this sort of fantasy should occupy in the + life of man. He had been imprudent; but this very imprudence might finally + prove of service to him. All that remained of this scene was a declaration—gracefully + made, spontaneous, natural—which subjected Madame de Tecle to the + double charm of a mystic idolatry which pleased her sex, and to a manly + ardor which could not displease her. + </p> + <p> + He had, therefore, nothing to regret—although he certainly would + have preferred, from the point of view of his principles, to have + displayed a somewhat less childish weakness. + </p> + <p> + But what course should he now adopt? Nothing could be more simple. He + would go to Madame de Tecle—implore her forgiveness—throw + himself again at her feet, promising eternal respect, and succeed. + Consequently, about ten o’clock, M. de Camors wrote the following note: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MADAME + + “I can not leave without bidding you adieu, and once more demanding + your forgiveness. + + “Will you permit me? + + “CAMORS.” + </pre> + <p> + This letter he was about despatching, when he received one containing the + following words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I shall be happy, Monsieur, if you will call upon me to-day, about + four o’clock. + + “ELISE DE TECLE.” + </pre> + <p> + Upon which M. de Camors threw his own note in the fire, as entirely + superfluous. + </p> + <p> + No matter what interpretation he put upon this note, it was an evident + sign that love had triumphed and that virtue was defeated; for, after what + had passed the previous evening between Madame de Tecle and himself, there + was only one course for a virtuous woman to take; and that was never to + see him again. To see him was to pardon him; to pardon him was to + surrender herself to him, with or without circumlocution. Camors did not + allow himself to deplore any further an adventure which had so suddenly + lost its gravity. He soliloquized on the weakness of women. He thought it + bad taste in Madame de Tecle not to have maintained longer the high ideal + his innocence had created for her. Anticipating the disenchantment which + follows possession, he already saw her deprived of all her prestige, and + ticketed in the museum of his amorous souvenirs. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, when he approached her house, and had the feeling of her + near presence, he was troubled. Doubt—and anxiety assailed him. When + he saw through the trees the window of her room, his heart throbbed so + violently that he had to sit down on the root of a tree for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I love her like a madman!” he murmured; then leaping up suddenly he + exclaimed, “But she is only a woman, after all—I shall go on!” + </p> + <p> + For the first time Madame de Tecle received him in her own apartment. This + room M. de Camors had never seen. It was a large and lofty apartment, + draped and furnished in sombre tints. + </p> + <p> + It contained gilded mirrors, bronzes, engravings, and old family jewelry + lying on tables—the whole presenting the appearance of the + ornamentation of a church. + </p> + <p> + In this severe and almost religious interior, however rich, reigned a + vague odor of flowers; and there were also to be seen boxes of lace, + drawers of perfumed linen, and that dainty atmosphere which ever + accompanies refined women. + </p> + <p> + But every one has her personal individuality, and forms her own atmosphere + which fascinates her lover. Madame de Tecle, finding herself almost lost + in this very large room, had so arranged some pieces of furniture as to + make herself a little private nook near the chimneypiece, which her + daughter called, “My mother’s chapel.” It was there Camors now perceived + her, by the soft light of a lamp, sitting in an armchair, and, contrary to + her custom, having no work in her hands. She appeared calm, though two + dark circles surrounded her eyes. She had evidently suffered much, and + wept much. + </p> + <p> + On seeing that dear face, worn and haggard with grief, Camors forgot the + neat phrases he had prepared for his entrance. He forgot all except that + he really adored her. + </p> + <p> + He advanced hastily toward her, seized in his two hands those of the young + woman and, without speaking, interrogated her eyes with tenderness and + profound pity. + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing,” she said, withdrawing her hand and bending her pale face + gently; “I am better; I may even be very happy, if you wish it.” + </p> + <p> + There was in the smile, the look, and the accent of Madame de Tecle + something indefinable, which froze the blood of Camors. + </p> + <p> + He felt confusedly that she loved him, and yet was lost to him; that he + had before him a species of being he did not understand, and that this + woman, saddened, broken, and lost by love, yet loved something else in + this world better even than that love. + </p> + <p> + She made him a slight sign, which he obeyed like a child, and he sat down + beside her. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said to him, in a voice tremulous at first, but which grew + stronger as she proceeded, “I heard you last night perhaps with a little + too much patience. I shall now, in return, ask from you the same kindness. + You have told me that you love me, Monsieur; and I avow frankly that I + entertain a lively affection for you. Such being the case, we must either + separate forever, or unite ourselves by the only tie worthy of us both. To + part:—that will afflict me much, and I also believe it would + occasion much grief to you. To unite ourselves:—for my own part, + Monsieur, I should be willing to give you my life; but I can not do it, I + can not wed you without manifest folly. You are younger than I; and as + good and generous as I believe you to be, simple reason tells me that by + so doing I should bring bitter repentance on myself. But there is yet + another reason. I do not belong to myself, I belong to my daughter, to my + family, to my past. In giving up my name for yours I should wound, I + should cruelly afflict, all the friends who surround me, and, I believe, + some who exist no longer. Well, Monsieur,” she continued, with a smile of + celestial grace and resignation, “I have discovered a way by which we yet + can avoid breaking off an intimacy so sweet to both of us—in fact, + to make it closer and more dear. My proposal may surprise you, but have + the kindness to think over it, and do not say no, at once.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at him, and was terrified at the pallor which overspread his + face. She gently took his hand, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Have patience!” + </p> + <p> + “Speak on!” he muttered, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she continued, with her smile of angelic charity, “God be + praised, you are quite young; in our society men situated as you are do + not marry early, and I think they are right. Well, then, this is what I + wish to do, if you will allow me to tell you. I wish to blend in one + affection the two strongest sentiments of my heart! I wish to concentrate + all my care, all my tenderness, all my joy on forming a wife worthy of you—a + young soul who will make you happy, a cultivated intellect of which you + can be proud. I will promise you, Monsieur, I will swear to you, to + consecrate to you this sweet duty, and to consecrate to it all that is + best in myself. I shall devote to it all my time, every instant of my + life, as to the holy work of a saint. I swear to you that I shall be very + happy if you will only tell me that you will consent to this.” + </p> + <p> + His answer was an impatient exclamation of irony and anger: then he spoke: + </p> + <p> + “You will pardon me, Madame,” he said, “if so sudden a change in my + sentiments can not be as prompt as you wish.” + </p> + <p> + She blushed slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, with a faint smile; “I can understand that the idea of my + being your mother-in-law may seem strange to you; but in some years, even + in a very few years’ time, I shall be an old woman, and then it will seem + to you very natural.” + </p> + <p> + To consummate her mournful sacrifice, the poor woman did not shrink from + covering herself, even in the presence of the man she loved, with the + mantle of old age. + </p> + <p> + The soul of Camors was perverted, but not base, and it was suddenly + touched at this simple heroism. He rendered it the greatest homage he + could pay, for his eyes suddenly filled with tears. She observed it, for + she watched with an anxious eye the slightest impression she produced upon + him. So she continued more cheerfully: + </p> + <p> + “And see, Monsieur, how this will settle everything. In this way we can + continue to see each other without danger, because your little affianced + wife will be always between us. Our sentiments will soon be in harmony + with our new thoughts. Even your future prospects, which are now also + mine, will encounter fewer obstacles, because I shall push them more + openly, without revealing to my uncle what ought to remain a secret + between us two. I can let him suspect my hopes, and that will enlist him + in your service. Above all, I repeat to you that this will insure my + happiness. Will you thus accept my maternal affection?” + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors, by a powerful effort of will, had recovered his + self-control. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Madame,” he said, with a faint smile, “but I should wish at + least to preserve honor. What do you ask of me? Do you yourself fully + comprehend? Have you reflected well on this? Can either of us contract, + without imprudence, an engagement of so delicate a nature for so long a + time?” + </p> + <p> + “I demand no engagement of you,” she replied, “for I feel that would be + unreasonable. I only pledge myself as far as I can, without compromising + the future fate of my daughter. I shall educate her for you. I shall, in + my secret heart, destine her for you, and it is in this light I shall + think of you for the future. Grant me this. Accept it like an honest man, + and remain single. This is probably a folly, but I risk my repose upon it. + I will run all the risk, because I shall have all the joy. I have already + had a thousand thoughts on this subject, which I can not yet tell you, but + which I shall confess to God this night. I believe—I am convinced + that my daughter, when I have done all that I can for her, will make an + excellent wife for you. She will benefit you, and be an honor to you, and + will, I hope, one day thank me with all her heart; for I perceive already + what she wishes, and what she loves. You can not know, you can not even + suspect—but I—I know it. There is already a woman in that + child, and a very charming woman—much more charming than her mother, + Monsieur, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle stopped suddenly, the door opened, and Mademoiselle Marie + entered the room brusquely, holding in each hand a gigantic doll. + </p> + <p> + M. Camors rose, bowed gravely to her, and bit his lip to avoid smiling, + which did not altogether escape Madame de Tecle. + </p> + <p> + “Marie!” she cried out, “really you are absurd with your dolls!” + </p> + <p> + “My dolls! I adore them!” replied Mademoiselle Marie. + </p> + <p> + “You are absurd! Go away with your dolls,” said her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Not without embracing you,” said the child. + </p> + <p> + She laid her dolls on the carpet, sprang on her mother’s neck, and kissed + her on both cheeks passionately, after which she took up her dolls, saying + to them: + </p> + <p> + “Come, my little dears!” and left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” said Madame de Tecle, laughing, “this is an unfortunate + incident; but I still insist, and I implore you to take my word. She will + have sense, courage, and goodness. Now,” she continued in a more serious + tone, “take time to think over it, and return to give me your decision, + should it be favorable. If not, we must bid each other adieu.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Camors, rising and standing before her, “I will promise + never to address a word to you which a son might not utter to his mother. + Is it not this which you demand?” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle fixed upon him for an instant her beautiful eyes, full of + joy and gratitude, then suddenly covered her face with her two hands. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you!” she murmured, “I am very happy!” She extended her hand, wet + with her tears, which he took and pressed to his lips, bowed low, and left + the room. + </p> + <p> + If there ever was a moment in his fatal career when the young man was + really worthy of admiration, it was this. His love for Madame de Tecle, + however unworthy of her it might be, was nevertheless great. It was the + only true passion he had ever felt. At the moment when he saw this love, + the triumph of which he thought certain, escape him forever, he was not + only wounded in his pride but was crushed in his heart. + </p> + <p> + Yet he took the stroke like a gentleman. His agony was well borne. His + first bitter words, checked at once, alone betrayed what he suffered. + </p> + <p> + He was as pitiless for his own sorrows as he sought to be for those of + others. He indulged in none of the common injustice habitual to discarded + lovers. + </p> + <p> + He recognized the decision of Madame de Tecle as true and final, and was + not tempted for a moment to mistake it for one of those equivocal + arrangements by which women sometimes deceive themselves, and of which men + always take advantage. He realized that the refuge she had sought was + inviolable. He neither argued nor protested against her resolve. He + submitted to it, and nobly kissed the noble hand which smote him. As to + the miracle of courage, chastity, and faith by which Madame de Tecle had + transformed and purified her love, he cared not to dwell upon it. This + example, which opened to his view a divine soul, naked, so to speak, + destroyed his theories. One word which escaped him, while passing to his + own house, proved the judgment which he passed upon it, from his own point + of view. “Very childish,” he muttered, “but sublime!” + </p> + <p> + On returning home Camors found a letter from General Campvallon, notifying + him that his marriage with Mademoiselle d’Estrelles would take place in a + few days, and inviting him to be present. The marriage was to be strictly + private, with only the family to assist at it. + </p> + <p> + Camors did not regret this invitation, as it gave him the excuse for some + diversion in his thoughts, of which he felt the need. He was greatly + tempted to go away at once to diminish his sufferings, but conquered this + weakness. The next evening he passed at the chateau of M. des Rameures; + and though his heart was bleeding, he piqued himself on presenting an + unclouded brow and an inscrutable smile to Madame de Tecle. He announced + the brief absence he intended, and explained the reason. + </p> + <p> + “You will present my best wishes to the General,” said M. des Rameures. “I + hope he may be happy, but I confess I doubt it devilishly.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall bear your good wishes to the General, Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce you will! ‘Exceptis excipiendis’, I hope,” responded the old + gentleman, laughing. + </p> + <p> + As for Madame de Tecle, to tell of all the tender attentions and exquisite + delicacies, that a sweet womanly nature knows so well how to apply to heal + the wounds it has inflicted—how graciously she glided into her + maternal relation with Camors—to tell all this would require a pen + wielded by her own soft hands. + </p> + <p> + Two days later M. de Camors left Reuilly for Paris. The morning after his + arrival, he repaired at an early hour to the General’s house, a + magnificent hotel in the Rue Vanneau. The marriage contract was to be + signed that evening, and the civil and religious ceremonies were to take + place next morning. + </p> + <p> + Camors found the General in a state of extraordinary agitation, pacing up + and down the three salons which formed the ground floor of the hotel. The + moment he perceived the young man entering—“Ah, it is you!” he + cried, darting a ferocious glance upon him. “By my faith, your arrival is + fortunate.” + </p> + <p> + “But, General!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what! Why do you not embrace me?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, General!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well! It is for to-morrow, you know!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, General.” + </p> + <p> + “Sacrebleu! You are very cool! Have you seen her?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, General. I have just arrived.” + </p> + <p> + “You must go and see her this morning. You owe her this mark of interest; + and if you discover anything, you must tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “But what should I discover, General?” + </p> + <p> + “How do I know? But you understand women much better than I! Does she love + me, or does she not love me? You understand, I make no pretensions of + turning her head, but still I do not wish to be an object of repulsion to + her. Nothing has given me reason to suppose so, but the girl is so + reserved, so impenetrable.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle d’Estrelles is naturally cold,” said Camors. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” responded the General. “Yes, and in some respects I—but + really now, should you discover anything, I rely on your communicating it + to me. And stop!—when you have seen her, have the kindness to return + here, for a few moments—will you? You will greatly oblige me!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, General, I shall do so.” + </p> + <p> + “For my part, I love her like a fool.” + </p> + <p> + “That is only right, General!” + </p> + <p> + “Hum—and what of Des Rameures?” + </p> + <p> + “I think we shall agree, General!” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! we shall talk more of this later. Go and see her, my dear child!” + </p> + <p> + Camors proceeded to the Rue St. Dominique, where Madame de la Roche-Jugan + resided. + </p> + <p> + “Is my aunt in, Joseph?” he inquired of the servant whom he found in the + antechamber, very busy in the preparations which the occasion demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur le Comte, Madame la Comtesse is in and will see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Camors; and directed his steps toward his aunt’s + chamber. But this chamber was no longer hers. This worthy woman had + insisted on giving it up to Mademoiselle Charlotte, for whom she + manifested, since she had become the betrothed of the seven hundred + thousand francs’ income of the General, the most humble deference. + Mademoiselle d’Estrelles had accepted this change with a disdainful + indifference. Camors, who was ignorant of this change, knocked therefore + most innocently at the door. Obtaining no answer, he entered without + hesitation, lifted the curtain which hung in the doorway, and was + immediately arrested by a strange spectacle. At the other extremity of the + room, facing him, was a large mirror, before which stood Mademoiselle + d’Estrelles. Her back was turned to him. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed, or rather draped, in a sort of dressing-gown of white + cashmere, without sleeves, which left her arms and shoulders bare. Her + auburn hair was unbound and floating, and fell in heavy masses almost to + her feet. One hand rested lightly on the toilet-table, the other held + together, over her bust, the folds of her dressing-gown. + </p> + <p> + She was gazing at herself in the glass, and weeping bitterly. + </p> + <p> + The tears fell drop by drop on her white, fresh bosom, and glittered there + like the drops of dew which one sees shining in the morning on the + shoulders of the marble nymphs in the gardens. + </p> + <p> + Then Camors noiselessly dropped the portiere and noiselessly retired, + taking with him, nevertheless, an eternal souvenir of this stolen visit. + He made inquiries; and finally received the embraces of his aunt, who had + taken refuge in the chamber of her son, whom she had put in the little + chamber formerly occupied by Mademoiselle d’Estrelles. His aunt, after the + first greetings, introduced her nephew into the salon, where were + displayed all the pomps of the trousseau. Cashmeres, laces, velvets, silks + of the finest quality, covered the chairs. On the chimneypiece, the + tables, and the consoles, were strewn the jewel-cases. + </p> + <p> + While Madame de la Roche-Jugan was exhibiting to Camors these magnificent + things—of which she failed not to give him the prices—Charlotte, + who had been notified of the Count’s presence, entered the salon. + </p> + <p> + Her face was not only serene—it was joyous. “Good morning, cousin!” + she said gayly, extending her hand to Camors. “How very kind of you to + come! Well, you see how the General spoils me?” + </p> + <p> + “This is the trousseau of a princess, Mademoiselle!” + </p> + <p> + “And if you knew, Louis,” said Madame de la Roche, “how well all this + suits her! Dear child! you would suppose she had been born to a throne. + However, you know she is descended from the kings of Spain.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear aunt!” said Mademoiselle, kissing her on the forehead. + </p> + <p> + “You know, Louis, that I wish her to call me aunt now?” said the Countess, + affecting the plaintive tone, which she thought the highest expression of + human tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, indeed!” said Camors. + </p> + <p> + “Let us see, little one! Only try on your coronet before your cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to see it on your brow,” said Camors. + </p> + <p> + “Your slightest wishes are commands,” replied Charlotte, in a voice + harmonious and grave, but not untouched with irony. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of the jewelry which encumbered the salon was a full + marquise’s coronet set in precious stones and pearls. The young girl + adjusted it on her head before the glass, and then stood near Camors with + majestic composure. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” she said; and he gazed at her bewildered, for she looked + wonderfully beautiful and proud under her coronet. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she darted a glance full into the eyes of the young man, and + lowering her voice to a tone of inexpressible bitterness, said: + </p> + <p> + “At least I sell myself dearly, do I not?” Then turning her back to him + she laughed, and took off her coronet. + </p> + <p> + After some further conversation Camors left, saying to himself that this + adorable person promised to become very dangerous; but not admitting that + he might profit by it. + </p> + <p> + In conformity with his promise he returned immediately to the General, who + continued to pace the three rooms, and cried out as he saw him: + </p> + <p> + “Eh, well?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well indeed, General, perfect—everything goes well.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “And she said to you—” + </p> + <p> + “Not much; but she seemed enchanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Seriously, you did not remark anything strange?” + </p> + <p> + “I remarked she was very lovely!” + </p> + <p> + “Parbleu! and you think she loves me a little?” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly, after her way—as much as she can love, for she has + naturally a very cold disposition.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! as to that I console myself. All that I demand is not to be + disagreeable to her. Is it not so? Very well, you give me great pleasure. + Now, go where you please, my dear boy, until this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Adieu until this evening, General!” + </p> + <p> + The signing of the contract was marked by no special incident; only when + the notary, with a low, modest voice read the clause by which the General + made Mademoiselle d’Estrelles heiress to all his fortune, Camors was + amused to remark the superb indifference of Mademoiselle Charlotte, the + smiling exasperation of Mesdames Bacquiere and Van-Cuyp, and the amorous + regard which Madame de la Roche-Jugan threw at the same time on Charlotte, + her son, and the notary. Then the eye of the Countess rested with a lively + interest on the General, and seemed to say that it detected with pleasure + in him an unhealthy appearance. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, on leaving the Church of St. Thomas daikon, the young + Marquise only exchanged her wedding-gown for a travelling-costume, and + departed with her husband for Campvallon, bathed in the tears of Madame de + la Roche-Jugan, whose lacrimal glands were remarkably tender. + </p> + <p> + Eight days later M. de Camors returned to Reuilly. Paris had revived him, + his nerves were strong again. + </p> + <p> + As a practical man he took a more healthy view of his adventure with + Madame de Tecle, and began to congratulate himself on its denouement. Had + things taken a different turn, his future destiny would have been + compromised and deranged for him. His political future especially would + have been lost, or indefinitely postponed, for his liaison with Madame de + Tecle would have been discovered some day, and would have forever + alienated the friendly feelings of M. des Rameures. + </p> + <p> + On this point he did not deceive himself. Madame de Tecle, in the first + conversation she had with him, confided to him that her uncle seemed much + pleased when she laughingly let him see her idea of marrying her daughter + some day to M. de Camors. + </p> + <p> + Camors seized this occasion to remind Madame de Tecle, that while + respecting her projects for the future, which she did him the honor to + form, he had not pledged himself to their realization; and that both + reason and honor compelled him in this matter to preserve his absolute + independence. + </p> + <p> + She assented to this with her habitual sweetness. From this moment, + without ceasing to exhibit toward him every mark of affectionate + preference, she never allowed herself the slightest allusion to the dear + dream she cherished. Only her tenderness for her daughter seemed to + increase, and she devoted herself to the care of her education with + redoubled fervor. All this would have touched the heart of M. de Camors, + if the heart of M. de Camors had not lost, in its last effort at virtue, + the last trace of humanity. + </p> + <p> + His honor set at rest by his frank avowals to Madame de Tecle, he did not + hesitate to profit by the advantages of the situation. He allowed her to + serve him as much as she desired, and she desired it passionately. Little + by little she had persuaded her uncle that M. de Camors was destined by + his character and talents for a great future, and that he would, one day, + be an excellent match for Marie; that he was becoming daily more attached + to agriculture, which turned toward decentralization, and that he should + be attached by firmer bonds to a province which he would honor. While this + was going on General Campvallon brought the Marquise to present her to + Madame de Tecle; and in a confidential interview with M. des Rameures + unmasked his batteries. He was going to Italy to remain some time, but + desired first to tender his resignation, and to recommend Camors to his + faithful electors. + </p> + <p> + M. des Rameures, gained over beforehand, promised his aid; and that aid + was equivalent to success. Camors had only to make some personal visits to + the more influential electors; but his appearance was as seductive as it + was striking, and he was one of those fortunate men who can win a heart or + a vote by a smile. Finally, to comply with the requisitions, he + established himself for several weeks in the chief town of the department. + He made his court to the wife of the prefect, sufficiently to flatter the + functionary without disquieting the husband. The prefect informed the + minister that the claims of the Comte de Camors were pressed upon the + department by an irresistible influence; that the politics of the young + Count appeared undecided and a little suspicious, but that the + administration, finding it useless to oppose, thought it more politic to + sustain him. + </p> + <p> + The minister, not less politic than the prefect, was of the same opinion. + </p> + <p> + In consequence of this combination of circumstances, M. de Camors, toward + the end of his twenty-eighth year, was elected, at intervals of a few + days, member of the Council-General, and deputy to the Corps Legislatif. + </p> + <p> + “You have desired it, my dear Elise,” said M. des Rameures, on learning + this double result “you have desired it, and I have supported this young + Parisian with all my influence. But I must say, he does not possess my + confidence. May we never regret our triumph. May we never have to say with + the poet: ‘Vita Dais oxidated Malians.’”—[The evil gods have heard + our vows.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. NEW MAN OF THE NEW EMPIRE + </h2> + <p> + It was now five years since the electors of Reuilly had sent the Comte de + Camors to the Corps Legislatif, and they had seen no cause to regret their + choice. He understood marvellously well their little local interests, and + neglected no occasion of forwarding them. Furthermore, if any of his + constituents, passing through Paris, presented themselves at his small + hotel on the Rue de l’Imperatrice—it had been built by an architect + named Lescande, as a compliment from the deputy to his old friend—they + were received with a winning affability that sent them back to the + province with softened hearts. M. de Camors would condescend to inquire + whether their wives or their daughters had borne them company; he would + place at their disposal tickets for the theatres and passes into the + Legislative Chamber; and would show them his pictures and his stables. He + also trotted out his horses in the court under their eyes. They found him + much improved in personal appearance, and even reported affectionately + that his face was fuller and had lost the melancholy cast it used to wear. + His manner, once reserved, was now warmer, without any loss of dignity; + his expression, once morose, was now marked by a serenity at once pleasing + and grave. His politeness was almost a royal grace; for he showed to women—young + or old, rich or poor, virtuous or otherwise—the famous suavity of + Louis the Fourteenth. + </p> + <p> + To his equals, as to his inferiors, his urbanity was perfection; for he + cultivated in the depths of his soul—for women, for his inferiors, + for his equals, and for his constituents—the same contempt. + </p> + <p> + He loved, esteemed, and respected only himself; but that self he loved, + esteemed, and respected as a god! In fact, he had now, realized as + completely as possible, in his own person, that almost superhuman ideal he + had conceived in the most critical hour of his life. + </p> + <p> + When he surveyed himself from head to foot in the mental mirror before + him, he was content! He was truly that which he wished to be. The + programme of his life, as he had laid it down, was faithfully carried out. + </p> + <p> + By a powerful effort of his mighty will, he succeeded in himself adopting, + rather than disdaining in others, all those animal instincts that govern + the vulgar. These he believed fetters which bound the feeble, but which + the strong could use. He applied himself ceaselessly to the development + and perfection of his rare physical and intellectual gifts, only that he + might, during the short passage from the cradle to the tomb, extract from + them the greatest amount of pleasure. Fully convinced that a thorough + knowledge of the world, delicacy of taste and elegance, refinement and the + point of honor constituted a sort of moral whole which formed the true + gentleman, he strove to adorn his person with the graver as well as the + lighter graces. He was like a conscientious artist, who would leave no + smallest detail incomplete. The result of his labor was so satisfactory, + that M. de Camors, at the moment we rejoin him, was not perhaps one of the + best men in the world, but he was beyond doubt one of the happiest and + most amiable. Like all men who have determined to cultivate ability rather + than scrupulousness, he saw all things developing to his satisfaction. + Confident of his future, he discounted it boldly, and lived as if very + opulent. His rapid elevation was explained by his unfailing audacity, by + his cool judgment and neat finesse, by his great connection and by his + moral independence. He had a hard theory, which he continually expounded + with all imaginable grace: “Humanity,” he would say, “is composed of + speculators!” + </p> + <p> + Thoroughly imbued with this axiom, he had taken his degree in the grand + lodge of financiers. There he at once made himself an authority by his + manner and address; and he knew well how to use his name, his political + influence, and his reputation for integrity. Employing all these, yet + never compromising one of them, he influenced men by their virtues, or + their vices, with equal indifference. He was incapable of meanness; he + never wilfully entrapped a friend, or even an enemy, into a disastrous + speculation; only, if the venture proved unsuccessful, he happened to get + out and leave the others in it. But in financial speculations, as in + battles, there must be what is called “food for powder;” and if one be too + solicitous about this worthless pabulum, nothing great can be + accomplished. So Camors passed as one of the most scrupulous of this + goodly company; and his word was as potential in the region of “the + rings,” as it was in the more elevated sphere of the clubs and of the + turf. + </p> + <p> + Nor was he less esteemed in the Corps Legislatif, where he assumed the + curious role of a working member until committees fought for him. It + surprised his colleagues to see this elegant young man, with such fine + abilities, so modest and so laborious—to see him ready on the dryest + subjects and with the most tedious reports. Ponderous laws of local + interest neither frightened nor mystified him. He seldom spoke in the + public debates, except as a reporter; but in the committee he spoke often, + and there his manner was noted for its grave precision, tinged with irony. + No one doubted that he was one of the statesmen of the future; but it + could be seen he was biding his time. + </p> + <p> + The exact shade of his politics was entirely unknown. He sat in the + “centre left;” polite to every one, but reserved with all. Persuaded, like + his father, that the rising generation was preparing, after a time, to + pass from theories to revolution—and calculating with pleasure that + the development of this periodical catastrophe would probably coincide + with his fortieth year, and open to his blase maturity a source of new + emotions—he determined to wait and mold his political opinions + according to circumstances. + </p> + <p> + His life, nevertheless, had sufficient of the agreeable to permit him to + wait the hour of ambition. Men respected, feared, and envied him. Women + adored him. + </p> + <p> + His presence, of which he was not prodigal, adorned an entertainment: his + intrigues could not be gossiped about, being at the same time choice, + numerous, and most discreetly conducted. + </p> + <p> + Passions purely animal never endure long, and his were most ephemeral; but + he thought it due to himself to pay the last honors to his victims, and to + inter them delicately under the flowers of his friendship. He had in this + way made many friends among the Parisian women—a few only of whom + detested him. As for the husbands—they were universally fond of him. + </p> + <p> + To these elegant pleasures he sometimes added a furious debauch, when his + imagination was for the moment maddened by champagne. But low company + disgusted him, and he shunned it; he was not a man for frequent orgies, + and economized his health, his energies, and his strength. His tastes were + as thoroughly elevated as could be those of a being who strove to repress + his soul. Refined intrigues, luxury in music, paintings, books, and horses—these + constituted all the joy of his soul, of his sense, and of his pride. He + hovered over the flowers of Parisian elegance; as a bee in the bosom of a + rose, he drank in its essence and revelled in its beauty. + </p> + <p> + It is easy to understand that M. de Camors, relishing this prosperity, + attached himself more and more to the moral and religious creed that + assured it to him; that he became each day more and more confirmed in the + belief that the testament of his father and his own reflection had + revealed to him the true evangel of men superior to their species. He was + less and less tempted to violate the rules of the game of life; but among + all the useless cards, to hold which might disturb his system, the first + he discarded was the thought of marriage. He pitied himself too tenderly + at the idea of losing the liberty of which he made such agreeable use; at + the idea of taking on himself gratuitously the restraints, the tedium, the + ridicule, and even the danger of a household. He shuddered at the bare + thought of a community of goods and interest; and of possible paternity. + </p> + <p> + With such views he was therefore but little disposed to encourage the + natural hopes in which Madame de Tecle had entombed her love. He + determined so to conduct himself toward her as to leave no ground for the + growth of her illusion. He ceased to visit Reuilly, remaining there but + two or three weeks in each year, as such time as the session of the + Council-General summoned him to the province. + </p> + <p> + It is true that during these rare visits Camors piqued himself on + rendering Madame de Tecle and M. des Rameures all the duties of respectful + gratitude. Yet avoiding all allusion to the past, guarding himself + scrupulously from confidential converse, and observing a frigid politeness + to Mademoiselle Marie, there remained doubt in his mind that, the + fickleness of the fair sex aiding him, the young mother of the girl would + renounce her chimerical project. His error was great: and it may be here + remarked that a hard and scornful scepticism may in this world engender as + many false judgments and erroneous calculations as candor or even + inexperience can. He believed too much in what had been written of female + fickleness; in deceived lovers, who truly deserved to be such; and in what + disappointed men had judged of them. + </p> + <p> + The truth is, women are generally remarkable for the tenacity of their + ideas and for fidelity to their sentiments. Inconstancy of heart is the + special attribute of man; but he deems it his privilege as well, and when + woman disputes the palm with him on this ground, he cries aloud as if the + victim of a robber. + </p> + <p> + Rest assured this theory is no paradox; as proven by the prodigies of + patient devotion—tenacious, inviolable—every day displayed by + women of the lower classes, whose natures, if gross, retain their + primitive sincerity. Even with women of the world, depraved though they be + by the temptations that assail them, nature asserts herself; and it is no + rarity to see them devote an entire life to one idea, one thought, or one + affection! Their lives do not know the thousand distractions which at once + disturb and console men; and any idea that takes hold upon them easily + becomes fixed. They dwell upon it in the crowd and in solitude; when they + read and while they sew; in their dreams and in their prayers. In it they + live—for it they die. + </p> + <p> + It was thus that Madame de Tecle had dwelt year after year on the project + of this alliance with unalterable fervor, and had blended the two pure + affections that shared her heart in this union of her daughter with + Camors, and in thus securing the happiness of both. Ever since she had + conceived this desire—which could only have had its birth in a soul + as pure as it was tender—the education of her child had become the + sweet romance of her life. She dreamed of it always, and of nothing else. + </p> + <p> + Without knowing or even suspecting the evil traits lurking in the + character of Camors, she still understood that, like the great majority of + the young men of his day, the young Count was not overburdened with + principle. But she held that one of the privileges of woman, in our social + system, was the elevation of their husbands by connection with a pure + soul, by family affections, and by the sweet religion of the heart. + Seeking, therefore, by making her daughter an amiable and lovable woman, + to prepare her for the high mission for which she was destined, she + omitted nothing which could improve her. What success rewarded her care + the sequel of this narrative will show. It will suffice, for the present, + to inform the reader that Mademoiselle de Tecle was a young girl of + pleasing countenance, whose short neck was placed on shoulders a little + too high. She was not beautiful, but extremely pretty, well educated, and + much more vivacious than her mother. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marie was so quick-witted that her mother often suspected she + knew the secret which concerned herself. Sometimes she talked too much of + M. de Camors; sometimes she talked too little, and assumed a mysterious + air when others spoke of him. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle was a little disturbed by these eccentricities. The + conduct of M. de Camors, and his more than reserved bearing, annoyed her + occasionally; but when we love any one we are likely to interpret + favorably all that he does, or all that he omits to do. Madame de Tecle + readily attributed the equivocal conduct of the Count to the inspiration + of a chivalric loyalty. As she believed she knew him thoroughly, she + thought he wished to avoid committing himself, or awakening public + observation, before he had made up his mind. + </p> + <p> + He acted thus to avoid disturbing the repose of both mother and daughter. + Perhaps also the large fortune which seemed destined for Mademoiselle de + Tecle might add to his scruples by rousing his pride. + </p> + <p> + His not marrying was in itself a good augury, and his little fiancee was + reaching a marriageable age. She therefore did not despair that some day + M. de Camors would throw himself at her feet, and say, “Give her to met!” + </p> + <p> + If God did not intend that this delicious page should ever be written in + the book of her destiny, and she was forced to marry her daughter to + another, the poor woman consoled herself with the thought that all the + cares she lavished upon her would not be lost, and that her dear child + would thus be rendered better and happier. + </p> + <p> + The long months which intervened between the annual apparition of Camors + at Reuilly, filled up by Madame de Tecle with a single idea and by the + sweet monotony of a regular life, passed more rapidly than the Count could + have imagined. His own life, so active and so occupied, placed ages and + abysses between each of his periodical voyages. But Madame de Tecle, after + five years, was always only a day removed from the cherished and fatal + night on which her dream had begun. Since that period there had been no + break in her thoughts, no void in her heart, no wrinkle on her forehead. + Her dream continued young, like herself. But in spite of the peaceful and + rapid succession of her days, it was not without anxiety that she saw the + approach of the season which always heralded the return of Camors. + </p> + <p> + As her daughter matured, she preoccupied herself with the impression she + would make on the mind of the Count, and felt more sensibly the solemnity + of the matter. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Marie, as we have already stated, was a cunning little puss, + and had not failed to perceive that her tender mother chose habitually the + season of the convocation of the Councils-General to try a new style of + hair-dressing for her. The same year on which we have resumed our recital + there passed, on one occasion, a little scene which rather annoyed Madame + de Tecle. She was trying a new coiffure on Mademoiselle Marie, whose hair + was very pretty and very black; some stray and rebellious portions had + frustrated her mother’s efforts. + </p> + <p> + There was one lock in particular, which in spite of all combing and + brushing would break away from the rest, and fall in careless curls. + Madame de Tecle finally, by the aid of some ribbons, fastened down the + rebellious curl: + </p> + <p> + “Now I think it will do,” she said sighing, and stepping back to admire + the effect of her work. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t believe it,” said Marie, who was laughing and mocking. “I do not + think so. I see exactly what will happen: the bell rings—I run out—my + net gives way—Monsieur de Camors walks in—my mother is annoyed—tableau!” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know what Monsieur de Camors has to do with it?” said + Madame de Tecle. + </p> + <p> + Her daughter threw her arms around her neck—“Nothing!” she said. + </p> + <p> + Another time Madame de Tecle detected her speaking of M. de Camors in a + tone of bitter irony. He was “the great man”—“the mysterious + personage”—“the star of the neighborhood”—“the phoenix of + guests in their woods”—or simply “the Prince!” + </p> + <p> + Such symptoms were of so serious a nature as not to escape Madame de + Tecle. + </p> + <p> + In presence of “the Prince,” it is true, the young girl lost her gayety; + but this was another cross. Her mother found her cold, awkward, and silent—brief, + and slightly caustic in her replies. She feared M. de Camors would + misjudge her from such appearances. + </p> + <p> + But Camors formed no judgment, good or bad; Mademoiselle de Tecle was for + him only an insignificant little girl, whom he never thought of for a + moment in the year. + </p> + <p> + There was, however, at this time in society a person who did interest him + very much, and the more because against his will. This was the Marquise de + Campvallon, nee de Luc d’Estrelles. + </p> + <p> + The General, after making the tour of Europe with his young wife, had + taken possession of his hotel in the Rue Vanneau, where he lived in great + splendor. They resided at Paris during the winter and spring, but in July + returned to their chateau at Campvallon, where they entertained in great + state until the autumn. The General invited Madame de Tecle and her + daughter, every year, to pass some weeks at Campvallon, rightly judging + that he could not give his young wife better companions. Madame de Tecle + accepted these invitations cheerfully, because it gave her an opportunity + of seeing the elite of the Parisian world, from whom the whims of her + uncle had always isolated her. For her own part, she did not much enjoy + it; but her daughter, by moving in the midst of such fashion and elegance + could thus efface some provincialisms of toilet or of language; perfect + her taste in the delicate and fleeting changes of the prevailing modes, + and acquire some additional graces. The young Marquise, who reigned and + scintillated like a bright star in these high regions of social life, lent + herself to the designs of her neighbor. She seemed to take a kind of + maternal interest in Mademoiselle de Tecle, and frequently added her + advice to her example. She assisted at her toilet and gave the final + touches with her own dainty hands; and the young girl, in return, loved, + admired, and confided in her. + </p> + <p> + Camors also enjoyed the hospitalities of the General once every season, + but was not his guest as often as he wished. He seldom remained at + Campvallon longer than a week. Since the return of the Marquise to France + he had resumed the relations of a kinsman and friend with her husband and + herself; but, while trying to adopt the most natural manner, he treated + them both with a certain reserve, which astonished the General. It will + not surprise the reader, who recollects the secret and powerful reasons + which justified this circumspection. + </p> + <p> + For Camors, in renouncing the greater part of the restraints which control + and bind men in their relations with one another, had religiously intended + to preserve one—the sentiment of honor. Many times, in the course of + this life, he had felt himself embarrassed to limit and fix with certainty + the boundaries of the only moral law he wished to respect. + </p> + <p> + It is easy to know exactly what is in the Bible; it is not easy to know + exactly what the code of honor commands. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. CIRCE + </h2> + <p> + But there exists, nevertheless, in this code one article, as to which M. + de Camors could not deceive himself, and it was that which forbade his + attempting to assail the honor of the General under penalty of being in + his own eyes, as a gentleman, a felon and foresworn. He had accepted from + this old man confidence, affection, services, benefits—everything + which could bind one man inviolably to another man—if there be + beneath the heavens anything called honor. He felt this profoundly. + </p> + <p> + His conduct toward Madame de Campvallon had been irreproachable; and all + the more so, because the only woman he was interdicted from loving was the + only woman in Paris, or in the universe, who naturally pleased him most. + He entertained for her, at once, the interest which attaches to forbidden + fruit, to the attraction of strange beauty, and to the mystery of an + impenetrable sphinx. She was, at this time, more goddess-like than ever. + The immense fortune of her husband, and the adulation which it brought + her, had placed her on a golden car. On this she seated herself with a + gracious and native majesty, as if in her proper place. + </p> + <p> + The luxury of her toilet, of her jewels, of her house and of her + equipages, was of regal magnificence. She blended the taste of an artist + with that of a patrician. Her person appeared really to be made divine by + the rays of this splendor. Large, blonde, graceful, the eyes blue and + unfathomable, the forehead grave, the mouth pure and proud it was + impossible to see her enter a salon with her light, gliding step, or to + see her reclining in her carriage, her hands folded serenely, without + dreaming of the young immortals whose love brought death. + </p> + <p> + She had even those traits of physiognomy, stern and wild, which the + antique sculptors doubtless had surprised in supernatural visitations, and + which they have stamped on the eyes and the lips of their marble gods. Her + arms and shoulders, perfect in form, seemed models, in the midst of the + rosy and virgin snow which covered the neighboring mountains. She was + truly superb and bewitching. The Parisian world respected as much as it + admired her, for she played her difficult part of young bride to an old + man so perfectly as to avoid scandal. Without any pretence of + extraordinary devotion, she knew how to join to her worldly pomps the + exercise of charity, and all the other practices of an elegant piety. + Madame de la Roche-Jugan, who watched her closely, as one watching a prey, + testified, herself, in her favor; and judged her more and more worthy of + her son. And Camors, who observed her, in spite of himself, with an eager + curiosity, was finally induced to believe, as did his aunt and all the + world, that she conscientiously performed her difficult duties, and that + she found in the eclat of her life and the gratification of her pride a + sufficient compensation for the sacrifice of her youth, her heart, and her + beauty; but certain souvenirs of the past, joined to certain + peculiarities, which he fancied he remarked in the Marquise, induced him + to distrust. + </p> + <p> + There were times, when recalling all that he had once witnessed—the + abysses and the flame at the bottom of that heart—he was tempted to + suspect the existence of many storms under all this calm exterior, and + perhaps some wickedness. It is true she never was with him precisely as + she was before the world. The character of their relations was marked by a + peculiar tone. It was precisely that tone of covert irony adopted by two + persons who desired neither to remember nor to forget. This tone, softened + in the language of Camors by his worldly tact and his respect, was much + more pointed, and had much more of bitterness on the side of the young + woman. + </p> + <p> + He even fancied, at times, that he discovered a shade of coquetry under + this treatment; and this provocation, vague as it was, coming from this + beautiful, cold, and inscrutable creature, seemed to him a game fearfully + mysterious, that at once attracted and disturbed him. + </p> + <p> + This was the state of things when the Count came, according to custom, to + pass the first days of September at the chateau of Campvallon, and met + there Madame de Tecle and her daughter. The visit was a painful one, this + year, for Madame de Tecle. Her confidence deserted her, and serious + concern took its place. She had, it is true, fixed in her mind, as the + last point of her hopes, the moment when her daughter should have reached + twenty years of age; and Marie was only eighteen. + </p> + <p> + But she already had had several offers, and several times public rumor had + already declared her to be betrothed. + </p> + <p> + Now, Camors could not have been ignorant of the rumors circulating in the + neighborhood, and yet he did not speak. His countenance did not change. He + was coldly affectionate to Madame de Tecle, but toward Marie, in spite of + her beautiful blue eyes, like her mother’s, and her curly hair, he + preserved a frozen indifference. For Camors had other anxieties, of which + Madame de Tecle knew nothing. The manner of Madame Campvallon toward him + had assumed a more marked character of aggressive raillery. A defensive + attitude is never agreeable to a man, and Camors felt it more disagreeable + than most men—being so little accustomed to it. + </p> + <p> + He resolved promptly to shorten his visit at Campvallon. + </p> + <p> + On the eve of his departure, about five o’clock in the afternoon, he was + standing at his window, looking beyond the trees at the great black clouds + sailing over the valley, when he heard the sound of a voice that had power + to move him deeply—“Monsieur de Camors!” He saw the Marquise + standing under his window. + </p> + <p> + “Will you walk with me?” she added. + </p> + <p> + He bowed and descended immediately. At the moment he reached her: + </p> + <p> + “It is suffocating,” she said. “I wish to walk round the park and will + take you with me.” + </p> + <p> + He muttered a few polite phrases, and they began walking, side by side, + through the alleys of the park. + </p> + <p> + She moved at a rapid pace, with her majestic motion, her body swaying, her + head erect. One would have looked for a page behind her, but she had none, + and her long blue robe—she rarely wore short skirts—trailed on + the sand and over the dry leaves with the soft rustle of silk. + </p> + <p> + “I have disturbed you, probably?” she said, after a moment’s pause. “What + were you dreaming of up there?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—only watching the coming storm.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you becoming poetical, cousin?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no necessity for becoming, for I already am infinitely so!” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think so. Shall you leave to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so soon?” + </p> + <p> + “I have business elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. But Vau—Vautrot—is he not there?” + </p> + <p> + Vautrot was the secretary of M. de Camors. + </p> + <p> + “Vautrot can not do everything,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, I do not like your Vautrot.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I. But he was recommended to me by my old friend, Madame d’Oilly, as + a freethinker, and at the same time by my aunt, Madame de la Roche-Jugan, + as a religious man!” + </p> + <p> + “How amusing!” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” said Camors, “he is intelligent and witty, and writes a + fine hand.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” + </p> + <p> + “How? What of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you also write a good hand?” + </p> + <p> + “I will show you, whenever you wish!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! and will you write to me?” + </p> + <p> + It is difficult to imagine the tone of supreme indifference and haughty + persiflage with which the Marquise sustained this dialogue, without once + slackening her pace, or glancing at her companion, or changing the proud + and erect pose of her head. + </p> + <p> + “I will write you either prose or verse, as you wish,” said Camors. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you know how to compose verses?” + </p> + <p> + “When I am inspired!” + </p> + <p> + “And when are you inspired?” + </p> + <p> + “Usually in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “And we are now in the evening. That is not complimentary to me.” + </p> + <p> + “But you, Madame, had no desire to inspire me, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, then? I should be happy and proud to do so. Do you know what I + should like to put there?” and she stopped suddenly before a rustic + bridge, which spanned a murmuring rivulet. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know!” + </p> + <p> + “You can not even guess? I should like to put an artificial rock there.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not a natural one? In your place I should put a natural one!” + </p> + <p> + “That is an idea,” said the Marquise, and walking on she crossed the + bridge. + </p> + <p> + “But it really thunders. I like to hear thunder in the country. Do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I prefer to hear it thunder at Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because then I should not hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “I have; but I smother it.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly. I have suspected you of hiding your merits, and particularly + from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I conceal my merits from you?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Why should I conceal my merits’ is good!” said the Marquise, ironically. + “Why? Out of charity, Monsieur, not to dazzle me, and in regard for my + repose! You are really too good, I assure you. Here comes the rain.” + </p> + <p> + Large drops of rain began to fall on the dry leaves, and on the yellow + sand of the alley. The day was dying, and the sudden shower bent the + boughs of the trees. + </p> + <p> + “We must return,” said the young woman; “this begins to get serious.” + </p> + <p> + She took, in haste, the path which led to the chateau; but after a few + steps a bright flash broke over her head, the noise of the thunder + resounded, and a deluge of rain fell upon the fields. + </p> + <p> + There was fortunately, near by, a shelter in which the Marquise and her + companion could take refuge. It was a ruin, preserved as an ornament to + the park, which had formerly been the chapel of the ancient chateau. It + was almost as large as the village chapel—the broken walls half + concealed under a thick mantle of ivy. Its branches had pushed through the + roof and mingled with the boughs of the old trees which surrounded and + shaded it. The timbers had disappeared. The extremity of the choir, and + the spot formerly occupied by the altar, were alone covered by the remains + of the roof. Wheelbarrows, rakes, spades, and other garden tools were + piled there. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise had to take refuge in the midst of this rubbish, in the + narrow space, and her companion followed her. + </p> + <p> + The storm, in the mean time, increased in violence. The rain fell in + torrents through the old walls, inundating the soil in the ancient nave. + The lightning flashed incessantly. Every now and then fragments of earth + and stone detached themselves from the roof, and fell into the choir. + </p> + <p> + “I find this magnificent!” said Madame de Campvallon. + </p> + <p> + “I also,” said Camors, raising his eyes to the crumbling roof which half + protected them; “but I do not know whether we are safe here!” + </p> + <p> + “If you fear, you would better go!” said the Marquise. + </p> + <p> + “I fear for you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too good, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + She took off her cap and brushed it with her glove, to remove the drops of + rain which had fallen upon it. After a slight pause, she suddenly raised + her uncovered head and cast on Camors one of those searching looks which + prepares a man for an important question. + </p> + <p> + “Cousin!” she said, “if you were sure that one of these flashes of + lightning would kill you in a quarter of an hour, what would you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, cousin, naturally I should take a last farewell of you.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + He regarded her steadily, in his turn. “Do you know,” he said, “there are + moments when I am tempted to think you a devil?” + </p> + <p> + “Truly! Well, there are times when I am tempted to think so myself—for + example, at this moment. Do you know what I should wish? I wish I could + control the lightning, and in two seconds you would cease to exist.” + </p> + <p> + “For what reason?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I recollect there was a man to whom I offered myself, and who + refused me, and that this man still lives. And this displeases me a little—a + great deal—passionately.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you serious, Madame?” replied Camors. + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you did not think so. I am not so wicked. It was a joke—and + in bad taste, I admit. But seriously now, cousin, what is your opinion of + me? What kind of woman has time made me?” + </p> + <p> + “I swear to you I am entirely ignorant.” + </p> + <p> + “Admitting I had become, as you did me the honor to suppose, a diabolical + person, do you think you had nothing to do with it? Tell me! Do you not + believe that there is in the life of a woman a decisive hour, when the + evil seed which is cast upon her soul may produce a terrible harvest? Do + you not believe this? Answer me! And should I not be excusable if I + entertained toward you the sentiment of an exterminating angel; and have I + not some merit in being what I am—a good woman, who loves you well—with + a little rancor, but not much—and who wishes you all sorts of + prosperity in this world and the next? Do not answer me: it might + embarrass you, and it would be useless.” + </p> + <p> + She left her shelter, and turned her face toward the lowering sky to see + whether the storm was over. + </p> + <p> + “It has stopped raining,” she said, “let us go.” + </p> + <p> + She then perceived that the lower part of the nave had been transformed + into a lake of mud and water. She stopped at its brink, and uttered a + little cry: + </p> + <p> + “What shall I do?” she said, looking at her light shoes. Then, turning + toward Camors, she added, laughing: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, will you get me a boat?” + </p> + <p> + Camors, himself, recoiled from stepping into the greasy mud and stagnant + water which filled the whole space of the nave. + </p> + <p> + “If you will wait a little,” he said, “I shall find you some boots or + sabots, no matter what.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be much easier,” she said abruptly, “for you to carry me to the + door;” and without waiting for the young man’s reply, she tucked up her + skirts carefully, and when she had finished, she said, “Carry me!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with astonishment, and thought for a moment she was + jesting; but soon saw she was perfectly serious. + </p> + <p> + “Of what are you afraid?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am not at all afraid,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Is it that you are not strong enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu! I should think I was.” + </p> + <p> + He took her in his arms, as in a cradle, while she held up her skirts with + both hands. He then descended the steps and moved toward the door with his + strange burden. He was obliged to be very careful not to slip on the wet + earth, and this absorbed him during the first few steps; but when he found + his footing more sure, he felt a natural curiosity to observe the + countenance of the Marquise. + </p> + <p> + The uncovered head of the young woman rested a little on the arm with + which he held her. Her lips were slightly parted with a half-wicked smile + that showed her fine white teeth; the same expression of ungovernable + malice burned in her dark eyes, which she riveted for some seconds on + those of Camors with persistent penetration—then suddenly veiled + them under the fringe of her dark lashes. This glance sent a thrill like + lightning to his very marrow. + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish to drive me mad?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” she replied. + </p> + <p> + The same moment she disengaged herself from his arms, and placing her foot + on the ground again, left the ruin. + </p> + <p> + They reached the chateau without exchanging a word. Just before entering + the house the young Marquise turned toward Camors and said to him: + </p> + <p> + “Be sure that at heart I am very good, really.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding this assertion, Camors was yet more determined to leave + the next morning, as he had previously decided. He carried away the most + painful impression of the scene of that evening. + </p> + <p> + She had wounded his pride, inflamed his hopeless passion, and disquieted + his honor. + </p> + <p> + “What is this woman, and what does she want of me? Is it love or vengeance + that inspires her with this fiendish coquetry?” he asked himself. Whatever + it was, Camors was not such a novice in similar adventures as not to + perceive clearly the yawning abyss under the broken ice. He resolved + sincerely to close it again between them, and forever. The best way to + succeed in this, avowedly, was to cease all intercourse with the Marquise. + But how could such conduct be explained to the General, without awakening + his suspicion and lowering his wife in his esteem? That plan was + impossible. He armed himself with all his courage, and resigned himself to + endure with resolute soul all the trials which the love, real or + pretended, of the Marquise reserved for him. + </p> + <p> + He had at this time a singular idea. He was a member of several of the + most aristocratic clubs. He organized a chosen group of men from the elite + of his companions, and formed with them a secret association, of which the + object was to fix and maintain among its members the principles and points + of honor in their strictest form. This society, which had only been + vaguely spoken of in public under the name of “Societe des Raffines,” and + also as “The Templars” which latter was its true name—had nothing in + common with “The Devourers,” illustrated by Balzac. It had nothing in it + of a romantic or dramatic character. Those who composed this club did not, + in any way, defy ordinary morals, nor set themselves above the laws of + their country. They did not bind themselves by any vows of mutual aid in + extremity. They bound themselves simply by their word of honor to observe, + in their reciprocal relations, the rules of purest honor. + </p> + <p> + These rules were specified in their code. The text it is difficult to + give; but it was based entirely on the point of honor, and regulated the + affairs of the club, such as the card-table, the turf, duelling, and + gallantry. For example, any member was disqualified from belonging to this + association who either insulted or interfered with the wife or relative of + one of his colleagues. The only penalty was exclusion: but the + consequences of this exclusion were grave; for all the members ceased + thereafter to associate with, recognize, or even bow to the offender. The + Templars found in this secret society many advantages. It was a great + security in their intercourse with one another, and in the different + circumstances of daily life, where they met continually either at the + opera, in salons, or on the turf. + </p> + <p> + Camors was an exception among his companions and rivals in Parisian life + by the systematic decision of his doctrine. It was not so much an + embodiment of absolute scepticism and practical materialism; but the want + of a moral law is so natural to man, and obedience to higher laws so sweet + to him, that the chosen adepts to whom the project of Camors was submitted + accepted it with enthusiasm. They were happy in being able to substitute a + sort of positive and formal religion for restraints so limited as their + own confused and floating notions of honor. For Camors himself, as is + easily understood, it was a new barrier which he wished to erect between + himself and the passion which fascinated him. He attached himself to this + with redoubled force, as the only moral bond yet left him. He completed + his work by making the General accept the title of President of the + Association. The General, to whom Honor was a sort of mysterious but real + goddess, was delighted to preside over the worship of his idol. He felt + flattered by his young friend’s selection, and esteemed him the more. + </p> + <p> + It was the middle of winter. The Marquise Campvallon had resumed for some + time her usual course of life, which was at the same time strict but + elegant. Punctual at church every morning, at the Bois and at charity + bazaars during the day, at the opera or the theatres in the evening, she + had received M. de Camors without the shadow of apparent emotion. She even + treated him more simply and more naturally than ever, with no recurrence + to the past, no allusion to the scene in the park during the storm; as if + she had, on that day, disclosed everything that had lain hidden in her + heart. This conduct so much resembled indifference, that Camors should + have been delighted; but he was not—on the contrary he was annoyed + by it. A cruel but powerful interest, already too dear to his blase soul, + was disappearing thus from his life. He was inclined to believe that + Madame de Campvallon possessed a much less complicated character than he + had fancied; and that little by little absorbed in daily trifles, she had + become in reality what she pretended to be—a good woman, + inoffensive, and contented with her lot. + </p> + <p> + He was one evening in his orchestra-stall at the opera. They were singing + The Huguenots. The Marquise occupied her box between the columns. The + numerous acquaintances Camors met in the passages during the first + entr’acte prevented his going as soon as usual to pay his respects to his + cousin. At last, after the fourth act, he went to visit her in her box, + where he found her alone, the General having descended to the parterre for + a few moments. He was astonished, on entering, to find traces of tears on + the young woman’s cheeks. Her eyes were even moist. She seemed displeased + at being surprised in the very act of sentimentality. + </p> + <p> + “Music always excites my nerves,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Camors. “You, who always reproach me with hiding my merits, + why do you hide yours? If you are still capable of weeping, so much the + better.” + </p> + <p> + “No! I claim no merit for that. Oh, heavens! If you only knew! It is quite + the contrary.” + </p> + <p> + “What a mystery you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you very curious to fathom this mystery? Only that? Very well—be + happy! It is time to put an end to this.” + </p> + <p> + She drew her chair from the front of the box out of public view, and, + turning toward Camors, continued: “You wish to know what I am, what I + feel, and what I think; or rather, you wish to know simply whether I dream + of love? Very well, I dream only of that! Have I lovers, or have I not? I + have none, and never shall have, but that will not be because of my + virtue. I believe in nothing, except my own self-esteem and my contempt of + others. The little intrigues, the petty passions, which I see in the + world, make me indignant to the bottom of my soul. It seems to me that + women who give themselves for so little must be base creatures. As for + myself, I remember having said to you one day—it is a million years + since then!—that my person is sacred to me; and to commit a + sacrilege I should wish, like the vestals of Rome, a love as great as my + crime, and as terrible as death. I wept just now during that magnificent + fourth act. It was not because I listened to the most marvellous music + ever heard on this earth; it was because I admire and envy passionately + the superb and profound love of that time. And it is ever thus—when + I read the history of the glorious sixteenth century, I am in ecstacies. + How well those people knew how to love and how to die! One night of love—then + death. That is delightful. Now, cousin, you must leave me. We are + observed. They will believe we love each other, and as we have not that + pleasure, it is useless to incur the penalties. Since I am still in the + midst of the court of Charles Tenth, I pity you, with your black coat and + round hat. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you very much,” replied Camors, taking the hand she extended to + him coldly, and left the box. He met M. de Campvallon in the passage. + </p> + <p> + “Parbleu! my dear friend,” said the General, seizing him by the arm. “I + must communicate to you an idea which has been in my brain all the + evening.” + </p> + <p> + “What idea, General?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there are here this evening a number of charming young girls. This + set me to thinking of you, and I even said to my wife that we must marry + you to one of these young women!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, General!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why not?” + </p> + <p> + “That is a very serious thing—if one makes a mistake in his choice—that + is everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! it is not so difficult a thing. Take a wife like mine, who has a + great deal of religion, not much imagination, and no fancies. That is the + whole secret. I tell you this in confidence, my dear fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, General, I will think of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do think of it,” said the General, in a serious tone; and went to join + his young wife, whom he understood so well. + </p> + <p> + As to her, she thoroughly understood herself, and analyzed her own + character with surprising truth. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Campvallon was just as little what her manner indicated as was + M. de Camors on his side. Both were altogether exceptional in French + society. Equally endowed by nature with energetic souls and enlightened + minds, both carried innate depravity to a high degree. The artificial + atmosphere of high Parisian civilization destroys in women the sentiment + and the taste for duty, and leaves them, nothing but the sentiment and the + taste for pleasure. They lose in the midst of this enchanted and false + life, like theatrical fairyland, the true idea of life in general, and + Christian life in particular. And we can confidently affirm that all those + who do not make for themselves, apart from the crowd, a kind of Thebaid—and + there are such—are pagans. They are pagans, because the pleasures of + the senses and of the mind alone interest them, and they have not once, + during the year, an impression of the moral law, unless the sentiment, + which some of them detest, recalls it to them. They are pagans, like the + beautiful, worldly Catholics of the fifteenth century—loving luxury, + rich stuffs, precious furniture, literature, art, themselves, and love. + They were charming pagans, like Marie Stuart, and capable, like her, of + remaining true Catholics even under the axe. + </p> + <p> + We are speaking, let it be understood, of the best of the elite—of + those that read, and of those that dream. As to the rest, those who + participate in the Parisian life on its lighter side, in its childish + whirl, and the trifling follies it entails, who make rendezvous, waste + their time, who dress and are busy day and night doing nothing, who dance + frantically in the rays of the Parisian sun, without thought, without + passion, without virtue, and even without vice—we must own it is + impossible to imagine anything more contemptible. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise de Campvallon was then—as she truly said to the man she + resembled—a great pagan; and, as she also said to herself in one of + her serious moments when a woman’s destiny is decided by the influence of + those they love, Camors had sown in her heart a seed which had + marvellously fructified. + </p> + <p> + Camors dreamed little of reproaching himself for it, but struck with all + the harmony that surrounded the Marquise, he regretted more bitterly than + ever the fatality which separated them. + </p> + <p> + He felt, however, more sure of himself, since he had bound himself by the + strictest obligations of honor. He abandoned himself from this moment with + less scruple to the emotions, and to the danger against which he believed + himself invincibly protected. He did not fear to seek often the society of + his beautiful cousin, and even contracted the habit of repairing to her + house two or three times a week, after leaving the Chamber of Deputies. + Whenever he found her alone, their conversation invariably assumed a tone + of irony and of raillery, in which both excelled. He had not forgotten her + reckless confidences at the opera, and recalled it to her, asking her + whether she had yet discovered that hero of love for whom she was looking, + who should be, according to her ideas, a villain like Bothwell, or a + musician like Rizzio. + </p> + <p> + “There are,” she replied, “villains who are also musicians; but that is + imagination. Sing me, then, something apropos.” + </p> + <p> + It was near the close of winter. The Marquise gave a ball. Her fetes were + justly renowned for their magnificence and good taste. She did the honors + with the grace of a queen. This evening she wore a very simple costume, as + was becoming in the courteous hostess. It was a gown of dark velvet, with + a train; her arms were bare, without jewels; a necklace of large pearls + lay on her rose-tinted bosom, and the heraldic coronet sparkled on her + fair hair. + </p> + <p> + Camors caught her eye as he entered, as if she were watching for him. He + had seen her the previous evening, and they had had a more lively skirmish + than usual. He was struck by her brilliancy—her beauty heightened, + without doubt, by the secret ardor of the quarrel, as if illuminated by an + interior flame, with all the clear, soft splendor of a transparent + alabaster vase. + </p> + <p> + When he advanced to join her and salute her, yielding, against his will, + to an involuntary movement of passionate admiration, he said: + </p> + <p> + “You are truly beautiful this evening. Enough so to make one commit a + crime.” + </p> + <p> + She looked fixedly in his eyes, and replied: + </p> + <p> + “I should like to see that,” and then left him, with superb nonchalance. + </p> + <p> + The General approached, and tapping the Count on the shoulder, said: + </p> + <p> + “Camors! you do not dance, as usual. Let us play a game of piquet.” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly, General;” and traversing two or three salons they reached the + private boudoir of the Marquise. It was a small oval room, very lofty, + hung with thick red silk tapestry, covered with black and white flowers. + As the doors were removed, two heavy curtains isolated the room completely + from the neighboring gallery. It was there that the General usually played + cards and slept during his fetes. A small card-table was placed before a + divan. Except this addition, the boudoir preserved its every-day aspect. + Woman’s work, half finished, books, journals, and reviews were strewn upon + the furniture. They played two or three games, which the General won, as + Camors was very abstracted. + </p> + <p> + “I reproach myself, young man,” said the former, “in having kept you so + long away from the ladies. I give you back your liberty—I shall cast + my eye on the journals.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing new in them, I think,” said Camors, rising. He took up a + newspaper himself, and placing his back against the mantelpiece, warmed + his feet, one after the other. The General threw himself on the divan, ran + his eye over the ‘Moniteur de l’Armee’, approving of some military + promotions, and criticising others; and, little by little, he fell into a + doze, his head resting on his chest. + </p> + <p> + But Camors was not reading. He listened vaguely to the music of the + orchestra, and fell into a reverie. Through these harmonies, through the + murmurs and warm perfume of the ball, he followed, in thought, all the + evolutions of her who was mistress and queen of all. He saw her proud and + supple step—he heard her grave and musical voice—he felt her + breath. + </p> + <p> + This young man had exhausted everything. Love and pleasure had no longer + for him secrets or temptations; but his imagination, cold and blase, had + arisen all inflamed before this beautiful, living, palpitating statue. She + was really for him more than a woman—more than a mortal. The antique + fables of amorous goddesses and drunken Bacchantes—the superhuman + voluptuousness unknown in terrestrial pleasures—were in reach of his + hand, separated from him only by the shadow of this sleeping old man. But + a shadow was ever between them—it was honor. + </p> + <p> + His eyes, as if lost in thought, were fixed straight before him on the + curtain opposite the chimney. Suddenly this curtain was noiselessly + raised, and the young Marquise appeared, her brow surmounted by her + coronet. She threw a rapid glance over the boudoir, and after a moment’s + pause, let the curtain fall gently, and advanced directly toward Camors, + who stood dazzled and immovable. She took both his hands, without + speaking, looked at his steadily—throwing a rapid glance at her + husband, who still slept—and, standing on tiptoe, offered her lips + to the young man. + </p> + <p> + Bewildered, and forgetting all else, he bent, and imprinted a kiss on her + lips. + </p> + <p> + At that very moment, the General made a sudden movement and woke up; but + the same instant the Marquise was standing before him, her hands resting + on the card-table; and smiling upon him, she said, “Good-morning, my + General!” + </p> + <p> + The General murmured a few words of apology, but she laughingly pushed him + back on his divan. + </p> + <p> + “Continue your nap,” she said; “I have come in search of my cousin, for + the last cotillon.” The General obeyed. + </p> + <p> + She passed out by the gallery. The young man; pale as a spectre, followed + her. + </p> + <p> + Passing under the curtain, she turned toward him with a wild light burning + in her eyes. Then, before she was lost in the throng, she whispered, in a + low, thrilling voice: + </p> + <p> + “There is the crime!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE FIRST ACT OF THE TRAGEDY + </h2> + <p> + Camors did not attempt to rejoin the Marquise, and it seemed to him that + she also avoided him. A quarter of an hour later, he left the Hotel + Campvallon. + </p> + <p> + He returned immediately home. A lamp was burning in his chamber. When he + saw himself in the mirror, his own face terrified him. This exciting scene + had shaken his nerves. + </p> + <p> + He could no longer control himself. His pupil had become his master. The + fact itself did not surprise him. Woman is more exalted than man in + morality. There is no virtue, no devotion, no heroism in which she does + not surpass him; but once impelled to the verge of the abyss, she falls + faster and lower than man. This is attributable to two causes: she has + more passion, and she has no honor. For honor is a reality and must not be + underrated. It is a noble, delicate, and salutary quality. It elevates + manly attributes; in fact, it constitutes the modesty of man. It is + sometimes a force, and always a grace. But to think that honor is + all-sufficient; that in the face of great interests, great passions, great + trials in life, it is a support and an infallible defence; that it can + enforce the precepts which come from God—in fact that it can replace + God—this is a terrible mistake. It exposes one in a fatal moment to + the loss of one’s self-esteem, and to fall suddenly and forever into that + dismal ocean of bitterness where Camors at that instant was struggling in + despair, like a drowning man in the darkness of midnight. + </p> + <p> + He abandoned himself, on this evil night, to a final conflict full of + agony; and he was beaten. + </p> + <p> + The next evening at six o’clock he was at the house of the Marquise. He + found her in her boudoir, surrounded by all her regal luxury. She was half + buried in a fauteuil in the chimney-corner, looking a little pale and + fatigued. She received him with her usual coldness and self-possession. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day,” she said. “How are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very well,” replied Camors. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy that you know.” + </p> + <p> + She opened her large eyes wide with surprise, but did not reply. + </p> + <p> + “I entreat you, Madame,” continued Camors, smiling—“no more music, + the curtain is raised, and the drama has begun.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! we shall see.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you love me?” he continued; “or were you simply acting, to try me, + last night? Can you, or will you, tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly could, but I do not wish to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “I had thought you more frank.” + </p> + <p> + “I have my hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said Camors, “if your hours of frankness have passed, mine + have begun.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be compensation,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “And I will prove it to you,” continued Camors. + </p> + <p> + “I shall make a fete of it,” said the Marquise, throwing herself back on + the sofa, as if to make herself comfortable in order to enjoy an agreeable + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “I love you, Madame; and as you wish to be loved. I love you devotedly and + unto death—enough to kill myself, or you!” + </p> + <p> + “That is well,” said the Marquise, softly. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he continued in a hoarse and constrained tone, “in loving you, in + telling you of it, in trying to make you share my love, I violate basely + the obligations of honor of which you know, and others of which you know + not. It is a crime, as you have said. I do not try to extenuate my + offence. I see it, I judge it, and I accept it. I break the last moral tie + that is left me; I leave the ranks of men of honor, and I leave also the + ranks of humanity. I have nothing human left except my love, nothing + sacred but you; but my crime elevates itself by its magnitude. Well, I + interpret it thus: I imagine two beings, equally free and strong, loving + and valuing each other beyond all else, having no affection, no loyalty, + no devotion, no honor, except toward each other—but possessing all + for each other in a supreme degree. + </p> + <p> + “I give and consecrate absolutely to you, my person, all that I can be, or + may become, on condition of an equal return, still preserving the same + social conventionalities, without which we should both be miserable. + </p> + <p> + “Secretly united, and secretly isolated; though in the midst of the human + herd, governing and despising it; uniting our gifts, our faculties, and + our powers, our two Parisian royalties—yours, which can not be + greater, and mine, which shall become greater if you love me and living + thus, one for the other, until death. You have dreamed, you told me, of + strange and almost sacrilegious love. Here it is; only before accepting + it, reflect well, for I assure you it is a serious thing. My love for you + is boundless. I love you enough to disdain and trample under foot that + which the meanest human being still respects. I love you enough to find in + you alone, in your single esteem, and in your sole tenderness, in the + pride and madness of being yours, oblivion and consolation for friendship + outraged, faith betrayed, and honor lost. But, Madame, this is a sentiment + which you will do well not to trifle with. You should thoroughly + understand this. If you desire my love, if you consent to this alliance, + opposed to all human laws, but grand and singular also, deign to tell me + so, and I shall fall at your feet. If you do not wish it, if it terrifies + you, if you are not prepared for the double obligation it involves, tell + me so, and fear not a word of reproach. Whatever it might cost me—I + would ruin my life, I would leave you forever, and that which passed + yesterday should be eternally forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + He ceased, and remained with his eyes fixed on the young woman with a + burning anxiety. As he went on speaking her air became more grave; she + listened to him, her head a little inclined toward him in an attitude of + overpowering interest, throwing upon him at intervals a glance full of + gloomy fire. A slight but rapid palpitation of the bosom, a scarcely + perceptible quivering of the nostrils, alone betrayed the storm raging + within her. + </p> + <p> + “This,” she said, after a moment’s silence, “becomes really interesting; + but you do not intend to leave this evening, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Camors. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she replied, inclining her head in sign of dismissal, without + offering her hand; “we shall see each other again.” + </p> + <p> + “But when?” + </p> + <p> + “At an early day.” + </p> + <p> + He thought she required time for reflection, a little terrified doubtless + by the monster she had evoked; he saluted her gravely and departed. + </p> + <p> + The next day, and on the two succeeding days, he vainly presented himself + at her door. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise was either dining out or dressing. + </p> + <p> + It was for Camors a whole century of torment. One thought which often + disquieted him revisited him with double poignancy. The Marquise did not + love him. She only wished to revenge herself for the past, and after + disgracing him would laugh at him. She had made him sign the contract, and + then had escaped him. In the midst of these tortures of his pride, his + passion, instead of weakening, increased. + </p> + <p> + The fourth day after their interview he did not go to her house. He hoped + to meet her in the evening at the Viscountess d’Oilly’s, where he usually + saw her every Friday. This lady had been formerly the most tender friend + of the Count’s father. It was to her the Count had thought proper to + confide the education of his son. + </p> + <p> + Camors had preserved for her a kind of affection. She was an amiable + woman, whom he liked and laughed at. + </p> + <p> + No longer young, she had been compelled to renounce gallantry, which had + been the chief occupation of her youth, and never having had much taste + for devotion, she conceived the idea of having a salon. She received there + some distinguished men, savants and artists, who piqued themselves on + being free-thinkers. + </p> + <p> + The Viscountess, in order to fit herself for her new position, resolved to + enlighten herself. She attended public lectures and conferences, which + began to be fashionable. She spoke easily about spontaneous generation. + She manifested a lively surprise when Camors, who delighted in tormenting + her, deigned to inform her that men were descended from monkeys. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my friend,” she said to him, “I can not really admit that. How can + you think your grandfather was a monkey, you who are so handsome?” + </p> + <p> + She reasoned on everything with the same force. + </p> + <p> + Although she boasted of being a sceptic, sometimes in the morning she went + out, concealed by a thick veil, and entered St. Sulpice, where she + confessed and put herself on good terms with God, in case He should exist. + She was rich and well connected, and in spite of the irregularities of her + youth, the best people visited her house. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Campvallon permitted herself to be introduced by M. de Camors. + Madame de la Roche-Jugan followed her there, because she followed her + everywhere, and took her son Sigismund. On this evening the reunion was + small. M. de Camors had only been there a few moments, when he had the + satisfaction of seeing the General and the Marquise enter. She tranquilly + expressed to him her regret at not having been at home the preceding day; + but it was impossible to hope for a more decided explanation in a circle + so small, and under the vigilant eye of Madame de la Roche-Jugan. Camors + interrogated vainly the face of his young cousin. It was as beautiful and + cold as usual. His anxiety increased; he would have given his life at that + moment to hear her say one word of love. + </p> + <p> + The Viscountess liked the play of wit, as she had little herself. They + played at her house such little games as were then fashionable. Those + little games are not always innocent, as we shall see. + </p> + <p> + They had distributed pencils, pens, and packages of paper—some of + the players sitting around large tables, and some in separate chairs—and + scratched mysteriously, in turn, questions and answers. During this time + the General played whist with Madame de la Roche-Jugan. Madame Campvallon + did not usually take part in these games, as they fatigued her. Camors was + therefore astonished to see her accept the pencil and paper offered her. + </p> + <p> + This singularity awakened his attention and put him on his guard. He + himself joined in the game, contrary to his custom, and even charged + himself with collecting in the basket the small notes as they were + written. + </p> + <p> + An hour passed without any special incident. The treasures of wit were + dispensed. The most delicate and unexpected questions—such as, “What + is love?” “Do you think that friendship can exist between the sexes?” “Is + it sweeter to love or to beloved?”—succeeded each other with + corresponding replies. All at once the Marquise gave a slight scream, and + they saw a drop of blood trickle down her forehead. She laughed, and + showed her little silver pencil-case, which had a pen at one end, with + which she had scratched her forehead in her abstraction. + </p> + <p> + The attention of Camors was redoubled from this moment—the more so + from a rapid and significant glance from the Marquise, which seemed to + warn him of an approaching event. She was sitting a little in shadow in + one corner, in order to meditate more at ease on questions and answers. An + instant later Camors was passing around the room collecting notes. She + deposited one in the basket, slipping another into his hand with the + cat-like dexterity of her sex. In the midst of these papers, which each + person amused himself with reading, Camors found no difficulty in + retaining without remark the clandestine note of the Marquise. It was + written in red ink, a little pale, but very legible, and contained these + words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I belong, soul, body, honor, riches, to my best-beloved cousin, + Louis de Camors, from this moment and forever. + + “Written and signed with the pure blood of my veins, March 5, 185-. + + “CHARLOTTE DE LUC. D’ESTRELLES.” + </pre> + <p> + All the blood of Camors surged to his brain—a cloud came over his + eyes—he rested his hand on the marble table, then suddenly his face + was covered with a mortal paleness. These symptoms did not arise from + remorse or fear; his passion overshadowed all. He felt a boundless joy. He + saw the world at his feet. + </p> + <p> + It was by this act of frankness and of extraordinary audacity, seasoned by + the bloody mysticism so familiar to the sixteenth century, which she + adored, that the Marquise de Campvallon surrendered herself to her lover + and sealed their fatal union. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. AN ANONYMOUS LETTER + </h2> + <p> + Nearly six weeks had passed after this last episode. It was five o’clock + in the afternoon and the Marquise awaited Camors, who was to come after + the session of the Corps Legislatif. There was a sudden knock at one of + the doors of her room, which communicated with her husband’s apartment. It + was the General. She remarked with surprise, and even with fear, that his + countenance was agitated. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you, my dear?” she said. “Are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the General, “not at all.” + </p> + <p> + He placed himself before her, and looked at her some moments before + speaking, his eyes rolling wildly. + </p> + <p> + “Charlotte!” he said at last, with a painful smile, “I must own to you my + folly. I am almost mad since morning—I have received such a singular + letter. Would you like to see it?” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + He took a letter from his pocket, and gave it to her. The writing was + evidently carefully disguised, and it was not signed. + </p> + <p> + “An anonymous letter?” said the Marquise, whose eyebrows were slightly + raised, with an expression of disdain; then she read the letter, which was + as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “A true friend, General, feels indignant at seeing your confidence + and your loyalty abused. You are deceived by those whom you love + most. + + “A man who is covered with your favors and a woman who owes + everything to you are united by a secret intimacy which outrages + you. They are impatient for the hour when they can divide your + spoils. + + “He who regards it as a pious duty to warn you does not desire to + calumniate any one. He is sure that your honor is respected by her + to whom you have confided it, and that she is still worthy of your + confidence and esteem. She wrongs you in allowing herself to count + upon the future, which your best friend dates from your death. He + seeks your widow and your estate. + + “The poor woman submits against her will to the fascinations of a + man too celebrated for his successful affairs of the heart. But + this man, your friend—almost your son—how can he excuse his + conduct? Every honest person must be shocked by such behavior, and + particularly he whom a chance conversation informed of the fact, and + who obeys his conscience in giving you this information.” + </pre> + <p> + The Marquise, after reading it, returned the letter coldly to the General. + </p> + <p> + “Sign it Eleanore-Jeanne de la Roche-Jugan!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” asked the General. + </p> + <p> + “It is as clear as day,” replied the Marquise. “These expressions betray + her—‘a pious duty to warn you—‘celebrated for his successful + affairs of the heart’—‘every honest person.’ She can disguise her + writing, but not her style. But what is still more conclusive is that + which she attributes to Monsieur de Camors—for I suppose it alludes + to him—and to his private prospects and calculations. This can not + have failed to strike you, as it has me, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “If I thought this vile letter was her work,” cried the General, “I never + would see her again during my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? It is better to laugh at it!” + </p> + <p> + The General began one of his solemn promenades across the room. The + Marquise looked uneasily at the clock. Her husband, intercepting one of + these glances, suddenly stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Do you expect Camors to-day?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I think he will call after the session.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he will,” responded the General, with a convulsive smile. “And do + you know, my dear,” he added, “the absurd idea which has haunted me since + I received this infamous letter?—for I believe that infamy is + contagious.” + </p> + <p> + “You have conceived the idea of observing our interview?” said the + Marquise, in a tone of indolent raillery. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the General, “there—behind that curtain—as in a + theatre; but, thank God! I have been able to resist this base intention. + If ever I allow myself to play so mean a part, I should wish at least to + do it with your knowledge and consent.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you ask me to consent to it?” asked the Marquise. + </p> + <p> + “My poor Charlotte!” said the General, in a sad and almost supplicating + tone, “I am an old fool—an overgrown child—but I feel that + this miserable letter will poison my life. I shall have no more an hour of + peace and confidence. What can you expect? I was so cruelly deceived + before. I am an honorable man, but I have been taught that all men are not + like myself. There are some things which to me seem as impossible as + walking on my head, yet I see others doing these things every day. What + can I say to you? After reading this perfidious letter, I could not help + recollecting that your intimacy with Camors has greatly increased of + late!” + </p> + <p> + “Without doubt,” said the Marquise, “I am very fond of him!” + </p> + <p> + “I remembered also your tete-a-tete with him, the other night, in the + boudoir, during the ball. When I awoke you had both an air of mystery. + What mysteries could there be between you two?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what indeed!” said the Marquise, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “And will you not tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall know it at the proper time.” + </p> + <p> + “Finally, I swear to you that I suspect neither of you—I neither + suspect you of wronging me—of disgracing me—nor of soiling my + name... God help me! + </p> + <p> + “But if you two should love each other, even while respecting my honor: if + you love each other and confess it—if you two, even at my side, in + my heart—if you, my two children, should be calculating with + impatient eyes the progress of my old age—planning your projects for + the future, and smiling at my approaching death—postponing your + happiness only for my tomb you may think yourselves guiltless, but no, I + tell you it would be shameful!” + </p> + <p> + Under the empire of the passion which controlled him, the voice of the + General became louder. His common features assumed an air of sombre + dignity and imposing grandeur. A slight shade of paleness passed over the + lovely face of the young woman and a slight frown contracted her forehead. + </p> + <p> + By an effort, which in a better cause would have been sublime, she quickly + mastered her weakness, and, coldly pointing out to her husband the draped + door by which he had entered, said: + </p> + <p> + “Very well, conceal yourself there!” + </p> + <p> + “You will never forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “You know little of women, my friend, if you do not know that jealousy is + one of the crimes they not only pardon but love.” + </p> + <p> + “My God, I am not jealous!” + </p> + <p> + “Call it yourself what you will, but station yourself there!” + </p> + <p> + “And you are sincere in wishing me to do so?” + </p> + <p> + “I pray you to do so! Retire in the interval, leave the door open, and + when you hear Monsieur de Camors enter the court of the hotel, return.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said the General, after a moment’s hesitation; “since I have gone so + far”—and he sighed deeply “I do not wish to leave myself the least + pretext for distrust. If I leave you before he comes, I am capable of + fancying—” + </p> + <p> + “That I might secretly warn him? Nothing more natural. Remain here, then. + Only take a book; for our conversation, under such circumstances, can not + be lively.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he said, “what mystery can there be between you two?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall hear!” she said, with her sphinx-like smile. + </p> + <p> + The General mechanically took up a book. She stirred the fire, and + reflected. As she liked terror, danger, and dramatic incidents to blend + with her intrigues, she should have been content; for at that moment + shame, ruin, and death were at her door. But, to tell the truth, it was + too much for her; and when she looked, in the midst of the silence which + surrounded her, at the true character and scope of the perils which + surrounded her, she thought her brain would fail and her heart break. + </p> + <p> + She was not mistaken as to the origin of the letter. This shameful work + had indeed been planned by Madame de la Roche-Jugan. To do her justice, + she had not suspected the force of the blow she was dealing. She still + believed in the virtue of the Marquise; but during the perpetual + surveillance she had never relaxed, she could not fail to see the changed + nature of the intercourse between Camors and the Marquise. It must not be + forgotten that she dreamed of securing for her son Sigismund the + succession to her old friend; and she foresaw a dangerous rivalry—the + germ of which she sought to destroy. To awaken the distrust of the General + toward Camors, so as to cause his doors to be closed against him, was all + she meditated. But her anonymous letter, like most villainies of this + kind, was a more fatal and murderous weapon than its base author imagined. + </p> + <p> + The young Marquise, then, mused while stirring the fire, casting, from + time to time, a furtive glance at the clock. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors would soon arrive—how could she warn him? In the + present state of their relations it was not impossible that the very first + words of. Camors might immediately divulge their secret: and once + betrayed, there was not only for her personal dishonor, a scandalous fall, + poverty, a convent—but for her husband or her lover—perhaps + for both—death! + </p> + <p> + When the bell in the lower court sounded, announcing the Count’s approach, + these thoughts crowded into the brain of the Marquise like a legion of + phantoms. But she rallied her courage by a desperate effort and strained + all her faculties to the execution of the plan she had hastily conceived, + which was her last hope. And one word, one gesture, one mistake, or one + carelessness of her lover, might overthrow it in a second. A moment later + the door was opened by a servant, announcing M. de Camors. Without + speaking, she signed to her husband to gain his hiding-place. The General, + who had risen at the sound of the bell, seemed still to hesitate, but + shrugging his shoulders, as if in disdain of himself, retired behind the + curtain which faced the door. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors entered the room carelessly, and advanced toward the + fireplace where sat the Marquise; his smiling lips half opened to speak, + when he was struck by the peculiar expression on the face of the Marquise, + and the words were frozen on his lips. This look, fixed upon him from his + entrance, had a strange, weird intensity, which, without expressing + anything, made him fear everything. But he was accustomed to trying + situations, and as wary and prudent as he was intrepid. He ceased to smile + and did not speak, but waited. + </p> + <p> + She gave him her hand without ceasing to look at him with the same + alarming intensity. + </p> + <p> + “Either she is mad,” he said to himself, “or there is some great peril!” + </p> + <p> + With the rapid perception of her genius and of her love, she felt he + understood her; and not leaving him time to speak and compromise her, + instantly said: + </p> + <p> + “It is very kind of you to keep your promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Camors, seating himself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! For you know you come here to be tormented.” There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Have you at last become a convert to my fixed idea?” she added after a + second. + </p> + <p> + “What fixed idea? It seems to me you have a great many!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! But I speak of a good one—my best one, at least—of your + marriage!” + </p> + <p> + “What! again, cousin?” said Camors, who, now assured of his danger and its + nature, marched with a firmer foot over the burning soil. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, again, cousin; and I will tell you another thing—I have found + the person.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Then I shall run away!” + </p> + <p> + She met his smile with an imperious glance. + </p> + <p> + “Then you still adhere to that plan?” said Camors, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Most firmly! I need not repeat to you my reasons—having preached + about it all winter—in fact so much so as to disturb the General, + who suspects some mystery between us.” + </p> + <p> + “The General? Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing serious, you must understand. Well, let us resume the + subject. Miss Campbell will not do—she is too blonde—an odd + objection for me to make by the way; not Mademoiselle de Silas—too + thin; not Mademoiselle Rolet, in spite of her millions; not Mademoiselle + d’Esgrigny—too much like the Bacquieres and Van-Cuyps. All this is a + little discouraging, you will admit; but finally everything clears up. I + tell you I have discovered the right one—a marvel!” + </p> + <p> + “Her name?” said Camors. + </p> + <p> + “Marie de Tecle!” + </p> + <p> + There was silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you say nothing,” resumed the Marquise, “because you can have + nothing to say! Because she unites everything—personal beauty, + family, fortune, everything—almost like a dream. Then, too, your + properties join. You see how I have thought of everything, my friend! I + can not imagine how we never came to think of this before!” + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors did not reply, and the Marquise began to be surprised at his + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she exclaimed; “you may look a long time—there can not be a + single objection—you are caught this time. Come, my friend, say yes, + I implore you!” And while her lips said “I implore you,” in a tone of + gracious entreaty, her look said, with terrible emphasis, “You must!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you allow me to reflect upon it, Madame?” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “No, my friend!” + </p> + <p> + “But really,” said Camors, who was very pale, “it seems to me you dispose + of the hand of Mademoiselle de Tecle very readily. Mademoiselle de Tecle + is rich and courted on all sides—also, her great-uncle has ideas of + the province, and her mother, ideas of religion, which might well—” + </p> + <p> + “I charge myself with all that,” interrupted the Marquise. + </p> + <p> + “What a mania you have for marrying people!” + </p> + <p> + “Women who do not make love, cousin, always have a mania for matchmaking.” + </p> + <p> + “But seriously, you will give me a few days for reflection?” + </p> + <p> + “To reflect about what? Have you not always told me you intended marrying + and have been only waiting the chance? Well, you never can find a better + one than this; and if you let it slip, you will repent the rest of your + life.” + </p> + <p> + “But give me time to consult my family!” + </p> + <p> + “Your family—what a joke! It seems to me you have reached full age; + and then—what family? Your aunt, Madame de la Roche-Jugan?” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless! I do not wish to offend her:” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear cousin, don’t be uneasy; suppress this uneasiness; I assure + you she will be delighted!” + </p> + <p> + “Why should she?” + </p> + <p> + “I have my reasons for thinking so;” and the young woman in uttering these + words was seized with a fit of sardonic laughter which came near + convulsion, so shaken were her nerves by the terrible tension. + </p> + <p> + Camors, to whom little by little the light fell stronger on the more + obscure points of the terrible enigma proposed to him, saw the necessity + of shortening a scene which had overtasked her faculties to an almost + insupportable degree. He rose: + </p> + <p> + “I am compelled to leave you,” he said; “for I am not dining at home. But + I will come to-morrow, if you will permit me.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. You authorize me to speak to the General?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, for I really can see no reasonable objection.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. I adore you!” said the Marquise. She gave him her hand, which + he kissed and immediately departed. + </p> + <p> + It would have required a much keener vision than that of M. de Campvallon + to detect any break, or any discordance, in the audacious comedy which had + just been played before him by these two great artists. + </p> + <p> + The mute play of their eyes alone could have betrayed them; and that he + could not see. + </p> + <p> + As to their tranquil, easy, natural dialogue there was not in it a word + which he could seize upon, and which did not remove all his disquietude, + and confound all his suspicions. From this moment, and ever afterward, + every shadow was effaced from his mind; for the ability to imagine such a + plot as that in which his wife in her despair had sought refuge, or to + comprehend such depth of perversity, was not in the General’s pure and + simple spirit. + </p> + <p> + When he reappeared before his wife, on leaving his concealment, he was + constrained and awkward. With a gesture of confusion and humility he took + her hand, and smiled upon her with all the goodness and tenderness of his + soul beaming from his face. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the Marquise, by a new reaction of her nervous system, + broke into weeping and sobbing; and this completed the General’s despair. + </p> + <p> + Out of respect to this worthy man, we shall pass over a scene the interest + of which otherwise is not sufficient to warrant the unpleasant effect it + would produce on all honest people. We shall equally pass over without + record the conversation which took place the next day between the Marquise + and M. de Camors. + </p> + <p> + Camors had experienced, as we have observed, a sentiment of repulsion at + hearing the name of Mademoiselle de Tecle appear in the midst of this + intrigue. It amounted almost to horror, and he could not control the + manifestation of it. How could he conquer this supreme revolt of his + conscience to the point of submitting to the expedient which would make + his intrigue safe? By what detestable sophistries he dared persuade + himself that he owed everything to his accomplice—even this, we + shall not attempt to explain. To explain would be to extenuate, and that + we wish not to do. We shall only say that he resigned himself to this + marriage. On the path which he had entered a man can check himself as + little as he can check a flash of lightning. + </p> + <p> + As to the Marquise, one must have formed no conception of this depraved + though haughty spirit, if astonished at her persistence, in cold blood, + and after reflection, in the perfidious plot which the imminence of her + danger had suggested to her. She saw that the suspicions of the General + might be reawakened another day in a more dangerous manner, if this + marriage proved only a farce. She loved Camors passionately; and she loved + scarcely less the dramatic mystery of their liaison. She had also felt a + frantic terror at the thought of losing the great fortune which she + regarded as her own; for the disinterestedness of her early youth had long + vanished, and the idea of sinking miserably in the Parisian world, where + she had long reigned by her luxury as well as her beauty, was + insupportable to her. + </p> + <p> + Love, mystery, fortune-she wished to preserve them all at any price; and + the more she reflected, the more the marriage of Camors appeared to her + the surest safeguard. + </p> + <p> + It was true, it would give her a sort of rival. But she had too high an + opinion of herself to fear anything; and she preferred Mademoiselle de + Tecle to any other, because she knew her, and regarded her as an inferior + in everything. + </p> + <p> + About fifteen days after, the General called on Madame de Tecle one + morning, and demanded for M. de Camors her daughter’s hand. It would be + painful to dwell on the joy which Madame de Tecle felt; and her only + surprise was that Camors had not come in person to press his suit. But + Camors had not the heart to do so. He had been at Reuilly since that + morning, and called on Madame de Tecle, where he learned his overture was + accepted. Once having resolved on this monstrous action, he was determined + to carry it through in the most correct manner, and we know he was master + of all social arts. + </p> + <p> + In the evening Madame de Tecle and her daughter, left alone, walked + together a long time on their dear terrace, by the soft light of the stars—the + daughter blessing her mother, and the mother thanking God—both + mingling their hearts, their dreams, their kisses, and their tears—happier, + poor women, than is permitted long to human beings. The marriage took + place the ensuing month. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK 3. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE COUNTESS DE CAMORS + </h2> + <p> + After passing the few weeks of the honeymoon at Reuilly, the Comte and + Comtesse de Camors returned to Paris and established themselves at their + hotel in the Rue de l’Imperatrice. From this moment, and during the months + that followed, the young wife kept up an active correspondence with her + mother; and we here transcribe some of the letters, which will make us + more intimately acquainted with the character of the young woman. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Madame de Camors to Madame de Tecle. + “October. + + “Am I happy? No, my dearest mother! No—not happy! I have only + wings and soar to heaven like a bird! I feel the sunshine in my + head, in my eyes, in my heart. + + “It blinds me, it enchants me, it causes me to shed delicious tears! + Happy? No, my tender mother; that is not possible, when I think + that I am his wife! The wife—understand me—of him who has reigned + in my poor thoughts since I was able to think—of him whom I should + have chosen out of the whole universe! When I remember that I am + his wife, that we are united forever, how I love life! how I love + you! how I love God! + + “The Bois and the lake are within a few steps of us, as you know. + We ride thither nearly every morning, my husband and I!—I repeat, + I and my husband! We go there, my husband and I—I and my husband! + + “I know not how it is, but it is always delicious weather to me, + even when it rains—as it does furiously to-day; for we have just + come in, driven home by the storm. + + “During our ride to-day, I took occasion to question him quietly as + to some points of our history which puzzled me. First, why had he + married me? + + “‘Because you pleased me apparently, Miss Mary.’ He likes to give me + this name, which recalls to him I know not what episode of my + untamed youth—untamed still to him. + + “‘If I pleased you, why did I see you so seldom?’ + + “‘Because I did not wish to court you until I had decided on + marrying.’ + + “‘How could I have pleased you, not being at all beautiful?’ + + “‘You are not beautiful, it is true,’ replies this cruel young man, + ‘but you are very pretty; and above all you are grace itself, like + your mother.’ + + “All these obscure points being cleared up to the complete + satisfaction of Miss Mary, Miss Mary took to fast galloping; not + because it was raining, but because she became suddenly—we do not + know the reason why—as red as a poppy. + + “Oh, beloved mother! how sweet it is to be loved by him we adore, + and to be loved precisely as we wish—as we have dreamed—according + to the exact programme of our young, romantic hearts! + + “Did you ever believe I had ideas on such a delicate subject? Yes, + dear mother, I had them. Thus, it seemed to me there were many + different styles of loving—some vulgar, some pretentious, some + foolish, and others, again, excessively comic. None of these seemed + suited to the Prince, our neighbor. I ever felt he should love, + like the Prince he is, with grace and dignity; with serious + tenderness, a little stern perhaps; with amiability, but almost with + condescension—as a lover, but as a master, too—in fine, like my + husband! + + “Dear angel, who art my mother! be happy in my happiness, which was + your sole work. I kiss your hands—I kiss your wings! + + “I thank you! I bless you! I adore you! + + “If you were near me, it would be too much happiness! I should die, + I think. Nevertheless, come to us very soon. Your chamber awaits + you. It is as blue as the heavens in which I float. I have already + told you this, but I repeat it. + + “Good-by, mother of the happiest woman in the world! + + “MISS MARY, + + “Comtesse de Camors.” + + ............................... + + “November. + + “MY MOTHER: + + “You made me weep—I who await you every morning. I will say + nothing to you, however; I will not beg you. If the health of my + grandfather seems to you so feeble as to demand your presence, I + know no prayer would take you away from your duty. Nor would I make + the prayer, my angel mother! + + “But exaggerate nothing, I pray you, and think your little Marie can + not pass by the blue chamber without feeling a swelling of the + heart. Apart from this grief which you cause her, she continues to + be as happy as even you could wish. + + “Her charming Prince is ever charming and ever her Prince! He takes + her to see the monuments, the museums, the theatres, like the poor + little provincial that she is. Is it not touching on the part of so + great a personage? + + “He is amused at my ecstasies—for I have ecstasies. Do not breathe + it to my Uncle Des Rameures, but Paris is superb! The days here + count double our own for thought and life. + + “My husband took me to Versailles yesterday. I suspect that this, + in the eyes of the people here, is rather a ridiculous episode; for + I notice the Count did not boast of it. Versailles corresponds + entirely with the impressions you had given me of it; for there is + not the slightest change since you visited it with my grandfather. + + “It is grand, solemn, and cold. There is, though, a new and very + curious museum in the upper story of the palace, consisting chiefly + of original portraits of the famous men of history. Nothing pleases + me more than to see these heroes of my memory passing before me in + grand procession—from Charles the Bold to George Washington. Those + faces my imagination has so often tried to evoke, that it seems to + me we are in the Elysian Fields, and hold converse with the dead: + + “You must know, my mother, I was familiar with many things that + surprised M. de Camors very much. He was greatly struck by my + knowledge of science and my genius. I did no more, as you may + imagine, than respond to his questions; but it seemed to astonish + him that I could respond at all. + + “Why should he ask me these things? If he did not know how to + distinguish the different Princesses of Conti, the answer is simple. + + “But I knew, because my mother taught me. That is simple enough + too. + + “We dined afterward, at my suggestion, at a restaurant. Oh, my + mother! this was the happiest moment of my life! To dine at a + restaurant with my husband was the most delightful of all + dissipations! + + “I have said he seemed astonished at my learning. I ought to add in + general, he seemed astonished whenever I opened my lips. Did he + imagine me a mute? I speak little, I acknowledge, however, for he + inspires me with a ceaseless fear: I am afraid of displeasing him, + of appearing silly before him, or pretentious, or pedantic. The day + when I shall be at ease with him, and when I can show him my good + sense and gratitude—if that day ever comes—I shall be relieved of + a great weight on my mind, for truly I sometimes fear he looks on me + as a child. + + “The other day I stopped before a toy-shop on the Boulevard. What a + blunder! And as he saw my eye fixed on a magnificent squadron of + dolls— + + “‘Do you wish one, Miss Mary?’ he said. + + “Was not this horrible, my mother—from him who knows everything + except the Princesses of Conti? He explained everything to me; but + briefly in a word, as if to a person he despaired of ever making + understand him. And I understand so well all the time, my poor + little mother! + + “But so much the better, say I; for if he loves me while thinking me + silly, what will it be later! + + “With fond love, your + + “MARIE.” + + ............................. + + “December. + + “All Paris has returned once more, my dear mother, and for fifteen + days I have been occupied with visits. The men here do not usually + visit; but my husband is obliged to present me for the first time to + the persons I ought to know. He accompanies me there, which is much + more agreeable to me than to him, I believe. + + “He is more serious than usual. Is not this the only form in which + amiable men show their bad humor? The people we visit look on me + with a certain interest. The woman whom this great lord has honored + with his choice is evidently an object of great curiosity. This + flatters and intimidates me; I blush and feel constrained; I appear + awkward. When they find me awkward and insignificant, they stare. + They believe he married me for my fortune: then I wish to cry. We + reenter the carriage, he smiles upon me, and I am in heaven! Such + are our visits. + + “You must know, my mother, that to me Madame Campvallon is divine. + She often takes me to her box at the Italiens, as mine will not be + vacant until January. Yesterday she gave a little fete for me in + her beautiful salon: the General opened the ball with me. + + “Oh! my mother, what a wonderfully clever man the General is! And I + admire him because he admires you! + + “The Marquise presented to me all the best dancers. They were young + gentlemen, with their necks so uncovered it almost gave me a chill. + I never before had seen men bare-necked and the fashion is not + becoming. It was very evident, however, that they considered + themselves indispensable and charming. Their deportment was + insolent and self-sufficient; their eyes were disdainful and + all-conquering. + + “Their mouths ever open to breathe freer, their coat-tails flapping + like wings, they take one by the waist—as one takes his own + property. Informing you by a look that they are about to do you the + honor of removing you, they whirl you away; then, panting for + breath, inform you by another look that they will do themselves the + pleasure of stopping—and they stop. Then they rest a moment, + panting, laughing, showing their teeth; another look—and they + repeat the same performance. They are wonderful! + + “Louis waltzed with me and seemed satisfied. I saw him for the + first time waltz with the Marquise. Oh, my mother, it was the dance + of the stars! + + “One thing which struck me this evening, as always, was the manifest + idolatry with which the women regard my husband. This, my tender + mother, terrifies me. Why—I ask myself—why did he choose me? + How can I please him? How can I succeed? + + “Behold the result of all my meditations! A folly perhaps, but of + which the effect is to reassure me: + + “Portrait of the Comtesse de Camors, drawn by herself. + + “The Comtesse de Camors, formerly Marie de Tecle, is a personage + who, having reached her twentieth year, looks older. She is not + beautiful, as her husband is the first person to confess. He says + she is pretty; but she doubts even this. Let us see. She has very + long limbs, a fault which she shares with Diana, the Huntress, and + which probably gives to the gait of the Countess a lightness it + might not otherwise possess. Her body is naturally short, and on + horseback appears to best advantage. She is plump without being + gross. + + “Her features are irregular; the mouth being too large and the lips + too thick, with—alas! the shade of a moustache; white teeth, a + little too small; a commonplace nose, a slightly pug; and her + mother’s eyes—her best feature. She has the eyebrows of her Uncle + Des Rameures, which gives an air of severity to the face and + neutralizes the good-natured expression-a reflex from the softness + of her heart. + + “She has the dark complexion of her mother, which is more becoming + to her mother than to her. Add to all this, blue-black hair in + great silky masses. On the whole, one knows not what to pronounce + her. + + “There, my mother, is my portrait! Intended to reassure me, it has + hardly done so; for it seems to me to be that of an ugly little + woman! + + “I wish to be the most lively of women; I wish to be one of the most + distinguished. I wish to be one of the most captivating! But, oh, + my mother! if I please him I am still more enchanted! On the + whole, thank God! he finds me perhaps much better than I am: for + men have not the same taste in these matters that we have. + + “But what I really can not comprehend, is why he has so little + admiration for the Marquise de Campvallon. His manner is very cold + to her. Were I a man, I should be wildly in love with that superb + woman! Good-night, most beloved of mothers!” + + .......................... + + “January. + + “You complain of me, my cherished one! The tone of my letters + wounds you! You can not comprehend how this matter of my personal + appearance haunts me. I scrutinize it; I compare it with that of + others. There is something of levity in that which hurts you? You + ask how can I think a man attaches himself to these things, while + the merits of mind and soul go for nothing? + + “But, my dearest mother, how will these merits of mind and of soul + —supposing your daughter to possess them—serve her, unless she + possesses the courage or has the opportunity to display them? And + when I summon up the courage, it seems to me the occasion never + comes. + + “For I must confess to you that this delicious Paris is not perfect; + and I discover, little by little, the spots upon the sun. + + “Paris is the most charming place! The only pity is that it has + inhabitants! Not but that they are agreeable, for they are only too + much so; only they are also very careless, and appear to my view to + live and die without reflecting much on what they are doing. It is + not their fault; they have no time. + + “Without leaving Paris, they are incessant travellers, eternally + distracted by motion and novelty. Other travellers, when they have + visited some distant corner—forgetting for a while their families, + their duties, and their homes—return and settle down again. But + these Parisians never do. Their life is an endless voyage; they + have no home. That which elsewhere is the great aim of life is + secondary here. One has here, as elsewhere, an establishment—a + house, a private chamber. One must have. Here one is wife or + mother, husband or father, just as elsewhere; but, my poor mother, + they are these things just as little as possible. The whole + interest centres not in the homes; but in the streets, the museums, + the salons, the theatres, and the clubs. It radiates to the immense + outside life, which in all its forms night and day agitates Paris, + attracts, excites, and enervates you; steals your time, your mind, + your soul—and devours them all! + + “Paris is the most delicious of places to visit—the worst of places + to live in. + + “Understand well, my mother, that in seeking by what qualifies I can + best attract my husband—who is the best of men, doubtless, but of + Parisian men nevertheless—I have continually reflected on merits + which may be seen at once, which do not require time to be + appreciated. + + “Finally, I do not deny that all this is miserable cynicism, + unworthy of you and of myself; for you know I am not at heart a bad + little woman. Certainly, if I could keep Monsieur de Camors for a + year or two at an old chateau in the midst of a solitary wood, I + should like it much. I could then see him more frequently, I could + then become familiar with his august person, and could develop my + little talents under his charmed eyes. But then this might weary + him and would be too easy. Life and happiness, I know, are not so + easily managed. All is difficulty, peril, and conflict. + + “What joy, then, to conquer! And I swear to you, my mother, that I + will conquer! I will force him to know me as you know me; to love + me, not as he now does, but as you do, for many good reasons of + which he does not yet dream. + + “Not that he believes me absolutely a fool; I think he has abandoned + that idea for at least two days past. + + “How he came thus to think, my next letter shall explain. + + “Your own + + “MARIE.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE REPTILE STRIVES TO CLIMB + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “March. + + “You will remember, my mother, that the Count has as secretary a man + named Vautrot. The name is a bad one; but the man himself is a good + enough creature, except that I somewhat dislike his catlike style of + looking at one. + + “Well, Monsieur de Vautrot lives in the house with us. He comes + early in the morning, breakfasts at some neighboring cafe, passes + the day in the Count’s study, and often remains to dine with us, if + he has work to finish in the evening. + + “He is an educated man, and knows a little of everything; and he has + undertaken many occupations before he accepted the subordinate + though lucrative post he now occupies with my husband. He loves + literature; but not that of his time and of his country, perhaps + because he himself has failed in this. He prefers foreign writers + and poets, whom he quotes with some taste, though with too much + declamation. + + “Most probably his early education was defective; for on all + occasions, when speaking with us, he says, ‘Yes, Monsieur le Comte!’ + or ‘Certainly, Madame la Comtesse!’ as if he were a servant. Yet + withal, he has a peculiar pride, or perhaps I should say + insufferable vanity. But his great fault, in my eyes, is the + scoffing tone he adopts, when the subject is religion or morals. + + “Two days ago, while we were dining, Vautrot allowed himself to + indulge in a rather violent tirade of this description. It was + certainly contrary to all good taste. + + “‘My dear Vautrot,’ my husband said quietly to him, ‘to me these + pleasantries of yours are indifferent; but pray remember, that while + you are a strong-minded man, my wife is a weak-minded woman; and + strength, you know, should respect weakness.’ + + “Monsieur Vautrot first grew white, then red, and finally green. He + rose, bowed awkwardly, and immediately afterward left the table. + Since that time I have remarked his manner has been more reserved. + The moment I was alone with Louis, I said: + + “‘You may think me indiscreet, but pray let me ask you a question. + How can you confide all your affairs and all your secrets to a man + who professes to have no principles?’ + + “Monsieur de Camors laughed. + + “‘Oh, he talks thus out of bravado,’ he answered. ‘He thinks to + make himself more interesting in your eyes by these Mephistophelian + airs. At bottom he is a good fellow.’ + + “‘But,’ I answered, ‘he has faith in nothing.’ + + “‘Not in much, I believe. Yet he has never deceived me. He is an + honorable man.’ + + “I opened my eyes wide at this. + + “‘Well,’ he said, with an amused look, ‘what is the matter, Miss + Mary?’ + + “‘What is this honor you speak of?’ + + “‘Let me ask your definition of it, Miss Mary,’ he replied. + + “‘Mon Dieu!’ I cried, blushing deeply, ‘I know but little of it, but + it seems to me that honor separated from morality is no great thing; + and morality without religion is nothing. They all constitute a + chain. Honor hangs to the last link, like a flower; but if the + chain be broken, honor falls with the rest.’ He looked at me with + strange eyes, as if he were not only confounded but disquieted by my + philosophy. Then he gave a deep sigh, and rising said: + + “‘Very neat, that definition-very neat.’ + + “That night, at the opera, he plied me with bonbons and orange ices. + Madame de Campvallon accompanied us; and at parting, I begged her to + call for me next day on her way to the Bois, for she is my idol. + She is so lovely and so distinguished—and she I knows it well. I + love to be with her. On our return home, Louis remained silent, + contrary to his custom. Suddenly he said, brusquely: + + “‘Marie, do you go with the Marquise to the Bois to-morrow?’ + + “‘Yes.’ + + “‘But you see her often, it seems to me-morning and evening. You + are always with her.’ + + “‘Heavens! I do it to be agreeable to you. Is not Madame de + Campvallon a good associate?’ + + “‘Excellent; only in general I do not admire female friendships. + But I did wrong to speak to you on this subject. You have wit and + discretion enough to preserve the proper limits.’ + + “This, my mother, was what he said to me. I embrace you. + + “Ever your + + “MARIE.” + + ............................ + + “March. + + “I hope, my own mother, not to bore you this year with a catalogue + of fetes and festivals, lamps and girandoles; for Lent is coming. + To-day is Ash-Wednesday. Well, we dance to-morrow evening at Madame + d’Oilly’s. I had hoped not to go, but I saw Louis was disappointed, + and I feared to offend Madame d’Oilly, who has acted a mother’s part + to my husband. Lent here is only an empty name. I sigh to myself: + ‘Will they never stop! Great heavens! will they never cease + amusing themselves?’ + + “I must confess to you, my darling mother, I amuse myself too much + to be happy. I depended on Lent for some time to myself, and see + how they efface the calendar! + + “This dear Lent! What a sweet, honest, pious invention it is, + notwithstanding. How sensible is our religion! How well it + understands human weakness and folly! How far-seeing in its + regulations! How indulgent also! for to limit pleasure is to + pardon it. + + “I also love pleasure—the beautiful toilets that make us resemble + flowers, the lighted salons, the music, the gay voices and the + dance. Yes, I love all these things; I experience their charming + confusion; I palpitate, I inhale their intoxication. But always— + always! at Paris in the winter—at the springs in summer—ever this + crowd, ever this whirl, this intoxication of pleasure! All become + like savages, like negroes, and—dare I say so?—bestial! Alas for + Lent! + + “HE foresaw it. HE told us, as the priest told me this morning: + ‘Remember you have a soul: Remember you have duties!—a husband + —a child—a mother—a God!’ + + “Then, my mother, we should retire within ourselves; should pass the + time in grave thought between the church and our homes; should + converse on solemn and serious subjects; and should dwell in the + moral world to gain a foothold in heaven! This season is intended + as a wholesome interval to prevent our running frivolity into + dissipation, and pleasure into convulsion; to prevent our winter’s + mask from becoming our permanent visage. This is entirely the + opinion of Madame Jaubert. + + “Who is this Madame Jaubert? you will ask. She is a little + Parisian angel whom my mother would dearly love! I met her almost + everywhere—but chiefly at St. Phillipe de Roule—for several months + without being aware that she is our neighbor, that her hotel adjoins + ours. Such is Paris! + + “She is a graceful person, with a soft and tender, but decided air. + We sat near each other at church; we gave each other side-glances; + we pushed our chairs to let each other pass; and in our softest + voices would say, ‘Excuse me, Madame!’ ‘Oh, Madame!’ My glove would + fall, she would pick it up; I would offer her the holy water, and + receive a sweet smile, with ‘Dear Madame!’ Once at a concert at the + Tuileries we observed each other at a distance, and smiled + recognition; when any part of the music pleased us particularly we + glanced smilingly at each other. Judge of my surprise next morning + when I saw my affinity enter the little Italian house next ours—and + enter it, too, as if it were her home. On inquiry I found she was + Madame Jaubert, the wife of a tall, fair young man who is a civil + engineer. + + “I was seized with a desire to call upon my neighbor. I spoke of it + to Louis, blushing slightly, for I remembered he did not approve of + intimacies between women. But above all, he loves me! + + “Notwithstanding he slightly shrugged his shoulders—‘Permit me at + least, Miss Mary, to make some inquiries about these people.’ + + “A few days afterward he had made them, for he said: ‘Miss Mary, you + may visit Madame Jaubert; she is a perfectly proper person.’ + + “I first flew to my husband’s neck, and thence went to call upon + Madame Jaubert. + + “‘It is I, Madame!’ + + “‘Oh, Madame, permit me!’ + + “And we embraced each other and were good friends immediately. + + “Her husband is a civil engineer, as I have said. He was once + occupied with great inventions and with great industrial works; but + that was only for a short time. Having inherited a large estate, he + abandoned his studies and did nothing—at least nothing but + mischief. When he married to increase his fortune, his pretty + little wife had a sad surprise. He was never seen at home; always + at the club—always behind the scenes at the opera—always going to + the devil! He gambled, he had mistresses and shameful affairs. But + worse than all, he drank—he came to his wife drunk. One incident, + which my pen almost refuses to write, will give you an idea. Think + of it! He conceived the idea of sleeping in his boots! There, my + mother, is the pretty fellow my sweet little friend transformed, + little by little, into a decent man, a man of merit, and an + excellent husband! + + “And she did it all by gentleness, firmness, and sagacity. Now is + not this encouraging?—for, God knows, my task is less difficult. + + “Their household charms me; for it proves that one may build for + one’s self, even in the midst of this Paris, a little nest such as + one dreams of. These dear neighbors are inhabitants of Paris—not + its prey. They have their fireside; they own it, and it belongs to + them. Paris is at their door—so much the better. They have ever a + relish for refined amusement; ‘they drink at the fountain,’ but do + not drown themselves in it. Their habits are the same, passing + their evenings in conversation, reading, or music; stirring the fire + and listening to the wind and rain without, as if they were in a + forest. + + “Life slips gently through their fingers, thread by thread, as in + our dear old country evenings. + + “My mother, they are happy! + + “Here, then, is my dream—here is my plan. + + “My husband has no vices, as Monsieur Jaubert had. He has only the + habits of all the brilliant men of his Paris-world. It is + necessary, my own mother, gradually to reform him; to suggest + insensibly to him the new idea that one may pass one evening at home + in company with a beloved and loving wife, without dying suddenly of + consumption. + + “The rest will follow. + + “What is this rest? It is the taste for a quiet life, for the + serious sweetness of the domestic hearth—the family taste—the idea + of seclusion—the recovered soul! + + “Is it not so, my good angel? Then trust me. I am more than ever + full of ardor, courage, and confidence. For he loves me with all + his heart, with more levity, perhaps, than I deserve; but still—he + loves me! + + “He loves me; he spoils me; he heaps presents upon me. There is no + pleasure he does not offer me, except, be it understood, the + pleasure of passing one evening at home together. + + “But he loves me! That is the great point—he loves me! + + “Now, dearest mother, let me whisper one final word-a word that + makes me laugh and cry at the same time. It seems to me that for + some time past I have had two hearts—a large one of my own, and— + another—smaller! + + “Oh, my mother! I see you in tears. But it is a great mystery + this. It is a dream of heaven; but perhaps only a dream, which I + have not yet told even to my husband—only to my adorable mother! + Do not weep, for it is not yet quite certain. + + “Your naughty + Miss MARY.” + </pre> + <p> + In reply to this letter Madame de Camors received one three mornings + after, announcing to her the death of her grandfather. The Comte de Tecle + had died of apoplexy, of which his state of health had long given warning. + Madame de Tecle foresaw that the first impulse of her daughter would be to + join her to share her sad bereavement. She advised her strongly against + undertaking the fatigue of the journey, and promised to visit her in + Paris, as soon as she conveniently could. The mourning in the family + heightened in the heart of the Countess the uneasy feeling and vague + sadness her last letters had indicated. + </p> + <p> + She was much less happy than she told her mother; for the first enthusiasm + and first illusions of marriage could not long deceive a spirit so quick + and acute as hers. + </p> + <p> + A young girl who marries is easily deceived by the show of an affection of + which she is the object. It is rare that she does not adore her husband + and believe she is adored by him, simply because he has married her. + </p> + <p> + The young heart opens spontaneously and diffuses its delicate perfume of + love and its songs of tenderness; and enveloped in this heavenly cloud all + seems love around it. But, little by little, it frees itself; and, too + often, recognizes that this delicious harmony and intoxicating atmosphere + which charmed it came only from itself. + </p> + <p> + Thus was it with the Countess; so far as the pen can render the shadows of + a feminine soul. Such were the impressions which, day by day, penetrated + the very soul of our poor “Miss Mary.” + </p> + <p> + It was nothing more than this; but this was everything to her! + </p> + <p> + The idea of being betrayed by her husband—and that, too, with cruel + premeditation—never had arisen to torture her soul. But, beyond + those delicate attentions to her which she never exaggerated in her + letters to her mother, she felt herself disdained and slighted. Marriage + had not changed Camors’s habits: he dined at home, instead of at his club, + that was all. She believed herself loved, however, but with a lightness + that was almost offensive. Yet, though she was sometimes sad and nearly in + tears, she did not despair; this valiant little heart attached itself with + intrepid confidence to all the happy chances the future might have in + store for it. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors continued very indifferent—as one may readily + comprehend—to the agitation which tormented this young heart, but + which never occurred to him for a moment. For himself, strange as it may + appear, he was happy enough. This marriage had been a painful step to + take; but, once confirmed in his sin, he became reconciled to it. But his + conscience, seared as it was, had some living fibres in it; and he would + not have failed in the duty he thought he owed to his wife. These + sentiments were composed of a sort of indifference, blended with pity. He + was vaguely sorry for this child, whose existence was absorbed and + destroyed between those of two beings of nature superior to her own; and + he hoped she would always remain ignorant of the fate to which she was + condemned. He resolved never to neglect anything that might extenuate its + rigor; but he belonged, nevertheless, more than ever solely to the passion + which was the supreme crime of his life. For his intrigue with Madame de + Campvallon, continually excited by mystery and danger—and conducted + with profound address by a woman whose cunning was equal to her beauty—continued + as strong, after years of enjoyment, as at first. + </p> + <p> + The gracious courtesy of M. de Camors, on which he piqued himself, as + regarded his wife, had its limits; as the young Countess perceived + whenever she attempted to abuse it. Thus, on several occasions she + declined receiving guests on the ground of indisposition, hoping her + husband would not abandon her to her solitude. She was in error. + </p> + <p> + The Count gave her in reality, under these circumstances, a tete-a-tete of + a few minutes after dinner; but near nine o’clock he would leave her with + perfect tranquillity. Perhaps an hour later she would receive a little + packet of bonbons, or a pretty basket of choice fruit, that would permit + her to pass the evening as she might. These little gifts she sometimes + divided with her neighbor, Madame Jaubert; sometimes with M. de Vautrot, + secretary to her husband. + </p> + <p> + This M. de Vautrot, for whom she had at first conceived an aversion, was + gradually getting into her good graces. In the absence of her husband she + always found him at hand; and referred to him for many little details, + such as addresses, invitations, the selection of books and the purchase of + furniture. From this came a certain familiarity; she began to call him + Vautrot, or “My good Vautrot,” while he zealously performed all her little + commissions. He manifested for her a great deal of respectful attention, + and even refrained from indulging in the sceptical sneers which he knew + displeased her. Happy to witness this reform and to testify her gratitude, + she invited him to remain on two or three evenings when he came to take + his leave, and talked with him of books and the theatres. + </p> + <p> + When her mourning kept her at home, M. de Camors passed the two first + evenings with her until ten o’clock. But this effort fatigued him, and the + poor young woman, who had already erected an edifice for the future on + this frail basis, had the mortification of observing that on the third + evening he had resumed his bachelor habits. + </p> + <p> + This was a great blow to her, and her sadness became greater than it had + been up to that time; so much so in fact, that solitude was almost + unbearable. She had hardly been long enough in Paris to form intimacies. + Madame Jaubert came to her friend as often as she could; but in the + intervals the Countess adopted the habit of retaining Vautrot, or even of + sending for him. Camors himself, three fourths of the time, would bring + him in before going out in the evening. + </p> + <p> + “I bring you Vautrot, my dear,” he would say, “and Shakespeare. You can + read him together.” + </p> + <p> + Vautrot read well; and though his heavy declamatory style frequently + annoyed the Countess, she thus managed to kill many a long evening, while + waiting the expected visit of Madame de Tecle. But Vautrot, whenever he + looked at her, wore such a sympathetic air and seemed so mortified when + she did not invite him to stay, that, even when wearied of him, she + frequently did so. + </p> + <p> + About the end of the month of April, M. Vautrot was alone with the + Countess de Camors about ten o’clock in the evening. They were reading + Goethe’s Faust, which she had never before heard. This reading seemed to + interest the young woman more than usual, and with her eyes fixed on the + reader, she listened to it with rapt attention. She was not alone + fascinated by the work, but—as is frequently the case-she traced her + own thoughts and her own history in the fiction of the poet. + </p> + <p> + We all know with what strange clairvoyance a mind possessed with a fixed + idea discovers resemblances and allusions in accidental description. + Madame de Camors perceived without doubt some remote connection between + her husband and Faust—between herself and Marguerite; for she could + not help showing that she was strangely agitated. She could not restrain + the violence of her emotion, when Marguerite in prison cries out, in her + agony and madness: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Marguerite. +</pre> + <p> + Who has given you, headsman, this power over me? You come to me while it + is yet midnight. Be merciful and let me live. + </p> + <p> + Is not to-morrow morning soon enough? + </p> + <p> + I am yet so young—so young! and am to die already! I was fair, too; + that was my undoing. My true love was near, now he is far away. + </p> + <p> + Torn lies my garland; scattered the flowers. Don’t take hold of me so + roughly! spare me! spare me. What have I done to you? Let me not implore + you in vain! I never saw you before in all my life; you know. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Faust. +</pre> + <p> + Can I endure this misery? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Marguerite. +</pre> + <p> + I am now entirely in thy power. Only let me give suck to the child. I + pressed it this whole night to my heart. They took it away to vex me, and + now say I killed it, and I shall never be happy again. They sing songs + upon me! It is wicked of the people. An old tale ends so—who bids + them apply it? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Faust. +</pre> + <p> + A lover lies at thy feet, to unloose the bonds of wickedness. + </p> + <p> + What a blending of confused sentiments, of powerful sympathies, of vague + apprehensions, suddenly seized on the breast of the young Countess! One + can hardly imagine their force—to the very verge of distracting her. + She turned on her fauteuil and closed her beautiful eyes, as if to keep + back the tears which rolled under the fringe of the long lashes. + </p> + <p> + At this moment Vautrot ceased to read, dropped his book, sighed + profoundly, and stared a moment. + </p> + <p> + Then he knelt at the feet of the Comtesse de Camors! He took her hand; he + said, with a tragic sigh, “Poor angel!” + </p> + <p> + It will be difficult to understand this incident and the unfortunately + grave results that followed it, without having the moral and physical + portrait of its principal actor. + </p> + <p> + M. Hippolyte Vautrot was a handsome man and knew it perfectly. He even + flattered himself on a certain resemblance to his patron, the Comte de + Camors. Partly from nature and partly from continual imitation, this idea + had some foundation; for he resembled the Count as much as a vulgar man + can resemble one of the highest polish. + </p> + <p> + He was the son of a small confectioner in the provinces; had received from + his father an honestly acquired fortune, and had dissipated it in the + varied enterprises of his adventurous life. The influence of his college, + however, obtained for him a place in the Seminary. He left it to come to + Paris and study law; placed himself with an attorney; attempted literature + without success; gambled on the Bourse and lost there. + </p> + <p> + He had successively knocked with feverish hand at all the doors of + Fortune, and none had opened to him, because, though his ambition was + great, his capacity was limited. Subordinate positions, for which alone he + was fit, he did not want. He would have made a good tutor: he sighed to be + a poet. He would have been a respectable cure in the country: he pined to + be a bishop. Fitted for an excellent secretary, he aspired to be a + minister. In fine, he wished to be a great man, and consequently was a + failure as a little one. + </p> + <p> + But he made himself a hypocrite; and that he found much easier. He + supported himself on the one hand by the philosophic society to be met at + Madame d’Oilly’s; on the other, by the orthodox reunions of Madame de la + Roche-Jugan. + </p> + <p> + By these influences he contrived to secure the secretaryship to the Comte + de Camors, who, in his general contempt of the human species, judged + Vautrot to be as good as any other. Now, familiarity with M. de Camors + was, morally, fearfully prejudicial to the secretary. It had, it is true, + the effect of stripping off his devout mask, which he seldom put on before + his patron; but it terribly increased in venom the depravity which + disappointment and wounded pride had secreted in his ulcerated heart. + </p> + <p> + Of course no one will imagine that M. de Camors had the bad taste to + undertake deliberately the demoralization of his secretary; but contact, + intimacy, and example sufficed fully to do this. A secretary is always + more or less a confidant. He divines that which is not revealed to him; + and Vautrot could not be long in discovering that his patron’s success did + not arise, morally, from too much principle—in politics, from excess + of conviction—in business, from a mania for scruples! The + intellectual superiority of Camors, refined and insolent as it was, aided + to blind Vautrot, showing him evil which was not only prosperous, but was + also radiant in grace and prestige. For these reasons he most profoundly + admired his master—admired, imitated, and execrated him! + </p> + <p> + Camors professed for him and for his solemn airs an utter contempt, which + he did not always take the trouble to conceal; and Vautrot trembled when + some burning sarcasm fell from such a height on the old wound of his + vanity—that wound which was ever sore within him. What he hated most + in Camors was his easy and insolent triumph—his rapid and unmerited + fortune—all those enjoyments which life yielded him without pain, + without toil, without conscience—peacefully tasted! But what he + hated above all, was that this man had thus obtained these things while he + had vainly striven for them. + </p> + <p> + Assuredly, in this Vautrot was not an exception. The same example + presented to a healthier mind would not have been much more salutary, for + we must tell those who, like M. de Camors, trample under foot all + principles of right, and nevertheless imagine that their secretaries, + their servants, their wives and their children, may remain virtuous—we + must tell these that while they wrong others they deceive themselves! And + this was the case with Hippolyte Vautrot. + </p> + <p> + He was about forty years of age—a period of life when men often + become very vicious, even when they have been passably virtuous up to that + time. He affected an austere and puritanical air; was the great man of the + cafe he frequented; and there passed judgment on his contemporaries and + pronounced them all inferior. He was difficult to please—in point of + virtue demanding heroism; in talent, genius; in art, perfection. + </p> + <p> + His political opinions were those of Erostratus, with this difference—always + in favor of the ancient—that Vautrot, after setting fire to the + temple, would have robbed it also. In short, he was a fool, but a vicious + fool as well. + </p> + <p> + If M. de Camors, at the moment of leaving his luxurious study that + evening, had had the bad taste to turn and apply his eye to the keyhole, + he would have seen something greatly to astonish even him. + </p> + <p> + He would have seen this “honorable man” approach a beautiful Italian + cabinet inlaid with ivory, turn over the papers in the drawers, and + finally open in the most natural manner a very complicated lock, the key + of which the Count at that moment had in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + It was after this search that M. Vautrot repaired with his volume of Faust + to the boudoir of the young Countess, at whose feet we have already left + him too long. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. LIGHTNING FROM A CLEAR SKY + </h2> + <p> + Madame de Camors had closed her eyes to conceal her tears. She opened them + at the instant Vautrot seized her hand and called her “Poor angel!” + </p> + <p> + Seeing the man on his knees, she could not comprehend it, and only + exclaimed, simply: + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad, Vautrot?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am mad!” Vautrot threw his hair back with a romantic gesture + common to him, and, as he believed, to the poets-“Yes, I am mad with love + and with pity, for I see your sufferings, pure and noble victim!” + </p> + <p> + The Countess only stared in blank astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Repose yourself with confidence,” he continued, “on a heart that will be + devoted to you until death—a heart into which your tears now + penetrate to its most sacred depths!” + </p> + <p> + The Countess did not wish her tears to penetrate to such a distance, so + she dried them. + </p> + <p> + A man on his knees before a woman he adores must appear to her either + sublime or ridiculous. Unfortunately, the attitude of Vautrot, at once + theatrical and awkward, did not seem sublime to the Countess. To her + lively imagination it was irresistibly ludicrous. A bright gleam of + amusement illumined her charming countenance; she bit her lip to conceal + it, but it shone out of her eyes nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + A man never should kneel unless sure of rising a conqueror. Otherwise, + like Vautrot, he exposes himself to be laughed at. + </p> + <p> + “Rise, my good Vautrot,” the Countess said, gravely. “This book has + evidently bewildered you. Go and take some rest and we will forget this; + only you must never forget yourself again in this manner.” + </p> + <p> + Vautrot rose. He was livid. + </p> + <p> + “Madame la Comtesse,” he said, bitterly, “the love of a great heart never + can be an offence. Mine at least would have been sincere; mine would have + been faithful: mine would not have been an infamous snare!” + </p> + <p> + The emphasis of these words displayed so evident an intention, the + countenance of the young woman changed immediately. She moved uneasily on + her fauteuil. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Monsieur Vautrot?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, Madame, which you do not know, I think,” he replied, meaningly. + </p> + <p> + She rose. + </p> + <p> + “You shall explain your meaning immediately to me, Monsieur!” she + exclaimed; “or later, to my husband.” + </p> + <p> + “But your sadness, your tears,” cried the secretary, in a tone of + admirable sincerity—“these made me sure you were not ignorant of + it!” + </p> + <p> + “Of what? You hesitate! Speak, man!” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a wretch! I love you and pity you!—that is all;” and + Vautrot sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + “And why do you pity me?” She spoke haughtily; and though Vautrot had + never suspected this imperiousness of manner or of language, he reflected + hurriedly on the point at which he had arrived. More sure than ever of + success, after a moment he took from his pocket a folded letter. It was + one with which he had provided himself to confirm the suspicions of the + Countess, now awakened for the first time. + </p> + <p> + In profound silence he unfolded and handed it to her. She hesitated a + moment, then seized it. A single glance recognized the writing, for she + had often exchanged notes with the Marquise de Campvallon. + </p> + <p> + Words of the most burning passion terminated thus: + </p> + <p> + “—Always a little jealous of Mary; half vexed at having given her to + you. For—she is pretty and—but I! I am beautiful, am I not, my + beloved?—and, above all, I adore you!” + </p> + <p> + At the first word the Countess became fearfully pale. Finishing, she + uttered a deep groan; then she reread the letter and returned it to + Vautrot, as if unconscious of what she was doing. + </p> + <p> + For a few seconds she remained motionless—petrified—her eyes + fixed on vacancy. A world seemed rolling down and crushing her heart. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she turned, passed with rapid steps into her boudoir; and Vautrot + heard the sound of opening and shutting drawers. A moment after she + reappeared with bonnet and cloak, and crossed the boudoir with the same + strong and rapid step. + </p> + <p> + Vautrot, greatly terrified, rushed to stop her. + </p> + <p> + “Madame!” he cried, throwing himself before her. + </p> + <p> + She waved him aside with an imperious gesture of her hand; he trembled and + obeyed, and she left the boudoir. A moment later she was in the Avenue des + Champs Elysees, going toward Paris. + </p> + <p> + It was now near midnight; cold, damp April weather, with the rain falling + in great drops. The few pedestrians still on the broad pavement turned to + follow with their eyes this majestic young woman, whose gait seemed + hastened by some errand of life or death. + </p> + <p> + But in Paris nothing is surprising, for people witness all manner of + things there. Therefore the strange appearance of Madame de Camors did not + excite any extraordinary attention. A few men smiled and nodded; others + threw a few words of raillery at her—both were unheeded alike. She + traversed the Place de la Concorde with the same convulsive haste, and + passed toward the bridge. Arriving on it, the sound of the swollen Seine + rushing under the arches and against the pillars, caught her ear; she + stopped, leaned against the parapet, and gazed into the angry water; then + bowing her head she uttered a deep sigh, and resumed her rapid walk. + </p> + <p> + In the Rue Vanneau she stopped before a brilliantly lighted mansion, + isolated from the adjoining houses by a garden wall. It was the dwelling + of the Marquise de Campvallon: Arrived there, the unfortunate child knew + not what to do, nor even why she had come. She had some vague design of + assuring herself palpably of her misfortune; to touch it with her finger; + or perhaps to find some reason, some pretext to doubt it. + </p> + <p> + She dropped down on a stone bench against the garden wall, and hid her + face in both her hands, vainly striving to think. It was past midnight. + The streets were deserted: a shower of rain was falling over Paris, and + she was chilled to numbness. + </p> + <p> + A sergent-de-ville passed, enveloped in his cape. He turned and stared at + the young woman; then took her roughly by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here?” he said, brutally. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him with wondering eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know myself,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + The man looked more closely at her, discovered through all her confusion a + nameless refinement and the subtle perfume of purity. He took pity on her. + </p> + <p> + “But, Madame, you can not stay here,” he rejoined in a softer voice. + </p> + <p> + “No?” + </p> + <p> + “You must have some great sorrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Very great.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “The Comtesse de Camors,” she said, simply. + </p> + <p> + The man looked bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me where you live, Madame?” + </p> + <p> + She gave the address with perfect simplicity and perfect indifference. She + seemed to be thinking nothing of what she was saying. The man took a few + steps, then stopped and listened to the sound of wheels approaching. The + carriage was empty. He stopped it, opened the door, and requested the + Countess to get in. She did so quietly, and he placed himself beside the + driver. + </p> + <p> + The Comte de Camors had just reached his house and heard with surprise, + from the lips of his wife’s maid, the details of the Countess’s mysterious + disappearance, when the bell rang violently. + </p> + <p> + He rushed out and met his wife on the stairs. She had somewhat recovered + her calmness on the road, and as he interrogated her with a searching + glance, she made a ghastly effort to smile. + </p> + <p> + “I was slightly ill and went out a little,” she said. “I do not know the + streets and lost my way.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the improbability of the explanation, he did not hesitate. + He murmured a few soft words of reproach and placed her in the hands of + her maid, who removed her wet garments. + </p> + <p> + During that time he called the sergent-de-ville, who remained in the + vestibule, and closely interrogated him. On learning in what street and + what precise spot he had found the Countess, her husband knew at once and + fully the whole truth. + </p> + <p> + He went directly to his wife. She had retired and was trembling in every + limb. One of her hands was resting outside the coverlet. He rushed to take + it, but she withdrew it gently, with sad and resolute dignity. + </p> + <p> + The simple gesture told him they were separated forever. + </p> + <p> + By a tacit agreement, arranged by her and as tacitly accepted by him, + Madame de Camors became virtually a widow. + </p> + <p> + He remained for some seconds immovable, his expression lost in the shadow + of the bed-hangings; then walked slowly across the chamber. The idea of + lying to defend himself never occurred to him. + </p> + <p> + His line of conduct was already arranged—calmly, methodically. But + two blue circles had sunk around his eyes, and his face wore a waxen + pallor. His hands, joined behind his back, were clenched; and the ring he + wore sparkled with their tremulous movement. At intervals he seemed to + cease breathing, as he listened to the chattering teeth of his young wife. + </p> + <p> + After half an hour he approached the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Marie!” he said in a low voice. She turned upon him her eyes gleaming + with fever. + </p> + <p> + “Marie, I am ignorant of what you know, and I shall not ask,” he + continued. “I have been very criminal toward you, but perhaps less so than + you think. Terrible circumstances bound me with iron bands. Fate ruled me! + But I seek no palliation. Judge me as severely as you wish; but I beg of + you to calm yourself—preserve yourself! You spoke to me this morning + of your presentiments—of your maternal hopes. Attach yourself to + those thoughts, and you will always be mistress of your life. As for + myself, I shall be whatever you will—a stranger or a friend. But now + I feel that my presence makes you ill. I would leave you for the present, + but not alone. Do you wish Madame Jaubert to come to you tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” she murmured, faintly. + </p> + <p> + “I shall go for her; but it is not necessary to tell you that there are + confidences one must reserve even from one’s dearest friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Except a mother?” She murmured the question with a supplicating agony + very painful to see. + </p> + <p> + He grew still paler. After an instant, “Except a mother!” he said. “Be it + so!” + </p> + <p> + She turned her face and buried it in the pillow. + </p> + <p> + “Your mother arrives to-morrow, does she not?” She made an affirmative + motion of her head. “You can make your arrangements with her. I shall + accept everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she replied, feebly. + </p> + <p> + He left the room and went to find Madame Jaubert, whom he awakened, and + briefly told her that his wife had been seized with a severe nervous + attack—the effect of a chill. The amiable little woman ran hastily + to her friend and spent the night with her. + </p> + <p> + But she was not the dupe of the explanation Camors had given her. Women + quickly understand one another in their grief. Nevertheless she asked no + confidences and received none; but her tenderness to her friend redoubled. + During the silence of that terrible night, the only service she could + render her was to make her weep. + </p> + <p> + Nor did those laggard hours pass less bitterly for M. de Camors. He tried + to take no rest, but walked up and down his apartment until daylight in a + sort of frenzy. The distress of this poor child wounded him to the heart. + The souvenirs of the past rose before him and passed in sad procession. + Then the morrow would show him the crushed daughter with her mother—and + such a mother! Mortally stricken in all her best illusions, in all her + dearest beliefs, in all connected with the happiness of life! + </p> + <p> + He found that he still had in his heart lively feelings of pity; still + some remorse in his conscience. + </p> + <p> + This weakness irritated him, and he denounced it to himself. Who had + betrayed him? This question agitated him to an equal degree; but from the + first instant he had not been deceived in this matter. + </p> + <p> + The sudden grief and half-crazed conviction of his wife, her despairing + attitude and her silence, could only be explained by strong assurance and + certain revelation. After turning the matter over and over in his own + mind, he arrived at the conclusion that nothing could have thrown such + clear light into his life save the letters of Madame de Campvallon. + </p> + <p> + He never wrote the Marquise, but could not prevent her writing to him; for + to her, as to all women, love without letters was incomplete. + </p> + <p> + But the fault of the Count—inexcusable in a man of his tact—was + in preserving these letters. No one, however, is perfect, and he was an + artist. He delighted in these the ‘chefs-d’oeuvre’ of passionate + eloquence, was proud of inspiring them, and could not make up his mind to + burn or destroy them. He examined at once the secret drawer where he had + concealed them and, by certain signs, discovered the lock had been + tampered with. Nevertheless no letter was missing; the arrangement of them + alone had been disturbed. + </p> + <p> + His suspicions at once reverted to Vautrot, whose scruples he suspected + were slight; and in the morning they were confirmed beyond doubt by a + letter from the secretary. In fact Vautrot, after passing on his part a + most wretched night, did not feel his nerves equal in the morning to + meeting the reception the Count possibly had in waiting for him. His + letter was skilfully penned to put suspicion to sleep if it had not been + fully roused, and if the Countess had not betrayed him. + </p> + <p> + It announced his acceptance of a lucrative situation suddenly offered him + in a commercial house in London. He was obliged to decide at once, and to + sail that same morning for fear of losing an opportunity which could not + occur again. It concluded with expressions of the liveliest gratitude and + regret. + </p> + <p> + Camors could not reach his secretary to strangle him; so he resolved to + pay him. He not only sent him all arrears of salary, but a large sum in + addition as a testimonial of his sympathy and good wishes. + </p> + <p> + This, however, was a simple precaution; for the Count apprehended nothing + more from the venomous reptile so far beneath him, after he had once + shaken it off. Seeing him deprived of the only weapon he could use against + him, he felt safe. Besides, he had lost the only interest he could desire + to subserve, for he knew M. Vautrot had done him the compliment of + courting his Wife. + </p> + <p> + And he really esteemed him a little less low, after discovering this + gentlemanly taste! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. ONE GLEAM OF HOPE + </h2> + <p> + It required on the part of M. de Camors, this morning, an exertion of all + his courage to perform his duty as a gentleman in going to receive Madame + de Tecle at the station. But courage had been for some time past his sole + remaining virtue; and this at least he sought never to lose. He received, + then, most gracefully his mother-in-law, robed in her mourning attire. She + was surprised at not seeing her daughter with him. He informed her that + she had been a little indisposed since the preceding evening. + Notwithstanding the precautions he took in his language and by his smile, + he could not prevent Madame de Tecle from feeling a lively alarm. + </p> + <p> + He did not pretend, however, entirely to reassure her. Under his reserved + and measured replies, she felt the presentiment of some disaster. After + first pressing him with many questions, she kept silent during the rest of + the drive. + </p> + <p> + The young Countess, to spare her mother the first shock, had quitted her + bed; and the poor child had even put a little rouge on her pale cheeks. M. + de Camors himself opened for Madame de Tecle the door of her daughter’s + chamber, and then withdrew. + </p> + <p> + The young woman raised herself with difficulty from her couch, and her + mother took her in her arms. + </p> + <p> + All that passed between them at first was a silent interchange of mutual + caresses. Then the mother seated herself near her daughter, drew her head + on her bosom, and looked into the depths of her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” she said, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing—nothing hopeless! only you must love your little Mary + more than ever. Will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but why?” + </p> + <p> + “I must not worry you; and I must not wrong myself either—you know + why!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I implore you, my darling, to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; I will tell you everything; but, mother, you must be brave as + I am.” + </p> + <p> + She buried her head lower still on her mother’s breast, and recounted to + her, in a low voice, without looking up once, the terrible revelation + which had been made to her, and which her husband’s avowal had confirmed. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle did not once interrupt her during this cruel recital. She + only imprinted a kiss on her hair from time to time. The young Countess, + who did not dare to raise her eyes to her, as if she were ashamed of + another’s crime, might have imagined that she had exaggerated the gravity + of her misfortune, since her mother had received the confidence with so + much calmness. But the calmness of Madame de Tecle at this terrible moment + was that of the martyrs; for all that could have been suffered by the + Christians under the claws of the tiger, or on the rack of the torturer, + this mother was suffering at the hands of her best-beloved daughter. Her + beautiful pale face—her large eyes upturned to heaven, like those + that artists give to the pure victims kneeling in the Roman circus—seemed + to ask God whether He really had any consolation for such torture. + </p> + <p> + When she had heard all, she summoned strength to smile at her daughter, + who at last looked up to her with an expression of timid uncertainty—embracing + her more tightly still. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my darling,” said she, at last, “it is a great affliction, it is + true. You are right, notwithstanding; there is nothing to despair of.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really believe so?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. There is some inconceivable mystery under all this; but be + assured that the evil is not so terrible as it appears.” + </p> + <p> + “My poor mother! but he has acknowledged it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am better pleased that he has acknowledged it. That proves he has yet + some pride, and that some good is left in his soul. Then, too, he feels + very much afflicted—he suffers as much as we. Think of that. Let us + think of the future, my darling.” + </p> + <p> + They clasped each other’s hands, and smiled at each other to restrain the + tears which filled the eyes of both. After a few minutes—“I wish + much, my child,” said Madame de Tecle, “to repose for half an hour; and + then also I wish to arrange my toilet.” + </p> + <p> + “I will conduct you to your chamber. Oh, I can walk! I feel a great deal + better.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Camors took her mother’s arm and conducted her as far as the + door of the chamber prepared for her. On the threshold she left her. + </p> + <p> + “Be sensible,” said Madame de Tecle, turning and giving her another smile. + </p> + <p> + “And you also,” said the young woman, whose voice failed her. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle, as soon as the door was closed, raised her clasped hands + toward heaven; then, falling on her knees before the bed, she buried her + head in it, and wept despairingly. + </p> + <p> + The library of M. de Camors was contiguous to this chamber. He had been + walking with long strides up and down this corridor, expecting every + moment to see Madame de Tecle enter. As the time passed, he sat himself + down and tried to read, but his thoughts wandered. His ear eagerly caught, + against his will, the slightest sounds in the house. If a foot seemed + approaching him, he rose suddenly and tried to compose his countenance. + When the door of the neighboring chamber was opened, his agony was + redoubled. He distinguished the whispering of the two voices; then, an + instant after, the dull fall of Madame de Tecle upon the carpet; then her + despairing sobs. M. de Camors threw from him violently the book which he + was forcing himself to read, and, placing his elbows on the bureau which + was before him, held, for a long time, his pale brow tightened in his + contracted hands. When the sound of sobs abated little by little, and then + ceased, he breathed freer. About midday he received this note: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “If you will permit me to take my daughter to the country for a few + days, I shall be grateful to you. + + “ELISE DE TECLE.” + </pre> + <p> + He returned immediately this simple reply: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “You can do nothing of which I do not approve to-day and always. + CAMORS.” + </pre> + <p> + Madame de Tecle, in fact, having consulted the inclination and the + strength of her daughter, had determined to remove her without delay, if + possible, from the impressions of the spot where she had suffered so + severely from the presence of her husband, and from the unfortunate + embarrassment of their situation. She desired also to meditate in + solitude, in order to decide what course to take under such unexampled + circumstances. Finally, she had not the courage to see M. de Camors again—if + she ever could see him again—until some time had elapsed. It was not + without anxiety that she awaited the reply of the Count to the request she + had addressed him. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of the troubled confusion of her ideas, she believed him + capable of almost anything; and she feared everything from him. The + Count’s note reassured her. She hastened to read it to her daughter; and + both of them, like two poor lost creatures who cling to the smallest twig, + remarked with pleasure the tone of respectful abandonment with which he + had reposed their destinies in their own hands. He spent his whole day at + the session of the Corps Legislatif; and when he returned, they had + departed. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Camors woke up the next morning in the chamber where her + girlhood had passed. The birds of spring were singing under her windows in + the old ancestral gardens. As she recognized these friendly voices, so + familiar to her infancy, her heart melted; but several hours’ sleep had + restored to her her natural courage. She banished the thoughts which had + weakened her, rose, and went to surprise her mother at her first waking. + Soon after, both of them were walking together on the terrace of + lime-trees. It was near the end of April; the young, scented verdure + spread itself out beneath the sunbeams; buzzing flies already swarmed in + the half-opened roses, in the blue pyramids of lilacs, and in the clusters + of pink clover. After a few turns made in silence in the midst of this + fresh and enchanting scene, the young Countess, seeing her mother absorbed + in reverie, took her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” she said, “do not be sad. Here we are as formerly—both of + us in our little nook. We shall be happy.” + </p> + <p> + The mother looked at her, took her head and kissed her fervently on the + forehead. + </p> + <p> + “You are an angel!” she said. + </p> + <p> + It must be confessed that their uncle, Des Rameures, notwithstanding the + tender affection he showed them, was rather in the way. He never had liked + Camors; he had accepted him as a nephew as he had accepted him for a + deputy—with more of resignation than enthusiasm. His antipathy was + only too well justified by the event; but it was necessary to keep him in + ignorance of it. He was an excellent man; but rough and blunt. The conduct + of Camors, if he had but suspected it, would surely have urged him to some + irreparable quarrel. Therefore Madame de Tecle and her daughter, in his + presence, were compelled to make only half utterances, and maintain great + reserve—as much as if he had been a stranger. This painful restraint + would have become insupportable had not the young Countess’s health, day + by day, assumed a less doubtful character, and furnished them with excuses + for their preoccupation, their disquiet, and their retired life. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle, who reproached herself with the misfortunes of her + daughter, as her own work, and who condemned herself with an unspeakable + bitterness, did not cease to search, in the midst of those ruins of the + past and of the present, some reparation, some refuge for the future. The + first idea which presented itself to her imagination had been to separate + absolutely, and at any cost, the Countess from her husband. Under the + first shock of fright which the duplicity of Camors had inflicted upon + her, she could not dwell without horror on the thought of replacing her + child at the side of such a man. But this separation-supposing they could + obtain it, through the consent of M. de Camors, or the authority of the + law—would give to the public a secret scandal, and might entail + redoubled catastrophes. Were it not for these consequences she would, at + least, have dug between Madame de Camors and her husband an eternal abyss. + Madame de Tecle did not desire this. By force of reflection she had + finally seen through the character of M. de Camors in one day—not + probably more favorably, but more truly. Madame de Tecle, although a + stranger to all wickedness, knew the world and knew life, and her + penetrating intelligence divined yet more than she knew certainly. She + then very nearly understood what species of moral monster M. de Camors + was. Such as she understood him, she hoped something from him still. + However, the condition of the Countess offered her some consolation in the + future, which she ought not to risk depriving herself of; and God might + permit that this pledge of this unfortunate union might some day reunite + the severed ties. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle, in communicating her reflections, her hopes, and her + fears to her daughter, added: “My poor child, I have almost lost the right + to give you counsel; but I tell you, were it myself I should act thus.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, mother, I shall do so,” replied the young woman. + </p> + <p> + “Reflect well on it first, for the situation which you are about to accept + will have much bitterness in it; but we have only a choice of evils.” + </p> + <p> + At the close of this conversation, and eight days after their arrival in + the country, Madame de Tecle wrote M. de Camors a letter, which she read + to her daughter, who approved it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I understood you to say, that you would restore to your wife her + liberty if she wished to resume it. She neither wishes, nor could + she accept it. Her first duty is to the child which will bear your + name. It does not depend on her to keep this name stainless. She + prays you, then, to reserve for her a place in your house. You need + not fear any trouble or any reproach from her. She and I know how + to suffer in silence. Nevertheless, I supplicate you to be true to + her—to spare her. Will you leave her yet a few days in peace, then + recall, or come for her?” + </pre> + <p> + This letter touched M. de Camors deeply. Impassive as he was, it can + easily be imagined that after the departure of his wife he had not enjoyed + perfect ease of mind. Uncertainty is the worst of all evils, because + everything may be apprehended. Deprived entirely of all news for eight + days, there was no possible catastrophe he did not fancy floating over his + head. He had the haughty courage to conceal from Madame de Campvallon the + event that had occurred in his house, and to leave her undisturbed while + he himself was sleepless for many nights. It was by such efforts of energy + and of indomitable pride that this strange man preserved within his own + consciousness a proud self-esteem. The letter of Madame de Tecle came to + him like a deliverance. He sent the following brief reply: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I accept your decision with gratitude and respect. The resolution + of your daughter is generous. I have yet enough of generosity left + myself to comprehend this. I am forever, whether you wish it or + not, her friend and yours. + + “CAMORS.” + </pre> + <p> + A week later, having taken the precaution of announcing his intention, he + arrived one evening at Madame de Tecle’s. + </p> + <p> + His young wife kept her chamber. They had taken care to have no witnesses, + but their meeting was less painful and less embarrassing than they + apprehended. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle and her daughter found in his courteous reply a gleam of + nobleness which inspired them with a shadow of confidence. Above all, they + were proud, and more averse to noisy scenes than women usually are. They + received him coldly, then, but calmly. On his part, he displayed toward + them in his looks and language a subdued seriousness and sadness, which + did not lack either dignity or grace. + </p> + <p> + The conversation having dwelt for some time on the health of the Countess, + turned on current news, on local incidents, and took, little by little, an + easy and ordinary tone. M. de Camors, under the pretext of slight fatigue, + retired as he had entered—saluting both the ladies, but without + attempting to take their hands. Thus was inaugurated, between Madame de + Camors and her husband, the new, singular relation which should hereafter + be the only tie in their common life. + </p> + <p> + The world might easily be silenced, because M. de Camors never had been + very demonstrative in public toward his wife, and his courteous but + reserved manner toward her did not vary from his habitual demeanor. He + remained two days at Reuilly. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle vainly waited for these two days for a slight explanation, + which she did not wish to demand, but which she hoped for. + </p> + <p> + What were the terrible circumstances which had overruled the will of M. de + Camors, to the point of making him forget the most sacred sentiments? When + her thoughts plunged into this dread mystery, they never approached the + truth. M. de Camors might have committed this base action under the menace + of some great danger to save the fortune, the honor, probably the life of + Madame de Campvallon. This, though a poor excuse in the mother’s eyes, + still was an extenuation. Probably also he had in his heart, while + marrying her daughter, the resolution to break off this fatal liaison, + which he had again resumed against his will, as often happens. On all + these painful points she dwelt after the departure of M. de Camors, as she + had previous to his arrival; confined to her own conjectures, when she + suggested to her daughter the most consolatory appearances. It was agreed + upon that Madame de Camors should remain in the country until her health + was reestablished: only her husband expressed the desire that she should + reside ordinarily on his estate at Reuilly, the chateau on which had + recently been restored with the greatest taste. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle felt the propriety of this arrangement. She herself + abandoned the old habitation of the Comte de Tecle, to install herself + near her daughter in the modest chateau which belonged to the maternal + ancestors of M. de Camors, and which we have already described in another + place, with its solemn avenue, its balustrades of granite, its labyrinths + of hornbeams and the black fishpond, shaded with poplars. + </p> + <p> + Both dwelt there in the midst of their sweetest and most pleasant + souvenirs; for this little chateau, so long deserted—the neglected + woods which surrounded it the melancholy piece of water—the solitary + nymph all this had been their particular domain, the favorite framework of + their reveries, the legend of their infancy, the poetry of their youth. It + was doubtless a great grief to revisit again, with tearful eyes and + wounded hearts and heads bowed by the storms of life, the familiar paths + where they once knew happiness and peace. But, nevertheless, all these + dear confidants of past joys, of blasted hopes, of vanished dreams—if + they are mournful witnesses they are also friends. We love them; and they + seem to love us. Thus these two poor women, straying amid these woods, + these waters, these solitudes, bearing with them their incurable wounds, + fancied they heard voices which pitied them and breathed a healing + sympathy. The most cruel trial reserved to Madame de Camors in the life + which she had the courage and judgment to adopt, was assuredly the duty of + again seeing the Marquise de Campvallon, and preserving with her such + relations as might blind the eyes of the General and of the world. + </p> + <p> + She resigned herself even to this; but she desired to defer as long as + possible the pain of such a meeting. Her health supplied her with a + natural excuse for not going, during that summer, to Campvallon, and also + for keeping herself confined to her own room the day the Marquise visited + Reuilly, accompanied by the General. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle received her with her usual kindness. Madame de + Campvallon, whom M. de Camors had already warned, did not trouble herself + much; for the best women, like the worst, excel in comedy, and everything + passed off without the General having conceived the shadow of a suspicion. + </p> + <p> + The fine season had passed. M. de Camors had visited the country several + times, strengthening at every interview the new tone of his relations with + his wife. He remained at Reuilly, as was his custom, during the month of + August; and under the pretext of the health of the Countess, did not + multiply his visits that year to Campvallon. On his return to Paris, he + resumed his old habits, and also his careless egotism, for he recovered + little by little from the blow he had received. He began to forget his + sufferings and those of his wife; and even to felicitate himself secretly + on the turn that chance had given to her situation. He had obtained the + advantage and had no longer any annoyance. His wife had been enlightened, + and he no longer deceived her—which was a comfortable thing for him. + As for her, she would soon be a mother, she would have a plaything, a + consolation; and he designed redoubling his attentions and regards to her. + </p> + <p> + She would be happy, or nearly so; as much so as two thirds of the women in + the world. + </p> + <p> + Everything was for the best. He gave anew the reins to his car and + launched himself afresh on his brilliant career-proud of his royal + mistress, and foreseeing in the distance, to crown his life, the triumphs + of ambition and power. Pleading various doubtful engagements, he went to + Reuilly only once during the autumn; but he wrote frequently, and Madame + de Tecle sent him in return brief accounts of his wife’s health. + </p> + <p> + One morning toward the close of November, he received a despatch which + made him understand, in telegraphic style, that his presence was + immediately required at Reuilly, if he wished to be present at the birth + of his son. + </p> + <p> + Whenever social duties or courtesy were required of M. de Camors, he never + hesitated. Seeing he had not a moment to spare if he wished to catch the + train which left that morning, he jumped into a cab and drove to the + station. His servant would join him the next morning. + </p> + <p> + The station at Reuilly was several miles distant from the house. In the + confusion no arrangement had been made to receive him on his arrival, and + he was obliged to content himself with making the intermediate journey in + a heavy country-wagon. The bad condition of the roads was a new obstacle, + and it was three o’clock in the morning when the Count, impatient and + travel-worn, jumped out of the little cart before the railings of his + avenue. He strode toward the house under the dark and silent dome of the + tufted elms. He was in the middle of the avenue when a sharp cry rent the + air. His heart bounded in his breast: he suddenly stopped and listened + attentively. The cry echoed through the stillness of the night. One would + have deemed it the despairing shriek of a human being under the knife of a + murderer. + </p> + <p> + These dolorous sounds gradually ceasing, he continued his walk with + greater haste, and only heard the hollow and muffled sound of his own + beating heart. At the moment he saw the lights of the chateau, another + agonized cry, more shrill and alarming than the first, arose. + </p> + <p> + This time Camors stopped. Notwithstanding that the natural explanation of + these agonized cries presented itself to his mind, he was troubled. + </p> + <p> + It is not unusual that men like him, accustomed to a purely artificial + life, feel a strange surprise when one of the simplest laws of nature + presents itself all at once before them with a violence as imperious and + irresistible as a divine law. Camors soon reached the house, and receiving + some information from the servants, notified Madame de Tecle of his + arrival. Madame de Tecle immediately descended from her daughter’s room. + On seeing her convulsed features and streaming eyes, “Are you alarmed?” + Camors asked, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Alarmed? No,” she replied; “but she suffers much, and it is very long.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I see her?” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle, whose forehead was contracted, lowered her eyes, then + raised them. “If you insist on it,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I insist on nothing! If you believe my presence would do her harm—” + The voice of Camors was not as steady as usual. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” replied Madame de Tecle, “that it would agitate her + greatly; and if you will have confidence in me, I shall be much obliged to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “But at least,” said Camors, “she might probably be glad to know that I + have come, and that I am here—that I have not abandoned her.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “It is well.” He saluted Madame de Tecle with a slight movement of his + head, and turned away immediately. + </p> + <p> + He entered the garden at the back of the house, and walked abstractedly + from alley to alley. We know that generally the role of men in the + situation in which M. de Camors at this moment was placed is not very easy + or very glorious; but the common annoyance of this position was + particularly aggravated to him by painful reflections. Not only was his + assistance not needed, but it was repelled; not only was he far from a + support on the contrary, he was but an additional danger and sorrow. In + this thought was a bitterness which he keenly felt. His native generosity, + his humanity, shuddered as he heard the terrible cries and accents of + distress which succeeded each other without intermission. He passed some + heavy hours in the damp garden this cold night, and the chilly morning + which succeeded it. Madame de Tecle came frequently to give him the news. + Near eight o’clock he saw her approach him with a grave and tranquil air. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said, “it is a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you. How is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Well. I shall request you to go and see her shortly.” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later she reappeared on the threshold of the vestibule, and + called: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Camors!” and when he approached her, she added, with an + emotion which made her lips tremble: + </p> + <p> + “She has been uneasy for some time past. She is afraid that you have kept + terms with her in order to take the child. If ever you have such a thought—not + now, Monsieur. Have you?” + </p> + <p> + “You are severe, Madame,” he replied in a hoarse voice. + </p> + <p> + She breathed a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” she said, and led the way upstairs. She opened the door of the + chamber and permitted him to enter it alone. + </p> + <p> + His first glance caught the eyes of his young wife fixed upon him. She was + half sitting up in bed, supported by pillows, and whiter than the curtains + whose shadow enveloped her. She held clasped to her breast her sleeping + infant, which was already covered, like its mother, with lace and pink + ribbons. From the depths of this nest she fixed on her husband her large + eyes, sparkling with a kind of savage light—an expression in which + the sentiment of triumph was blended with one of profound terror. He + stopped within a few feet of the bed, and saluted her with his most + winning smile. + </p> + <p> + “I have pitied you very much, Marie,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you!” she replied, in a voice as feeble as a sigh. + </p> + <p> + She continued to regard him with the same suppliant and affrighted air. + </p> + <p> + “Are you a little happier now?” he continued. + </p> + <p> + The glittering eye of the young woman was fastened on the calm face of her + infant. Then turning toward Camors: + </p> + <p> + “You will not take him from me?” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” he replied. + </p> + <p> + As he pronounced these words his eyes were suddenly dimmed, and he was + astonished himself to feel a tear trickling down his cheek. He experienced + a singular feeling, he bent over, seized the folds of the sheet, raised + them to his lips, rose immediately and left the room. + </p> + <p> + In this terrible struggle, too often victorious against nature and truth, + the man was for once vanquished. But it would be idle to imagine that a + character of this temperament and of this obduracy could transform itself, + or could be materially modified under the stroke of a few transitory + emotions, or of a few nervous shocks. M. de Camors rallied quickly from + his weakness, if even he did not repent it. He spent eight days at + Reuilly, remarking in the countenance of Madame de Tecle and in her manner + toward him, more ease than formerly. + </p> + <p> + On his return to Paris, with thoughtful care he made some changes in the + interior arrangement of his mansion. This was to prepare for the Countess + and her son, who were to join him a few weeks later, larger and more + comfortable apartments, in which they were to be installed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE REPTILE TURNS TO STING + </h2> + <p> + When Madame de Camors came to Paris and entered the home of her husband, + she there experienced the painful impressions of the past, and the sombre + preoccupations of the future; but she brought with her, although in a + fragile form, a powerful consolation. + </p> + <p> + Assailed by grief, and ever menaced by new emotion she was obliged to + renounce the nursing of her child; but, nevertheless, she never left him, + for she was jealous even of his nurse. She at least wished to be loved by + him. She loved him with an infinite passion. She loved him because he was + her own son and of her blood. He was the price of her misfortune—of + her pain. She loved him because he was her only hope of human happiness + hereafter. She loved him because she found him as beautiful as the day. + And it was true he was so; for he resembled his father—and she loved + him also on that account. She tried to concentrate her heart and all her + thoughts on this dear creature, and at first she thought she had + succeeded. She was surprised at herself, at her own tranquillity, when she + saw Madame de Campvallon; for her lively imagination had exhausted, in + advance, all the sadness which her new existence could contain; but when + she had lost the kind of torpor into which excessive suffering had plunged + her—when her maternal sensations were a little quieted by custom, + her woman’s heart recovered itself in the mother’s. She could not prevent + herself from renewing her passionate interest in her graceful though + terrible husband. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle went to pass two months with her daughter in Paris, and + then returned to the country. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Camors wrote to her, in the beginning of the following spring, a + letter which gave her an exact idea of the sentiments of the young woman + at the time, and of the turn her domestic life had taken. After a long and + touching detail of the health and beauty of her son Robert, she added: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “His father is always to me what you have seen him. He spares me + everything he can spare me, but evidently the fatality he has obeyed + continues under the same form. Notwithstanding, I do not despair of + the future, my beloved mother. Since I saw that tear in his eye, + confidence has entered my poor heart. Be assured, my adored mother, + that he will love me one day, if it is only through our child, whom + he begins quietly to love without himself perceiving it. At first, + as you remember, this infant was no more to him than I was. When he + surprised him on my knee, he would give him a cold kiss, say, + ‘Good-morning, Monsieur,’ and withdraw. It is just one month—I have + forgotten the date—it was, ‘Good-morning, my son—how pretty you + are!’ You see the progress; and do you know, finally, what passed + yesterday? I entered Robert’s room noiselessly; the door was open— + what did I behold, my mother! Monsieur de Camors, with his head + resting on the pillow of the cradle, and laughing at this little + creature, who smiled back at him! I assure you, he blushed and + excused himself: ‘The door was open,’ he said, ‘and I came in.’ + I assured him that he had done nothing wrong. + + “Monsieur de Camors is very odd sometimes. He occasionally passes + the limits which were agreed upon as necessary. He is not only + polite, but takes great trouble. Alas! once these courtesies would + have fallen upon my heart like roses from heaven—now they annoy me + a little. Last evening, for example, I sat down, as is my custom, + at my piano after dinner, he reading a journal at the chimney- + corner—his usual hour for going out passed. Behold me, much + surprised. I threw a furtive glance, between two bars of music, + at him: he was not reading, he was not sleeping—he was dreaming. + ‘Is there anything new in the Journal?’—‘No, no; nothing at all.’ + Another two or three bars of music, and I entered my son’s room. + He was in bed and asleep. I devoured him with kisses and returned— + Monsieur de Camors was still there. And now, surprise after + surprise: ‘Have you heard from your mother? What does she say? + Have you seen Madame Jaubert? Have you read this review?’ Just + like one who sought to open a conversation. Once I would willingly + have paid with my blood for one of these evenings, and now he offers + them to me, when I know not what to do with them. Notwithstanding I + remember the advice of my mother, I do not wish to discourage these + symptoms. I adopt a festive manner. I light four extra waxlights. + I try to be amiable without being coquettish; for coquetry here + would be shameful—would it not, my dear mother? Finally, we + chatted together; he sang two airs to the piano; I played two + others; he painted the design of a little Russian costume for Robert + to wear next year; then talked politics to me. This enchanted me. + He explained to me his situation in the Chamber. Midnight arrived; + I became remarkably silent; he rose: ‘May I press your hand in + friendship?’—’ Mon Dieu! yes.’—‘Good-night, Marie.’—’ + Goodnight.’ Yes, my mother, I read your thoughts. There is danger + here! but you have shown it to me; and I believe also, I should + have perceived it by myself. Do not fear, then. I shall be happy + at his good inclinations, and shall encourage them to the best of my + power; but I shall not be in haste to perceive a return, on his + part, toward virtue and myself. I see here in society arrangements + which revolt me. In the midst of my misfortune I remain pure and + proud; but I should fall into the deepest contempt of myself if I + should ever permit myself to be a plaything for Monsieur de Camors. + A man so fallen does not raise himself in a day. If ever he really + returns to me, it will be necessary for me to have much proof. I + never have ceased to love him, and probably he doubts it: but he + will learn that if this sad love can break my heart it can never + abase it; and it is unnecessary to tell my mother that I shall live + and die courageously in my widow’s robe. + + “There are other symptoms which also strike me. He is more + attentive to me when she is present. This may probably be arranged + between them, but I doubt it. The other evening we were at the + General’s. She was waltzing, and Monsieur de Camors, as a rare + favor, came and seated himself at your daughter’s side. In passing + before us she threw him a look—a flash. I felt the flame. Her + blue eyes glared ferociously. He perceived it. I have not + assuredly much tenderness for her. She is my most cruel enemy; but + if ever she suffers what she has made me suffer-yes, I believe I + shall pity her. My mother, I embrace you. I embrace our dear lime- + trees. I taste their young leaves as in olden times. Scold me as + in old times, and love, above all things, as in old times, your + + “MARIE.” + </pre> + <p> + This wise young woman, matured by misfortune, observed everything saw + everything—and exaggerated nothing. She touched, in this letter, on + the most delicate points in the household of M. de Camors—and even + of his secret thoughts—with accurate justice. For Camors was not at + all converted, nor near being so; but it would be belying human nature to + attribute to his heart, or that of any other human being, a supernatural + impassibility. If the dark and implacable theories which M. de Camors had + made the law of his existence could triumph absolutely, this would be + true. The trials he had passed through did not reform him, they only + staggered him. He did not pursue his paths with the same firmness; he + strayed from his programme. He pitied one of his victims, and, as one + wrong always entails another, after pitying his wife, he came near loving + his child. These two weaknesses had glided into his petrified soul as into + a marble fount, and there took root-two imperceptible roots, however. The + child occupied him not more than a few moments every day. He thought of + him, however, and would return home a little earlier than usual each day + than was his habit, secretly attracted by the smile of that fresh face. + The mother was for him something more. Her sufferings, her youthful + heroism had touched him. She became somebody in his eyes. He discovered + many merits in her. He perceived she was remarkably well-informed for a + woman, and prodigiously so for a French woman. She understood half a word—knew + a great deal—and guessed at the remainder. She had, in short, that + blending of grace and solidity which gives to the conversation of a woman + of cultivated mind an incomparable charm. Habituated from infancy to her + mental superiority as to her pretty face, she carried the one as + unconsciously as the other. She devoted herself to the care of his + household as if she had no idea beyond it. There were domestic details + which she would not confide to servants. She followed them into her + salons, into her boudoirs, a blue feather-brush in hand, lightly dusting + the ‘etageres’, the ‘jardinieres’, the ‘consoles’. She arranged one piece + of furniture and removed another, put flowers in a vase-gliding about and + singing like a bird in a cage. + </p> + <p> + Her husband sometimes amused himself in following her with his eye in + these household occupations. She reminded him of the princesses one sees + in the ballet of the opera, reduced by some change of fortune to a + temporary servitude, who dance while putting the house in order. + </p> + <p> + “How you love order, Marie!” said he to her one day. + </p> + <p> + “Order,” she said, gravely, “is the moral beauty of things.” + </p> + <p> + She emphasized the word things—and, fearing she might be considered + pretentious, she blushed. + </p> + <p> + She was a lovable creature, and it can be understood that she might have + many attractions, even for her husband. Yet though he had not for one + instant the idea of sacrificing to her the passion that ruled his life, it + is certain, however, that his wife pleased him as a charming friend, which + she was, and probably as a charming forbidden fruit, which she also was. + Two or three years passed without making any sensible change in the + relations of the different persons in this history. This was the most + brilliant phase and probably the happiest in the life of M. de Camors. + </p> + <p> + His marriage had doubled his fortune, and his clever speculations + augmented it every day. He had increased the retinue of his house in + proportion to his new resources. In the region of elegant high life he + decidedly held the sceptre. His horses, his equipages, his artistic + tastes, even his toilet, set the law. + </p> + <p> + His liaison with Madame de Campvallon, without being proclaimed, was + suspected, and completed his prestige. At the same time his capacity as a + political man began to be acknowledged. He had spoken in some recent + debate, and his maiden speech was a triumph. His prosperity was great. It + was nevertheless true that M. de Camors did not enjoy it without trouble. + Two black spots darkened the sky above his head, and might contain + destroying thunder. His life was eternally suspended on a thread. + </p> + <p> + Any day General Campvallon might be informed of the intrigue which + dishonored him, either through some selfish treason, or through some + public rumor, which might begin to spread. Should this ever happen, he + knew the General never would submit to it; and he had determined never to + defend his life against his outraged friend. + </p> + <p> + This resolve, firmly decided upon in his secret soul, gave him the last + solace to his conscience. All his future destiny was thus at the mercy of + an accident most likely to happen. The second cause of his disquietude was + the jealous hatred of Madame Campvallon toward the young rival she had + herself selected. After jesting freely on this subject at first, the + Marquise had, little by little, ceased even to allude to it. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors could not misunderstand certain mute symptoms, and was + sometimes alarmed at this silent jealousy. Fearing to exasperate this most + violent feminine sentiment in so strong a soul, he was compelled day by + day to resort to tricks which wounded his pride, and probably his heart + also; for his wife, to whom his new conduct was inexplicable, suffered + intensely, and he saw it. + </p> + <p> + One evening in the month of May, 1860, there was a reception at the Hotel + Campvallon. The Marquise, before leaving for the country, was making her + adieus to a choice group of her friends. Although this fete professed to + be but an informal gathering, she had organized it with her usual elegance + and taste. A kind of gallery, composed of verdure and of flowers, + connected the salon with the conservatory at the other end of the garden. + </p> + <p> + This evening proved a very painful one to the Comtesse de Camors. Her + husband’s neglect of her was so marked, his assiduities to the Marquise so + persistent, their mutual understanding so apparent, that the young wife + felt the pain of her desertion to an almost insupportable degree. She took + refuge in the conservatory, and finding herself alone there, she wept. + </p> + <p> + A few moments later, M. de Camors, not seeing her in the salon, became + uneasy. She saw him, as he entered the conservatory, in one of those + instantaneous glances by which women contrive to see without looking. She + pretended to be examining the flowers, and by a strong effort of will + dried her tears. Her husband advanced slowly toward her. + </p> + <p> + “What a magnificent camellia!” he said to her. “Do you know this variety?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she replied; “this is the camellia that weeps.” + </p> + <p> + He broke off the flowers. + </p> + <p> + “Marie,” he said, “I never have been much addicted to sentimentality, but + this flower I shall keep.” + </p> + <p> + She turned upon him her astonished eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Because I love it,” he added. + </p> + <p> + The noise of a step made them both turn. It was Madame de Campvallon, who + was crossing the conservatory on the arm of a foreign diplomat. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” she said, smiling; “I have disturbed you! How awkward of me!” + and she passed out. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Camors suddenly grew very red, and her husband very pale. The + diplomat alone did not change color, for he comprehended nothing. The + young Countess, under pretext of a headache, which her face did not belie, + returned home immediately, promising her husband to send back the carriage + for him. Shortly after, the Marquise de Campvallon, obeying a secret sign + from M. de Camors, rejoined him in the retired boudoir, which recalled to + them both the most culpable incident of their lives. She sat down beside + him on the divan with a haughty nonchalance. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you watch me?” asked Camors. “It is unworthy of you!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! an explanation? a disagreeable thing. It is the first between us—at + least let us be quick and complete.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke in a voice of restrained passion—her eyes fixed on her + foot, which she twisted in her satin shoe. + </p> + <p> + “Well, tell the truth,” she said. “You are in love with your wife.” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. “Unworthy of you, I repeat.” + </p> + <p> + “What, then, mean these delicate attentions to her?” + </p> + <p> + “You ordered me to marry her, but not to kill her, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + She made a strange movement of her eyebrows, which he did not see, for + neither of them looked at the other. After a pause she said: + </p> + <p> + “She has her son! She has her mother! I have no one but you. Hear me, my + friend; do not make me jealous, for when I am so, ideas torment me which + terrify even myself. Wait an instant. Since we are on this subject, if you + love her, tell me so. You know me—you know I am not fond of petty + artifices. Well, I fear so much the sufferings and humiliations of which I + have a presentiment, I am so much afraid of myself, that I offer you, and + give you, your liberty. I prefer this horrible grief, for it is at least + open and noble! It is no snare that I set for you, believe me! Look at me. + I seldom weep.” The dark blue of her eyes was bathed in tears. “Yes, I am + sincere; and I beg of you, if it is so, profit by this moment, for if you + let it escape, you never will find it again.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors was little prepared for this decided proposal. The idea of + breaking off his liaison with the Marquise never had entered his mind. + This liaison seemed to him very reconcilable with the sentiments with + which his wife could inspire him. + </p> + <p> + It was at the same time the greatest wickedness and the perpetual danger + of his life, but it was also the excitement, the pride, and the + magnificent voluptuousness of it. He shuddered. The idea of losing the + love which had cost him so dear exasperated him. He cast a burning glance + on this beautiful face, refined and exalted as that of a warring + archangel. + </p> + <p> + “My life is yours,” he said. “How could you have dreamed of breaking ties + like ours? How could you have alarmed yourself, or even thought of my + feelings toward another? I do what honor and humanity command me—nothing + more. As for you—I love you—understand that.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it true?” she asked. “It is true! I believe you!” + </p> + <p> + She took his hand, and gazed at him a moment without speaking—her + eye dimmed, her bosom palpitating; then suddenly rising, she said, “My + friend, you know I have guests!” and saluting him with a smile, left the + boudoir. + </p> + <p> + This scene, however, left a disagreeable impression on the mind of Camors. + He thought of it impatiently the next morning, while trying a horse on the + Champs Elysees—when he suddenly found himself face to face with his + former secretary, Vautrot. He had never seen this person since the day he + had thought proper to give himself his own dismissal. + </p> + <p> + The Champs Elysees was deserted at this hour. Vautrot could not avoid, as + he had probably done more than once, encountering Camors. + </p> + <p> + Seeing himself recognized he saluted him and stopped, with an uneasy smile + on his lips. His worn black coat and doubtful linen showed a poverty + unacknowledged but profound. M. de Camors did not notice these details, or + his natural generosity would have awakened, and curbed the sudden + indignation that took possession of him. + </p> + <p> + He reined in his horse sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, is it you, Monsieur Vautrot?” he said. “You have left England then! + What are you doing now?” + </p> + <p> + “I am looking for a situation, Monsieur de Camors,” said Vautrot, humbly, + who knew his old patron too well not to read clearly in the curl of his + moustache the warning of a storm. + </p> + <p> + “And why,” said Camors, “do you not return to your trade of locksmith? You + were so skilful at it! The most complicated locks had no secrets for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand your meaning,” murmured Vautrot. + </p> + <p> + “Droll fellow!” and throwing out these words with an accent of withering + scorn, M. de Camors struck Vautrot’s shoulder lightly with the end of his + riding-whip, and tranquilly passed on at a walk. + </p> + <p> + Vautrot was truly in search of a place, had he consented to accept one + fitted to his talents; but he was, as will be remembered, one of those + whose vanity was greater than his merit, and one who loved an office + better than work. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. THE SECOND ACT OF THE TRAGEDY + </h2> + <p> + Vautrot had at this time fallen into the depth of want and distress, + which, if aggravated, would prompt him to evil and even to crime. There + are many examples of the extremes to which this kind of intelligence, at + once ambitious, grasping, yet impotent, can transport its possessor. + Vautrot, in awaiting better times, had relapsed into his old role of + hypocrite, in which he had formerly succeeded so well. Only the evening + before he had returned to the house of Madame de la Roche-Jugan, and made + honorable amends for his philosophical heresies; for he was like the + Saxons in the time of Charlemagne, who asked to be baptized every time + they wanted new tunics. Madame de la Roche-Jugan had given a kind + reception to this sad prodigal son, but she chilled perceptibly on seeing + him more discreet than she desired on certain subjects, the mystery of + which she had set her heart upon unravelling. + </p> + <p> + She was now more preoccupied than ever about the relations which she + suspected to exist between M. de Camors and Madame de Campvallon. These + relations could not but prove fatal to the hopes she had so long founded + on the widowhood of the Marquise and the heritage of the General. The + marriage of M. de Camors had for the moment deceived her, but she was one + of those pious persons who always think evil, and whose suspicions are + soon reawakened. She tried to obtain from Vautrot, who had so long been + intimate with her nephew, some explanation of the mystery; but as Vautrot + was too prudent to enlighten her, she turned him out of doors. + </p> + <p> + After his encounter with M. de Camors, he immediately turned his steps + toward the Rue St. Dominique, and an hour later Madame de la Roche-Jugan + had the pleasure of knowing all that he knew of the liaison between the + Count and the Marquise. But we remember that he knew everything. These + revelations, though not unexpected, terrified Madame de la Roche-Jugan, + who saw her maternal projects destroyed forever. To her bitter feeling at + this deception was immediately joined, in this base soul, a sudden thirst + for revenge. It was true she had been badly recompensed for her anonymous + letter, by which she had previously attempted to open the eyes of the + unfortunate General; for from that moment the General, the Marquise, and + M. de Camors himself, without an open rupture, let her feel their marks of + contempt, which embittered her heart. She never would again expose herself + to a similar slight of this kind; but she must assuredly, in the cause of + good morals, at once confront the blind with the culpable, and this time + with such proofs as would make the blow irresistible. By the mere thought, + Madame de la Roche-Jugan had persuaded herself that the new turn events + were taking might become favorable to the expectations which had become + the fixed idea of her life. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Campvallon destroyed, M. de Camors set aside, the General would + be alone in the world; and it was natural to suppose he would turn to his + young relative Sigismund, if only to recognize the far-sighted affection + and wounded heart of Madame de la Roche-Jugan. + </p> + <p> + The General, in fact, had by his marriage contract settled all his + property on his wife; but Madame de la Roche-Jugan, who had consulted a + lawyer on this question, knew that he had the power of alienating his + fortune during life, and of stripping his unworthy wife and transferring + it to Sigismund. + </p> + <p> + Madame de la Roche-Jugan did not shrink from the probability—which + was most likely—of an encounter between the General and Camors. + Every one knows the disdainful intrepidity of women in the matter of + duels. She had no scruple, therefore, in engaging Vautrot in the + meritorious work she meditated. She secured him by some immediate + advantages and by promises; she made him believe the General would + recompense him largely. Vautrot, smarting still from the cut of Camors’s + whip on his shoulder, and ready to kill him with his own hand had he + dared, hardly required the additional stimulus of gain to aid his + protectress in her vengeance by acting as her instrument. + </p> + <p> + He resolved, however, since he had the opportunity, to put himself, once + for all, beyond misery and want, by cleverly speculating, through the + secret he held, on the great fortune of the General. This secret he had + already given to Madame de Camors under the inspiration of another + sentiment, but he had then in his hands the proofs, which he now was + without. + </p> + <p> + It was necessary, then, for him to arm himself with new and infallible + proofs; but if the intrigue he was required to unmask still existed, he + did not despair of detecting something certain, aided by the general + knowledge he had of the private habits and ways of Camors. This was the + task to which he applied himself from this moment, day and night, with an + evil ardor of hate and jealousy. The absolute confidence which the General + reposed in his wife and Camors after the latter’s marriage with Marie de + Tecle, had doubtless allowed them to dispense with much of the mystery and + adventure of their intrigue; but that which was ardent, poetic, and + theatrical to the Marquise’s imagination had not been lost. Love alone was + not sufficient for her. She needed danger, scenic effect, and pleasure + heightened by terror. Once or twice, in the early time, she was reckless + enough to leave her house during the night and to return before day. But + she was obliged to renounce these audacious flights, finding them too + perilous. + </p> + <p> + These nocturnal interviews with M. de Camors were rare, and she had + usually received him at home. This was their arrangement: An open space, + sometimes used as a woodyard, was next the garden of the Hotel Campvallon. + The General had purchased a portion of it and had had a cottage erected in + the midst of a kitchen-garden, and had placed in it, with his usual + kind-heartedness, an old ‘sous-officier’, named Mesnil, who had served + under him in the artillery. This Mesnil enjoyed his master’s confidence. + He was a kind of forester on the property; he lived in Paris in the + winter, but occasionally passed two or three days in the country whenever + the General wished to obtain information about the crops. Madame de + Campvallon and M. de Camors chose the time of these absences for their + dangerous interviews at night. Camors, apprised from within by some + understood signal, entered the enclosure surrounding the cottage of + Mesnil, and thence proceeded to the garden belonging to the house. Madame + de Campvallon always charged herself with the peril that charmed her—with + keeping open one of the windows on the ground floor. The Parisian custom + of lodging the domestics in the attics gave to this hardihood a sort of + security, notwithstanding its being always hazardous. Near the end of May, + one of these occasions, always impatiently awaited on both sides, + presented itself, and M. de Camors at midnight penetrated into the little + garden of the old ‘sous-officier’. At the moment when he turned the key in + the gate of the enclosure, he thought he heard a slight sound behind him. + He turned, cast a rapid glance over the dark space that surrounded him, + and thinking himself mistaken, entered. An instant after, the shadow of a + man appeared at the angle of a pile of lumber, which was scattered over + the carpenter’s yard. This shadow remained for some time immovable in + front of the windows of the hotel and then plunged again into the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + The following week M. de Camors was at the club one evening, playing whist + with the General. He remarked that the General was not playing his usual + game, and saw also imprinted on his features a painful preoccupation. + </p> + <p> + “Are you in pain, General?” said he, after they had finished their game. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” said the General; “I am only annoyed—a tiresome affair + between two of my people in the country. I sent Mesnil away this morning + to examine into it.” + </p> + <p> + The General took a few steps, then returned to Camors and took him aside: + “My friend,” he said, “I deceived you, just now; I have something on my + mind—something very serious. I am even very unhappy!” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” said Camors, whose heart sank. + </p> + <p> + “I shall tell you that probably to-morrow. Come, in any case, to see me + to-morrow morning. Won’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks! Now I shall go—for I am really not well.” + </p> + <p> + He clasped his hand more affectionately than usual. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, my dear child,” he added, and turned around brusquely to hide the + tears which suddenly filled his eyes. M. de Camors experienced for some + moments a lively disquietude, but the friendly and tender adieus of the + General reassured him that it did not relate to himself. Still he + continued astonished and even affected by the emotion of the old man. + </p> + <p> + Was it not strange? If there was one man in the world whom he loved, or to + whom he would have devoted himself, it was this one whom he had mortally + wronged. + </p> + <p> + He had, however, good reason to be uneasy; and was wrong in reassuring + himself; for the General in the course of that evening had been informed + of the treachery of his wife—at least he had been prepared for it. + Only he was still ignorant of the name of her accomplice. + </p> + <p> + Those who informed him were afraid of encountering the blind and obstinate + faith of the General, had they named Camors. + </p> + <p> + It was probable, also, after what had already occurred, that had they + again pronounced that name, the General would have repelled the suspicion + as a monstrous impossibility, regretting even the thought. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors remained until one o’clock at the club and then went to the + Rue Vanneau. He was introduced into the Hotel Campvallon with the + customary precautions; and this time we shall follow him there. In + traversing the garden, he raised his eyes to the General’s window, and saw + the soft light of the night-lamp burning behind the blinds. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise awaited him at the door of her boudoir, which opened on a + rotunda at an elevation of a few feet. He kissed her hand, and told her in + few words of the General’s sadness. + </p> + <p> + She replied that she had been very uneasy about his health for some days. + This explanation seemed natural to M. de Camors, and he followed the + Marquise through the dark and silent salon. She held in her hand a candle, + the feeble light of which threw on her delicate features a strange pallor. + When they passed up the long, echoing staircase, the rustling of her skirt + on the steps was the only sound that betrayed her light movement. + </p> + <p> + She stopped from time to time, shivering—as if better to taste the + dramatic solemnity that surrounded them—turned her blonde head a + little to look at Camors; then cast on him her inspiring smile, placed her + hand on her heart, as if to say, “I am fearful,” and went on. They reached + her chamber, where a dim lamp faintly illumined the sombre magnificence, + the sculptured wainscotings, and the heavy draperies. + </p> + <p> + The flame on the hearth which flickered up at intervals, threw a bright + gleam on two or three pictures of the Spanish school, which were the only + decorations of this sumptuous, but stern-looking apartment. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise sank as if terrified on a divan near the chimney, and pushed + with her feet two cushions before her, on which Camors half reclined; she + then thrust back the thick braids of her hair, and leaned toward her + lover. + </p> + <p> + “Do you love me to-day?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The soft breath of her voice was passing over the face of Camors, when the + door suddenly opened before them. The General entered. The Marquise and + Camors instantly rose to their feet, and standing side by side, + motionless, gazed upon him. The General paused near the door. As he saw + them a shudder passed over his frame, and his face assumed a livid pallor. + For an instant his eye rested on Camors with a stupefied surprise and + almost bewilderment; then he raised his arms over his head, and his hands + struck together with a sharp sound. At this terrible moment Madame de + Campvallon seized the arm of Camors, and threw him a look so profound, + supplicating, and tragic, that it alarmed him. + </p> + <p> + He roughly pushed her from him, crossed his arms, and waited the result. + </p> + <p> + The General walked slowly toward him. Suddenly his face became inflamed + with a purple hue; his lips half opened, as if about to deliver some + deadly insult. He advanced rapidly, his hand raised; but after a few steps + the old man suddenly stopped, beat the air with both hands, as if seeking + some support, then staggered and fell forward, striking his head against + the marble mantelpiece, rolled on the carpet, and remained motionless. + There was an ominous silence. A stifled cry from M. de Camors broke it. At + the same time he threw himself on his knees by the side of the motionless + old man, touched first his hand, then his heart. He saw that he was dead. + A thin thread of blood trickled down his pale forehead where it had struck + the marble; but this was only a slight wound. It was not that which had + killed him. It was the treachery of those two beings whom he had loved, + and who, he believed, loved him. His heart had been broken by the violence + of the surprise, the grief, and the horror. + </p> + <p> + One look of Camors told Madame de Campvallon she was a widow. She threw + herself on the divan, buried her face in the cushions and sobbed aloud. + Camors still stood, his back against the mantelpiece, his eyes fixed, + wrapped in his own thoughts. He wished in all sincerity of heart that he + could have awakened the dead and restored him to life. He had sworn to + deliver himself up to him without defence, if ever the old man demanded it + of him for forgotten favors, betrayed friendship, and violated honor. Now + he had killed him. If he had not slain him with his own hand, the crime + was still there, in its most hideous form. He saw it before him, he + inhaled its odor—he breathed its blood. An uneasy glance of the + Marquise recalled him to himself and he approached her. They then + conversed together in whispers, and he hastily explained to her the line + of conduct she should adopt. + </p> + <p> + She must summon the servants, say the General had been taken suddenly ill, + and that on entering her room he had been seized by an apoplectic stroke. + </p> + <p> + It was with some effort that she understood she was to wait long enough + before giving the alarm to give Camors sufficient time to escape; and + until then she was to remain in this frightful tete-a-tete, alone with the + dead. + </p> + <p> + He pitied her, and decided on leaving the hotel by the apartment of M. de + Campvallon, which had a private entrance on the street. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise immediately rang violently several times, and Camors did not + retire till he heard the sound of hastening feet on the stairs. The + apartment of the General communicated with that of his wife by a short + gallery. There was a suite of apartments—first a study, then his + sleeping-room. M. de Camors traversed this room with feelings we shall not + attempt to describe and gained the street. The surgeon testified that the + General had died from the rupture of a vessel in the heart. Two days after + the interment took place, at which M. de Camors attended. The same evening + he left Paris to join his wife, who had gone to Reuilly the preceding + week. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE FEATHER IN THE BALANCE + </h2> + <p> + One of the sweetest sensations in the world is that of a man who has just + escaped the fantastic terrors of night mare; and who, awaking, his fore + head bathed with icy sweat, says to himself, “It was only a dream!” This + was, in some degree, the impression which Camors felt on awaking, the + morning after his arrival at Reuilly, when his first glance fell on the + sunlight streaming over the foliage, and when he heard beneath his window + the joyous laugh of his little son. He, however, was not dreaming; but his + soul, crushed by the horrible tension of recent emotions, had a moment’s + respite, and drank in, almost without alloy, the new calm that surrounded + him. He hastily dressed himself and descended to the garden, where his son + ran to meet him. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors embraced the child with tenderness; and leaning toward him, + spoke to him in a low voice, and asked after his mother and about his + amusements, with a singularly soft and sad manner. Then he let him go, and + walked with a slow step, breathing the fresh morning air, examining the + leaves and the flowers with extraordinary interest. From time to time a + deep, sad sigh broke from his oppressed chest; he passed his hand over his + brow as if to efface the importunate images. He sat down amid the quaintly + clipped boxwood which ornamented the garden in the antique fashion, called + his son again to him, held him between his knees, interrogating him again, + in a low voice, as he had done before; then drew him toward him and + clasped him tightly for a long time, as if to draw into his own heart the + innocence and peace of the child’s. Madame de Camors surprised him in this + gush of feeling, and remained mute with astonishment. He rose immediately + and took her hand. + </p> + <p> + “How well you bring him up!” he said. “I thank you for it. He will be + worthy of you and of your mother.” + </p> + <p> + She was so surprised at the soft, sad tone of his voice, that she replied, + stammering with embarrassment, “And worthy of you also, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Of me?” said Camors, whose lips were slightly tremulous. “Poor child, I + hope not!” and rapidly withdrew. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Camors and Madame de Tecle had learned, the previous morning, of + the death of the General. The evening of the Count’s arrival they did not + speak to him on the subject, and were cautious not to make any allusion to + it. The next day, and the succeeding ones, they practised the same + reserve, though very far from suspecting the fatal circumstances which + rendered this souvenir so painful to M. de Camors. They thought it only + natural he should be pained at so sudden a catastrophe, and that his + conscience should be disturbed; but they were astonished when this + impression prolonged itself from day to day, until it took the appearance + of a lasting sentiment. + </p> + <p> + They began to believe that there had arisen between Madame de Campvallon + and himself, probably occasioned by the General’s death, some quarrel + which had weakened the tie between them. + </p> + <p> + A journey of twenty-four hours, which he made fifteen days after his + arrival, was to them a confirmation of the truth they before suspected; + but his prompt return, his new tastes, which kept him at Reuilly during + the summer, seemed to them favorable symptoms. + </p> + <p> + He was singularly sad, pensive, and more inactive than usual in his + habits. He took long walks alone. Sometimes he took his son with him, as + if by chance. He sometimes attempted a little timid tenderness with his + wife; and this awkwardness, on his part, was quite touching. + </p> + <p> + “Marie,” he said to her one day, “you, who are a fairy, wave your wand + over Reuilly and make of it an island in mid-ocean.” + </p> + <p> + “You say that because you know how to swim,” said she, laughing and + shaking her head; but the heart of the young woman was joyful. + </p> + <p> + “You embrace me now every moment, my little one,” said Madame de Tecle to + her. “Is this really all intended for me?” + </p> + <p> + “My adorable mother,” while embracing her again, “I assure you he is + really courting me again. Why, I am ignorant; but he is courting me and + you also, my mother. Observe it!” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Tecle did observe it. In his conversation with her, M. de Camors + sought, under every pretext, to recall the souvenirs of the past, common + to them both. It seemed he wished to link the past with his new life; to + forget the rest, and pray of them to forget it also. + </p> + <p> + It was not without fear that these two charming women abandoned themselves + to their hopes. They remembered they were in the presence of an uncertain + person; they little trusted a change so sudden, the reason of which they + could not comprehend. They feared it was some passing caprice, which would + return to them, if they were its dupes, all their misfortunes, without the + dignity which had hitherto attended them. + </p> + <p> + They were not the only ones struck by this transformation. M. des Rameures + remarked it to them. The neighboring country people felt in the Count’s + language something new—as it were, a tender humility; they said that + in other years he had been polite, but this year he was angelic. Even the + inanimate things, the woods, the trees, the heavens, should have borne the + same testimony, for he looked at and studied them with a benevolent + curiosity with which he had never before honored them. + </p> + <p> + In truth, a profound trouble had invaded him and would not leave him. More + than once, before this epoch, his soul, his philosophy, his pride, had + received a rude shock, but he had no less pursued his path, rising after + every blow, like a lion wounded, but unconquered. In trampling under his + feet all moral belief which binds the vulgar, he had reserved honor as an + inviolable limit. Then, under the empire of his passions, he said to + himself that, after all, honor, like all the rest, was conventional. Then + he encountered crime—he touched it with his hand—horror seized + him—and he recoiled. He rejected with disgust the principle which + had conducted him there—asked himself what would become of human + society if it had no other. + </p> + <p> + The simple truths which he had misunderstood now appeared to him in their + tranquil splendor. He could not yet distinguish them clearly; he did not + try to give them a name, but he plunged with a secret delight into their + shadows and their peace. He sought them in the pure heart of his child, in + the pure love of his young wife, in the daily miracles of nature, in the + harmonies of the heavens, and probably already in the depths of his + thoughts—in God. In the midst of this approach toward a new life he + hesitated. Madame de Campvallon was there. He still loved her vaguely. + Above all, he could not abandon her without being guilty of a kind of + baseness. Terrible struggles agitated him. Having done so much evil, would + he now be permitted to do good, and gracefully partake of the joys he + foresaw? These ties with the past, his fortune dishonestly acquired, his + fatal mistress—the spectre of that old man would they permit it? + </p> + <p> + And we may add, would Providence suffer it? Not that we should lightly use + this word Providence, and suspend over M. de Camors a menace of + supernatural chastisement. Providence does not intervene in human events + except through the logic of her eternal laws. She has only the sanction of + these laws; and it is for this reason she is feared. At the end of August + M. de Camors repaired to the principal town in the district, to perform + his duties in the Council-General. The session finished, he paid a visit + to Madame de Campvallon before returning to Reuilly. He had neglected her + a little in the course of the summer, and had only visited Campvallon at + long intervals, as politeness compelled him. The Marquise wished to keep + him for dinner, as she had no guests with her. She pressed him so warmly + that, reproaching himself all the time, he consented. He never saw her + without pain. She always brought back to him those terrible memories, but + also that terrible intoxication. She had never been more beautiful. Her + deep mourning embellished yet more her languishing and regal grace; it + made her pale complexion yet more fair, and it heightened the brilliancy + of her look. She had the air of a young tragic queen, or of an allegory of + Night. In the evening an hour arrived when the reserve which for some time + had marked their relations was forgotten. M. de Camors found himself, as + in olden time, at the feet of the young Marquise—his eyes gazing + into hers, and covering with kisses her lovely hands. She was strange that + evening. She looked at him with a wild tenderness, instilling, at + pleasure, into his veins the poison of burning passion then escaping him, + the tears gathering in her eyes. Suddenly, by one of those magical + movements of hers, she enveloped with her hands the head of her lover, and + spoke to him quite low beneath the shadow of this perfumed veil. + </p> + <p> + “We might be so happy!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Are we not so?” said Camors. + </p> + <p> + “No! I at least am not, for you are not all mine, as I am yours. This + appears harder, now that I am free. If you had remained free—when I + think of it! or if you could become so, it would be heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “You know that I am not so! Why speak of it?” + </p> + <p> + She drew nearer to him, and with her breath, more than with her voice, + answered: + </p> + <p> + “Is it impossible? Tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “How?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + She did not reply, but her fixed look, caressing and cruel, answered him. + </p> + <p> + “Speak, then, I beg of you!” murmured Camors. + </p> + <p> + “Have you not told me—I have not forgotten it—that we are + united by ties stronger than all others; that the world and its laws exist + no longer for us; that there is no other good, no other bad for us, but + our happiness or our unhappiness? Well, we are not happy, and if we could + be so—listen, I have thought well over it!” + </p> + <p> + Her lips touched the cheek of Camors, and the murmur of her last words was + lost in her kisses. + </p> + <p> + Camors roughly repelled her, sprang up, and stood before her. + </p> + <p> + “Charlotte,” he said, sternly, “this is only a trial, I hope; but, trial + or no, never repeat it—never! Remember!” + </p> + <p> + She also quickly drew herself up. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! how you love her!” she cried. “Yes, you love her, it is she you + love-I know it, I feel it, and I-I am only the wretched object of your + pity, or of your caprice. Very well, go back to her—go and protect + her, for I swear to you she is in peril!” + </p> + <p> + He smiled with his haughty irony. + </p> + <p> + “Let us see your plot,” he said. “So you intend to kill her?” + </p> + <p> + “If I can!” she said; and her superb arm was stretched out as if to seize + a weapon. + </p> + <p> + “What! with your own hand?” + </p> + <p> + “The hand shall be found.” + </p> + <p> + “You are so beautiful at this moment!” said Camors; “I am dying with the + desire to fall at your feet. Acknowledge only that you wished to try me, + or that you were mad for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a savage smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you fear, my friend,” she said, coldly; then raising again her voice, + which assumed a malignant tone, “You are right, I am not mad, I did not + wish to try you; I am jealous, I am betrayed, and I shall revenge myself—no + matter what it costs me—for I care for nothing more in this world!—Go, + and guard her!” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so; I go,” said Camors. He immediately left the salon and the + chateau; he reached the railway station on foot, and that evening arrived + at Reuilly. + </p> + <p> + Something terrible there awaited him. + </p> + <p> + During his absence, Madame de Camors, accompanied by her mother, had gone + to Paris to make some purchases. She remained there three days. She had + returned only that morning. He himself arrived late in the evening. He + thought he observed some constraint in their reception of him, but he did + not dwell upon it in the state of mind in which he was. + </p> + <p> + This is what had occurred: Madame de Camors, during her stay in Paris, had + gone, as was her custom, to visit her aunt, Madame de la Roche-Jugan. + Their intercourse had always been very constrained. Neither their + characters nor their religion coincided. Madame de Camors contented + herself with not liking her aunt, but Madame de la Roche-Jugan hated her + niece. She found a good occasion to prove this, and did not lose it. They + had not seen each other since the General’s death. This event, which + should have caused Madame de la Roche-Jugan to reproach herself, had + simply exasperated her. Her bad action had recoiled upon herself. The + death of M. Campvallon had finally destroyed her last hopes, which she had + believed she could have founded on the anger and desperation of the old + man. Since that time she was animated against her nephew and the Marquise + with the rage of one of the Furies. She learned through Vautrot that M. de + Camors had been in the chamber of Madame de Campvallon the night of the + General’s death. On this foundation of truth she did not fear to frame the + most odious suspicions; and Vautrot, baffled like her in his vengeance and + in his envy, had aided her. A few sinister rumors, escaping apparently + from this source, had even crept at this time into Parisian society. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors and Madame de Campvallon, suspecting that they had been + betrayed a second time by Madame de la Roche-Jugan, had broken with her; + and she could presume that, should she present herself at the door of the + Marquise, orders would have been given not to admit her. This affront made + her angrier still. She was still a prey to the violence of her wrath when + she received a visit from Madame de Camors. She affected to make the + General’s death the theme of conversation, shed a few tears over her old + friend, and kissed the hand of her niece with a burst of tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “My poor little thing!” she said to her; “it is for you also I weep—for + you will yet be more unhappy than heretofore, if that can be possible.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you, Madame,” answered the young woman, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “If you do not understand me, so much the better,” replied Madame de la + Roche-Jugan, with a shade of bitterness; then, after a moment’s pause—“Listen, + my dear! this is a duty of conscience which I comply with. You see, an + honest creature like you merits a better fate; and your mother too, who is + also a dupe. That man would deceive the good God. In the name of my + family, I feel bound to ask your pardon for both of them.” + </p> + <p> + “I repeat, Madame, that I do not understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is impossible, my child—come!—it is impossible that + all this time you have suspected nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I suspect nothing, Madame,” said Madame de Camors, “because I know all.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” continued Madame de la Roche-Jugan, dryly; “if this be so, I have + nothing to say. But there are persons, in that case, who can accommodate + their consciences to very strange things.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I thought a moment ago, Madame,” said the young woman, + rising. + </p> + <p> + “As you wish, my dear; but I speak in your own interest, and I shall + reproach myself for not having spoken to you more clearly. I know my + nephew better than you will ever know him; and the other also. + Notwithstanding you say so, you do not know all; let me tell you. The + General died very suddenly; and after him, it is your turn! Be very + careful, my poor child!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Madame!” cried the young woman, becoming ghastly pale; “I shall never + see you again while I live!” She left on the instant-ran home, and there + found her mother. She repeated to her the terrible words she had just + heard, and her mother tried to calm her; but she herself was disturbed. + She went immediately to Madame de la Roche-Jugan, and supplicated her to + have pity on them and to retract the abominable innuendo she had thrown + out, or to explain it more fully. She made her understand that she would + inform M. de Camors of the affair in case of need, and that he would hold + his cousin Sigismund responsible. Terrified in her turn, Madame de la + Roche-Jugan judged the best method was to destroy M. de Camors in the + estimation of Madame de Tecle. She related what had been told her by + Vautrot, being careful not to compromise herself in the recital. She + informed her of the presence of M. de Camors at the General’s house the + night of his death. She told her of the reports that were circulated, and + mingling calumny with truth, redoubling at the same time her affection, + her caresses, and her tears, she succeeded in giving Madame de Tecle such + an estimate of the character of M. de Camors, that there were no + suspicions or apprehensions which the poor woman, from that moment, did + not consider legitimate as connected with him. + </p> + <p> + Madame de la Roche-Jugan finally offered to send Vautrot to her, that she + might herself interrogate him. Madame de Tecle, affecting an incredulity + and a tranquillity she did not feel, refused and withdrew. + </p> + <p> + On her returning to her daughter, she forced herself to deceive her as to + the impressions she had received, but she did not succeed; for her anxious + face belied her reassuring words. They separated the following night, + mutually concealing the trouble and distress of their souls; but + accustomed so long to think, feel, and suffer together, they met, so to + speak, in the same reflections, the same reasonings, and in the same + terrors. They went over, in their memories, all the incidents of the life + of Camors—all his faults; and, under the shadow of the monstrous + action imputed to him, his faults took a criminal character which they + were surprised they had not seen before. They discovered a series and a + sequence in his designs, all of which were imputed to him as crimes—even + his good actions. Thus his conduct during the last few months, his strange + ways, his fancy for his child and for his wife, his assiduous tenderness + toward her, were nothing more than the hypocritical meditation of a new + crime—a mask which he was preparing in advance. + </p> + <p> + What was to be done? What kind of life was it possible to live in common, + under the weight of such thoughts? What present—what future? These + thoughts bewildered them. Next day Camors could not fail remarking the + singular change in their countenances in his presence; but he knew that + his servant, without thinking of harm, had spoken of his visit to Madame + de Campvallon, and he attributed the coldness and embarrassment of the two + women to this fact. He was less disquieted at this, because he was + resolved to keep them entirely safe. As a result of his reflections during + the night, he had determined to break off forever his intrigue with Madame + de Campvallon. For this rupture, which he had made it a point of honor not + to provoke, Madame de Campvallon had herself furnished him a sufficient + pretext. + </p> + <p> + The criminal thought she had suggested was, he knew, only a feint to test + him, but it was enough to justify his abandonment of her. As to the + violent and menacing words the Marquise had used, he held them of little + value, though at times the remembrance of them troubled him. Nevertheless, + for many years he had not felt his heart so light. This wicked tie once + broken, it seemed as if he had resumed, with his liberty, his youth and + virtue. He walked and played a part of the day with his little son. After + dinner, just as night fell, clear and pure, he proposed to Madame de + Camors a tete-a-tete excursion in the woods. He spoke to her of a view + which had struck him shortly before on such a night, and which would + please, he said laughingly, her romantic taste. + </p> + <p> + He would not permit himself to be surprised at the disinclination she + manifested, at the disquietude which her face indicated, or at the rapid + glance she exchanged with her mother. + </p> + <p> + The same thought, and that a most fearful one; entered the minds of both + these unfortunate women at the same moment. + </p> + <p> + They were still under the impression of the shock which had so weakened + their nerves, and the brusque proposition of M. de Camors, so contrary to + his usual habits-the hour, the night, and the solitary walk—had + suddenly awakened in their brains the sinister images which Madame de la + Roche-Jugan had laid there. Madame de Camors, however, with an air of + resolution the circumstances did not seem entitled to demand, prepared + immediately to go out, then followed her husband from the house, leaving + her little son in charge of her mother. They had only to cross the garden + to find themselves on the edge of the wood which almost touched their + dwelling, and which stretched to the old fields inherited from the Comte + de Tecle. The intention of Camors in seeking this tete-a-tete was to + confide to his wife the decisive determination he had taken of delivering + up to her absolutely and without reserve his heart and life, and to enjoy + in these solitudes his first taste of true happiness. Surprised at the + cold distraction with which his young wife replied to the affectionate + gayety of his language, he redoubled his efforts to bring their + conversation to a tone of more intimacy and confidence. While stopping at + intervals to point out to her some effects of light and shadow in their + walk, he began to question her on her recent trip to Paris, and on the + persons she had seen there. She named Madame Jaubert and a few others; + then, lowering her voice against her will, mentioned Madame de la + Roche-Jugan. + </p> + <p> + “That one,” said Camors, “you could very well have dispensed with. I + forgot to warn you that I no longer recognize her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked she, timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Because she is a bad woman,” said Camors. “When we are a little more + intimate with each other, you and I,” he added, laughing, “I shall edify + you on this character, I shall tell you all—all, understand.” + </p> + <p> + There was so much of nature, and even of goodness in the accent with which + he pronounced these words, that the Countess felt her heart half comforted + from the oppression which had weighed it down. She gave herself up with + more abandon to the gracious advances of her husband and to the slight + incidents of her walk. + </p> + <p> + The phantoms disappeared little by little from her mind, and she began to + say to herself that she had been the sport of a bad dream, and of a true + madness, when a singular change in her husband’s face renewed all her + terrors. M. de Camors, in his turn, had become absent and visibly + preoccupied with some grave care. He spoke with an effort, made half + replies, meditated; then stopped quickly to look around him, like a + frightened child. These strange ways, so different from his former temper, + alarmed the young woman, the more so as she just then found herself in the + most distant part of the wood. + </p> + <p> + There was an extraordinary similarity in the thoughts which occupied them + both. At the moment when Madame Camors was trembling for fear near her + husband, he was trembling for her. + </p> + <p> + He thought he detected that they were followed; at different times he + thought he heard in the thicket the cracking of branches, rattling of + leaves, and finally the sound of stealthy steps. These noises always + ceased on his stopping, and began again the moment he resumed his walk. He + thought, a moment later, he saw the shadow of a man pass rapidly among the + underwood behind them. The idea of some woodman came first to his mind, + but he could not reconcile this with the persistence with which they were + followed. + </p> + <p> + He finally had no doubt that they were dogged—but by whom? The + repeated menaces of Madame de Campvallon against the life of Madame de + Camors, the passionate and unbridled character of this woman, soon + presented itself to his thoughts, suggested this mysterious pursuit, and + awakened these frightful suspicions. + </p> + <p> + He did not imagine for a moment that the Marquise would charge herself + personally with the infliction of her vengeance; but she had said—he + then remembered—that the hand would be found. She was rich enough to + find it, and this hand might now be here. + </p> + <p> + He did not wish to alarm his wife by calling her attention to this + spectre, which he believed at her side, but he could not hide from her his + agitation, which every movement of his caused her to construe as falsely + as cruelly. + </p> + <p> + “Marie,” he said, “let us walk a little faster, I beg of you! I am cold.” + </p> + <p> + He quickened his steps, resolved to return to the chateau by the public + road, which was bordered with houses. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the border of the woods, although he thought he still + heard at intervals the sound which had alarmed him, he reassured himself + and resumed his flow of spirits as if a little ashamed even of his panic. + He stopped the Countess to look at the pretext of this excursion. This was + the rocky wall of the deep excavation of a marl-pit, long since abandoned. + The arbutus-trees of fantastic shape which covered the summit of these + rocks, the pendant vines, the sombre ivy which carpeted the cliffs, the + gleaming white stones, the vague reflections in the stagnant pool at the + bottom of the pit, the mysterious light of the moon, made a scene of wild + beauty. + </p> + <p> + The ground in the neighborhood of the marl-pit was so irregular, and the + thorny underbrush so thick, that when pedestrians wished to reach the + nearest highway they, were compelled either to make a long detour or to + cross the deepest part of the excavation by means of the trunks of two + great trees, which had been cut in half, lashed together, and thrown + across the chasm. Thus they formed a crude bridge, affording a passage + across the deep hollow and adding to the picturesque aspect of this + romantic spot. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Camors never had seen anything like this peculiar bridge, which + had been laid recently at her husband’s orders. After they had gazed in + silence a moment into the depths of the marl-pit, Camors called his wife’s + attention to the unique construction. + </p> + <p> + “Do you intend to cross that?” she asked, briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you are not afraid,” said Camors; “I shall be close beside you, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + He saw that she hesitated, and, looking at her closely in the moonlight, + he thought her face was strangely pale, and could not refrain from saying: + </p> + <p> + “I believed that you had more courage.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated no longer, but stepped upon the dangerous bridge. In spite + of herself, she turned her head half around, in a backward glance, and her + steady step faltered. Suddenly she tottered. M. de Camors sprang forward, + and, in the agitation of the moment, seized her in an almost violent + grasp. The unhappy woman uttered a piercing shriek, made a gesture as if + to defend herself, repelling his touch; then, running wildly across the + bridge, she rushed into the woods. M. de Camors, astounded, alarmed, not + knowing how to interpret his wife’s strange conduct, immediately followed + her. He found her a short distance beyond the bridge, leaning against the + first tree she had been able to reach. She turned to face him, with an + expression of mingled terror and menace, and as he approached, she shot + forth the single word: + </p> + <p> + “Coward!” + </p> + <p> + He stared at her in sheer amazement. At that moment there was a sound of + hurried footsteps; a shadowy form glided toward them from the depth of the + thicket, and the next instant Camors recognized Madame de Tecle. She ran, + dishevelled and breathless, toward her daughter, seized her by the hand + and, drawing herself up, said to Camors: + </p> + <p> + “If you kill one of us, kill both!” + </p> + <p> + He understood the mystery in a flash. A stifled cry escaped him; for an + instant he buried his face in his hands; then; flinging out his arms in a + gesture of despair, he said: + </p> + <p> + “So you took me for a murderer!” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment of dead silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he cried, stamping his foot with sudden violence, “why do you stay + here, then? Run! Fly! Save yourselves from me!” + </p> + <p> + Overcome with terror, the two women fled, the mother dragging her + daughter. The next moment they had disappeared in the darkness of the + woods. + </p> + <p> + Camors remained in that lonely spot many hours, without being aware of the + passage of time. At intervals he paced feverishly to and fro along the + narrow strip of land between the woods and the bridge; then, stopping + short, with fixed eyes, he became lost in thought, and stood as motionless + as the trunk of the tree against which he leaned. If, as we hope, there is + a Divine hand which measures justly our sorrows according to our sins, the + unhappy man, in this dark hour, must have rendered his account. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. THE CURTAIN FALLS + </h2> + <p> + The next morning the Marquise de Campvallon was strolling beside a large + circular sheet of water which ornamented the lower part of her park, the + metallic gleam of the rippling waves being discernible from afar through + the branches of the surrounding trees. + </p> + <p> + She walked slowly along the bank of the lake, her head bowed, and the long + skirt of her mourning-robe sweeping the grass. Two large and dazzlingly + white swans, watching their mistress eagerly, in expectation of receiving + their usual titbits from her hands, swam close to the bank, following her + steps as if escorting her. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the Comte de Camors appeared before her. She had believed that + she never should see him again. She raised her head quickly and pressed + one hand to her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is I!” said Camors. “Give me your hand.” + </p> + <p> + She gave it to him. + </p> + <p> + “You were right, Charlotte,” he said, after a moment of silence. “Ties + like ours can not be broken. I have reflected on everything. I was seized + with a momentary cowardice, for which I have reproached myself bitterly, + and for which, moreover, I have been sufficiently punished. But I come to + you to ask your forgiveness.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise led him tenderly into the deep shadow of the great + plane-trees that surrounded the lake; she knelt before him with theatric + grace, and fixed on him her swimming eyes. She covered his head with + kisses. He raised her and pressed her to his heart. + </p> + <p> + “But you do not wish that crime to be committed?” he said in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + She bent her head with mournful indecision. + </p> + <p> + “For that matter,” he added, bitterly, “it would only make us worthier of + each other; for, as to myself, they have already believed me capable of + it.” + </p> + <p> + He took her arm and recounted to her briefly the scene of the night + before. + </p> + <p> + He told her he had not returned home, and never should. This was the + result of his mournful meditations. To attempt an explanation with those + who had so mortally outraged him—to open to them the depth of his + heart—to allude to the criminal thought they had accused him of—he + had repelled with horror, the evening before, when proposed by another. He + thought of all this; but this humiliation—if he could have so abased + himself—would have been useless. How could he hope to conquer by + these words the distrust capable of creating such suspicions? + </p> + <p> + He confusedly divined the origin, and understood that this distrust, + envenomed by remembrance of the past, was incurable. + </p> + <p> + The sentiment of the irreparable, of revolted pride, indignation, and even + injustice, had shown him but one refuge, and it was this to which he had + fled. + </p> + <p> + The Comtesse de Camors and Madame de Tecle learned only through their + servants and the public of the removal of the Count to a country-house he + had rented near the Chateau Campvallon. After writing ten letters—all + of which he had burned—he had decided to maintain an absolute + silence. They sometimes trembled at the thought he might take away his + son. He thought of it; but it was a kind of vengeance that he disdained. + </p> + <p> + This move, which publicly proclaimed the relations existing between M. de + Camors and the Marquise, made a sensation in the Parisian world, where it + was soon known. It revived again the strange recollections and rumors that + all remembered. Camors heard of them, but despised them. + </p> + <p> + His pride, which was then exasperated by a savage irritation, was + gratified at defying public opinion, which had been so easily duped + before. He knew there was no situation one could not impose upon the world + providing one had wealth and audacity. From this day he resumed + energetically the love of his life, his habits, his labors, and his + thoughts for the future. Madame de Campvallon was the confidante of all + his projects, and added her own care to them; and both occupied themselves + in organizing in advance their mutual existence, hereafter blended + forever. The personal fortune of M. de Camors, united to that of the + Marquise, left no limits to the fancies which their imagination could + devise. They arranged to live separately at Paris, though the Marquise’s + salon should be common to both; but their double influence would shine at + the same time, and they would be the social centre of a sovereign + influence. The Marquise would reign by the splendor of her person over the + society of letters, art, and politics. Camors would there find the means + of action which could not fail to accomplish the high destiny to which his + talent and his ambition called him. + </p> + <p> + This was the life that had appeared to them in the origin of their liaison + as a sort of ideal of human happiness—that of two superior beings, + who proudly shared, above the masses, all the pleasures of earth, the + intoxication of passion, the enjoyment of intellectual strength, the + satisfaction of pride, and the emotions of power. The eclat of such a life + would constitute the vengeance of Camors, and force to repent bitterly + those who had dared to misunderstand him. The recent mourning of the + Marquise commanded them, notwithstanding, to adjourn the realization of + their dream, if they did not wish to wound the conscience of the public. + They felt it, and resolved to travel for a few months before settling in + Paris. The time that passed in their preparations for the future, and in + arrangements for this voyage, was to Madame de Campvallon the sweetest + period of her life. She finally tasted to the full an intimacy, so long + troubled, of which the charm, in truth, was very great; for her lover, as + if to make her forget his momentary desertion, was prodigal in the + effusion of his tenderness. He brought to private studies, as well as to + their common schemes, an ardor, a fire, which displayed itself in his + face, in his eyes, and which seemed yet more to heighten his manly beauty. + It often happened, after quitting the Marquise in the evening, that he + worked very late at home, sometimes until morning. One night, shortly + before the day fixed for their departure, a private servant of the Count, + who slept in the room above his master’s, heard a noise which alarmed him. + </p> + <p> + He went down in great haste, and found M. de Camors stretched apparently + lifeless on the floor at the foot of his desk. The servant, whose name was + Daniel, had all his master’s confidence, and he loved him with that + singular affection which strong natures often inspire in their inferiors. + </p> + <p> + He sent for Madame de Campvallon, who soon came. M. de Camors, recovering + from his fainting-fit, was very pale, and was walking across the room when + she entered. He seemed irritated at seeing her, and rebuked his servant + sharply for his ill-advised zeal. + </p> + <p> + He said he had only had a touch of vertigo, to which he was subject. + Madame de Campvallon soon retired, having first supplicated him not to + overwork himself again. When he came to her next day, she could not help + being surprised at the dejection stamped on his face, which she attributed + to the attack he had had the night before. But when she spoke of their + approaching departure, she was astonished, and even alarmed by his reply: + </p> + <p> + “Let us defer it a little, I beg of you,” he said. “I do not feel in a + state fit for travelling.” + </p> + <p> + Days passed; he made no further allusion to the voyage. He was serious, + silent, and cold. The active ardor, almost feverish, which had animated + until then his life, his speech, his eyes, was suddenly quenched. One + symptom which disquieted the Marquise above all was the absolute idleness + to which he now abandoned himself. + </p> + <p> + He left her in the evening at an early hour. Daniel told the Marquise that + the Count worked no longer; that he heard him pacing up and down the + greater part of the night. At the same time his health failed visibly. The + Marquise ventured once to interrogate him. As they were both walking one + day in the park, she said: + </p> + <p> + “You are hiding something from me. You suffer, my friend. What is the + cause?” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I pray you tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is the matter with me,” he replied, petulantly. + </p> + <p> + “Is it your son that you regret?” + </p> + <p> + “I regret nothing.” After a few steps taken in silence—“When I + think,” he said, quickly, “that there is one person in the world who + considers me a coward—for I hear always that word in my ear—and + who treated me like a coward, and who believed it when it was said, and + believes it still! If it had been a man, it would be easy, but it was a + woman.” + </p> + <p> + After this sudden explosion he was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Very well; what do you desire?” said the Marquise, with vexation. “Do you + wish that I should go and tell her the truth—tell her that you were + ready to defend her against me—that you love her, and hate me? If it + be that you wish, say so. I believe if this life continues I shall be + capable of doing anything!” + </p> + <p> + “Do not you also outrage me! Dismiss me, if that will give you pleasure; + but I love you only. My pride bleeds, that is all; and I give you my word + of honor that if you ever affront me by going to justify me, I shall never + in my life see you or her. Embrace me!” and he pressed her to his heart. + </p> + <p> + She was calm for a few hours. + </p> + <p> + The house he occupied was about to be taken again by its proprietor. The + middle of September approached, and it was the time when the Marquise was + in the habit of returning to Paris. She proposed to M. de Camors to occupy + the chateau during the few days he purposed passing in the country. He + accepted; but whenever she spoke of returning to Paris: + </p> + <p> + “Why so soon?” he would say; “are we not very well here?” + </p> + <p> + A little later she reminded him that the session of the Chamber was about + to open. He made his health a pretext for delay, saying that he felt weak + and wished to send in his resignation as deputy. She induced him only by + her urgent prayer to content himself with asking leave of absence. + </p> + <p> + “But you, my beloved!” he said, “I am condemning you to a sad existence!” + </p> + <p> + “With you,” she replied, “I am happy everywhere and always!” + </p> + <p> + It was not true that she was happy, but it was true that she loved him and + was devoted to him. There was no suffering she would not have resigned + herself to, no sacrifice she would not make, were it for him. + </p> + <p> + From this moment the prospect of worldly sovereignty, which she thought + she had touched with her hand, escaped her. She had a presentiment of a + melancholy future of solitude, of renunciation, of secret tears; but near + him grief became a fete. One knows with what rapidity life passes with + those who busy themselves without distraction in some profound grief—the + days themselves are long, but the succession of them is rapid and + imperceptible. It was thus that the months and then the seasons succeeded + one another, for Camors and the Marquise, with a monotony that left hardly + any trace on their thoughts. Their daily relations were marked, on the + part of the Count with an invariably cold and distant courtesy, and very + often silence; on the part of the Marquise by an attentive tenderness and + a constrained grief. Every day they rode out on horseback, both clad in + black, sympathetic by their beauty and their sadness, and surrounded in + the country by distant respect. About the beginning of the ensuing winter + Madame de Campvallon experienced a serious disquietude. Although M. de + Camors never complained, it was evident his health was gradually failing. + A dark and almost clayey tint covered his thin cheeks, and spread nearly + to the whites of his eyes. The Marquise showed some emotion on perceiving + it, and persuaded him to consult a physician. The physician perceived + symptoms of chronic debility. He did not think it dangerous, but + recommended a season at Vichy, a few hygienic precautions, and absolute + repose of mind and body. + </p> + <p> + When the Marquise proposed to Camors this visit to Vichy, he only shrugged + his shoulders without reply. + </p> + <p> + A few days after, Madame de Campvallon on entering the stable one morning, + saw Medjid, the favorite mare of Camors, white with foam, panting and + exhausted. The groom explained, with some awkwardness, the condition of + the animal, by a ride the Count had taken that morning. The Marquise had + recourse to Daniel, of whom she made a confidant, and having questioned + him, drew out the acknowledgment that for some time his master had been in + the habit of going out in the evening and not returning until morning. + Daniel was in despair with these nightly wanderings, which he said greatly + fatigued his master. He ended by confessing to Madame de Campvallon the + goal of his excursions. + </p> + <p> + The Comtesse de Camors, yielding to considerations the details of which + would not be interesting, had continued to live at Reuilly since her + husband had abandoned her. Reuilly was distant twelve leagues from Campvallon, + which could be made shorter by a crosscut. M. de Camors did not hesitate + to pass over this distance twice in the same night, to give himself the + emotion of breathing for a few minutes the same air with his wife and + child. + </p> + <p> + Daniel had accompanied him two or three times, but the Count generally + went alone. He left his horse in the wood, and approached as near as he + could without risking discovery; and, hiding himself like a malefactor + behind the shadows of the trees, he watched the windows, the lights, the + house, the least signs of those dear beings, from whom an eternal abyss + had divided him. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise, half frightened, half irritated, by an oddity which seemed + to border on madness, pretended to be ignorant of it. But these two + spirits were too accustomed to each other, day by day, to be able to hide + anything. He knew she was aware of his weakness, and seemed no longer to + care to make a mystery of it. + </p> + <p> + One evening in the month of July, he left on horseback in the afternoon, + and did not return for dinner. He arrived at the woods of Reuilly at the + close of the day, as he had premeditated. He entered the garden with his + usual precaution, and, thanks to his knowledge of the habits of the + household, he could approach, without being noticed, the pavilion where + the Countess’s chamber was situated, and which was also that of his son. + This chamber, by a particular arrangement of the house, was elevated at + the side of the court by the height of an entresol, but was level with the + garden. One of the windows was open, owing to the heat of the evening. + Camors hid himself behind the shutters, which were half closed, and gazed + eagerly into the chamber. + </p> + <p> + He had not seen for two years either his wife, his child, or Madame de + Tecle. He now saw all three there. Madame de Tecle was working near the + chimney. Her face was unchanged. She had the same youthful look, but her + hair was as white, as snow. Madame de Camors was sitting on a couch nearly + in front of the window and undressing her son, at the same time talking to + and caressing him. + </p> + <p> + The child, at a sign, knelt down at his mother’s feet in his light + night-garments, and while she held his joined hands in her own, he began + in a loud voice his evening prayers. She whispered him from time to time a + word that escaped him. This prayer, composed of a number of phrases + adapted to a youthful mind, terminated with these words: “O God! be good + and merciful to my mother, my grandmother, to me—and above all, O + God, to my unfortunate father.” He pronounced these words with childish + haste, but under a serious look from his mother, he repeated them + immediately, with some emotion, as a child who repeats the inflection of a + voice which has been taught him. + </p> + <p> + Camors turned suddenly and retired noiselessly, leaving the garden by the + nearest gate. A fixed idea tortured him. He wished to see his son—to + speak to him—to embrace him, and to press him to his heart. After + that, he cared for little. + </p> + <p> + He remembered they had formerly the habit of taking the child to the dairy + every morning to give him a cup of milk. He hoped they had continued this + custom. Morning arrived, and soon came the hour for which he waited. He + hid himself in the walk which led to the farm. He heard the noise of feet, + of laughter, and of joyous cries, and his son suddenly appeared running in + advance. He was a charming little boy of five or six years, of a graceful + and proud mien. On perceiving M. de Camors in the middle of the walk he + stopped, he hesitated at this unknown or half-forgotten face; but the + tender and half-supplicating smile of Camors reassured him. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur!” he said, doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + Camors opened his arms and bent as if to kneel before him. + </p> + <p> + “Come and embrace me, I beg of you,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + The child had already advanced smiling, when the woman who was following + him, who was his old nurse, suddenly appeared. ‘She made a gesture of + fright: + </p> + <p> + “Your father!” she said, in a stifled voice. + </p> + <p> + At these words the child uttered a cry of terror, rushed back to the + nurse, pressed against her, and regarded his father with frightened eyes. + </p> + <p> + The nurse took him by the arm, and earned him off in great haste. + </p> + <p> + M. de Camors did not weep. A frightful contraction distorted the corners + of his mouth, and exaggerated the thinness of his cheeks. He had two or + three shudderings as if seized with sudden fever. He slowly passed his + hand over his forehead, sighed profoundly, and departed. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Campvallon knew nothing of this sad scene, but she saw its + consequences; and she herself felt them bitterly. The character of M. de + Camors, already so changed, became after this unrecognizable. He showed + her no longer even the cold politeness he had manifested for her up to + that period. He exhibited a strange antipathy toward her. He fled from + her. She perceived he avoided even touching her hand. + </p> + <p> + They saw each other rarely now. The health of Camors did not admit of his + taking regular meals. These two desolate existences offered then, in the + midst of the almost royal state which surrounded them, a spectacle of + pity. + </p> + <p> + In this magnificent park—across these beautiful gardens, with great + vases of marble—under long arcades of verdure peopled with more + statues-both wandered separately, like two sad shadows, meeting sometimes + but never speaking. + </p> + <p> + One day, near the end of September, Camors did not descend from his + apartment. Daniel told the Marquise he had given orders to let no one + enter. + </p> + <p> + “Not even me?” she said. He bent his head mournfully. She insisted. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I should lose my place!” + </p> + <p> + The Count persisted in this mania of absolute seclusion. She was compelled + from this moment to content herself with the news she obtained from his + servant. M. de Camors was not bedridden. He passed his time in a sad + reverie, lying on his divan. He got up at intervals, wrote a few lines, + then lay down again. His weakness appeared great, though he did not + complain of any suffering. + </p> + <p> + After two or three weeks, the Marquise read in the features of Daniel a + more marked disquietude than usual. He supplicated her to call in the + country physician who had once before seen him. It was so decided. The + unfortunate woman, when the physician was shown into the Count’s + apartment, leaned against the door listening in agony. She thought she + heard the voice of Camors loudly raised, then the noise ceased. + </p> + <p> + The doctor, when departing, simply said to her: “Madame, his sad case + appears to me serious—but not hopeless. I did not wish to press him + to-day, but he allows me to return tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + In the night which followed, at two o’clock, Madame de Campvallon heard + some one calling her, and recognized the voice of Daniel. She rose + immediately, threw a mantle around her, and admitted him. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he said, “Monsieur le Comte asks for you,” and burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu! what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Madame—you must hasten!” + </p> + <p> + She accompanied him immediately. From the moment she put her foot in the + chamber, she could not deceive herself—Death was there. Crushed by + sorrow, this existence, so full, so proud, so powerful, was about to + terminate. The head of Camors, turned on the pillow, seemed already to + have assumed a death-like immobility. His beautiful features, sharpened by + suffering, took the rigid outline of sculpture; his eye alone yet lived + and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + She approached him hastily and wished to seize the hand resting on the + sheet. + </p> + <p> + He withdrew it. She gave a despairing groan. He continued to look fixedly + at her. She thought he was trying to speak, but could not; but his eyes + spoke. They addressed to her some request, at the same time with an + imperious though supplicating expression, which she doubtless understood; + for she said aloud, with an accent full of sadness and tenderness: + </p> + <p> + “I promise it to you.” + </p> + <p> + He appeared to make a painful effort, and his look indicated a large + sealed letter lying on the bed. She took it, and read on the envelope-“To + my son.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise you,” she said, again, falling on her knees, and moistening the + sheet with her tears. + </p> + <p> + He extended his hand toward her. “Thanks!” was all he said. Her tears + flowed faster. She set her lips on this hand already cold. When she raised + her head, she saw at the same instant the eyes of Camors slightly moist, + rolling wildly—then extinguished! She uttered a cry, threw herself + on the bed, and kissed madly those eyes still open—yet void of light + forever! + </p> + <p> + Thus ended Camors, who was a great sinner, but nevertheless a MAN! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + + A man never should kneel unless sure of rising a conqueror + A defensive attitude is never agreeable to a man + Bad to fear the opinion of people one despises + Believing that it is for virtue’s sake alone such men love them + Camors refused, hesitated, made objections, and consented + Confounding progress with discord, liberty with license + Contempt for men is the beginning of wisdom + Cried out, with the blunt candor of his age + Dangers of liberty outweighed its benefits + Demanded of him imperatively—the time of day + Determined to cultivate ability rather than scrupulousness + Disenchantment which follows possession + Do not get angry. Rarely laugh, and never weep + Every one is the best judge of his own affairs + Every road leads to Rome—and one as surely as another + Every cause that is in antagonism with its age commits suicide + God—or no principles! + Have not that pleasure, it is useless to incur the penalties + He is charming, for one always feels in danger near him + Inconstancy of heart is the special attribute of man + Intemperance of her zeal and the acrimony of her bigotry + Knew her danger, and, unlike most of them, she did not love it + Man, if he will it, need not grow old: the lion must + Never can make revolutions with gloves on + Once an excellent remedy, is a detestable regimen + One of those pious persons who always think evil + Pleasures of an independent code of morals + Police regulations known as religion + Principles alone, without faith in some higher sanction + Property of all who are strong enough to stand it + Put herself on good terms with God, in case He should exist + Semel insanivimus omnes.’ (every one has his madness) + Slip forth from the common herd, my son, think for yourself + Suspicion that he is a feeble human creature after all! + There will be no more belief in Christ than in Jupiter + Ties that become duties where we only sought pleasures + Truth is easily found. I shall read all the newspapers + Two persons who desired neither to remember nor to forget + Whether in this world one must be a fanatic or nothing + Whole world of politics and religion rushed to extremes + With the habit of thinking, had not lost the habit of laughing + You can not make an omelette without first breaking the eggs +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Monsieur de Camors, Complete, by Octave Feuillet + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR DE CAMORS, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 3946-h.htm or 3946-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/4/3946/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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