diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-04 08:20:29 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-04 08:20:29 -0800 |
| commit | 1cd76cbdf69925d89a7cacbaf831397bbd72c6e4 (patch) | |
| tree | 10ebbb68527078305617ecb6b28133a3c0d31361 | |
| parent | 4cc7c74d0a456794d0db5493570c082ff7e604d3 (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63445-0.txt | 10656 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63445-0.zip | bin | 228892 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63445-h.zip | bin | 1174264 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63445-h/63445-h.htm | 10902 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63445-h/images/figure01.jpg | bin | 124701 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63445-h/images/figure02.jpg | bin | 81875 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63445-h/images/figure03.jpg | bin | 148764 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63445-h/images/figure04.jpg | bin | 153718 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63445-h/images/figure05.jpg | bin | 97009 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63445-h/images/figure06.jpg | bin | 88908 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63445-h/images/indiana_cover.jpg | bin | 348720 -> 0 bytes |
14 files changed, 17 insertions, 21558 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8dbcc24 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63445 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63445) diff --git a/old/63445-0.txt b/old/63445-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5260a6e..0000000 --- a/old/63445-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10656 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Indiana, by George Sand - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Indiana - -Author: George Sand - -Illustrator: Oreste Cortazzo - -Translator: George Burnham Yves - -Release Date: October 12, 2020 [EBook #63445] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIANA *** - - - - -Produced by Dagny and Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free -Literature (Images generously made available by Hathi -Trust.) - - - - - -The Masterpieces of George Sand, - -Amandine Lucille Aurore Dupin, Baroness -Dudevant, _NOW FOR THE FIRST -TIME COMPLETELY TRANSLATED -INTO ENGLISH INDIANA -BY G. BURNHAM IVES_ - -_WITH SIX PHOTOGRAVURES AFTER PAINTINGS BY -ORESTE CORTAZZO_ - -_IN ONE VOLUME_ - -_PRINTED ONLY FOR SUBSCRIBERS BY -GEORGE BARRIE & SON -PHILADELPHIA_ - - - - -CONTENTS -INTRODUCTION -PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1832 -PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1842 -PART FIRST -PART SECOND -PART THIRD -PART FOURTH -CONCLUSION - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS -_MADAME DELMARE DISCOVERS NOUN'S BODY_ -_MADAME DELMARE DRESSES DE RAMIÈRES WOUNDS_ -_THE BOAR HUNT_ -_SIR RALPH SAVES INDIANA_ -_MADAME DELMARE'S FLIGHT_ -_RALPH AND INDIANA SEEK DEATH TOGETHER_ - - - - -[Illustration 01: _MADAME DELMARE DISCOVERS -NOUN'S BODY_ -_Terror nailed her to the spot; but the stream -flowed on, slowly drawing a body from the reeds -among which it had caught, and bringing it toward -Madame Delmare._] - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -I wrote Indiana during the autumn of 1831. It was my first novel; I -wrote it without any fixed plan, having no theory of art or philosophy -in my mind. I was at the age when one writes with one's instincts, and -when reflection serves only to confirm our natural tendencies. Some -people chose to see in the book a deliberate argument against marriage. -I was not so ambitious, and I was surprised to the last degree at all -the fine things that the critics found to say concerning my subversive -purposes. Criticism is far too acute; that is what will cause its death. -It never passes judgment ingenuously on what has been done ingenuously. -It looks for noon at four o'clock, as the old women say, and must cause -much suffering to artists who care more for its decrees than they ought -to do. - -Under all régimes and in all times there has been a race of critics, -who, in contempt of their own talent, have fancied that it was their -duty to ply the trade of denouncers, of purveyors to the prosecuting -attorney's office; extraordinary functions for men of letters to assume -with regard to their confrères! The rigorous measures of government -against the press never satisfy these savage critics. They would have -them directed not only against works but against persons as well, and, -if their advice were followed, some of us would be forbidden to write -anything whatsoever. - -At the time that I wrote _Indiana_, the cry of Saint Simonism was raised -on every pretext. Later they shouted all sorts of other things. Even now -certain writers are forbidden to open their mouths, under pain of seeing -the police agents of certain newspapers pounce upon their work and hale -them before the police of the constituted powers. If a writer puts noble -sentiments in the mouth of a mechanic, it is an attack on the -bourgeoisie; if a girl who has gone astray is rehabilitated after -expiating her sin, it is an attack on virtuous women; if an impostor -assumes titles of nobility, it is an attack on the patrician caste; if a -bully plays the swashbuckling soldier, it is an insult to the army; if a -woman is maltreated by her husband, it is an argument in favor of -promiscuous love. And so with everything. Kindly brethren, devout and -generous critics! What a pity that no one thinks of creating a petty -court of literary inquisition in which you should be the torturers! -Would you be satisfied to tear the books to pieces and burn them at a -slow fire, and could you not, by your urgent representations, obtain -permission to give a little taste of the rack to those writers who -presume to have other gods than yours? - -Thank God, I have forgotten the names of those who tried to discourage -me at my first appearance, and who, being unable to say that my first -attempt had fallen completely flat, tried to distort it into an -incendiary proclamation against the repose of society. I did not expect -so much honor, and I consider that I owe to those critics the thanks -which the hare proffered the frogs, imagining from their alarm that he -was entitled to deem himself a very thunderbolt of war. - - -GEORGE SAND. - -Nohant, May, 1852. - - - - -PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1832 - - -If certain pages of this book should incur the serious reproach of -tending toward novel beliefs, if unbending judges shall consider their -tone imprudent and perilous, I should be obliged to reply to the -criticism that it does too much honor to a work of no importance; that, -in order to attack the great questions of social order, one must either -be conscious of great strength of purpose or pride one's self upon great -talent, and that such presumption is altogether foreign to a very simple -tale, in which the author has invented almost nothing. If, in the course -of his task, he has happened to set forth the lamentations extorted from -his characters by the social malady with which they were assailed; if he -has not shrunk from recording their aspirations after a happier -existence, let the blame be laid upon society for its inequalities, upon -destiny for its caprices! The author is merely a mirror which reflects -them, a machine which reverses their tracing, and he has no reason for -self-reproach if the impression is exact, if the reflection is true. - -Consider further that the narrator has not taken for text or devise a -few shrieks of suffering and wrath scattered through the drama of human -life. He does not claim to conceal serious instruction beneath the -exterior form of a tale; it is not his aim to lend a hand in -constructing the edifice which a doubtful future is preparing for us and -to give a sly kick at that of the past which is crumbling away. He knows -too well that we live in an epoch of moral deterioration, wherein the -reason of mankind has need of curtains to soften the too bright glare -which dazzles it. If he had felt sufficiently learned to write a -genuinely useful book, he would have toned down the truth, instead of -presenting it in its crude tints and with its startling effects. That -book would have performed the functions of blue spectacles for weak -eyes. - -He does not abandon the idea of performing that honorable and laudable -task some day; but, being still a young man, he simply tells you to-day -what he has seen, not presuming to draw his conclusions concerning the -great controversy between the future and the past, which perhaps no man -of the present generation is especially competent to do. Too -conscientious to conceal his doubts from you, but too timid to transform -them into certainties, he relies upon your reflections and abstains from -weaving into the woof of his narrative preconceived opinions, judgments -all formed. He plies with exactitude his trade of narrator. He will tell -you everything, even painful truths; but, if you should wrap him in the -philosopher's robe, you would find that he was exceedingly confused, -simple story-teller that he is, whose mission is to amuse and not to -instruct. - -Even were he more mature and more skilful, he would not dare to lay his -hand upon the great sores of dying civilization. One must be so sure of -being able to cure them when one ventures to probe them! He would much -prefer to arouse your interest in old discarded beliefs, in -old-fashioned, vanished forms of devotion, to employing his talent, if -he had any, in blasting overturned altars. He knows, however, that, in -these charitable times, a timorous conscience is despised by public -opinion as hypocritical reserve, just as, in the arts, a timid bearing -is sneered at as an absurd mannerism; but he knows also that there is -honor, if not profit, in defending lost causes. - -To him who should misunderstand the spirit of this book, such a -profession of faith would sound like an anachronism. The narrator hopes -that few auditors, after listening to his tale to the end, will deny the -moral to be derived from the facts, a moral which triumphs there as in -all human affairs; it seemed to him, when he wrote the last line, that -his conscience was clear. He flattered himself, in a word, that he had -described social miseries without too much bitterness, human passions -without too much passion. He placed the mute under his strings when they -echoed too loudly; he tried to stifle certain notes of the soul which -should remain mute, certain voices of the heart which cannot be awakened -without danger. - -Perhaps you will do him justice if you agree that the being who tries to -free himself from his lawful curb is represented as very wretched -indeed, and the heart that rebels against the decrees of its destiny as -in sore distress. If he has not given the best imaginable rôle to that -one of his characters who represents _the law_, if that one who -represents _opinion_ is even less cheerful, you will see a third -representing _illusion_, who cruelly thwarts the vain hopes and -enterprises of passion. Lastly, you will see that, although he has not -strewn rose-leaves on the ground where the law pens up our desires like -a sheep's appetite, he has scattered thistles along the roads which lead -us away from it. - -These facts, it seems to me, are sufficient to protect this book from -the reproach of immorality; but, if you absolutely insist that a novel -should end like one of Marmontel's tales, you will perhaps chide me on -account of the last pages; you will think that I have done wrong in not -casting into misery and destitution the character who has transgressed -the laws of mankind through two volumes. In this regard, the author will -reply that before being moral he chose to be true; he will say again, -that, feeling that he was too new to the trade to compose a -philosophical treatise on the manner of enduring life, he has restricted -himself to telling you the story of _Indiana_, a story of the human -heart, with its weaknesses, its passions, its rights and its wrongs, its -good qualities and its evil qualities. - -Indiana, if you insist upon an explanation of every thing in the book, -is a type; she is woman, the feeble being whose mission it is to -represent _passions_ repressed, or, if you prefer, suppressed by _the -law_; she is desire at odds with necessity; she is love dashing her head -blindly against all the obstacles of civilization. But the serpent wears -out his teeth and breaks them in trying to gnaw a file; the powers of -the soul become exhausted in trying to struggle against the positive -facts of life. That is the conclusion you may draw from this tale, and -it was in that light that it was told to him who transmits it to you. - -But despite these protestations the narrator anticipates reproaches. -Some upright souls, some honest men's consciences will be alarmed -perhaps to see virtue so harsh, reason so downcast, opinion so unjust. -He is dismayed at the prospect; for the thing that an author should fear -more than anything in the world is the alienating from his works the -confidence of good men, the awakening of an ominous sympathy in -embittered souls, the inflaming of the sores, already too painful, which -are made by the social yoke upon impatient and rebellious necks. - -The success which is based upon an unworthy appeal to the passions of -the age is the easiest to win, the least honorable to strive for. The -historian of _Indiana_ denies that he has ever dreamed of it; if he -thought that he had reached that result, he would destroy his book, even -though he felt for it the artless fatherly affection which swaddles the -rickety offspring of these days of literary abortions. - -But he hopes to justify himself by stating that he thought it better to -enforce his principles by real examples than by poetic fancies. He -believes that his tale, with the depressing atmosphere of frankness that -envelopes it, may make an impression upon young and ardent brains. They -will find it difficult to distrust a historian who forces his way -brutally through the midst of facts, elbowing right and left, with no -more regard for one camp than for the other. To make a cause odious or -absurd is to persecute it, not to combat it. It may be that the whole -art of the novelist consists in interesting the culprits whom he wishes -to redeem, the wretched whom he wishes to cure, in their own story. - -It would be giving overmuch importance to a work that is destined -doubtless to attract very little notice, to seek to protect it against -every sort of accusation. Therefore the author surrenders -unconditionally to the critics; a single charge seems to him too serious -to accept, and that is the charge that he has written a dangerous book. -He would prefer to remain in a humble position forever to building his -reputation upon a ruined conscience. He will add a word therefore to -repel the blame which he most dreads. - -Raymon, you will say, is society; egoism is substituted for morality and -reason. Raymon, the author will reply, is the false reason, the false -morality by which society is governed; he is the man of honor as the -world understands the phrase, because the world does not examine closely -enough to see everything. The good man you have beside Raymon; and you -will not say that he is the enemy of order; for he sacrifices his -happiness, he loses all thought of self before all questions of social -order. - -Then you will say that virtue is not rewarded with sufficient blowing of -trumpets. Alas! the answer is that we no longer witness the triumph of -virtue elsewhere than at the boulevard theatres. The author will tell -you that he has undertaken to exhibit society to you, not as virtuous, -but as necessary, and that honor has become as difficult as heroism in -these days of moral degeneration. Do you think that this truth will -cause great souls to loathe honor? I think just the opposite. - - - - -PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1842 - - -In allowing the foregoing pages to be reprinted, I do not mean to imply -that they form a clear and complete summary of the beliefs which I hold -to-day concerning the rights of society over individuals. I do it simply -because I regard opinions freely put forth in the past as something -sacred, which we should neither retract nor cry down nor attempt to -interpret as our fancy directs. But to-day, having advanced on life's -highway and watched the horizon broaden around me, I deem it my duty to -tell the reader what I think of my book. - -When I wrote _Indiana_, I was young; I acted in obedience to feelings of -great strength and sincerity which overflowed thereafter in a series of -novels, almost all of which were based on the same idea: the ill-defined -relations between the sexes, attributable to the constitution of our -society. These novels were all more or less inveighed against by the -critics, as making unwise assaults upon the institution of marriage. -_Indiana_, notwithstanding the narrowness of its scope and the ingenuous -uncertainty of its grasp, did not escape the indignation of several -self-styled serious minds, whom I was strongly disposed at that time to -believe upon their simple statement and to listen to with docility. But, -although my reasoning powers were developed hardly enough to write upon -so grave a subject, I was not so much of a child that I could not pass -judgment in my turn on the thoughts of those persons who passed judgment -on mine. However simple-minded a man accused of crime may be and however -shrewd the magistrate, the accused has enough common-sense to know -whether the magistrate's sentence is equitable or inequitable, wise or -absurd. - -Certain journalists of our day who set themselves up as representatives -and guardians of public morals--I know not by virtue of what -mission they act, since I know not by what faith they are -commissioned--pronounced judgment pitilessly against my poor tale, and, -by representing it as an argument against social order, gave it an -importance and a sort of echo which it would not otherwise have -obtained. They thereby imposed a very serious and weighty rôle upon a -young author hardly initiated in the most elementary social ideas, whose -whole literary and philosophical baggage consisted of a little -imagination, courage and love of the truth. Sensitive to the reproofs -and almost grateful for the lessons which they were pleased to -administer, he examined the arguments which arraigned the moral -character of his thoughts before the bar of public opinion, and, by -virtue of that examination, which he conducted entirely without pride, -he gradually acquired convictions which were mere feelings at the outset -of his career and which to-day are fundamental principles. - -During ten years of investigations, of scruples, and of irresolution, -often painful but always sincere, shunning the rôle of pedagogue which -some attributed to me to make me ridiculous, abhorring the imputation of -pride and spleen with which others pursued me to make me odious, -proceeding according to the measure of my artistic faculties, to seek -the synthesis of life by analyzing it, I related facts which have -sometimes been acknowledged to be plausible, and drew characters which -have often been described as having been studied with care. I restricted -myself to that, striving to establish my own conviction rather than to -shake other people's, and saying to myself that, if I were mistaken, -society would find no lack of loud voices to overturn my arguments and -to repair by judicious answers the evil that my imprudent questions -might have done. Numerous voices did, in fact, arise to put the public -on its guard against the dangerous writer, but, as for the judicious -answers, the public and the author are still awaiting them. - -A long while after I wrote the preface to _Indiana_ under the influence -of a remnant of respect for constituted society, I was still seeking to -solve this insoluble problem: _the method of reconciling the welfare and -the dignity of individuals oppressed by that same society without -modifying society itself._ Leaning over the victims and mingling his -tears with theirs, making himself their interpreter with his readers, -but, like a prudent advocate, not striving overmuch to palliate the -wrong-doing of his clients, and addressing himself to the clemency of -the judges rather than to their austerity, the novelist is really the -advocate of the abstract beings who represent our passions and our -sufferings before the tribunal of superior force and the jury of public -opinion. It is a task which has a gravity of its own beneath its trivial -exterior, and a task which it is exceedingly difficult to confine to its -true path, pestered as you are at every step by those who accuse you of -being too serious in respect to form and by those who accuse you of -being too frivolous in respect to substance. - -I do not flatter myself that I performed this task skilfully; but I am -sure that I attempted it in all seriousness, amid inward hesitations -wherein my conscience, sometimes dismayed by its ignorance of its -rights, sometimes inspired by a heart enamored of justice and truth, -marched forward to its goal, without swerving too far from the straight -road and without too many backward steps. - -To enlighten the public as to this inward struggle by a series of -prefaces and discussions would have been a puerile method, wherein the -vanity of talking about one's self would have taken too much space to -suit me. I could but abstain from it as well as from touching too -hastily upon the points which were still obscure in my mind. -Conservators called me too bold, innovators too timid. I confess that I -had respect and sympathy for the past and the future alike, and in the -battle I found no peace of mind until the day when I fully realized that -the one should not be the violation and the annihilation of the other, -but its continuation and development. - -After this novitiate of ten years, being initiated at last in broader -ideas which I derived not from myself but from the philosophical -progress which had taken place around me--and particularly from a few -vast intellects which I religiously questioned, and, generally speaking, -from the spectacle of the sufferings of my fellowmen,--I realized at -last that, although I may have done well to distrust myself and to -hesitate to put forth my views at the epoch of ignorance and -inexperience when I wrote _Indiana_, my present duty is to congratulate -myself on the bold utterances to which I allowed myself to be impelled -then and afterwards; bold utterances for which I have been reproached so -bitterly, and which would have been bolder still had I known how -legitimate and honest and sacred they were. - -To-day therefore, having re-read the first novel of my youth with as -much severity and impartiality as if it were the work of another person, -on the eve of giving it a publicity which it has not yet derived from -the popular edition, having resolved beforehand not to retract--one -should never retract what was said or done in good faith--but to condemn -myself if I should discover that my former tendencies were mistaken or -dangerous, I find myself so entirely in accord with myself with respect -to the sentiment which dictated _Indiana_ and which would dictate it now -if I had that story to tell to-day for the first time, that I have not -chosen to change anything in it save a few ungrammatical sentences and -some inappropriate words. Doubtless many more of the same sort remain, -and the literary merits of my writings I submit without reserve to the -animadversions of the critics; I gladly accord to them all the -competence in that regard which I myself lack. That there is an -incontestable mass of talent in the daily press of the present day, I do -not deny and I delight to acknowledge it. But that there are many -philosophers and moralists in this array of polished writers, I do -positively deny, with due respect to those who have condemned me, and -who will condemn me again on the first opportunity, from their lofty -plane of morality and philosophy. - -I repeat then, I wrote _Indiana_, and I was justified in writing it; I -yielded to an overpowering instinct of outcry and rebellion which God -had implanted in me, God who makes nothing that is not of some use, even -the most insignificant creatures, and who interposes in the most trivial -as well as in great causes. But what am I saying? is this cause that I -am defending so very trivial, pray? It is the cause of half of the human -race, nay, of the whole human race; for the unhappiness of woman -involves that of man, as that of the slave involves that of the master, -and I strove to demonstrate it in _Indiana._ Some persons said that I -was pleading the cause of an individual; as if, even assuming that I was -inspired by personal feeling, I was the only unhappy mortal in this -peaceful and radiant human race! So many cries of pain and sympathy -answered mine that I know now what to think concerning the supreme -felicity of my fellowman. - -I do not think that I have ever written anything under the influence of -a selfish passion; I have never even thought of avoiding it. They who -have read me without prejudice understand that I wrote _Indiana_ with a -feeling, not deliberately reasoned out, to be sure, but a deep and -genuine feeling that the laws which still govern woman's existence in -wedlock, in the family and in society are unjust and barbarous. I had -not to write a treatise on jurisprudence but to fight against public -opinion; for it is that which postpones or advances social reforms. The -war will be long and bitter; but I am neither the first nor the last nor -the only champion of so noble a cause, and I will defend it so long as -the breath of life remains in my body. - -This feeling which inspired me at the beginning I reasoned out and -developed as it was combated and reproved. Unjust and malevolent critics -taught me much more than I should have discovered in the calm of -impunity. For this reason therefore I offer thanks to the bungling -judges who enlightened me. The motives that inspired their judgments -cast a bright light upon my mind and enveloped my conscience in a sense -of profound security. A sincere mind turns everything to advantage, and -facts that would discourage vanity redouble the ardor of genuine -devotion. - -Let no one look upon the reproof which, from the depths of a heart that -is to-day serious and tranquil, I have just addressed to the majority of -journalists of my time, as implying even a suggestion of protest against -the right of censorship with which public morality invests the French -press. That criticism often ill performs and ill comprehends its mission -in the society of the present day, is evident to all; but that the -mission is in itself providential and sacred, no one can deny unless he -be an atheist in the matter of progress, unless he be an enemy of the -truth, a blasphemer of the future and an unworthy child of France! -Liberty of thought, liberty to write and to speak, blessed conquest of -the human mind! what are the petty sufferings and the fleeting cares -engendered by thy errors or abuses compared to the infinite blessings -which thou hast in store for the world! - - - - -INDIANA - - -PART FIRST - - -I - - -On a certain cool, rainy evening in autumn, in a small château in Brie, -three pensive individuals were gravely occupied in watching the wood -burn on the hearth and the hands of the clock move slowly around the -dial. Two of these silent guests seemed to give way unreservedly to the -vague ennui that weighed upon them; but the third gave signs of open -rebellion: he fidgeted about on his seat, stifled half audibly divers -melancholy yawns, and tapped the snapping sticks with the tongs, with a -manifest intention of resisting the common enemy. - -This person, who was much older than the other two, was the master of -the house, Colonel Delmare, an old warrior on half-pay, once a very -handsome man, now over-corpulent, with a bald head, gray moustache and -awe-inspiring eye; an excellent master before whom everybody trembled, -wife, servants, horses and dogs. - -At last he left his chair, evidently vexed because he did not know how -to break the silence, and began to walk heavily up and down the whole -length of the salon, without laying aside for an instant the rigidity -which characterizes all the movements of an ex-soldier, resting his -weight on his loins and turning the whole body at once, with the -unfailing self-satisfaction peculiar to the man of show and the model -officer. - -But the glorious days had passed, when Lieutenant Delmare inhaled -triumph with the air of the camps; the retired officer, forgotten now by -an ungrateful country, was condemned to undergo all the consequences of -marriage. He was the husband of a young and pretty wife, the proprietor -of a commodious manor with its appurtenances, and, furthermore, a -manufacturer who had been fortunate in his undertakings; in consequence -whereof the colonel was ill-humored, especially on the evening in -question; for it was very damp, and the colonel had rheumatism. - -He paced gravely up and down his old salon, furnished in the style of -Louis XV., halting sometimes before a door surmounted by nude Cupids in -fresco, who led in chains of flowers well-bred fawns and good-natured -wild boars; sometimes before a panel overladen with paltry, -over-elaborated sculpture, whose tortuous vagaries and endless -intertwining the eye would have wearied itself to no purpose in -attempting to follow. But these vague and fleeting distractions did not -prevent the colonel, whenever he turned about, from casting a keen and -searching glance at the two companions of his silent vigil, resting upon -them alternately that watchful eye which for three years past had been -standing guard over a fragile and priceless treasure, his wife. - -For his wife was nineteen years of age; and if you had seen her buried -under the mantel of that huge fire-place of white marble inlaid with -burnished copper; if you had seen her, slender, pale, depressed, with -her elbow resting on her knee, a mere child in that ancient household, -beside that old husband, like a flower of yesterday that had bloomed in -a gothic vase, you would have pitied Colonel Delmare's wife, and the -colonel even more perhaps than his wife. - -The third occupant of this lonely house was also sitting under the same -mantel, at the other end of the burning log. He was a man in all the -strength and all the bloom of youth, whose glowing cheeks, abundant -golden hair and full whiskers presented a striking contrast to the -grizzly hair, weather-beaten complexion and harsh countenance of the -master of the house; but the least _artistic_ of men would none the less -have preferred Monsieur Delmare's harsh and stern expression to the -younger man's regular but insipid features. The bloated face carved in -relief on the sheet of iron that formed the back of the fire-place, with -its eye fixed constantly on the burning logs, was less monotonous -perhaps than the pink and white fair-haired character in this narrative, -absorbed in like contemplation. However, his strong and supple figure, -the clean-cut outline of his brown eyebrows, the polished whiteness of -his forehead, the tranquil expression of his limpid eyes, the beauty of -his hands, and even the rigorously correct elegance of his hunting -costume, would have caused him to be considered a very comely _cavalier_ -in the eyes of any woman who had conceived a passion for the so-called -_philosophic_ tastes of another century. But perhaps Monsieur Delmare's -young and timid wife had never as yet examined a man with her eyes; -perhaps there was an entire absence of sympathy between that pale and -unhappy woman and that sound sleeper and hearty eater. Certain it is -that the conjugal Argus wearied his hawklike eye without detecting a -glance, a breath, a palpitation, between these two very dissimilar -beings. Thereupon, being assured that he had not the slightest pretext -for jealousy to occupy his mind, he relapsed into a state of depression -more profound than before, and abruptly plunged his hands into his -pockets. - -The only cheerful and attractive face in the group was that of a -beautiful hunting dog, of the large breed of pointers, whose head was -resting on the knees of the younger man. She was remarkable by reason of -her long body, her powerful hairy legs, her muzzle, slender as a fox's, -and her intelligent face, covered with disheveled hair, through which -two great tawny eyes shone like topazes. Those dog's eyes, so fierce and -threatening during the chase, had at that moment an indefinable -expression of affectionate melancholy; and when her master, the object -of that instinctive love, sometimes so superior to the deliberate -affection of man, ran his fingers through the beautiful creature's silky -silver locks, her eyes sparkled with pleasure, while her long tail swept -the hearth in regular cadence, and scattered the ashes over the inlaid -floor. - -It was a fitting subject for Rembrandt's brush, that interior, dimly -lighted by the fire on the hearth. At intervals fugitive white gleams -lighted up the room and the faces, then, changing to the red tint of the -embers, gradually died away; the gloom of the salon varying as the -fitful gleams grew more or less dull. Each time that Monsieur Delmare -passed in front of the fire, he suddenly appeared, like a ghost, then -vanished in the mysterious depths of the salon. Strips of gilding stood -forth in the light now and then on the oval frames, adorned with wreaths -and medallions and fillets of wood, on furniture, inlaid with ebony and -copper, and even on the jagged cornices of the wainscoting. But when a -brand went out, resigning its brilliancy to some other blazing point, -the objects which had been in the light a moment before withdrew into -the shadow, and other projections stood forth from the obscurity. Thus -one could have grasped in due time all the details of the picture, from -the console supported by three huge gilded tritons, to the frescoed -ceiling, representing a sky studded with stars and clouds, and to the -heavy hangings of crimson damask, with long tassels, which shimmered -like satin, their ample folds seeming to sway back and forth as they -reflected the flickering light. - -One would have said, from the immobility of the two figures in bold -relief before the fire, that they feared to disturb the immobility of -the scene; that they had been turned to stone where they sat, like the -heroes of a fairy tale, and that the slightest word or movement would -bring the walls of an imaginary city crumbling about their ears. And the -dark-browed master, who alone broke the silence and the shadow with his -regular tread, seemed a magician who held them under a spell. - -At last the dog, having obtained a smile from her master, yielded to the -magnetic power which the eye of man exerts over that of the lower -animals. She uttered a low whine of timid affection and placed her fore -paws on her beloved's shoulders with inimitable ease and grace of -movement. - -"Down, Ophelia, down!" - -And the young man reproved the docile creature sternly in English, -whereupon she crawled toward Madame Delmare, shamefaced and repentant, -as if to implore her protection. But Madame Delmare did not emerge from -her reverie, and allowed Ophelia's head to rest on her two white hands, -as they lay clasped on her knee, without bestowing a caress upon her. - -"Has that dog taken up her quarters in the salon for good?" said the -colonel, secretly well-pleased to find a pretext for an outburst of -ill-humor, to pass the time. "Be off to your kennel, Ophelia! Come, out -with you, you stupid beast!" - -If anyone had been watching Madame Delmare closely he could have -divined, in that trivial and commonplace incident of her private life, -the painful secret of her whole existence. An imperceptible shudder ran -over her body, and her hands, in which she unconsciously held the -favorite animal's head, closed nervously around her rough, hairy neck, -as if to detain her and protect her. Whereupon Monsieur Delmare, drawing -his hunting-crop from the pocket of his jacket, walked with a -threatening air toward poor Ophelia, who crouched at his feet, closing -her eyes, and whining with grief and fear in anticipation. Madame -Delmare became even paler than usual; her bosom heaved convulsively, -and, turning her great blue eyes upon her husband with an indescribable -expression of terror, she said: - -"In pity's name, monsieur, do not kill her!" - -These few words gave the colonel a shock. A feeling of chagrin took the -place of his angry impulse. - -"That, madame, is a reproof which I understand very well," he said, "and -which you have never spared me since the day that I killed your spaniel -in a moment of passion while hunting. He was a great loss, was he not? A -dog that was forever forcing the hunting and rushing after the game! -Whose patience would he not have exhausted? Indeed, you were not nearly -so fond of him until he was dead; before that you paid little attention -to him; but now that he gives you a pretext for blaming me--" - -"Have I ever reproached you?" said Madame Delmare in the gentle tone -which we adopt from a generous impulse with those we love, and from -self-esteem with those whom we do not love. - -"I did not say that you had," rejoined the colonel in a half-paternal, -half-conjugal tone; "but the tears of some women contain bitterer -reproaches than the fiercest imprecations of others. _Morbleu!_ madame, -you know perfectly well that I hate to see people weeping about me." - -"I do not think that you ever see me weep." - -"Even so! don't I constantly see you with red eyes? On my word, that's -even worse!" - -During this conjugal colloquy the young man had risen and put Ophelia -out of the room with the greatest tranquillity; then he returned to his -seat opposite Madame Delmare after lighting a candle and placing it on -the chimney-piece. - -This act, dictated purely by chance, exerted a sudden influence upon -Monsieur Delmare's frame of mind. As soon as the light of the candle, -which was more uniform and steadier than that of the fire, fell upon his -wife, he observed the symptoms of suffering and general prostration -which were manifest that evening in her whole person: in her weary -attitude, in the long brown hair falling over her emaciated cheeks and -in the purple rings beneath her dull, inflamed eyes. He took several -turns up and down the room, then returned to his wife and, suddenly -changing his tone: - -"How do you feel to-day, Indiana?" he said, with the stupidity of a man -whose heart and temperament are rarely in accord. - -"About as usual, thank you," she replied, with no sign of surprise or -displeasure. - -"'As usual' is no answer at all, or rather it's a woman's answer; a -Norman answer, that means neither yes nor no, neither well nor ill." - -"Very good; I am neither well nor ill." - -"I say that you lie," he retorted with renewed roughness; "I know that -you are not well; you have told Sir Ralph here that you are not. Tell -me, isn't that the truth? Did she not tell you so, Monsieur Ralph?" - -"She did," replied the phlegmatic individual addressed, paying no heed -to the reproachful glance which Indiana bestowed upon him. - -At that moment a fourth person entered the room: it was the factotum of -the household, formerly a sergeant in Monsieur Delmare's regiment. - -He explained briefly to Monsieur Delmare that he had his reasons for -believing that charcoal thieves had been in the park the last few nights -at the same hour, and that he had come to ask for a gun to take with him -in making his nightly round before locking the gates. Monsieur Delmare, -scenting powder in the adventure, at once took down his fowling-piece, -gave Lelièvre another, and started to leave the room. - -"What!" said Madame Delmare in dismay, "you would kill a poor peasant on -account of a few bags of charcoal?" - -"I will shoot down like a dog," retorted Delmare, irritated by this -remonstrance, "any man whom I find prowling around my premises at night. -If you knew the law, madame, you would know that it authorizes me to do -it." - -"It is a horrible law," said Indiana, warmly. But she quickly repressed -this impulse and added in a lower tone: "But your rheumatism? You forget -that it rains, and that you will suffer for it to-morrow if you go out -to-night." - -"You are terribly afraid that you will have to nurse your old husband," -replied Delmare, impatiently opening the door. - -And he left the room, still muttering about his age and his wife. - - - - -II - - -The two personages whom we have mentioned, Indiana Delmare and Sir -Ralph, or, if you prefer, Monsieur Rodolphe Brown, continued to face -each other, as calm and cold as if the husband were standing between -them. The Englishman had no idea of justifying himself, and Madame -Delmare realized that she had no serious grounds for reproaching him, -for he had spoken with no evil intention. At last, making an effort, she -broke the silence and upbraided him mildly. - -"That was not well done of you, my dear Ralph," she said. "I had -forbidden you to repeat the words that I let slip in a moment of pain, -and Monsieur Delmare is the last person in the world whom I should want -told of my trouble." - -"I can't understand you, my dear," Sir Ralph replied; "you are ill and -you refuse to take care of yourself. I had to choose between the chance -of losing you and the necessity of letting your husband know." - -"Yes," said Madame Delmare, with a sad smile, "and you decided to -_notify the authorities._" - -"You are wrong, you are wrong, on my word, to allow yourself to inveigh -so against the colonel; he is a man of honor, a worthy man." - -"And who says that he's not, Sir Ralph?" - -"Why, you do, without meaning to. Your depression, your ailing -condition, and, as he himself observes, your red eyes, tell everybody -every hour in the day that you are not happy." - -"Hush, Sir Ralph, you go too far. I have never given you permission to -find out so much." - -"I anger you, I see; but what would you have! I am not clever; I am not -acquainted with the subtle distinctions of your language, and then, too, -I resemble your husband in many ways. Like him I am utterly in the dark -as to what a man must say to a woman, either in English or in French, to -console her. Another man would have conveyed to your mind, without -putting it in words, the idea that I have just expressed so awkwardly; -he would have had the art to insinuate himself into your confidence -without allowing you to detect his progress, and perhaps he would have -succeeded in affording some relief to your heart, which puts fetters on -itself and locks itself up before me. This is not the first time that I -have noticed how much more influence words have upon women than ideas, -especially in France. Women more than----" - -"Oh! you have a profound contempt for women, my dear Ralph. I am alone -here against two of you, so I must make up my mind never to be right." - -"Put us in the wrong, my dear cousin, by recovering your health, your -good spirits, your bloom, your animation of the old days; remember Ile -Bourbon and that delightful retreat of ours, Bernica, and our happy -childhood, and our friendship, which is as old as you are yourself." - -"I remember my father, too," said Indiana, dwelling sadly upon the words -and placing her hand in Sir Ralph's. - -They relapsed into profound silence. - -"Indiana," said Ralph, after a pause, "happiness is always within our -reach. Often one has only to put out his hand to grasp it. What do you -lack? You have modest competence, which is preferable to great wealth, -an excellent husband, who loves you with all his heart, and, I dare to -assert, a sincere and devoted friend." - -Madame Delmare pressed Sir Ralph's hand faintly, but she did not change -her attitude; her head still hung forward on her breast and her -tear-dimmed eyes were fixed on the magic effects produced by the embers. - -"Your depression, my dear friend," continued Sir Ralph, "is due purely -to physical causes; which one of us can escape disappointment, vexation? -Look below you and you will see people who envy you, and with good -reason. Man is so constituted that he always aspires to what he has -not." - -I spare you a multitude of other commonplaces which the excellent Sir -Ralph put forth in a tone as monotonous and sluggish as his thoughts. It -was not that Sir Ralph was a fool, but he was altogether out of his -element. He lacked neither common sense nor shrewdness; but the rôle of -consoler of women was, as he himself acknowledged, beyond his capacity. -And this man had so little comprehension of another's grief, that with -the best possible disposition to furnish a remedy, he could not touch it -without inflaming it. He was so conscious of his awkwardness that he -rarely ventured to take notice of his friend's sorrows; and on this -occasion he made superhuman efforts to perform what he considered the -most painful duty of friendship. - -When he saw that Madame Delmare was obliged to make an effort to listen -to him, he held his peace, and naught could be heard save the -innumerable little voices whispering in the burning wood, the plaintive -song of the log as it becomes heated and swells, the crackling of the -bark as it curls before breaking, and the faint phosphorescent -explosions of the alburnum, which emits a bluish flame. From time to -time the baying of a dog mingled with the whistling of the wind through -the cracks of the door and the beating of the rain against the -windowpanes. That evening was one of the saddest that Madame Delmare had -yet passed in her little manor-house in Brie. - -Moreover, an indefinable vague feeling of suspense weighed upon that -impressionable soul and its delicate fibres. Weak creatures live on -alarms and presentiments. Madame Delmare had all the superstitions of a -nervous, sickly Creole; certain nocturnal sounds, certain phases of the -moon were to her unfailing presages of specific events, of impending -misfortunes, and the night spoke to that dreamy, melancholy creature a -language full of mysteries and phantoms which she alone could understand -and translate according to her fears and her sufferings. - -"You will say again that I am mad," she said, withdrawing her hand, -which Sir Ralph still held, "but some disaster, I don't know what, is -preparing to fall upon us. Some danger is impending over -someone--myself, no doubt--but, look you, Ralph, I feel intensely -agitated, as at the approach of a great crisis in my destiny. I am -afraid," she added, with a shudder, "I feel faint." - -And her lips became as white as her cheeks. Sir Ralph, terrified, not by -Madame Delmare's presentiments, which he looked upon as symptoms of -extreme mental exhaustion, but by her deathly pallor, pulled the -bell-rope violently to summon assistance. No one came, and as Indiana -grew weaker and weaker, Sir Ralph, more alarmed in proportion, moved her -away from the fire, deposited her in a reclining chair, and ran through -the house at random, calling the servants, looking for water or salts, -finding nothing, breaking all the bell-ropes, losing his way in the -labyrinth of dark rooms, and wringing his hands with impatience and -anger against himself. - -At last it occurred to him to open the glass door that led into the -park, and to call alternately Lelièvre and Noun, Madame Delmare's -Creole maid. - -A few moments later Noun appeared from one of the dark paths in the -park, and hastily inquired if Madame Delmare were worse than usual. - -"She is really ill," replied Sir Ralph. - -They returned to the salon and devoted themselves to the task of -restoring the unconscious Madame Delmare, one with all the ardor of -useless and awkward zeal, the other with the skill and efficacy of -womanly affection. - -Noun was Madame Delmare's foster-sister; the two young women had been -brought up together and loved each other dearly. Noun was tall and -strong, glowing with health, active, alert, overflowing with ardent, -passionate creole blood; and she far outshone with her resplendent -beauty the frail and pallid charms of Madame Delmare; but the tenderness -of their hearts and the strength of their attachment killed every -feeling of feminine rivalry. - -When Madame Delmare recovered consciousness, the first thing that she -observed was the unusual expression of her maid's features, the damp and -disordered condition of her hair and the excitement which was manifest -in her every movement. - -"Courage, my poor child," she said kindly; "my illness is more -disastrous to you than to myself. Why, Noun, you are the one to take -care of yourself; you are growing thin and weeping as if it were not -your destiny to live; dear Noun, life is so bright and fair before you!" - -Noun pressed Madame Delmare's hand to her lips effusively, and said, in -a sort of frenzy, glancing wildly about the room: - -"_Mon Dieu!_ madame, do you know why Monsieur Delmare is in the park?" - -"Why?" echoed Indiana, losing instantly the faint flush that had -reappeared on her cheeks. "Wait a moment--I don't know--You frighten me! -What is the matter, pray?" - -"Monsieur Delmare declares that there are thieves in the park," replied -Noun in a broken voice. "He is making the rounds with Lelièvre, both -armed with guns." - -"Well?" said Indiana, apparently expecting some shocking news. - -"Why, madame," rejoined Noun, clasping her hands frantically, "isn't it -horrible to think that they are going to kill a man?" - -"Kill a man!" cried Madame Delmare, springing to her feet with the -terrified credulity of a child frightened by it's nurse's tales. - -"Ah! yes, they will kill him," said Noun, stifling her sobs. - -"These two women are mad," thought Sir Ralph, who was watching this -strange scene with a bewildered air. "Indeed," he added mentally, "all -women are." - -"But why do you say that, Noun," continued Madame Delmare; "do you -believe that there are any thieves there?" - -"Oh! if they were really thieves! but some poor peasant perhaps, who has -come to pick up a handful of wood for his family!" - -"Yes, that would be ghastly, as you say! But it is not probable; right -at the entrance to Fontainebleau forest, when it is so easy to steal -wood there, nobody would take the risk of a park enclosed by walls. Bah! -Monsieur Delmare won't find anybody in the park, so don't you be -afraid." - - -[Illustration 02:_MADAME DELMARE DRESSES DE -RAMIÈRES WOUNDS._ -_A mattress was placed on several chairs, and -Indiana, assisted by her women, busied herself in -dressing the wounded hand, while Sir Ralph, who -had some surgical knowledge, drew a large quantity -of blood from him._] - - -But Noun was not listening; she walked from the window to her mistress's -chair, her ears strained to catch the slightest sound; she seemed torn -between the longing to run after Monsieur Delmare and the desire to -remain with the invalid. - -Her anxiety seemed so strange, so uncalled-for to Monsieur Brown, that -he laid aside his customary mildness of manner, and said, grasping her -arm roughly: - -"Have you lost your wits altogether? don't you see that you frighten -your mistress and that your absurd alarms have a disastrous effect upon -her?" - -Noun did not hear him; she had turned her eyes upon her mistress, who -had just started on her chair as if the concussion of the air had -imparted an electric shock to her senses. Almost at the same instant the -report of a gun shook the windows of the salon, and Noun fell upon her -knees. - -"What miserable woman's terrors!" cried Sir Ralph, worn out by their -emotion; "in a moment a dead rabbit will be brought to you in triumph, -and you will laugh at yourselves." - -"No, Ralph," said Madame Delmare, walking with a firm step toward the -door, "I tell you that human blood has been shed." - -Noun uttered a piercing shriek and fell upon her face. - -The next moment they heard Lelièvre's voice in the park: - -"He's there! he's there! Well aimed, my colonel! the brigand is down!" - -Sir Ralph began to be excited. He followed Madame Delmare. A few moments -later a man covered with blood and giving no sign of life was brought -under the peristyle. - -"Not so much noise! less shrieking!" said the colonel with rough gayety -to the terrified servants who crowded around the wounded man; "this is -only a joke; my gun was loaded with nothing but salt. Indeed I don't -think I touched him; he fell from fright." - -"But what about this blood, monsieur?" said Madame Delmare in a -profoundly reproachful tone, "was it fear that caused it to flow?" - -"Why are you here, madame?" cried Monsieur Delmare, "what are you doing -here?" - -"I have come to repair the harm that you have done, as it is my duty to -do," replied Madame Delmare coldly. - -She walked up to the wounded man with a courage of which no one of the -persons present had as yet felt capable, and held a light to his face. -Thereupon, instead of the plebeian features and garments which they -expected to see, they discovered a young man with noble features and -fashionably dressed, albeit in hunting costume. He had a trifling wound -on one hand, but his torn clothes and his swoon indicated a serious -fall. - -"I should say as much!" said Lelièvre; "he fell from a height of twenty -feet. He was just putting his leg over the wall when the colonel fired, -and a few grains of small shot or salt in the right hand prevented his -getting a hold. The fact is, I saw him fall, and when he got to the -bottom he wasn't thinking much about running away, poor devil!" - -"Would any one believe," said one of the female servants, "that a man so -nicely dressed would amuse himself by stealing?" - -"And his pockets are full of money!" said another, who had unbuttoned -the supposed thief's waistcoat. - -"It is very strange," said the colonel, gazing, not without emotion, at -the man stretched out before him. "If the man is dead it's not my fault; -examine his hand, madame, and see if you can find a particle of lead in -it." - -"I prefer to believe you, monsieur," replied Madame Delmare, who, with a -self-possession and moral courage of which no one would have deemed her -capable, was closely scrutinizing his pulse and the arteries of his -neck. "Certainly," she added, "he is not dead, and he requires speedy -attention. The man hasn't the appearance of a thief and perhaps he -deserves our care; even if he does not deserve it, our duty calls upon -us women to care for him none the less." - -Thereupon Madame Delmare ordered the wounded man to be carried to the -billiard room, which was nearest. A mattress was placed on several -chairs, and Indiana, assisted by her women, busied herself in dressing -the wounded hand, while Sir Ralph, who had some surgical knowledge, drew -a large quantity of blood from him. - -Meanwhile, the colonel, much embarrassed, found himself in the position -of a man who has shown more ill-temper than he intended to show. He felt -the necessity of justifying himself in the eyes of the others, or rather -of making them justify him in his own eyes. So he had remained under the -peristyle, surrounded by his servants, and indulging with them in the -excited, prolix and perfectly useless disquisitions which are always -forthcoming after the event. Lelièvre had already explained twenty -times, with the most minute details, the shot, the fall and its results, -while the colonel, who had recovered his good-nature among his own -people, according to his custom, after giving way to his anger, -impeached the purposes of a man who entered private property in the -night-time over the wall. Every one agreed with the master, when the -gardener, quietly leading him aside, assured him that the thief was the -living image of a young land-owner who had recently settled in the -neighborhood, and whom he had seen talking with Mademoiselle Noun three -days before at the rustic fête at Rubelles. - -This information gave a different turn to Monsieur Delmare's ideas; on -his ample forehead, bald and glistening, appeared a huge swollen vein, -which was always the precursor of a tempest. - -"Morbleu!" he said, clenching his fists, "Madame Delmare takes a deal of -interest in this puppy, who sneaks into my park over the wall!" - -And he entered the billiard room, pale and trembling with wrath. - - - - -III - - -"You may be reassured, monsieur," said Indiana; "the man you killed will -be quite well in a few days; at least we hope so, although he is not yet -able to talk." - -"That's not the question, madame," said the colonel, in a voice that -trembled with suppressed passion; "I insist upon knowing the name of -this interesting patient of yours, and how it came about that he mistook -the wall of my park for the avenue to my house." - -"I have absolutely no idea," replied Madame Delmare with such a cold and -haughty air that her redoubtable spouse was bewildered for an instant. - -But his jealous suspicions soon regained the upper hand. - -"I shall find out, madame," he said in an undertone; "you may be sure -that I shall find out." - -Thereupon, as Madame Delmare pretended not to notice his rage and -continued her attentions to the wounded man, he left the room, in order -not to explode before the women, and recalled the gardener. - -"What is the name of the man who, you say, resembles our prowler?" - -"Monsieur de Ramière. It is he who has just bought Monsieur de Cercy's -little English house." - -"What sort of man is he? a nobleman, a fop, a fine gentleman?" - -"A fine gentleman, monsieur; noble, I think." - -"Undoubtedly," rejoined the colonel with emphasis. "Monsieur de -Ramière! Tell me, Louis," he added, lowering his voice, "have you ever -seen this fop prowling about here?" - -"Last night, monsieur," Louis replied, with an embarrassed air, "I -certainly saw--as to its being a fop, I can't say, but it was a man, -sure enough." - -"And you saw him?" - -"As plainly as I see you, under the windows of the orangery." - -"And you didn't fall upon him with the handle of your shovel?" - -"I was just going to do it, monsieur; but I saw a woman in white come -out of the orangery and go to meet him. At that I said to myself: -'Perhaps it's monsieur and madame, who have taken a fancy to walk a bit -before daybreak;' and I went back to bed. But this morning I heard -Lelièvre talking about a thief whose tracks he had seen in the park, -and I said to myself: 'There's something under this.'" - -"And why didn't you tell me immediately, stupid?" - -"_Dame!_ monsieur, there are some things in life that are _so -delicate!_" - -"I understand--you presume to have doubts. You are a fool; if you ever -have another insolent idea of this sort I'll cut off your ears. I know -very well who the thief is and why he came into the garden. I have put -all these questions to you simply to find out what care you take of your -orangery. Remember that I have some rare plants there that madame sets -great store by, and that there are collectors who are insane enough to -rob their neighbors' hothouses; it was I whom you saw last night with -Madame Delmare." - -And the poor colonel walked away, more tormented, more exasperated than -before, leaving his gardener far from convinced that there are -horticulturists fanatical enough to risk a bullet in order to purloin a -shoot or a cutting. - -Monsieur Delmare returned to the billiard-room and, paying no heed to -the symptoms of returning consciousness which the wounded man displayed -at last, he was preparing to search the pockets of his jacket which lay -on a chair, when he put out his hand and said in a faint voice: - -"You wish to know who I am, monsieur, but it is useless. I will tell you -when we are alone. Until then spare me the embarrassment of making -myself known in my present disagreeable and absurd position." - -"It is a great pity in truth!" retorted the colonel sourly; "but I -confess that I hardly appreciate it. However, as I trust that we shall -meet again, and alone, I consent to defer an acquaintance until then. -Meanwhile will you kindly tell me where I shall have you taken." - -"To the public house in the nearest village, if you please." - -"But monsieur is no condition to be moved, is he, Ralph?" said Madame -Delmare hastily. - -"Monsieur's condition affects you far too much, madame," said the -colonel. "Leave the room, all of you," he said to the women in -attendance. "Monsieur feels better, and he will find strength now to -explain his presence on my premises." - -"Yes, monsieur," rejoined the wounded man, "and I beg all those who have -been kind enough to bestow any care upon me to listen to my -acknowledgment of my misconduct. I feel that is of much importance that -there should be no misunderstanding here of my motives, and it is of -importance to myself that I should not be deemed what I am not. Let me -tell you then what rascally scheme brought me to your park. You have -installed, monsieur, by methods of extreme simplicity, known to you -alone, a factory which is immeasurably superior to all similar factories -in the province, both in respect to its processes and its product. My -brother owns a very similar establishment in the south of France, but -the cost of running it is enormous. His business was approaching -shipwreck when I learned of the success of your venture; whereupon I -determined to come and ask you to give me advice on certain points,--a -generous service which could not possibly injure your own interests, as -my brother's output is of an entirely different nature from yours. But -the gate of your English garden was rigorously closed to me; and when I -asked for an interview with you, I was told that you would not even -allow me to look over your establishment. Repelled by these discourteous -refusals, I determined to save my brother's life and honor even at the -peril of my own; I entered your premises at night by scaling the wall, -and tried to obtain entrance to the factory in order to examine the -machinery. I had determined to hide in a corner; to bribe your workmen, -to steal your secret,--in a word, to enable an honest man to profit by -it without injuring you. Such was my crime. Now, monsieur, if you demand -any other reparation than that which you have just taken, I am ready to -offer it to you as soon as I am strong enough; indeed, I may perhaps -demand it." - -"I think that we should cry quits, monsieur," replied the colonel, half -relieved from a great anxiety. "Take notice, all of you, of the -explanation monsieur has given me. I am over-avenged, assuming that I -require any revenge. Go now and leave us to discuss my profitable -business operations." - -The servants left the room; but they alone were deceived by this -reconciliation. The wounded man, weakened by his long speech, was not -capable of appreciating the tone of the colonel's last words. He fell -back into Madame Delmare's arms and lost consciousness a second time. -She leaned over him, not deigning to raise her eyes to her angry -husband, and the two strikingly contrasted faces of Monsieur Delmare and -Monsieur Brown, the one pale and distorted by anger, the other calm and -expressionless as usual, questioned each other in silence. - -Monsieur Delmare did not need to say a word to make himself understood; -however he drew Sir Ralph aside and said, crushing his fingers in his -grasp: - -"This is an admirably woven intrigue, my friend. I am delighted, -perfectly delighted with this young fellow's quick wit, which enabled -him to save my honor in the eyes of my servants. But, _mordieu!_ he -shall pay dear for the insult, which I feel in the depths of my heart. -And that woman nursing him, who pretends not to know him! Ah! how true -it is that cunning is inborn in those creatures!" - -Sir Ralph, utterly nonplussed, walked methodically up and down the room -three times. At his first turn he drew the conclusion: _improbable_; at -the second: _impossible_; at the third: _proven._ Then, returning with -his impassive face to the colonel, he pointed to Noun, who was standing -behind the wounded man, wringing her hands, with haggard eyes and livid -cheeks, in the immobility of despair, terror and misery. - -A real discovery carries with it such a power of swift and overwhelming -conviction, that the colonel was more impressed by Sir Ralph's emphatic -gesture than he would have been by the most persuasive eloquence. -Doubtless Sir Ralph had more than one means of striking the right scent; -he recalled the fact that Noun was in the park when he called her, her -wet hair, her damp, muddy shoes, which testified to a strange fancy for -walking abroad in the rain--trivial details which had made but slight -impression on him at the time that Madame Delmare fainted, but which -recurred to his memory now. Then, too, the extraordinary terror she had -manifested, her convulsive agitation, and the cry she had uttered when -she heard the shot. - -Monsieur Delmare did not require all this evidence; being more -penetrating because he had more interest in the matter, he had only to -look at the girl's face to see that she alone was guilty. But his wife's -assiduity in ministering to the hero of this amorous adventure became -more and more distasteful to him. - -"Leave us, Indiana," he said. "It is late and you are not well. Noun -will remain with monsieur to take care of him during the night, and -to-morrow, if he is better, we will see about having him taken home." - -There was nothing to say in reply to this unexpected complaisance. -Madame Delmare, who was so determined in her resistance to her husband's -violence, always yielded to his milder moods. She requested Sir Ralph to -remain a little longer with the patient, and withdrew to her bedroom. - -Not without ulterior motives had the colonel arranged things thus. An -hour later, when everybody had gone to bed and the house was still, he -stole softly into the room where Monsieur de Ramière lay, and, hiding -behind a curtain, was speedily convinced, by the young man's -conversation with the lady's-maid, that an amorous intrigue between the -two was in progress. The young creole's unusual beauty had created a -sensation at the rustic balls in the neighborhood. She had not lacked -offers of homage, even from members of some of the first families of the -province. More than one handsome officer of lancers, in garrison at -Melun, had put himself out to please her; but Noun was still to have her -first love affair, and only one of her suitors had succeeded in pleasing -her: Monsieur de Ramière. - -Colonel Delmare was by no means desirous of following the development of -their liaison; so he retired as soon as he had made sure that his wife -had not for an instant occupied the thoughts of the Almaviva of this -adventure. He heard enough of it, however, to realize the difference -between the love of poor Noun, who threw herself into the affair with -all the vehemence of her passionate nature, and that of the well-born -youth, who yielded to the impulse of a day without abjuring the right to -resume his reason on the morrow. - -When Madame Delmare awoke she found Noun beside her bed, embarrassed and -downcast. But she had ingenuously given credence to Monsieur de -Ramière's explanation, the more readily as persons interested in -Monsieur Delmare's line of trade had previously tried to surprise the -secrets of the Delmare factory, by stratagem or by fraud. She attributed -her companion's embarrassment therefore to the excitement and fatigue of -the night, and Noun took courage when she saw the colonel calmly enter -his wife's room and discuss the affair of the previous evening with her -as a perfectly natural occurrence. - -In the morning Sir Ralph had satisfied himself as to the patient's -condition. The fall, although a severe one, had had no serious result; -the wound in the hand had already closed; Monsieur de Ramière had -expressed a desire to be taken to Melun, and he had distributed the -contents of his purse among the servants to induce them to keep quiet -concerning his adventure, in order, he said, that his mother, who lived -within a few leagues, might not be alarmed. Thus the story became known -very slowly, and in several different versions. Certain information -concerning the English factory of Monsieur de Ramière, the brother, -added weight to the fiction the intruder had happily improvised. The -colonel and Sir Ralph had the delicacy to keep Noun's secret, without -even letting her know that they knew it; and the Delmare family soon -ceased to give any thought to the incident. - - - - -IV - - -You will find it difficult to believe perhaps that Monsieur de Ramière, -a young man of brilliant intellect, considerable talents and many -estimable qualities, accustomed to salon triumphs and to adventures in -perfumed boudoirs, had conceived a very durable passion for the -housekeeper in the household of a small manufacturer in Brie. And yet -Monsieur de Ramière was neither fop nor libertine. We have said that he -was intelligent--that is to say, he appreciated the advantages of birth -at their real value. He was a man of high principle when he argued with -himself; but vehement passions often carried him beyond the bounds of -his theories. At such times he was incapable of reflection, or he -avoided appearing before the tribunal of his conscience: he went astray, -as if without his own knowledge, and the man of yesterday strove to -deceive him of to-morrow. Unfortunately the most salient feature in his -character was not his principles, which he possessed in common with many -other white-gloved philosophers and which no more preserved him from -inconsistency than they preserve them; but his passions, which no -principles could stifle, and which made of him a man apart in that -degenerate society where it is so difficult to depart from the beaten -path without appearing ridiculous. Raymon had the art of being often -culpable without arousing hatred, often eccentric without being -offensive; indeed he sometimes succeeded in arousing the pity of people -who had the most reason to complain of him. There are men who are -humored thus by every one who approaches them. Sometimes an attractive -face and animated speech make up the sum total of their sensibility. We -do not presume to judge Monsieur Raymon de Ramière so harshly, nor to -draw his portrait before exhibiting him in action. We are examining him -now at a distance, like the multitude who pass him in the street. - -Monsieur de Ramière was in love with the young creole with the great -black eyes, who had aroused the admiration of the whole province at the -fête of Rubelles; but he was in love and nothing more. He had made her -acquaintance because he had nothing else to do, perhaps, and success had -kindled his desires; he had obtained more than he asked, and on the day -that he triumphed over that easily vanquished heart he returned home -dismayed by his victory, and said to himself, striking his forehead: - -"God grant that she doesn't love me!" - -Thus it was not until after he had accepted all the proofs of her love -that he began to suspect the existence of that love. Then he repented, -but it was too late; he must either resign himself to what the future -might have in store, or retreat like a coward toward the past. Raymon -did not hesitate; he allowed himself to be loved, he loved in return for -gratitude; he scaled the walls of the Delmare estate from love of -danger; he had a terrible fall from awkwardness; and he was so touched -by his lovely young mistress's grief that he deemed himself justified -thenceforth in his own eyes in continuing to dig the pit into which she -was destined to fall. - -When he had recovered, winter had no storms, darkness no perils, remorse -no stings which could deter him from passing through the corner of the -forest to meet the young creole and swear to her that he had never loved -any other woman; that he preferred her to the queens of society, and a -thousand other exaggerations which will always be fashionable with poor -and credulous maidens. In January Madame Delmare went to Paris with her -husband; Sir Ralph Brown, their excellent neighbor, betook himself to -his own estate, and Noun, being left in charge of her master's country -house, was able to absent herself on various pretexts. It was -unfortunate for her, and this facility of intercourse with her lover -greatly abridged the ephemeral happiness which she was destined to -enjoy. The forest with its poetic shadows, its arabesques of hoar-frost, -its moonlight effects, the mysterious going and coming by the little -gate, the furtive departure in the morning when Noun's little feet, as -she accompanied him to the gate, left their prints on the snow in the -park--all these accessories of an amorous intrigue served to prolong -Monsieur de Ramière's intoxication. Noun, in white _déshablilé_, with -her long black hair for ornament, was a lady, a queen, a fairy; when he -saw her come forth from that red brick castle, a heavy, square structure -of the time of the Regency, with a semi-feudal aspect, he could easily -fancy her a châtelaine of the Middle Ages, and in the summerhouse -filled with rare flowers, where she made him drunk with the seductions -of youth and passion, he readily forgot all that he was destined to -remember later. - -But when Noun, disdaining precautions and defying danger in her turn, -came to him at his home, with her white apron and neckerchief -coquettishly arranged according to the fashion of her country, she was -nothing more than a maid and a maid in the service of a pretty woman--a -circumstance that always makes a soubrette seem like a makeshift. And -yet Noun was very lovely, it was in that dress that he had first seen -her at that village fête where he had forced his way through the crowd -of curious bystanders, and had enjoyed the petty triumph of carrying her -off from a score of rivals. Noun would lovingly remind him of that day; -she did not know, poor child, that Raymon's love did not date back so -far, and that her day of pride had been only a day of vanity to him. And -then the courage with which she sacrificed her reputation to him--that -courage which should have made him love her all the more--displeased -Monsieur de Ramière. The wife of a peer of France who should sacrifice -herself so recklessly would be a priceless conquest; but a lady's maid! -That which is heroism in the one becomes brazen-faced effrontery in the -other. With the one a world of jealous rivals envies you; with the other -a rabble of scandalized flunkeys condemns you. The lady of quality -sacrifices twenty previous lovers to you; the lady's maid sacrifices -only a husband that she might have had. - -What can you expect? Raymon was a man of fashionable morals, of elegant -manners, of poetic passion. In his eyes a grisette was not a woman, and -Noun, by virtue of a beauty of the first order, had taken him by -surprise on a day of popular merrymaking. All this was not Raymon's -fault; he had been reared to shine in society, all his thoughts had been -directed toward an exalted goal, all his faculties had been moulded to -enjoy princely good fortune, and the ardor of his blood had led him into -bourgeois amours against his will. He had done all that he possibly -could do to prolong his enjoyment, but he had failed; what was he to do -now? Ideas extravagant in generosity had passed through his brain; on -the days when he was most in love with his mistress he had thought -seriously of raising her to his level, of legitimizing their union. Yes, -upon my honor, he had thought of it; but love, which legitimizes -everything, was growing weaker now; it was passing away with the perils -of the intrigue and the piquant charm of mystery. Marriage was no longer -possible; and note this: Raymon reasoned very cogently and altogether in -his mistress's favor. - -If he had really loved her, he could, by sacrificing to her his future, -his family and his reputation, still have found happiness, and, -consequently, have made her happy; for love is a contract no less than -marriage. But, his ardor having cooled as he felt that it had, what -future could he create for her? Should he marry her and display day -after day a gloomy face, a cold heart, a comfortless home? Should he -marry her and make her odious to her family, contemptible in the eyes of -her equals, and a laughing-stock to her servants; take the risk of -introducing her in a social circle where she would feel that she was out -of place; where humiliation would kill her; and, lastly, overwhelm her -with remorse by forcing her to realize all the trials she had brought -upon her lover? - -No, you will agree with him that it was impossible, that it would not -have been generous, that a man cannot contend thus with society, and -that such heroic virtue resembles Don Quixote breaking his lance against -a windmill; an iron courage which a breath of wind scatters; the -chivalry of another age which arouses the pitying contempt of this age. - -Having thus weighed all the arguments, Monsieur de Ramière concluded -that it would be better to break that unfortunate bond. Noun's visits -were beginning to be painful to him. His mother, who had gone to Paris -for the winter, would not fail to hear of the little scandal before -long. Even now she was surprised at his frequent visits to Cercy, their -country estate, and at his passing whole weeks there. He had, to be -sure, alleged as a pretext, an important piece of work which he was -finishing away from the noise of the city; but that pretext was -beginning to be worn out. It grieved Raymon to deceive so kind a mother, -to deprive her for so long a time of his filial attentions; and--how -shall I tell you?--he left Cercy and did not return. - -Noun wept and waited, and as the days and weeks passed, unhappy creature -that she was, she ventured so far as to write. Poor girl! that was the -last stroke. A letter from a lady's maid! Yet she had taken -satin-finished paper and perfumed wax from Madame Delmare's desk, and -her style from her heart. But the spelling! Do you know how much energy -a syllable more or less adds to or detracts from the sentiments? Alas! -the poor half-civilized girl from Ile Bourbon did not know even that -there were rules for the use of language. She believed that she wrote -and spoke as correctly as her mistress, and when she found that Raymon -did not return she said to herself: - -"And yet my letter was well adapted to bring him." - -That letter Raymon lacked courage to read to the end. It was a -masterpiece of ingenuous and graceful passion; it is doubtful if -Virginia wrote Paul a more charming one after she left her native land. -But Monsieur de Ramière made haste to throw it in the fire, fearful -lest he should blush for himself. Once more, what do you expect? This is -a prejudice of education, and self-love is a part of love just as -self-interest is a part of friendship. - -Monsieur de Ramière's absence had been noticed in society; that is much -to say of a man, in respect to this society of ours where all men -resemble one another. One may be a man of intelligence and still care -for society, just as one may be a fool and despise it. Raymon liked it, -and he was justified in his liking, for he was a favorite and was much -sought after; and that multitude of indifferent or sneering masks -assumed for him attentive and interested smiles. Unfortunate men may be -misanthropes, but those persons of whom one is fond are rarely -ungrateful; at least so Raymon thought. He was grateful for the -slightest manifestations of attachment, desirous of universal esteem, -proud of having a large number of friends. - -In this society, whose prejudices are absolute, everything had succeeded -in his case, even his faults; and when he sought the cause of this -universal affection which had always encompassed him, he found it in -himself, in his longing to obtain it, in the joy it caused him, in the -hearty kindliness which he dealt out lavishly without exhausting it. - -He owed it in some measure to his mother too, whose superior -intelligence, sparkling conversation and private virtues made her an -exceptional woman. It was from her that he inherited those excellent -principles which always led him back to the right path and prevented -him, despite the impetuosity of his twenty-five years, from ever -forfeiting his claim to public esteem. Moreover, people were more -indulgent to him than to others because his mother had the knack of -apologizing for him while blaming him, of commanding indulgence when she -seemed to implore it. She was one of those women who had lived through -different epochs so utterly dissimilar that their minds become as -flexible as their destinies; who have grown rich on experience of -misfortune; who have escaped the scaffolds of '93, the vices of the -Directory, the vanities of the Empire and the enmities of the -Restoration; rare women, whose kind is dying out. - -It was at a ball at the Spanish ambassador's that Raymon reappeared in -society. - -"Monsieur de Ramière, if I am not mistaken," said a pretty woman to her -neighbor. - -"He is a comet who appears at irregular intervals," was the reply. "It -is centuries since any one heard of the pretty fellow." - -The lady who spoke thus was a middle-aged foreigner. Her companion -blushed slightly. - -"He's very good-looking, is he not, madame?" she said. - -"Charming, on my word," replied the old Sicilian. - -"You are talking about the hero of the eclectic salons, the dark-eyed -Raymon, I'll be bound," said a dashing colonel of the guard. - -"He has a fine head to study," rejoined the younger woman. - -"And what pleases you even more, I dare say," said the colonel, "a -wicked head." - -The young woman was his wife. - -"Why a wicked head?" queried the Sicilian. - -"Full of genuine Southern passions, madame, worthy of the bright -sunlight of Palermo." - -Two or three young women put forward their flower-laden heads to hear -what the colonel was saying. - -"He made ravages in the garrison last year, I promise you," he -continued. "We fellows shall be obliged to pick a quarrel with him, in -order to get rid of him." - -"If he's a Lovelace, so much the worse for him," said a young lady with -a satirical cast of countenance; "I can't endure men whom everybody -loves." - -The ultramontane countess waited until the colonel had walked away, when -she tapped Mademoiselle de Nangy's fingers lightly with her fan and -said: - -"Don't speak so; you don't know here what to think of a man who wants to -be liked." - -"Do you think, pray, that all they have to do is to want it?" said the -damsel with the long sardonic eyes. - -"Mademoiselle," said the colonel, coming up again to invite her to -dance; "take care that the charming Raymon does not overhear you." - -Mademoiselle de Nangy laughed; but during the rest of the evening the -pretty group of which she was one dared not mention Monsieur de -Ramière's name again. - - - - -V - - -Monsieur de Ramière wandered amid the undulating waves of that -gayly-dressed crowd without distaste and without ennui. - -Nevertheless, he was fighting against a feeling of chagrin. On returning -to his own sphere he had a species of remorse, of shame for all the wild -ideas which a misplaced attachment had suggested to him. He looked at -the women so brilliantly beautiful in the bright light; he listened to -their refined and clever conversation; he heard their talents highly -praised; and in those marvellous specimens of their sex, those almost -royal costumes, those exquisitely appropriate remarks, he found on all -sides an implied reproach for having been untrue to his destiny. But, -despite this species of mental bewilderment, Raymon suffered from more -genuine remorse; for his intentions were always kind and considerate to -the last degree, and a woman's tears broke his heart, hardened as it -was. - -The honors of the evening were universally accorded to a young woman -whose name no one knew, and who enjoyed the privilege of monopolizing -attention because her appearance in society was a novelty. The -simplicity of her costume alone would have sufficed to make her a -distinguished figure amid the diamonds, feathers and flowers in which -the other women were arrayed. Strings of pearls woven into her black -hair were her only jewels. The lustreless white of her necklace, her -crêpe dress and her bare shoulders blended at a little distance, and -the heated atmosphere of the apartments had barely succeeded in bringing -to her cheeks a faint flush of as delicate a shade as that of a Bengal -rose blooming on the snow. She was a tiny, dainty, slender creature; a -salon type of beauty to which the bright light of the candles gave a -fairylike touch, and which a sunbeam would have dimmed. When she danced -she was so light that a breath would have whisked her away; but in her -lightness there was no animation, no pleasure. When she was seated she -bent forward as if her too flexible body lacked strength to support -itself, and when she spoke she smiled sadly. Fantastic tales were at the -very height of their vogue at this period. Accordingly, those who were -learned in that line compared this young woman to a fascinating -apparition evoked by sorcery, which would fade away and vanish like a -dream when the first flush of dawn appeared on the horizon. - -Meanwhile they crowded about her to invite her to dance. - -"Make haste," said a dandy of a romantic turn to one of his friends; -"the cock will crow soon, and even now your partner's feet have ceased -to touch the floor. I'll wager that you can't feel her hand in yours." - -"Pray look at Monsieur de Ramière's dark, strongly-marked face," said -an _artistic_ lady to her neighbor. "Contrast him with that pale, -slender young woman, and see if the _solid_ tone of the one doesn't make -an admirable foil for the _delicate_ tone of the other." - -"That young woman," said a woman who knew everybody and who played the -part of an almanac at social functions, "is the daughter of that old -fool, De Carvajal, who tried to play Joséphin, and who died ruined at -Ile Bourbon. This lovely exotic flower has made a foolish marriage, I -believe; but her aunt stands well at court." - -Raymon had drawn near the fair Indian. A peculiar emotion seized him -every time that he looked at her; he had seen that pale, sad face; -perhaps in some dream, but at all events he had seen it, and his eyes -rested upon it with the delight we all feel on seeing once more a -charming vision which we thought that we had lost forever. - -Raymon's gaze disturbed her who was the object of it; she was awkward -and shy, like a person unaccustomed to society, and the sensation that -she caused seemed to embarrass rather than to please her. Raymon made -the circuit of the salon, succeeded finally in learning that her name -was Madame Delmare, and went and asked her to dance. - -"You do not remember me," he said, when they were alone in the midst of -the crowd; "but I have not been able to forget you, madame. And yet I -saw you for an instant only, through a cloud; but in that instant you -seemed so kind, so compassionate." - -Madame Delmare started. - -"Oh! yes, monsieur," she said quickly, "it is you! I recognized you, -too." - -Then she blushed and seemed to fear that she had offended the -proprieties. She looked around as if to see whether anyone had heard -her. Her timidity enhanced her natural charm, and Raymon was touched to -the heart by the tone of that creole voice, slightly husky, but so sweet -that it seemed made to pray or to bless. - -"I was afraid," he said, "that I should never have an opportunity to -thank you. I could not call upon you and I knew that you went but little -into society. I feared, also, that if I made your acquaintance I should -come in contact with Monsieur Delmare, and our previous relations could -not fail to make that contact disagreeable. How glad I am for this -moment, which enables me to pay the debt of my heart!" - -"It would be much pleasanter for me," said she, "if Monsieur Delmare -also could enjoy it; and if you knew him better you would know that he -is as kind as he is brusque. You would forgive him for having been your -involuntary assailant, for his heart certainly bled more freely than -your wound." - -"Let us not talk of Monsieur Delmare, madame; I forgive him with all my -heart. I injured him and he took the law into his own hands. I have -nothing more to do but to forget; but as to you, madame, who lavished -such delicate and generous attentions upon me, I choose to remember all -my life your treatment of me, your pure features, your angelic -gentleness, and these hands which poured balm upon my wounds and which I -dared not kiss." - -While he spoke Raymon held Madame Delmare's hand, to be prepared to walk -through their figure in the contradance. He pressed that hand gently in -his, and all the young woman's blood rushed to her heart. - -When he led Madame Delmare back to her seat, her aunt, Madame de -Carvajal, had gone; the crowd was thinning. Raymon sat down beside her. -He had that ease of manner which a wide experience in affairs of the -heart imparts; it is the violence of our desires, the precipitate haste -of our love, that makes us stupid when we are with women. The man who -has rubbed the edge off his emotions a little is more anxious to please -than to love. Nevertheless Monsieur de Ramière felt more deeply moved -in the presence of that simple, unspoiled woman than he had ever been. -Perhaps this swift impression was due to his memory of the night he had -passed at her house; but it is certain that, while he talked to her with -animation, his heart did not lead his mouth astray. However, the habit -he had acquired with other women gave to his words a power of persuasion -to which the untutored Indiana yielded, not understanding that it had -not all been invented expressly for her. - -In general--and women are well aware of it--a man who talks wittily of -love is only moderately in love. Raymon was an exception; he expressed -passion artistically and felt it ardently. But it was not passion that -rendered him eloquent, it was eloquence that made him passionate. He -knew that he had a weakness for women, and he would become eloquent in -order to seduce a woman and fall in love with her while seducing her. It -was sentiment of the sort dealt in by advocates and preachers, who weep -hot tears when they perspire freely. He sometimes fell in with women who -were shrewd enough to distrust these heated improvisations; but he had -committed what are called follies for love's sake: he had run away with -a girl of noble birth; he had compromised women of very high station; he -had had three sensational duels; he had displayed to a crowded evening -party, to a whole theatre full of spectators, the bewilderment of his -heart and the disarray of his thoughts. A man who does all this without -fear of ridicule or of curses, and who succeeds in avoiding both, is -safe from all assault; he can take any risk and hope for anything. Thus -the most skilfully constructed defences yielded to the consideration -that Raymon was madly in love when he meddled with love at all. A man -capable of making a fool of himself for love is a rare prodigy in -society, and one that women do not disdain. - -I do not know how it happened, but when he escorted Madame de Carvajal -and Madame Delmare to their carriage he succeeded in putting Indiana's -little hand to his lips. Never before had a man's furtive, burning kiss -breathed upon that woman's fingers, although she was born in a fiery -climate and was nineteen years old; nineteen years of Ile Bourbon, which -are equivalent to twenty-five in our country. - -Ill and nervous as she was, that kiss almost extorted a shriek from her, -and she had to be assisted into the carriage. Raymon had never come in -contact with such a delicate organization. Noun, the creole, was in -robust health, and Parisian women do not faint when their hands are -kissed. - -"If I should see her twice," he said to himself as he walked away, "I -should lose my head over her." - -The next morning he had completely forgotten Noun. - -All that he knew about her was that she belonged to Madame Delmare. The -pale-faced Indiana engrossed all his thoughts, filled all his dreams. -When Raymon began to feel the shafts of love he was in the habit of -seeking to distract his thoughts, not in order to stifle the budding -passion, but, on the contrary, to drive away the reasoning power that -urged him to weigh its consequences. Of an ardent temperament, he -pursued his object hotly. He had not the power to quell the tempests -which arose in his bosom, nor to rekindle them when he felt that they -were dying away and vanishing. - -He succeeded the next day in learning that Monsieur Delmare had gone to -Brussels on a business trip, and had left his wife in charge of Madame -de Carvajal, of whom he was not at all fond, but who was Madame -Delmare's only relative. He, an upstart soldier, belonged to a poor and -obscure family, of which he seemed to be ashamed, simply because he -repeated so often that he was not ashamed of it. But, although he passed -his life reproaching his wife for alleged scorn of him which she did not -entertain, he was conscious that he ought not to compel her to live on -terms of intimacy with his uneducated kindred. Moreover, despite his -dislike for Madame de Carvajal, he could not refuse to treat her with -great deference for these reasons. - -Madame de Carvajal, who was descended from a noble Spanish family, was -one of those women who cannot make up their minds to be of no account in -the world. In the days when Napoleon ruled Europe she had burned incense -to the glory of Napoleon, and with her husband and brother-in-law had -joined the party of the Joséphinos; but her husband had lost his life -at the fall of the conqueror's short-lived dynasty, and Indiana's father -had taken refuge in the French colonies. Thereupon Madame de Carvajal, -being a clever and active person, had repaired to Paris, and there, by -some fortunate speculations on the Bourse, had built up for herself a -new competence on the ruins of her past splendors. By dint of shrewd -wit, intrigues and piety she had also obtained some favor at Court, and -her establishment, while it was by no means brilliant, was one of the -most respectable of all those presided over by protégés of the Civil -List. - -When Indiana arrived in France after her father's death, as the bride of -Colonel Delmare, Madame de Carvajal was but moderately pleased by so -paltry an alliance. Nevertheless she saw that Monsieur Delmare, whose -good sense and activity in business were worth a dowry, prospered with -his slender capital; and she purchased for Indiana the little château -of Lagny and the factory connected with it. In two years, thanks to -Monsieur Delmare's technical knowledge and certain funds advanced by Sir -Rodolphe Brown, his wife's cousin by marriage, the colonel's affairs -took a fortunate turn; he began to pay off his debts, and Madame de -Carvajal, in whose eyes fortune was the first recommendation, manifested -much affection for her niece and promised her the remnant of her wealth. -Indiana, who was devoid of ambition, was devotedly kind and attentive to -her aunt from gratitude, not from self-interest; but there was at least -as much of one as of the other in the colonel's manœuvres. He was a man -of iron in the matter of his political opinions; he would listen to no -argument concerning the unassailable glory of his great emperor, and he -upheld that glory with the blind obstinacy of a child of sixty years. He -was obliged therefore to put forth all his patience to refrain from -breaking out again and again in Madame de Carjaval's salon, where the -Restoration was lauded to the skies. What Delmare suffered at the hands -of five or six pious old women is beyond description. His vexation on -this account was in part the cause of his frequent ill-humor against his -wife. - -So much for Madame de Carvajal; we return now to Monsieur de Ramière. -At the end of three days he had learned all these domestic details, so -actively had he followed up everything likely to put him in the way of -an intimate acquaintance with the Delmare family. He learned that by -acquiring Madame de Carvajal's favor he could obtain opportunities of -meeting Indiana. On the evening of the third day he procured an -introduction to the aunt. - -In her salon there were four or five barbarians solemnly playing -_reversi_, and two or three young men of family, as utterly vapid as it -is allowable for a man to be who has sixteen quarterings of nobility. -Indiana was at work patiently filling in the background of a piece of -embroidery on her aunt's frame. She was leaning over her work, -apparently absorbed by that mechanical operation, and, it may be, well -pleased to escape in this way the dull chatter of her neighbors. For -aught I know, behind the long black hair that fell over the flowers of -her embroidery, she was reviewing in her mind the emotions of that -fleeting instant which had opened the door of a new life to her, when -the servant's voice, announcing several new arrivals, made it necessary -for her to rise. She did so mechanically, for she had paid no heed to -the names, and barely lifted her eyes from her embroidery; but a voice -at her side made her start as if she had received an electric shock, and -she was obliged to lean on her work-table to avoid falling. - - - - -VI - - -Raymon was not prepared for that silent salon, peopled only by a few -taciturn guests. It was impossible to utter a word which was not heard -in every corner of the room. The dowagers who were playing cards seemed -to be there for the sole purpose of embarrassing the conversation of the -younger guests, and Raymon fancied that he could read on their stern -features the secret satisfaction which old age takes in avenging itself -by blocking other people's pleasure. He had counted upon a less -constrained, tenderer interview than that of the ball, and it was just -the opposite. This unexpected difficulty gave greater intensity to his -desires, more fire to his glances, more animation and vivacity to the -roundabout remarks he addressed to Madame Delmare. The poor child was -altogether unused to this style of attack. She could not possibly defend -herself, because nothing was asked of her; but she was forced to listen -to the proffer of an ardent heart, to learn how dearly she was loved, -and to allow herself to be encompassed by all the perils of seduction -without making any resistance. Her embarrassment increased with Raymon's -boldness. Madame de Carvajal, who made some reasonably well-founded -claims to wit, and to whom Monsieur de Ramière's wit had been highly -praised, left the card-table to challenge him to a refined discussion -concerning love, into which she introduced much Spanish heat and German -metaphysics. Raymon eagerly accepted the challenge, and, on the pretext -of answering the aunt, said to the niece all that she would have refused -to hear. The poor young wife, without a protector and exposed to so -lively and skilful an assault on all sides, could not muster strength to -take part in that thorny discussion. In vain did her aunt, who was -anxious to exhibit her to advantage, call upon her to testify to the -truth of certain subtle theories of sentiment; she confessed blushingly -that she knew nothing about such things, and Raymon, intoxicated with -joy to see her cheeks flush and her bosom heave, swore inwardly that he -would teach her. - -Indiana slept less that night than she had done for the last two or -three nights; as we have said, she had never been in love, and her heart -had long been ripe for a sentiment which none of the men she had met -hitherto had succeeded in arousing. She had been brought up by a father -of an eccentric and violent character, and had never known the happiness -which is derived from the affection of another person. Monsieur de -Carvajal, drunk with political passions, consumed by ambitious regrets, -had become the most cruel planter and the most disagreeable neighbor in -the colonies; his daughter had suffered keenly from his detestable -humor. But, by dint of watching the constant tableau of the evils of -slavery, of enduring the weariness of solitude and dependence, she had -acquired a superficial patience, proof against every trial, an adorable -kindliness toward her inferiors, but also an iron will and an -incalculable power of resistance to everything that tended to oppress -her. By marrying Delmare she simply changed masters; by coming to live -at Lagny, she changed her prison and the locus of her solitude. She did -not love her husband, perhaps for the very reason that she was told that -it was her duty to love him, and that it had become with her a sort of -second nature, a principle of conduct, a law of conscience, to resist -mentally every sort of moral constraint. No one had attempted to point -out to her any other law than that of blind obedience. - -Brought up in the desert, neglected by her father, surrounded by slaves, -to whom she could offer no other assistance or encouragement than her -compassion and her tears, she had accustomed herself to say: "A day will -come when everything in my life will be changed, when I shall do good to -others, when some one will love me, when I shall give my whole heart to -the man who gives me his; meanwhile, I will suffer in silence and keep -my love as a reward for him who shall set me free." This liberator, this -Messiah had not come; Indiana was still awaiting him. She no longer -dared, it is true, to confess to herself her whole thought. She had -realized under the clipped hedge-rows of Lagny that thought itself was -more fettered there than under the wild palms of Ile Bourbon; and when -she caught herself saying, as she used to say: "A day will come--a man -will come"--she forced that rash longing back to the depths of her -heart, and said to herself: "Death alone will bring that day!" - -And so she was dying. A strange malady was consuming her youth. She was -without strength and unable to sleep. The doctors looked in vain for any -discoverable disorder, for none existed; all her faculties were failing -away in equal degree, all her organs were gradually degenerating; her -heart was burning at a slow fire, her eyes were losing their lustre, the -circulation of her blood was governed entirely by excitement and fever; -a few months more and the poor captive bird would surely die. But, -whatever the extent of her resignation and her discouragement, the need -remained the same. That silent, broken heart was still calling -involuntarily to some generous youthful heart to revivify it. The being -whom she had loved most dearly hitherto was Noun, the cheery and brave -companion of her tedious solitude; and the man who had manifested the -greatest liking for her was her phlegmatic cousin Sir Ralph. What food -for the all-consuming activity of her thoughts--a poor girl, ignorant -and neglected like herself, and an Englishman whose only passion was -fox-hunting! - -Madame Delmare was genuinely unhappy, and the first time that she felt -the burning breath of a young and passionate man enter her frigid -atmosphere, the first time that a tender and caressing word delighted -her ear, and quivering lips left a mark as of a red-hot iron on her -hand, she thought neither of the duties that had been laid upon her, nor -of the prudence that had been enjoined upon her, nor of the future that -had been predicted for her; she remembered only the hateful past, her -long suffering, her despotic masters. Nor did it occur to her that the -man before her might be false or fickle. She saw him as she wished him -to be, as she had dreamed of him, and Raymon could easily have deceived -her if he had not been sincere. - -But how could he fail to be sincere with so lovely and loving a woman? -What other had ever laid bare her heart to him with such candor and -ingenuousness? With what other had he been able to look forward to a -future so captivating and so secure? Was she not born to love him, this -slave who simply awaited a sign to break her chains, a word to follow -him? Evidently heaven had made for Raymon this melancholy child of Ile -Bourbon, whom no one had ever loved, and who but for him must have died. - -Nevertheless a feeling of terror succeeded this all-pervading, feverish -joy in Madame Delmare's heart. She thought of her quick-tempered, -keen-eyed, vindictive husband, and she was afraid,--not for herself, for -she was inured to threats, but for the man who was about to undertake a -battle to the death with her tyrant. She knew so little of society that -she transformed her life into a tragic romance; a timid creature, who -dared not love for fear of endangering her lover's life, she gave no -thought to the danger of destroying herself. - -This then was the secret of her resistance, the motive of her virtue. -She made up her mind on the following day to avoid Monsieur de Ramière. -That very evening there was a ball at the house of one of the leading -bankers of Paris. Madame de Carvajal, who, being an old woman with no -ties of affection, was very fond of society, proposed to attend with -Indiana; but Raymon was to be there and Indiana determined not to go. To -avoid her aunt's persecution, Madame Delmare, who was never able to -resist except in action, pretended to assent to the plan; she allowed -herself to be dressed and waited until Madame de Carvajal was ready; -then she changed her ball dress for a robe de chambre, seated herself in -front of the fire and resolutely awaited the conflict. When the old -Spaniard, as rigid and gorgeous as a portrait by Van Dyck, came to call -her, Indiana declared that she was not well and did not feel that she -could go out. In vain did her aunt urge her to make an effort. - -"I would be only too glad to go," she said, "but you see that I can -hardly stand. I should be only a trouble to you to-night. Go to the ball -without me, dear aunt; I shall enjoy the thought of your pleasure." - -"Go without you!" said Madame de Carvajal, who was sorely distressed at -the idea of having made an elaborate toilet to no purpose, and who -shrank from the horrors of a solitary evening. "Why, what business have -I in society, an old woman whom no one speaks to except to be near you? -What will become of me without my niece's lovely eyes to give me value?" - -"Your wit will fill the gap, my dear aunt," said Indiana. - -The Marquise de Carvajal, who only wanted to be urged, set off at last. -Whereupon, Indiana hid her face in her hands and began to weep; for she -had made a great sacrifice and believed that she had already blasted the -attractive prospect of the day before. - -But Raymon would not have it so. The first thing that he saw at the ball -was the old marchioness's haughty aigrette. In vain did he look for -Indiana's white dress and black hair in her vicinity. He drew near and -heard her say in an undertone to another lady: - -"My niece is ill; or rather," she added, to justify her own presence at -the ball, "it's a mere girlish whim. She wanted to be left alone in the -salon with a book in her hand, like a sentimental beauty." - -"Can it be that she is avoiding me?" thought Raymon. He left the ball at -once. He hurried to the marchioness's house, entered without speaking to -the concierge, and asked the first servant that he saw, who was half -asleep in the antechamber, for Madame Delmare. - -"Madame Delmare is ill." - -"I know it. I have come at Madame de Carvajal's request to see how she -is." - -"I will tell madame." - -"It is not necessary. Madame Delmare will receive me." - -And Raymon entered the salon unannounced. All the other servants had -retired. A melancholy silence reigned in the deserted apartments. A -single lamp, covered with its green silk shade, lighted the main salon -dimly. Indiana's back was turned to the door; she was completely hidden -in the depths of a huge easy-chair, sadly watching the burning logs, as -on the evening when Raymon entered the park of Lagny over the wall; -sadder now, for her former undefined sufferings, aimless desires had -given place to a fleeting joy, a gleam of happiness that was not for -her. - -Raymon, his feet encased in dancing shoes, approached noiselessly over -the soft, heavy carpet. He saw that she was weeping, and, when she -turned her head, she found him at her feet, taking forcible possession -of her hands, which she struggled in vain to withdraw from his clasp. -Then, I agree, she was overjoyed beyond words to find that her scheme of -resistance had failed. She felt that she passionately loved this man who -paid no heed to obstacles and who had brought happiness to her in spite -of her efforts. She blessed heaven for rejecting her sacrifice, and, -instead of scolding Raymon, she was very near thanking him. - -As for him, he knew already that she loved him. He needed not to see the -joy that shone through her tears to realize that he was master, and that -he could venture. He gave her no time to question him, but, changing -rôles with her, vouchsafing no explanation of his unlooked-for -presence, and no apology intended to make him seem less guilty than he -was, he said: - -"You are weeping, Indiana. Why do you weep? I insist upon knowing." - -She started when he called her by her name; but there was additional joy -in the surprise which that audacity caused her. - -"Why do you ask?" she said. "I must not tell you." - -"Well, I know, Indiana. I know your whole history, your whole life. -Nothing that concerns you is unknown to me, because nothing that -concerns you is indifferent to me. I resolved to know everything about -you, and I have learned nothing that was not revealed to me during the -brief moment that I passed under your roof, when I was brought, all -crushed and bleeding, to your feet, and your husband was angry to see -you, so lovely and so kind, support me with your soft arms and pour balm -upon my wounds with your sweet breath. He was jealous? oh! I can readily -understand it; I should have been, in his place, Indiana; or rather, in -his place, I would kill myself; for to be your husband, madame, to -possess you, to hold you in his arms, and not to deserve you, not to win -your heart, is to be the most miserable or the most dastardly of men!" - -"O heaven! hush," she cried, putting her hand over his mouth; "hush! for -you make me guilty. Why do you speak to me of him? why seek to teach me -to curse him? If he should hear you! But I have said no evil of him; I -have not authorized you to commit this crime! I do not hate him; I -esteem him, I love him!" - -"Say rather that you are horribly afraid of him; for the despot has -broken your spirit, and fear has sat at your bedside ever since you -became that man's prey. You, Indiana, profaned by the touch of that -boor, whose iron hand has bowed your head and ruined your life! Poor -child! so young and so lovely, to have suffered so horribly! for you -cannot deceive me, Indiana, who look at you with other eyes than those -of the common herd; I know all the secrets of your destiny, and you -cannot hope to hide the truth from me. Let those who look at you because -you are lovely say, when they notice your pallor and your melancholy: -'She is ill;'--well and good; but I, who follow you with my heart, whose -whole soul encompasses you with solicitude and love, I am well aware -what your disease is. I know that, if God had willed it so, if he had -given you to me, unlucky wretch that I am, who deserve to have my head -broken for having come so late, you would not be ill. On my life I -swear, Indiana, I would have loved you so that you would have loved me -the same and that you would have blessed the chain that bound us. I -would have carried you in my arms to prevent your feet from being -wounded; I would have warmed them with my breath. I would have held you -against my breast to save you from suffering. I would have given all my -blood to make up your lack of it, and if you had lost sleep with me, I -would have passed the night saying soft words to you, smiling on you to -restore your courage, weeping the while to see you suffer. When sleep -had breathed upon your silken eyelids, I would have brushed them with my -lips to close them more softly, and I would have watched over you, -kneeling by your bed. I would have forced the air to caress you gently, -golden dreams to throw flowers to you. I would have kissed noiselessly -your lovely tresses, I would have counted with ecstatic joy the -palpitations of your breast, and, at your awakening, Indiana, you would -have found me at your feet, guarding you like a jealous master, waiting -upon you as a slave, watching for your first smile, seizing upon your -first thought, your first glance, your first kiss." - -"Enough! enough!" said Indiana, agitated and quivering with emotion, -"you make me faint." - -And yet, if people died of happiness, Indiana would have died at that -moment. - -"Do not speak so to me," she said--"to me who am destined never to be -happy; do not depict heaven upon earth to me who am doomed to die." - -"To die!" cried Raymon vehemently, seizing her in his arms; "you, die! -Indiana! die before you have lived--before you have loved! No, you shall -not die; I will not let you die, for my life is bound to yours -henceforth. You are the woman of whom I dreamed, the purity that I -adored, the chimera that always fled from me, the bright star that shone -before me and said to me: 'Go forward in this life of wretchedness and -heaven will send one of its angels to bear you company.' You were always -destined for me; your soul was always betrothed to mine, Indiana! Men -and their iron laws have disposed of you; they have snatched from me the -mate God would have chosen for me, if God did not sometimes forget his -promises. But what do we care for men and laws if I love you still in -another's arms, if you can still love me, accursed and unhappy as I am -in having lost you! I tell you, Indiana, you belong to me; you are the -half of my heart, which has long been struggling to join the other half. -When you dreamed of a friend on Ile Bourbon, you dreamed of me; when, at -the word husband, a sweet thrill of fear and hope passed through your -heart, it was because I was destined to be your husband. Do you not -recognize me? Does not it seem to you that we must have met twenty years -ago? Did I not recognize you, my angel, when you stanched my blood with -your veil, when you placed your hand on my dying heart to bring back its -heat and its life? Ah! I remember distinctly enough. When I opened my -eyes I said to myself: 'There she is! she has been like that in all my -dreams--pale, melancholy and kind-hearted. She is my own; it is she who -is destined to fill my cup with unknown joys.' And the physical life -which returned to me then was your work. For we were brought together by -no commonplace circumstances, you see; it was neither chance nor -caprice, but fatality, death, which opened the gates of this new life to -me. It was your husband--your master--who, guided by his destiny, -brought me all bleeding in his arms and threw me at your feet, saying: -'Here is something for you!' And now nothing can part us." - -"Yes, he can part us!" hastily interposed Madame Delmare, who, carried -away by her lover's transports, had listened to him in ecstasy. "Alas! -alas! you do not know him; he is a man who knows nothing of pardon--a -man who cannot be deceived. He will kill you, Raymon!" - -She hid her face in his bosom, sobbing. Raymon embraced her -passionately. - -"Let him come!" he cried; "let him come and snatch this moment of -happiness from me! I defy him! Stay here, Indiana--here against my -heart; let it be your refuge and your protection. Love me and I shall be -invulnerable. You know that it is not in that man's power to kill me; I -have already been exposed defenceless to his blows. But you, my good -angel, were hovering over me, and your wings protected me. Have no fear, -I say, we shall find a way to turn aside his wrath; and now I am not -even afraid for you, for I shall be at hand. And when this master of -yours attempts to oppress you, I will protect you against him. I will -rescue you, if necessary, from his cruel laws. Would you like me to kill -him? Tell me that you love me, and I will be his executioner if you -sentence him to death." - -"Hush! hush! you make me shudder! If you wish to kill some one, kill me; -for I have lived one whole day and I ask nothing more." - -"Die, then, but let it be of happiness!" cried Raymon, pressing his lips -to Indiana's. - -But the storm was too severe for so fragile a plant; she turned pale, -put her hand to her heart and swooned. - -At first Raymon thought that his caresses would call her blood back into -her icy veins; but in vain did he cover her hand with kisses; in vain -did he call her by the sweetest names. It was not a premeditated swoon -of the sort we so often see. Madame Delmare had been seriously ill for a -long time, and was subject to nervous paroxysms which sometimes lasted -whole hours. Raymon, in desperation, was reduced to the necessity of -calling for help. He rang; a maid appeared; but the phial that she held -escaped from her hands, and a cry from her throat, when she recognized -Raymon. He, recovering instantly all his self-possession, put his mouth -to her ear. - -"Hush, Noun! I knew that you were here and I came to see you. I did not -expect to see your mistress, who was, as I supposed, at the ball. When I -came in I frightened her and she fainted. Be prudent; I am going away." - -Raymon fled, leaving each of the two women in possession of a secret -which was destined to carry despair to the heart of the other. - - - - -VII - - -The next morning Raymon, on waking, received a second letter from Noun. -He did not toss this one disdainfully aside; on the contrary, he opened -it eagerly: it might have something to say of Madame Delmare. So, in -fact, it did; but in what an embarrassing position this complication of -intrigues placed Raymon! It had become impossible to conceal the girl's -secret. Already suffering and terror had thinned her cheeks. Madame -Delmare observed her ailing condition, but was unable to discover its -cause. Noun dreaded the colonel's severity, but she dreaded her -mistress's gentleness even more. She was very sure that she would obtain -forgiveness, but she would die of shame and grief in being forced to -make the confession. What would become of her if Raymon were not careful -to protect her from the humiliations that were certain to overwhelm her! -He must give some thought to her, or she would throw herself at Madame -Delmare's feet and tell her the whole story. - -The fear of this result had a powerful effect upon Monsieur de Ramière. -His first thought was to separate Noun from her mistress. - -"Be very careful not to speak without my consent," he wrote in reply. -"Try and be in Lagny this evening. I will be there." - -On his way thither he reflected as to the course he had better pursue. -Noun had common sense enough not to expect a reparation--that was out of -the question. She had never dared to utter the word marriage, and -because she was discreet and generous, Raymon deemed himself less -guilty. He said to himself that he had not deceived her, and that Noun -must have foreseen what her fate must be. The cause of Raymon's -embarrassment was not any hesitation about offering the poor girl half -of his fortune; he was ready to enrich her, to take all the care of her -that the most sensitive delicacy could suggest. What made his position -so painful was the necessity of telling her that he no longer loved her; -for he did not know how to dissemble. Although his conduct at this -crisis seems two-faced and treacherous, his heart was sincere, and had -always been. He had loved Noun with his senses; he loved Madame Delmare -with all his heart. Thus far he had lied to neither. His aim now was to -avoid beginning to lie, and Raymon felt equally incapable of deceiving -Noun and of dealing her the fatal blow. He must make a choice between a -cowardly and a barbarous act. Raymon was very unhappy. He had come to no -decision when he reached the gate of Lagny park. - -Noun, for her part, had not expected so prompt a reply, and had -recovered a little hope. - -"He still loves me," she said to herself, "he doesn't mean to abandon -me. He had forgotten me a little, that's not to be wondered at; in -Paris, in the midst of merrymaking, with all the women in love with him, -as they are sure to be, he has allowed himself to be led away from the -poor creole for a few moments. Alas! who am I that he should sacrifice -to me all those great ladies who are much lovelier and richer than I am? -Who knows," she said to herself artlessly, "perhaps the Queen of France -is in love with him!" - -By dint of meditating upon the seductions which luxurious surroundings -probably exerted on her lover, Noun thought of a scheme for making -herself more agreeable to him. She arrayed herself in her mistress's -clothes, lighted a great fire in the room that Madame Delmare occupied -at Lagny, decorated the mantel with the loveliest flowers she could find -in the greenhouse, prepared a collation of fruit and choice wines, in a -word resorted to all the dainty devices of the boudoir, of which she had -never thought before; and when she looked at herself in a great mirror, -she did herself no more than justice in deciding that she was fairer -than the flowers with which she had sought to embellish her charms. - -"He has often told me," she said to herself, "that I needed no ornaments -to make me lovely, and that no woman at court, in all the splendor of -her diamonds, was worth one of my smiles. And yet those same women that -he used to despise fill his thoughts now. Come, I must be cheerful, I -must seem lively and happy; perhaps I shall reconquer to-night all the -love I once aroused in him." - -Raymon, having left his horse at a charcoal-burner's cabin in the -forest, entered the park, to which he had a key. This time he did not -run the risk of being taken for a thief; for almost all the servants had -gone with their masters, he had taken the gardener into his confidence, -and he knew all the approaches to Lagny as well as those to his own -estate. - -It was a cold night; the trees in the park were enveloped in a dense -mist, and Raymon could hardly distinguish their black trunks through the -white mist which swathed them in diaphanous robes. He wandered some time -through the winding paths before he found the door of the summer-house -where Noun awaited him. She was wrapped in a pelisse with the hood -thrown over her head. - -"We cannot stay here," she said, "it is too cold. Follow me and do not -speak." - -Raymon felt an extreme reluctance to enter Madame Delmare's house as the -lover of her maid. However, he could not but comply; Noun was walking -lightly away in front of him, and this interview was to be the last. - -She led him across the courtyard, quieted the dogs, opened the doors -noiselessly, and, taking his hand, guided him in silence through the -dark corridors; at last she ushered him into a circular room, furnished -simply but with refinement, where flowering orange-bushes exhaled their -sweet perfume; transparent wax candles were burning in the candelabra. - -Noun had strewn the floor with the petals of Bengal roses, the divan was -covered with violets, a subtle warmth entered at every pore, and the -glasses gleamed on the table amid the fruit, whose ruddy cheeks were -daintily blended with green moss. - -Dazzled by the sudden transition from darkness to brilliant light, -Raymon stood for a moment bewildered; but it was not long ere he -realized where he was. The exquisite taste and chaste simplicity which -characterized the furniture; the love stories and books of travel -scattered over the mahogany shelves; the embroidery frame covered with a -bright, pretty piece of work, the diversion of hours of patient -melancholy; the harp whose strings seemed still to quiver with strains -of love and longing; the engravings representing the pastoral attachment -of Paul and Virginie, the peaks of Ile Bourbon and the blue shores of -Saint-Paul; and, above all, the little bed half-hidden behind its muslin -curtains, as white and modest as a maiden's bed, and over the headboard, -by way of consecrated boxwood, a bit of palm, taken perhaps from some -tree in her native island, on the day of her departure;--all these -revealed the presence of Madame Delmare, and Raymon was seized with a -strange thrill as he thought that that cloak-enveloped woman who had led -him thither might be Indiana herself. This extravagant supposition -seemed to be confirmed when he saw, in the mirror opposite, a white -figure, the phantom of a woman entering a ball-room and laying aside her -cloak, to appear, radiant and half-nude, in the dazzling light. But it -was only a momentary error--Indiana would have concealed her charms more -carefully; her modest bosom would have been visible only through the -triple gauze veil of her corsage; she would perhaps have dressed her -hair with natural camellias, but they would not have frisked about on -her head in such seductive disorder; she might have encased her feet in -satin shoes, but her chaste gown would not have betrayed thus -shamelessly the mysteries of her shapely legs. - -Taller and more powerfully built than her mistress, Noun was dressed, -not clothed in her finery. She was graceful but lacked nobility of -bearing; she was lovely with the loveliness of women, not of fairies; -she invited pleasure and gave no promise of sublime bliss. - -Raymon, after scrutinizing her in the mirror without turning his head, -turned his eyes upon everything that was calculated to give forth a -purer reflection of Indiana--the musical instruments, the paintings, the -narrow, maidenly bed. He was intoxicated by the vague perfume her -presence had left behind in that sanctuary; he shuddered with desire as -he thought of the day when Indiana herself should throw open its -delights to him; and Noun, standing behind him with her arms folded, -gazed ecstatically at him, fancying that he was overwhelmed with delight -at the sight of all the pains she had taken to please him. - -But he broke the silence at last. - -"I thank you," he said, "for all the preparations you have made for me; -I thank you especially for bringing me here, but I have enjoyed this -pleasant surprise long enough. Let us leave this room; we are not in our -proper place here, and I must have some respect for Madame Delmare, even -in her absence." - -"That is very cruel," said Noun, who did not understand him, but -remarked his cold and displeased manner; "it is very hard to have had -such hopes of pleasing you and to see that you spurn me." - -"No, dear Noun, I shall never spurn you; I came here to have a serious -talk with you and to show you the deep affection that I owe you. I am -grateful for your desire to please me; but I loved you better adorned by -your youth and your natural charms than in this borrowed finery." - -Noun half understood and wept. - -"I am a miserable creature," she said; "I hate myself, for I no longer -please you. I should have foreseen that you would not love me long, -being, as I am, a poor, uneducated girl. I do not reproach you for -anything. I knew well enough that you would not marry me; but if you -would have kept on loving me, I would have sacrificed everything without -a regret, endured everything without complaining. Alas! I am ruined! I -am dishonored! perhaps I shall be turned out-of-doors. I am going to -give life to a creature who will be even more unfortunate than I am, and -no one will pity me. Everyone will feel that he has a right to trample -on me. But I would joyfully submit to all that, if you still loved me." - -Noun talked thus a long while. Perhaps she did not repeat the same -words, but she said the same things, and said them a hundred times more -eloquently than I can say them. Where are we to look for the secret of -the eloquence which suddenly reveals itself to an ignorant, -inexperienced mind in the crisis of a genuine passion and a profound -sorrow? At such times words have a greater value than in all the other -scenes of life; at such times trivial words become sublime by reason of -the sentiment that dictates them and the accent with which they are -spoken. At such times the woman of the lowest rank, abandoning herself -to the frenzy of her emotions, becomes more pathetic and more convincing -than her to whom education has taught moderation and reserve. - -Raymon was flattered to find that he had inspired so generous an -attachment, and gratitude, compassion, perhaps a little vanity, -rekindled love for a moment. - -Noun was suffocated by her tears; she had torn the flowers from her hair -which fell in disorder over her broad and dazzling shoulders. If Madame -Delmare had not had her slavery and her sufferings to heighten her -charms, Noun would have surpassed her immeasurably in beauty at that -moment; she was resplendent with grief and love. Raymon was vanquished; -he drew her into his arms, made her sit beside him on the sofa, moved -the little decanter-laden table nearer to them, and poured a few drops -of orange-flower water in a silver cup for her. Comforted by this mark -of interest far more than by the calming potion, Noun wiped away her -tears and threw herself at Raymon's feet. - -"Do love me," she said, passionately embracing his knees; "tell me that -you still love me and I shall be cured, I shall be saved. Kiss me as you -used to, and I will not regret having ruined myself to give you a few -days of pleasure." - -She threw her cool, brown arms about him, she covered him with her long -hair; her great black eyes emitted a burning languor and betrayed that -ardor of the blood, that purely oriental lust which is capable of -triumphing over all the efforts of the will, all the chaste delicacy of -the thought. Raymon forgot everything--his resolutions, his new love and -his surroundings. He returned Noun's delirious caresses. He moistened -his lips at the same cup, and the heady wines which were close at hand -completed the dethronement of their reason. - -Little by little a vague and shadowy memory of Indiana was blended with -Raymon's drunkenness. The two glass panels which repeated Noun's image -_ad infinitum_ seemed to be peopled by a thousand phantoms. He gazed -into the depths of that multiple reflection, looking for a slenderer -figure there, and it seemed to him that he could distinguish, in the -last hazy and confused shadow of Noun's image the graceful and willowy -form of Madame Delmare. - -Noun, herself bewildered by the strong liquors which she knew not how to -use, no longer noticed her lover's strange remarks. If she had not been -as drunk as he, she would have understood that in his wildest flights -Raymon was thinking of another woman. She would have seen him kiss the -scarf and the ribbons Indiana had worn, inhale the perfume which -reminded him of her, crumple in his burning hands the tissue that had -covered her breast; but Noun appropriated all these transports to -herself, when Raymon saw naught of her but Indiana's dress. If he kissed -her black hair, he fancied that he was kissing Indiana's black hair. It -was Indiana whom he saw in the fumes of the punch which Noun's hand had -lighted; it was she who smiled upon him and beckoned him from behind -those white muslin curtains; and it was she of whom he dreamed upon that -chaste and spotless bed, when, yielding to the influence of love and -wine, he led thither his dishevelled creole. - -When Raymon woke, a sort of half light was shining through the cracks of -the shutters, and he lay a long while without moving, absorbed by a -vague feeling of surprise and gazing at the room in which he was and the -bed in which he had slept, as if they were a vision of his slumber. -Everything in Madame Delmare's chamber had been put in order. Noun, who -had fallen asleep the sovereign mistress of that place, had waked in the -morning a lady's-maid once more. She had taken away the flowers and put -the remains of the collation out of sight; the furniture was all in -place, nothing suggested the amorous debauch of the night, and Indiana's -chamber had resumed its innocent and virtuous aspect. - -Overwhelmed with shame, he rose and attempted to leave the room, but he -was locked in; the window was thirty feet from the ground, and he must -needs remain in that remorse-laden atmosphere, like Ixion on his wheel. -Thereupon he fell on his knees with his face toward that disarranged, -tumbled bed which made him blush. - -"O Indiana!" he cried, wringing his hands, "how I have outraged you! Can -you ever forgive me for such infamous conduct? Even if you should -forgive me, I can never forgive myself. Resist me now, my gentle, -trustful Indiana; for you do not know the baseness and brutality of the -man to whom you would surrender the treasures of your innocence! Repulse -me, trample on me, for I have not respected the sanctuary of your sacred -modesty; I have befuddled myself with your wine like a footman, sitting -beside your maid; I have sullied your spotless robe with my accursed -breath, and your chaste girdle with my infamous kisses on another's -breast; I have not shrunk from poisoning the repose of your lonely -nights, and from shedding, even upon this bed, which your husband -himself respected, the influences of seduction and adultery! What safety -will you find henceforth behind these curtains whose mysteries I have -not shrunk from profaning? What impure dreams, what bitter and consuming -thoughts will cling fast to your brain and wither it! What phantoms of -vice and shamelessness will crawl upon the virginal linen of your couch! -And your sleep, pure as a child's--what chaste divinity will care to -protect it now? Have I not put to flight the angel who guarded your -pillow? Have I not thrown your alcove open to the demon of lust? Have I -not sold him your soul? And will not the insane passion which consumes -the vitals of this lascivious creole cling to yours, like Dejanira's -robe and gnaw at them! Oh! miserable wretch! miserable, guilty wretch -that I am! if only I could wash away with my blood the stain I have left -on this couch!" - -And Raymon sprinkled it with his tears. - -At that moment Noun returned, in her neckerchief and apron; she fancied, -when she saw Raymon kneeling, that he was praying. She did not know that -society people do not pray. She stood waiting in silence, until he -should deign to notice her presence. - -Raymon, when he saw her, had a feeling of embarrassment and irritation, -but without the courage to scold her, without the strength to say a -friendly word to her. - -"Why did you lock me in this room?" he said at last. "Do you forget that -it is broad daylight and that I cannot go out without compromising you -openly?" - -"So you're not to go out," said Noun caressingly. "The house is deserted -and no one can see you; the gardener never comes to this part of the -building to which I alone have the keys. You must stay with me all day; -you are my prisoner." - -This arrangement drove Raymon to despair; he had no other feeling for -his mistress than a sort of aversion. However, he could do nothing but -submit, and it may be that, notwithstanding what he suffered in that -room, an invincible attraction detained him there. - -When Noun left him to go and find something for breakfast, he set about -examining by daylight all those dumb witnesses of Indiana's solitude. He -opened her books, turned the leaves of her albums, then closed them -precipitately; for he still shrank from committing a profanation and -violating some feminine mystery. At last he began to pace the room and -noticed, on the wooden panel opposite Madame Delmare's bed, a large -picture, richly framed and covered with a double thickness of gauze. - -Perhaps it was Indiana's portrait. Raymon, in his eagerness to see it, -forgot his scruples, stepped on a chair, removed the pins, and was -amazed to see a full-length portrait of a handsome young man. - - - - -VIII - - -"It seems to me that I know that face," he said to Noun, struggling to -assume an indifferent attitude. - -"Fi! monsieur," said the girl, as she placed on a table the tray that -she brought containing the breakfast; "it is not right to try and find -out my mistress's secrets." - -This remark made Raymon turn pale. - -"Secrets!" he said. "If this is a secret, it has been confided to you, -Noun, and you were doubly guilty in bringing me to this room." - -"Oh! no, it's not a secret," said Noun with a smile; "for Monsieur -Delmare himself assisted in hanging Sir Ralph's portrait on that panel. -As if madame could have any secrets with a husband so jealous!" - -"Sir Ralph, you say? Who is Sir Ralph?" - -"Sir Rodolphe Brown, madame's cousin, her playmate in childhood, and my -own, too, I might say; he is such a good man!" - -Raymon scrutinized the picture with surprise and some uneasiness. - -We have said that Sir Ralph was an extremely comely person, physically; -with a red and white complexion and abundant hair, a tall figure, always -perfectly dressed, and capable, if not of turning a romantic brain, of -satisfying the vanity of an unromantic one. The peaceable baronet was -represented in hunting costume, about as we saw him in the first chapter -of this narrative, and surrounded by his dogs, the beautiful pointer -Ophelia in the foreground, because of the fine silver-gray tone of her -silky coat and the purity of her Scotch blood. Sir Ralph had a -hunting-horn in one hand and in the other the rein of a superb, -dapple-gray English hunter, who filled almost the whole background of -the picture. It was an admirably executed portrait, a genuine family -picture with all its perfection of detail, all its puerile niceties of -resemblance, all its bourgeois minutiæ; a picture to make a nurse weep, -dogs bark and a tailor faint with joy. There was but one thing on earth -more insignificant than the portrait, and that was the original. - -Nevertheless it kindled a violent flame of wrath in Raymon. - -"Upon my word!" he said to himself, "this dapper young Englishman enjoys -the privilege of being admitted to Madame Delmare's most secret -apartment! His vapid face is always here, looking coldly on at the most -private acts of her life! He watches her, guards her, follows her every -movement, possesses her every hour in the day! At night he watches her -asleep and surprises the secret of her dreams; in the morning, when she -comes forth, all white and quivering, from her bed, he sees the dainty -bare foot that steps lightly on the carpet; and when she dresses with -all precaution--when she draws the curtains at her window and forbids -even the daylight from entering her presence too boldly--when she -believes that she is quite alone, hidden from every eye--that insolent -face is there, feasting on her charms! That man, all booted and spurred, -presides over her toilet. Is this gauze usually spread over the -picture?" he asked the maid. - -"Always," she replied, "when madame is absent. But don't take the -trouble to replace it, for madame is coming in a few days." - -"In that case, Noun, you would do well to tell her that the expression -of the face is very impertinent. If I had been in Monsieur Delmare's -place I wouldn't have consented to leave it here unless I had cut out -the eyes. But that's just like the stupid jealousy of the ordinary -husband! They imagine everything and understand nothing." - -"For heaven's sake, what have you against good Monsieur Brown's face?" -said Noun, as she made her mistress's bed; "he is such an excellent -master! I used not to care much for him, because I always heard madame -say that he was selfish; but ever since the day that he took care of -you----" - -"True," Raymon interrupted her, "it was he who helped me that day; I -remember him perfectly now. But I owe his interest only to Madame -Delmare's prayers." - -"Because she is so kind-hearted," said poor Noun. "Who could help being -kind-hearted after living with her?" - -When Noun spoke of Madame Delmare, Raymon listened with an interest of -which she had no suspicion. - -The day passed quietly enough, but Noun dared not lead the conversation -to her real object. At last, toward evening, she made an effort and -compelled him to declare his intentions. - -Raymon had no other intention than to rid himself of a dangerous witness -and of a woman whom he no longer loved. But he proposed to assure her -future, and in fear and trembling he made her the most liberal offers. - -It was a bitter affront to the poor girl; she tore her hair, and would -have beaten her head against the wall if Raymon had not put forth all -his strength to hold her. Thereupon, employing all the resources of -language and intellect with which nature had endowed him, he made her -understand that it was not for her, but for the child she was to bring -into the world, that he desired to make provision. - -"It is my duty," he said; "I hand the funds over to you as the child's -heritage, and you would fail in your duty to him if a false sense of -delicacy should lead you to reject them." - -Noun became calmer and wiped her eyes. - -"Very well," she said, "I will accept the money if you will promise to -keep on loving me; for, just by doing your duty to the child, you will -not do it to the mother. Your gift will keep him alive, but your -indifference will kill me. Can't you take me into your service? I am not -exacting; I don't aspire to all that another woman in my place might -have had the skill to obtain. But let me be your servant. Obtain a place -for me in your mother's family. She will be satisfied with me, I give -you my word; and, even if you don't love me, I shall at least see you." - -"What you ask is impossible, my dear Noun. In your present condition you -cannot think of entering anyone's service; and to deceive my mother--to -play upon her confidence in me--would be a base act to which I shall -never consent. Go to Lyon or Bordeaux; I will undertake to see to it -that you want nothing until such time as you can show yourself again. -Then I will obtain a place for you with some one of my acquaintances--at -Paris, if you wish, if you insist upon being near me--but as to living -under the same roof, that is impossible." - -"Impossible!" echoed Noun, wringing her hands in a passion of grief. "I -see that you despise me--that you blush for me. But no, I will not go -away, alone and degraded, to die abandoned in some distant city where -you will forget me. What do I care for my reputation? Your love is what -I wanted to retain." - -"Noun, if you fear that I am deceiving you, come with me. The same -carriage shall take us to whatever place you choose. I will go with you -anywhere, except to Paris or to my mother's, and I will bestow upon you -all the care and attention that I owe you." - -"Yes, to abandon me on the day after you have put me down, a useless -burden, in some foreign land!" she rejoined, smiling bitterly. "No, -monsieur, no, I will stay here; I do not choose to lose everything at -once. I should sacrifice, by following you, the person whom I loved best -in the world before I knew you; but I am not anxious enough to conceal -my dishonor to sacrifice both my love and my friendship. I will go and -throw myself at Madame Delmare's feet; I will tell her all, and she will -forgive me, I know, for she is kind and she loves me. We were born on -almost the same day, and she is my foster-sister. We have never been -separated, and she will not want me to leave her. She will weep with me; -she will take care of me, and she will love my child--my poor child! Who -knows! she has not the good fortune to be a mother; perhaps she will -bring it up as her own! Ah! I was mad to think of leaving her, for she -is the only person on earth who will take pity on me!" - -This determination plunged Raymon in horrible perplexity; but suddenly -the rumbling of a carriage was heard in the courtyard. Noun, in dismay, -ran to the window. - -"It's Madame Delmare!" she cried; "go instantly!" - -In that moment of excitement the key to the secret staircase could not -be found. Noun took Raymon's arm and hurriedly pulled him into the hall; -but they were not half way to the stairs when they heard footsteps in -the same passage; they heard Madame Delmare's voice ten steps in front -of them, and a candle carried by a servant who attended her cast its -flickering light almost on their terrified faces. Noun had barely time -to retrace her steps, still pulling Raymon after her, and to return with -him to the bedroom. - -A dressing room, with a glass door, might afford a place of refuge for a -few moments; but there was no way of locking the door, and it was -possible that Madame Delmare might go to the dressing room at once. To -avoid being detected instantly, Raymon was obliged to rush into the -alcove and hide behind the curtains. It was not probable that Madame -Delmare would retire at once, and meanwhile Noun might find an -opportunity to help him to escape. - -Indiana bustled into the room, tossed her hat on the bed and kissed Noun -with the familiarity of a sister. There was so little light in the room -that she did not notice her companion's emotion. - -"You expected me, did you?" she said, going to the fire; "how did you -know I was coming?--Monsieur Delmare," she added, not waiting for a -reply, "will be here to-morrow. I started at once on receiving his -letter. I have certain reasons for receiving him here and not in Paris. -I will tell you what they are. But, in heaven's name, why don't you -speak to me? you don't seem so glad to see me as usual." - -"I am low-spirited," said Noun, kneeling by her mistress to remove her -shoes. "I have something to tell you, too, but later; come to the salon -now." - -"God forbid! what an idea! it's deathly cold there!" - -"No, there's a good fire." - -"You are dreaming! I just came through it." - -"But your supper is waiting for you." - -"I don't want any supper; besides, there is nothing ready. Go and get my -boa, I left it in the carriage." - -"In a moment." - -"Why not now? Go, I say, go!" - -As she spoke, she pushed Noun toward the door with a playful air; and -the maid, seeing that she must be bold and self-possessed, went out for -a few moments. But she had no sooner left the room than Madame Delmare -threw the bolt and removed her cloak, placing it on the bed beside her -hat. As she did it, she went so near to Raymon, that he instinctively -stepped back, and the bed, which apparently rested on well-oiled -castors, moved with a slight noise. Madame Delmare was surprised but not -frightened, for it was quite possible that she had herself moved the -bed; she stretched forth her neck, drew the curtain aside and revealed a -man's head outlined against the wall in the half-light cast by the fire -on the hearth. - -In her terror she uttered a shriek and rushed to the mantel to seize the -bell-cord and summon help. Raymon would have preferred to be taken for a -thief again than to be recognized in that situation. But if he did not -make himself known, Madame Delmare would call her servants and -compromise her own reputation. He placed his trust in the love he had -inspired in her, and, rushing to her, tried to stop her shrieks and to -keep her away from the bell-cord, saying to her in an undertone, for -fear of being heard by Noun, who was probably not far away: - -"It is I, Indiana; look at me and forgive me! Indiana! forgive an -unhappy wretch whose reason you have led astray, and who could not make -up his mind to give you back to your husband until he had seen you once -more." - -And while he held Indiana in his arms, no less in the hope of moving her -than to keep her from ringing, Noun was knocking at the door in an agony -of apprehension. Madame Delmare, extricating herself from Raymon's arms, -ran and opened the door, then sank into a chair. - -Pale as death and almost fainting, Noun threw herself against the door -to prevent the servants, who were running hither and thither, from -interrupting this strange scene; paler than her mistress, with trembling -knees and her back glued to the door, she awaited her fate. - -Raymon felt that with due address he might still deceive both women at -once. - -"Madame," he said, falling on his knees before Indiana, "my presence -here must seem to you an outrageous insult; here at your feet I implore -your forgiveness. Grant me an interview of a few moments and I will -explain----" - -"Hush, monsieur, and leave this house," cried Madame Delmare, recovering -all the dignity befitting her situation; "leave this house openly. Open -the door, Noun, and allow monsieur to go, so that all my servants may -see him and that the disgrace of such a proceeding may fall upon him." - -Noun, believing that she was detected, threw herself on her knees by -Raymon's side. Madame Delmare looked at her in amazement, but said -nothing. - -Raymon tried to take her hand; but she indignantly withdrew it. Flushed -with anger, she rose and pointed to the door. - -"Go, I tell you!" she said; "go, for your conduct is despicable. So -these are the means you chose to employ! you, monsieur, hiding in my -bedroom, like a thief! It seems that it is a habit of yours to introduce -yourself into families in this way! and this is the pure attachment that -you offered me the night before last! This is the way you were to -protect me, respect me and defend me! This is the way you worship me! -You see a woman who has nursed you with her hands, who, to restore you -to life, defied her husband's anger; you deceive her by a pretence of -gratitude, you promise her a love worthy of her, and as a reward for her -attentions, as the price of her credulity, you seek to surprise her in -her sleep and to hasten your triumph by indescribable infamy! You bribe -her maid, you almost creep into her bed, like a lover already favored; -you do not shrink from admitting her servants to the secret of an -intimacy that does not exist. Go, monsieur; you have taken pains to -undeceive me very quickly! Go, I say! do not remain another moment under -my roof! And you, wretched girl, who have so little regard for your -mistress's honor--you deserve to be dismissed. Stand away from that -door, I tell you!" - -Noun, half dead with surprise and despair, gazed fixedly at Raymon as if -to ask him for an explanation of this incredible mystery. Then, with a -wild gleam in her eyes, hardly able to stand, she dragged herself to -Indiana and seized her arm fiercely. - -"What was that you said?" she cried, her teeth clenched with rage; "this -man loved you?" - -"Eh! you must have known that he did!" said Madame Delmare, pushing her -away contemptuously and with all her strength; "you must have known what -reasons a man has for hiding behind a woman's curtains. Ah! Noun," she -added, noticing the girl's evident despair, "it was a dastardly thing, -and one of which I would never have believed you to be capable; you -consented to sell her honor who had such perfect faith in yours!" - -Madame Delmare was shedding tears, tears of indignation as well as of -grief. Raymon had never seen her so lovely; but he hardly dared look at -her, for her haughty air, the air of an insulted woman, forced him to -lower his eyes. He was terror-stricken, too, petrified by Noun's -presence. If he had been alone with Madame Delmare, he might perhaps -have been able to soften her. But Noun's expression was terrifying; her -features were distorted by rage and hatred. - -A knock at the door startled them all three. Noun rushed forward once -more to keep out intruders; but Madame Delmare, pushing her aside -imperatively, motioned to Raymon to withdraw to the corner of the room. -Then, with the self-possession which made her so remarkable at critical -moments, she wrapped herself in a shawl, partly opened the door herself, -and asked the servant who had knocked what he had to say to her. - -"Monsieur Rodolphe Brown is here," was the reply; "he wishes to know if -madame will receive him." - -"Say to Monsieur Rodolphe Brown that I am delighted that he has come and -that I will join him at once. Make a fire in the salon and bid them -prepare some supper. One moment! Go and get the key to the small park." - -The servant retired. Madame Delmare remained at the door, holding it -open, not deigning to listen to Noun and imperiously enjoining silence -on Raymon. - -The servant returned in a few moments. Madame Delmare, still holding the -door open between him and Monsieur de Ramière, took the key from him, -bade him hurry up the supper, and, as soon as he had gone, turned to -Raymon. - -"The arrival of my cousin, Sir Rodolphe Brown," she said, "saves you -from the public scandal which I intended to inflict on you; he is a man -of honor, who would eagerly assume the duty of defending me; but as I -should be very sorry to expose a man like him to danger at the hands of -such a man as you, I will allow you to go without scandal. Noun, who -admitted you, will find a way to let you out. Go!" - -"We shall meet again, madame," replied Raymon with an attempt at -self-assurance; "and although I am culpable, you will perhaps regret the -harshness with which you treat me now." - -"I trust, monsieur, that we shall never meet again," she rejoined. - -And still standing at the door, not deigning to bow, she watched him -depart with his miserable and trembling accomplice. - -When he was alone with Noun in the obscurity of the park, Raymon -expected reproaches from her; but she did not speak to him. She led him -to the gate of the small park, and, when he tried to take her hand, she -had already vanished. He called her in a low voice, for he was anxious -to learn his fate; but she did not reply, and the gardener, suddenly -appearing, said to him: - -"Come, monsieur, you must be off; madame is here and you may be -discovered." - -Raymon took his departure with death in his heart; but in his despair at -having offended Madame Delmare he almost forgot Noun and thought of -nothing but possible methods of appeasing her mistress; for it was a -part of his nature to be irritated by obstacles and never to cling -passionately except to things that were well-nigh desperate. - -At night, when Madame Delmare, after supping silently with Sir Ralph, -withdrew to her own apartments, Noun did not come, as usual, to undress -her; she rang for her to no purpose, and when she had concluded that the -girl was resolved not to obey, she locked her door and went to bed. But -she passed a horrible night, and, as soon as the day broke, went down -into the park. She was feverish and agitated; she longed to feel the -cold enter her body and allay the fire that consumed her breast. The day -before, at that hour, she was happy, abandoning herself to the novel -sensations of that intoxicating love. What a ghastly disillusionment in -twenty-four hours! First of all, the news of her husband's return -several days earlier than she expected; those four or five days which -she had hoped to pass in Paris were to her a whole lifetime of -never-ending bliss, a dream of love never to be interrupted by an -awakening; but in the morning she had had to abandon the hope, to resume -the yoke, and to go to meet her master in order that he might not meet -Raymon at Madame de Carvajal's; for Indiana thought that it would be -impossible for her to deceive her husband if he should see her in -Raymon's presence. And then this Raymon, whom she loved as a god--it was -by him of all men that she was thus basely insulted! And lastly, her -life-long companion, the young creole whom she loved so dearly, suddenly -proved to be unworthy of her confidence and her esteem! - -Madame Delmare had wept all night long. She sank upon the turf, still -whitened by the morning rime, on the bank of the little stream that -flowed through the park. It was late in March and nature was beginning -to awake; the morning, although cold, was not devoid of beauty; patches -of mist still rested on the water like a floating scarf, and the birds -were trying their first songs of love and springtime. - -Indiana felt as if relieved of a heavy weight, and a wave of religious -feeling overflowed her soul. - -"God willed it so," she said to herself; "in His providence he has given -me a harsh lesson, but it is fortunate for me. That man would perhaps -have led me into vice, he would have ruined me; whereas now the vileness -of his sentiments is revealed to me, and I shall be on my guard against -the tempestuous and detestable passion that fermented in his breast. I -will love my husband! I will try to love him! At all events I will be -submissive to him, I will make him happy by never annoying him, I will -avoid whatever can possibly arouse his jealousy; for now I know what to -think of the false eloquence that men know how to lavish on us. I shall -be fortunate, perhaps, if God will take pity on my sorrows and send -death to me soon." - -The clatter of the mill-wheel that started the machinery in Monsieur -Delmare's factory made itself heard behind the willows on the other -bank. The river, rushing through the newly opened gates, began to boil -and bubble on the surface; and, as Madame Delmare followed with a -melancholy eye the swift rush of the stream, she saw floating among the -reeds something like a bundle of cloth which the current strove to hurry -along in its train. She rose, leaned over the bank and distinctly saw a -woman's clothes,--clothes that she knew too well. Terror nailed her to -the spot; but the stream flowed on, slowly drawing a body from the reeds -among which it had caught, and bringing it toward Madame Delmare. - -A piercing shriek attracted the workmen from the factory to the spot; -Madame Delmare had fainted on the bank, and Noun's body was floating in -the water at her feet. - - - - -PART SECOND - - -IX - - -Two months have passed. Nothing is changed at Lagny, in that house to -which I introduced you one winter evening, except that all about its red -brick walls with their frame of gray stone and its slated roofs yellowed -by venerable moss, the springtime is in its bloom. The family is -scattered here and there, enjoying the mild and fragrant evening air; -the setting sun gilds the window-panes and the roar of the factory -mingles with the various noises of the farm. Monsieur Delmare is seated -on the steps, gun in hand, practising at shooting swallows on the wing. -Indiana, at her embroidery frame near the window of the salon, leans -forward now and then to watch with a sad face the colonel's cruel -amusement in the courtyard. Ophelia leaps about and barks, indignant at -a style of hunting so contrary to her habits; and Sir Ralph, astride the -stone railing, is smoking a cigar and, as usual, looking on impassively -at other people's pleasure or vexation. - -"Indiana," cried the colonel, laying aside his gun, "do for heaven's -sake put your work away; you tire yourself out as if you were paid so -much an hour." - -"It is still broad daylight," Madame Delmare replied. - -"No matter; come to the window, I have something to tell you." - -Indiana obeyed, and the colonel, drawing near the window, which was -almost on a level with the ground, said to her with as near an approach -to playfulness of manner as an old and jealous husband can manage: - -"As you have worked hard to-day and as you are very good, I am going to -tell you something that will please you." - -Madame Delmare struggled hard to smile; her smile would have driven a -more sensitive man than the colonel to despair. - -"You will be pleased to know," he continued, "that I have invited one of -your humble adorers to breakfast with you to-morrow, to divert you. You -will ask me which one; for you have a very pretty collection of them, -you flirt!" - -"Perhaps it's our dear old curé?" said Madame Delmare, whose melancholy -was enhanced by her husband's gayety. - -"Oh! no, indeed!" - -"Then it must be the mayor of Chailly or the old notary from -Fontainebleau." - -"Oh! the craft of women! You know very well that it would be none of -those people. Come, Ralph, tell madame the name she has on the tip of -her tongue but doesn't choose to pronounce herself." - -"You need not go through so much preparation to announce a visit from -Monsieur de Ramière," said Sir Ralph, tranquilly, as he threw away his -cigar; "I suppose that it's a matter of perfect indifference to her." - -Madame Delmare felt the blood rush to her cheeks; she made a pretence of -looking for something in the salon, then returned to the window with as -calm a manner as she could command. - -"I fancy that this is a jest," she said, trembling in every limb. - -"On the contrary I am perfectly serious; you will see him here at eleven -o'clock to-morrow." - -"What! the man who stole into your premises to obtain unfair possession -of your invention, and whom you almost killed as a criminal! You must -both be very pacific to forget such grievances!" - -"You set me the example, dearest, by receiving him very graciously at -your aunt's, where he called on you." - -Indiana turned pale. - -"I do not by any means appropriate that call," she said earnestly, "and -I am so little flattered by it that, if I were in your place, I would -not receive him." - -"You women are all false and cunning just for the pleasure of being so. -You danced with him during one whole ball, I was told." - -"You were misinformed." - -"Why, it was your aunt herself who told me! However, you need not defend -yourself so warmly; I have no fault to find, as your aunt desired and -assisted to bring about this reconciliation between us. Monsieur de -Ramière has been seeking it for a long while. He has rendered me some -very valuable services with respect to my business, and he has done it -without ostentation and almost without my knowledge; so, as I am not so -savage as you say, and also as I do not choose to be under obligations -to a stranger, I determined to make myself square with him." - -"How so?" - -"By making a friend of him; by going to Cercy this morning with Sir -Ralph. We found his mother there, who seems a delightful woman; and the -house is furnished with refinement and comfort, but without ostentation -and without a trace of the pride that attaches to venerable names. After -all, this Ramière's a good fellow, and I have invited him to come and -breakfast with us and inspect the factory. I hear favorable accounts of -his brother, and I have made sure that he cannot injure me by adopting -the same methods that I use; so I prefer that that family should profit -by them rather than any other. You see no secrets are kept very long, -and mine will soon be like a stage secret if progress in manufacturing -continues at the present rate." - -"For my part," said Sir Ralph, "I have always disapproved of this -secrecy, as you know; a good citizen's discovery belongs to his country -as much as to himself, and if I----" - -"_Parbleu!_ that is just like you, Sir Ralph, with your practical -philanthropy! You will make me think that your fortune doesn't belong to -you, and that, if the nation takes a fancy to it to-morrow, you are -ready to exchange your fifty thousand francs a year for a wallet and -staff! It looks well for a buck like you, who are as fond of the -comforts of life as a sultan, to preach contempt of wealth!" - -"What I say," rejoined Sir Ralph, "is not meant to be philanthropic at -all; my point is that selfishness properly understood leads us to do -good to others to prevent them injuring us. I am selfish myself, as -everybody knows. I have accustomed myself not to blush for it, and, -after analyzing all the virtues, I find personal interest at the -foundation of them all. Love and devotion, which are two apparently -generous passions, are perhaps the most selfish passions that exist; nor -is patriotism less so, my word for it. I care little for men; but not -for anything in the world would I undertake to prove it to them, my fear -of them is inversely proportional to my esteem for them. We are both -selfish therefore but I admit it, whereas you deny it." - -A discussion arose between them wherein each sought by all the arguments -of selfishness to demonstrate the selfishness of the others. Madame -Delmare took advantage of it to retire to her room and to abandon -herself to all the reflections to which news so entirely unexpected -naturally gave birth. - -It will be well not only to admit you to the secret of her thoughts, but -also to enlighten you as to the situation of the various persons whom -Noun's death had affected in greater or less degree. - -It is almost proven, so far as the reader and I myself are concerned, -that that unfortunate creature threw herself into the stream through -despair, in one of those moments of frenzy when extreme resolutions are -most easily formed. But, as she evidently did not return to the house -after leaving Raymon--as no one had met her and had an opportunity to -divine her purpose--there was no indication of suicide to throw light -upon the mystery of her death. - -Two persons were in a position to attribute it with moral certainty to -her own act--Monsieur de Ramière and the gardener of Lagny. The grief -of the former was concealed beneath a pretence of illness; the terror -and remorse of the other enjoined silence upon him. This man who, from -cupidity, had connived at the intercourse of the lovers throughout the -winter, was the only person who had been in a position to remark the -young creole's secret misery. Justly fearing the reproaches of his -employers and the criticisms of his equals, he held his peace in his own -interest; and when Monsieur Delmare, who had some suspicions after the -discovery of this intrigue, questioned him as to the lengths to which it -had been carried during his absence, he boldly denied that it had -continued at all. Some people in the neighborhood--a very lonely -neighborhood, by the way--had noticed Noun walking toward Crecy at -unreasonable hours; but apparently there had been no relations between -her and Monsieur de Ramière since the end of January, and her death -occurred on the 28th of March. So far as appeared, her death was -attributable to chance; as she was walking through the park at -nightfall, she might have been deceived by the dense fog that had -prevailed for several days, have lost her way and missed the English -bridge over the stream, which was quite narrow but had very steep banks -and was swollen by recent rains. - -Although Sir Ralph, who was more observant than his reflections -indicated, had found in his private thoughts grounds for strong -suspicion of Monsieur de Ramière, he communicated them to no one, -regarding as useless and cruel any reproachful words addressed to a man -who was so unfortunate as to have such a source of remorse in his life. -He even succeeded in convincing the colonel, who expressed in his -presence some suspicions in that regard, that it was most urgent, in -Madame Delmare's delicate condition, to continue to conceal from her the -possible causes of her old playmate's suicide. So it was with the poor -girl's death as with her love affair. There was a tacit agreement never -to mention it before Indiana, and ere long it ceased to be talked about -at all. - -But these precautions were of no avail, for Madame Delmare had her own -reasons for suspecting a part of the truth; the bitter reproaches she -had heaped on the unhappy girl on that fatal evening seemed to her a -sufficient explanation of her sudden resolution. So it was that, at the -ghastly moment when she discovered the dead body floating in the water, -Indiana's repose, already so disturbed, and her heart, already so sad, -had received the final blow; her lingering disease was progressing -actively; and this woman, young and perhaps strong, refusing to be -cured, concealing her sufferings from her husband's undiscerning and far -from delicate affection, sank voluntarily beneath the burden of sorrow -and discouragement. - -"Woe is me!" she cried as she entered her room, after learning of -Raymon's impending visit. "A curse on that man, who has entered this -house only to bring despair and death! O God! why dost Thou permit him -to come between Thee and me, to take command of my destiny at his -pleasure, so that he has only to put out his hand and say: 'She is mine! -I will derange her reason, I will bring desolation into her life; and if -she resists me I will spread mourning around her, I will encompass her -with remorse, regrets and alarms!' O God! it is not fair that a poor -woman should be so persecuted!" - -She wept bitterly; for the thought of Raymon revived the memory of Noun, -more vivid and heartrending than ever. - -"Poor Noun! my poor playmate! my countrywoman, my only friend!" she -exclaimed sorrowfully; "that man is your murderer. Unhappy child! his -influence was fatal to you as to me! You loved me so dearly, you were -the only one who could divine my sorrows and mitigate them by your -artless gayety! Woe to me who have lost you! Was it for this that I -brought you from so far away! By what wiles did that man surprise your -good faith and induce you to do such a despicable thing? Ah! he must -have deceived you shamefully, and you did not realize your error until -you saw my indignation! I was too harsh, Noun, I was so harsh that I was -downright cruel; I drove you to despair, I killed you! Poor girl! why -did you not wait a few hours until the wind had blown away my resentment -like a wisp of straw! Why did you not come and weep on my bosom and say: -'I was deceived; I acted without knowing what I was doing, but you know -well enough that I respect you and love you!'--I would have taken you in -my arms, we would have wept together, and you would not be dead. Dead! -dead so young and so lovely and so full of life! Dead at nineteen and -such a ghastly death!" - -While thus weeping for her companion, Indiana, unknown to herself, wept -also for her three days of illusion, the loveliest days of her life, the -only days when she had really lived; for during those three days she had -loved with a passion which Raymon, had he been the most presumptuous of -men, could never have imagined. But the blinder and more violent that -love had been, the more keenly had she felt the insult she had received; -the first love of a heart like hers contains so much modesty and -sensitive delicacy! - -And yet Indiana had yielded to a burst of shame and anger rather than to -a well-matured determination. I have no doubt that Raymon would have -obtained his pardon had he been allowed a few more minutes in which to -plead for it. But fate had defeated his love and his address, and Madame -Delmare honestly believed now that she hated him. - - - - -X - - -For his part, it was neither in a spirit of bravado nor because of the -injury to his self-esteem that he aspired more ardently than ever to -Madame Delmare's love and forgiveness. He believed that they were -unattainable, and no other woman's love, no other earthly joy seemed to -him their equivalent. Such was his nature. An insatiable craving for -action and excitement consumed his life. He loved society with its laws -and its fetters, because it offered him material for combat and -resistance; and if he had a horror of license and debauchery, it was -because they promised insipid and easily obtained pleasure. - -Do not believe, however, that he was insensible to Noun's ruin. In the -first impulse, he conceived a horror of himself and loaded his pistols -with a very real purpose of blowing out his brains; but a praiseworthy -feeling stayed his hand. What would become of his mother, his aged, -feeble mother, the poor woman whose life had been so agitated and so -sorrowful, who lived only for him, her only treasure, her only hope? -Must he break her heart, shorten the few years that still remained to -her? No, surely not. The best way to redeem his wrongdoing was to devote -himself thenceforth solely to his mother, and it was with that purpose -in mind that he returned to her at Paris, and put forth all his energies -to make her forget his desertion of her during a large part of the -winter. - -Raymon exerted an incredible influence over everybody about him; for, -take him for all in all, with his faults and his youthful escapades, he -was above the average of society men. We have not as yet told you upon -what his reputation for wit and talent was based, because it was aside -from the events we had to describe; but it is time to inform you that -this Raymon, whose weaknesses you have followed and whose frivolity you -have censured, is one of the men who have had the most control and -influence over your thoughts, whatever your opinions to-day may be. You -have devoured his political pamphlets, and, while reading the newspapers -of the period, you have often been captivated by the irresistible charm -of his style and the grace of his courteous and worldly logic. - -I am speaking of a time already far away, in these days when time is no -longer reckoned by centuries, nor even by reigns, but by ministries. I -am speaking of the Martignac year, of that epoch of repose and doubt, -interjected in the middle of a political era, not like a treaty of -peace, but like an armistice; of those fifteen months of the reign of -doctrines, which had such a strange influence on principles and on -morals, and which may perhaps have paved the way for the extraordinary -result of our latest revolution. - -It was in those days that men saw the blooming of certain youthful -talents, unfortunate in that they were born in a period of transition -and of compromise; for they paid their tribute to the conciliatory and -wavering tendencies of the time. Never, so far as I know, was knowledge -of mere words and ignorance, or pretended ignorance, of things carried -so far. It was the reign of restrictions, and it is beyond my power to -say who made the fullest use of them, short-gowned Jesuits or -long-gowned lawyers. Political moderation had become a part of the -national character, like courteous manners, and it was the same with the -first variety of courtesy as with the second: it served as a mask for -secret antipathies, and taught them how to fight without scandal and -publicity. We must say, however, in defence of the young men of that -period, that they were often towed like light skiffs in the wake of -great ships, with no very clear idea of where they were being taken, -proud and happy to be cleaving the waves and swelling out their new -sails. - -Placed by his birth and his wealth among the partisans of absolute -royalty, Raymon made a sacrifice to the _youthful_ ideas of his time by -clinging religiously to the Charter; at all events that was what he -thought that he was doing and what he exerted himself to prove. But -conventions that have fallen into desuetude are subject to -interpretation, and the Charter of Louis XVIII was already in the same -plight as the Gospel of Jesus Christ; it was simply a text upon which -everybody practised his powers of eloquence, and a speech thereon -created a precedent no more than a sermon. A period of luxurious living -and indolence, when civilization lay sleeping on the brink of a -bottomless abyss, eager to enjoy its last pleasures. - -Raymon had taken his stand upon the line between abuse of power and -abuse of licence, a shifting ground upon which good men still sought, -but in vain, a shelter from the tempest that was brewing. To him, as to -many other experienced minds, the rôle of conscientious statesman still -seemed possible. A manifest error at a time when people pretended to -defer to the voice of reason only to stifle it the more surely on every -side. Being without political passions, Raymon fancied that he was -without interests to promote; but he was mistaken, for society, -constituted as it then was, was agreeable and advantageous to him; it -could not be disturbed without a diminution in the sum total of his -well-being, and that perfect contentment with one's social position, -which communicates itself to the thought, is a wonderful promoter of -moderation. Who is so ungrateful to Providence as to reproach it for the -misfortunes of other people, if it has only smiles and benefactions for -him? How was it possible to persuade those young supporters of the -constitutional monarchy that the constitution was already antiquated, -that it weighed heavily on the social body and fatigued it, while they -found its burdens light and reaped only its advantages? - -Nothing is so easy and so common as to deceive one's self when one does -not lack wit and is familiar with all the niceties of the language. -Language is a prostitute queen who descends and rises to all rôles, -disguises herself, arrays herself in fine apparel, hides her head and -effaces herself; an advocate who has an answer for everything, who has -always foreseen everything, and who assumes a thousand forms in order to -be right. The most honorable of men is he who thinks best and acts best, -but the most powerful is he who is best able to talk and write. - -As his wealth relieved him from the necessity of writing for money, -Raymon wrote from a liking for it, and--he said it with perfect good -faith--from a sense of duty. The rare faculty that he possessed, of -refuting positive truth by sheer talent, had made him an invaluable man -to the ministry, whom he served much better by his impartial criticism -than did its creatures by their blind devotion; and even more invaluable -to that fashionable young society which was quite willing to abjure the -absurdities of its former privileges, but wished at the same time to -retain the benefit of its present advantageous position. - -They were in very truth men of great talent who still supported society, -tottering on the brink of the precipice, and who, being themselves -suspended between two reefs, struggled calmly and with perfect -self-possession against the harsh reality that was on the point of -engulfing them. To succeed in such wise as to create a conviction -against every sort of probability and to keep that conviction alive for -some time among men of no convictions, is the art which most impresses -and surpasses the understanding of an uncultivated, vulgar mind which -has studied none but commonplace truths. - -Thus Raymon had no sooner returned to that society, which was his -element and his home, than he felt its vital and exciting influences. -The petty love affairs that had engrossed him vanished for a moment in -the face of broader and more brilliant interests. He carried into these -the same boldness of attack, the same ardor; and when he saw that he was -more eagerly sought than ever by all the most distinguished people in -Paris, he felt that he loved life more than ever. Was he to be blamed -for forgetting a secret remorse while reaping the reward he had merited -for services rendered his country? He felt life overflowing through -every pore of his young heart, his active brain, his whole vigorous and -buoyant being, he felt that destiny was making him happy in spite of -himself; and he would crave forgiveness of an indignant ghost that came -sometimes and bewailed her fate in his dreams, for having sought in the -affection of the living a protection against the terrors of the grave. - -But he had no sooner returned to life, as it were, than he felt, as in -the past, the need of mingling thoughts of love and plans of intrigue -with his political meditations, his dreams of ambition and philosophy. I -say ambition, not meaning ambition for honor and wealth, for which he -had no use, but for reputation and aristocratic popularity. - -He had at first despaired of ever seeing Madame Delmare again after the -tragic ending of his double intrigue. But, as he measured the extent of -his loss, as he brooded over the thought of the treasure that had -escaped him, he conceived the hope of grasping it once more, and, at the -same time he regained determination and confidence. He calculated the -obstacles he should encounter, and realized that the most difficult to -overcome at the outset would come from Indiana herself; therefore he -must use the husband to protect him from the attack. This was not a new -idea, but it was sure; jealous husbands are particularly well adapted to -this service. - -A fortnight after he had conceived this idea, Raymon was on the way to -Lagny, where he was expected to breakfast. You will not require me to -describe to you in detail the shrewdly proffered services by which he -had succeeded in making himself agreeable to Monsieur Delmare; I prefer, -as I am describing the features of the characters in this tale, to draw -a hasty sketch of the colonel for you. - -Do you know what they call an _honest_ man in the provinces? He is a man -who does not encroach on his neighbor's field; who does not demand from -his debtors a sou more than they owe him; who raises his hat to every -person who bows to him; who does not ravish maidens in the public roads; -who sets fire to no other man's barn; who does not rob wayfarers at the -corner of his park. Provided that he religiously respects the lives and -purses of his fellow-citizens, nothing more is demanded of him. He may -beat his wife, maltreat his servants, ruin his children, and it is -nobody's business. Society punishes only those acts which are injurious -to it; private life is beyond its jurisdiction. - -Such was Monsieur Delmare's theory of morals. He had never studied any -other social contract than this: _Every man is master in his own house._ -He treated all affairs of the heart as feminine puerilities, sentimental -subtleties. Being a man devoid of wit, of tact and of education, he -enjoyed greater consideration than a man obtains by dint of talent and -amiability. He had broad shoulders and a strong wrist; he handled the -sword and the sabre perfectly, and was exceedingly quick to take -offence. As he did not always understand a joke, he was constantly -haunted by the idea that people were making fun of him. Being incapable -of suitable repartee, he had but one way of defending himself: to -enforce silence by threats. His favorite epigrams always turned upon -cowhidings to be administered and affairs of honor to be settled; -wherefore the province always prefixed to his name the epithet _brave_ -because military valor apparently consists in having broad shoulders and -long moustaches, in swearing fiercely, and in putting one's hand to the -sword on the slightest pretext. - -God forbid that I should believe that camp life makes all men brutes! -but I may be permitted to believe that one must have a large stock of -tact and discretion to resist the habit of passive and brutal -domination. If you have served in the army, you are familiar with what -the troops call _skin-breeches_, and will agree that there are large -numbers of them among the remains of the old imperial cohorts. Those men -who, when brought together and urged forward by a powerful hand, -performed such magnificent exploits, towered like giants amid the smoke -of the battle-field; but, having returned to civil life, the heroes -became mere soldiers once more, bold, vulgar fellows who reasoned like -machines; and it was fortunate if they did not behave in society as in -conquered territory. It was the fault of the age rather than theirs. -Ingenuous minds, they had faith in the adulation of victory, and allowed -themselves to be persuaded that they were great patriots because they -defended their country--some against their will, others for money and -honors. But how did they defend it, those tens of thousands of men who -blindly embraced the error of a single man, and who, after saving their -country, basely destroyed it? And again, if a soldier's devotion to his -captain seems to you a great and noble thing, well and good, so it does -to me; but I call that fidelity, not patriotism. I congratulate the -conquerors of Spain, I do not thank them. As for the honor of the French -name, I by no means understand that method of safeguarding it among -neighbors, and I find it difficult to believe that the Emperor's -generals were very deeply engrossed by it at that deplorable stage of -our glory; but I know that we are forbidden to discuss these matters -impartially; I hold my peace, posterity will pass judgment on them. - -Monsieur Delmare had all the good qualities and all the failings of -these men. He was innocent to childishness concerning certain -refinements of the point of honor, yet he was very well able to conduct -his affairs to the best possible end without disturbing himself as to -the good or evil which might result therefrom to others. His whole -conscience was the law; his whole moral code was his rights under the -law. His was one of those rigid, unbending probities which never borrow -for fear of not returning, and never lend for fear of not recovering. He -was the honest man who neither takes nor gives aught; who would rather -die than steal a bundle of sticks in the king's forest, but would kill -you without ceremony for picking up a twig in his. He was useful to -himself alone, harmful to nobody. He took part in nothing that was going -on about him, lest he might be compelled to do somebody a favor. But, -when he deemed himself in honor bound to do it, no one could go about it -with more energy and zeal and a more chivalrous spirit. At once trustful -as a child and suspicious as a despot, he would believe a false oath and -distrust a sincere promise. As in the military profession, form was -everything with him. Public opinion governed him so exclusively that -common sense and argument counted for nothing in his decisions, and when -he said: "Such things are done," he thought that he had stated an -irrefutable argument. - -Thus it will be seen that his nature was most antipathetic to his -wife's, his heart entirely unfitted to understand her, his mind entirely -incapable of appreciating her. And yet it is certain that slavery had -engendered in her woman's heart a sort of virtuous and unspoken aversion -which was not always just. Madame Delmare doubted her husband's heart -overmuch; he was only harsh and she deemed him cruel. There was more -roughness than anger in his outbreaks, more vulgarity than impertinence -in his manners. Nature had not made him evil-minded: he had moments of -compassion which led him to repentance, and in his repentance he was -almost sensitive. It was camp life that had raised brutality to a -principle in him. With a less refined, less gentle wife he would have -been as gentle as a tame wolf; but this woman was disheartened with her -fate; she did not take the trouble to try to make it happier. - - - - -XI - - -As he alighted from his tilbury in the courtyard at Lagny, Raymon's -heart failed him. So he was once more to enter that house which recalled -such awful memories! His arguments, being in accord with his passions, -might enable him to overcome the impulses of his heart, but not to -stifle them, and at that moment the sensation of remorse was as keen as -that of desire. - -The first person who came forward to meet him was Sir Ralph Brown, and -when he spied him in his everlasting hunting costume, flanked by his -hounds and sober as a Scotch laird, he fancied that the portrait he had -seen in Madame Delmare's chamber was walking before his eyes. A few -moments later the colonel appeared, and the breakfast was served without -Indiana. As he passed through the vestibule, by the door of the billiard -room, and recognized the places he had previously seen under such -different circumstances, Raymon was so distressed that he could hardly -remember why he had come there now. - -"Is Madame Delmare really not coming down?" the colonel asked his -factotum Lelièvre, with some asperity. - -"Madame slept badly," replied Lelièvre, "and Mademoiselle Noun--that -devil of a name keeps coming to my tongue!--Mademoiselle Fanny, I mean, -just told me that madame is lying down now." - -"How does it happen then that I just saw her at her window? Fanny is -mistaken. Go and tell madame that breakfast is served; or stay--Sir -Ralph, my dear kinsman, be pleased to go up and see for yourself if your -cousin is really ill." - -While the unfortunate name that the servant had mentioned from habit -caused Raymon's nerves a painful thrill, the colonel's expedient caused -him a strange sensation of jealous anger. - -"In her bedroom!" he thought. "He doesn't confine himself to hanging the -man's portrait there, but sends him there in person. This Englishman has -privileges here which the husband himself seems to be afraid to claim." - -"Don't let that surprise you," said Monsieur Delmare, as if he had -divined Raymon's reflections; "Monsieur Brown is the family physician; -and then he's our cousin too, a fine fellow whom we love with all our -hearts." - -Ralph remained absent ten minutes. Raymon was distraught, ill at ease. -He did not eat and kept looking at the door. At last the Englishman -reappeared. - -"Indiana is really ill," he said; "I told her to go back to bed." - -He took his seat tranquilly and ate with a robust appetite. The colonel -did likewise. - -"This is evidently a pretext to avoid seeing me," thought Raymon. "These -two men don't suspect it, and the husband is more displeased than -worried about his wife's condition. Good! my affairs are progressing -more favorably than I hoped." - -This resistance rearoused his determination and Noun's image vanished -from the dismal hangings, which, at the beginning, had congealed his -blood with terror. Soon he saw nothing but Madame Delmare's slender -form. In the salon he sat at her embroidery frame, examined the flowers -she was making--talking all the while and feigning deep -interest--handled all the silks, inhaled the perfume her tiny fingers -had left upon them. He had seen the same piece of work before, in -Indiana's bedroom; then it was hardly begun, now it was covered with -flowers that had bloomed beneath the breath of fever, watered by her -daily tears. Raymon felt the tears coming to his own eyes, and, by -virtue of some unexplained sympathy, sadly raising his eyes to the -horizon, at which Indiana was in the habit of gazing in melancholy mood, -he saw in the distance the white walls of Cercy standing out against a -background of dark hills. - -The colonel's voice roused him with a start. - -"Well, my excellent neighbor," he said, "it is time for me to pay my -debt to you and keep my promises. The factory is in full swing and the -hands are all at work. Here are paper and pencils, so that you can take -notes." - -Raymon followed the colonel, inspected the factory with an eager, -interested air, made comments which proved that chemistry and mechanics -were equally familiar to him, listened with incredible patience to -Monsieur Delmare's endless dissertations, coincided with some of his -ideas, combated some others, and in every respect so conducted himself -as to persuade his guide that he took an absorbing interest in these -things, whereas he was hardly thinking of them and all his thoughts were -directed toward Madame Delmare. - -It was a fact that he was familiar with every branch of knowledge, that -no invention was without interest for him; moreover he was forwarding -the interests of his brother, who had really embarked his whole fortune -in a similar enterprise, although of much greater extent. Monsieur -Delmare's technical knowledge, his only claim to superiority, pointed -out to him at that moment the best method of taking advantage of this -interview. - -Sir Ralph, who was a poor business man but a very shrewd politician, -suggested during the inspection of the factory some economical -considerations of considerable importance. The workmen, being anxious to -display their skill to an expert, surpassed themselves in deftness and -activity. Raymon looked at everything, heard everything, answered -everything, and thought of nothing but the love affair that brought him -to that place. - -When they had exhausted the subject of machinery the discussion fell -upon the volume and force of the stream. They went out and climbed upon -the dam, bidding the overseer raise the gates and mark the different -depths. - -"Monsieur," said the man, addressing Monsieur Delmare, who fixed the -maximum at fifteen feet, "I beg pardon, but we had it seventeen once -this year." - -"When was that? You are mistaken," said the colonel. - -"Excuse me, monsieur, it was on the eve of your return from Belgium, the -very night Mademoiselle Noun was found drowned; what I say is proved by -the fact that the body passed over that dike yonder and did not stop -until it got here, just where monsieur is standing." - -Speaking thus, with much animation, the man pointed to where Raymon -stood. The unhappy young man turned pale as death; he cast a horrified -glance at the water flowing at his feet; it seemed to him that the livid -face was reflected in it, that the body was still floating there; he had -an attack of vertigo and would have fallen into the river had not -Monsieur Brown caught his arm and pulled him away. - -"Very good," said the colonel, who noticed nothing, and who gave so -little thought to Noun that he did not suspect Raymon's emotion; "but -that was an extraordinary instance, and the average depth of the water -is--But what the devil's the matter with you two?" he inquired, suddenly -interrupting himself. - -"Nothing," replied Sir Ralph; "as I turned I trod on monsieur's foot; I -am distressed, for I must have hurt him terribly." - -Sir Ralph made this reply in so calm and natural a tone that Raymon was -convinced that he thought he was telling the truth. A few courteous -words were exchanged and the conversation resumed its course. - -Raymon left Lagny a few hours later without seeing Madame Delmare. It -was better than he hoped; he had feared that he should find her calm and -indifferent. - -However he repeated his visit with no better success. That time the -colonel was alone; Raymon put forth all the resources of his wit to -captivate him, and shrewdly descended to innumerable little acts of -condescension--praised Napoléon, whom he did not like, deplored the -indifference of the government, which left the illustrious remnant of -the Grande Armée in oblivion and something like contempt, carried -opposition tenets as far as his opinions would permit him to go, and -selected from his various beliefs those which were likely to flatter -Monsieur Delmare's. He even provided himself with a character different -from his real one, in order to attract his confidence. He transformed -himself into a _bon vivant_, a "hail fellow well met," a careless -good-for-naught. - -"What if that fellow should ever make a conquest of my wife!" said the -colonel to himself as he watched him drive away. - -Then he began to chuckle inwardly and to think that Raymon was a -_charming fellow._ - -Madame de Ramière was at Cercy at this time: Raymon extolled Madame -Delmare's charms and wit to her, and without urging her to call upon -her, had the art to suggest the thought. - -"I believe she is the only one of my neighbors whom I do not know," she -said; "and as I am a new arrival in the neighborhood it is my place to -begin. We will go to Lagny together next week." - -The appointed day arrived. - -"She cannot avoid me now," thought Raymon. - -In truth Madame Delmare could not escape the necessity of receiving him, -for when she saw an elderly woman she did not know step from the -carriage, she went out on the stoop herself to meet her. At the same -moment she recognized Raymon in the man who accompanied her; but she -realized that he must have deceived his mother to induce her to take -that step, and her displeasure on that account gave her strength to be -dignified and calm. She received Madame de Ramière with a mixture of -respect and affability; but her coldness to Raymon was so absolutely -glacial that he felt that he could not long endure it. He was not -accustomed to disdain and his pride took fire at being unable to conquer -with a glance those who were prepossessed against him. Thereupon, -deciding upon his course like a man who cared nothing for a woman's -whim, he asked permission to join Monsieur Delmare in the park and left -the two women together. - -Little by little, vanquished by the charm which a superior intellect, -combined with a noble and generous heart, is capable of exerting even in -its least intimate relations, Indiana became affable, affectionate and -almost playful with Madame de Ramière. She had never known her mother, -and Madame de Carvajal, despite her presents and her words of praise, -was far from being a mother to her; so she felt a sort of fascination of -the heart with Raymon's mother. - -When he joined her as she was stepping into her carriage he saw Indiana -put to her lips the hand that Madame de Ramière offered her. Poor -Indiana felt the need of having some one to cling to. Everything that -offered a prospect of interest and of companionship in her lonely and -unhappy life was welcomed by her with the keenest delight; and then she -said to herself that Madame de Ramière would preserve her from the -snare into which Raymon sought to lure her. - -"I will throw myself into this good woman's arms," she was thinking -already, "and, if necessary, I will tell her everything. I will implore -her to save me from her son, and her prudence will stand guard over him -and over me." - -Such was not Raymon's reasoning. - -"Dear mother!" he said to himself, as he drove back with her to Cercy, -"her charm and her goodness of heart perform miracles. What do I not owe -to them already! my education, my success in life, my standing in -society. I lacked nothing but the happiness of owing to her the heart of -such a woman as Indiana." - -Raymon, as we see, loved his mother because of his need of her and of -the well-being he owed to her; so do all children love their mothers. - -A few days later Raymon received an invitation to pass three days at -Bellerive, a beautiful country seat owned by Sir Ralph Brown, between -Cercy and Lagny, where it was proposed, in concert with the best hunters -of the neighborhood, to destroy a part of the game that was devouring -the owner's woods and gardens. Raymon liked neither Sir Ralph nor -hunting, but Madame Delmare did the honors of her cousin's house on -great occasions, and the hope of meeting her soon decided Raymon to -accept the invitation. - -The fact was that Sir Ralph did not expect Madame Delmare on this -occasion; she had excused herself on the ground of her wretched health. -But the colonel, who took umbrage when his wife sought diversion on her -own account, took still greater umbrage when she declined such -diversions as he chose to allow her. - -"Do you want to make the whole province think that I keep you under lock -and key?" he said to her. "You make me appear like a jealous husband; -it's an absurd rôle and one that I do not propose to play any longer. -Besides, what does this lack of courtesy to your cousin mean? Does it -become you, when we owe to his friendship the establishment and -prosperity of our business, to refuse him such a service? You are -necessary to him and you hesitate! I cannot understand your whims. All -the people whom I don't like are sure of a hearty welcome from you; but -those whom I esteem are unfortunate enough not to please you." - -"That reproach has very little application to the present case, I should -say," replied Madame Delmare. "I love my cousin like a brother, and my -affection for him was of long standing when yours began." - -"Oh! yes, yes, more of your fine words; but I know that you don't find -him sentimental enough, the poor devil! you call him selfish because he -doesn't like novels and doesn't cry over the death of a dog. However, -he's not the only one. How did you receive Monsieur de Ramière? a -charming young fellow, on my word! Madame de Carvajal introduces him to -you and you receive him with the greatest affability; but I have the -ill-luck to think well of him and you pronounce him unendurable, and -when he calls upon you, you go to bed! Are you trying to make me appear -a perfect boor? It is time for this to come to an end and for you to -begin to live like other people." - -Raymon deemed it inadvisable, in view of his plans, to show too much -eagerness; threats of indifference are successful with almost all women -who think that they are loved. But the hunting had been in progress -since morning when he reached Sir Ralph's, and Madame Delmare was not -expected until dinner time. He employed the interval in preparing a plan -of action. - -It occurred to him that he must find some method of justifying his -conduct, for the critical moment was at hand. He had two days before him -and he determined to apportion the time thus: the rest of the day that -was nearly ended to make an impression, the next day to persuade and the -following day to be happy. He even consulted his watch and calculated -almost to an hour the time when his enterprise would succeed or fail. - - - - -XII - - -He had been two hours in the salon when he heard Madame Delmare's sweet -and slightly husky voice in the adjoining room. By dint of reflecting on -his scheme of seduction he had become as passionately interested as an -author in his subject or a lawyer in his cause, and the emotion that he -felt at the sight of Indiana may be compared to that of an actor -thoroughly imbued with the spirit of his rôle who finds himself in the -presence of the principal character of the drama and can no longer -distinguish artificial stage effects from reality. - -She was so changed that a feeling of sincere compassion found its way -into Raymon's being, amid the nervous tremors of his brain. Unhappiness -and illness had left such deep traces on her face that she was hardly -pretty, and that he felt that there was more glory than pleasure to be -gained by the conquest. But he owed it to himself to restore this woman -to life and happiness. - -Seeing how pale and sad she was, he judged that he had no very strong -will to contend against. Was it possible that such a frail envelope -could conceal great power of moral resistance? - -He reflected that it was necessary first of all to interest her in -herself, to frighten her concerning her depression and her failing -health, in order the more easily to open her mind to the desire and the -hope of a better destiny. - -"Indiana!" he began, with secret assurance perfectly concealed beneath -an air of profound melancholy, "to think that I should find you in such -a condition as this! I did not dream that this moment to which I have -looked forward so long, which I have sought so eagerly, would cause me -such horrible pain!" - -Madame Delmare hardly anticipated this language; she expected to -surprise Raymon in the attitude of a confused and shrinking culprit; and -lo! instead of accusing himself--of telling her of his grief and -repentance--his sorrow and pity were all for her! She must be sorely -cast down and broken in spirit to inspire compassion in a man who should -have implored hers! - -A French woman--a woman of the world--would not have lost her head at -such a delicate juncture; but Indiana had no tact; possessed neither the -skill nor the power of dissimulation necessary to preserve the advantage -of her position. His words brought before her eyes the whole picture of -her sufferings and tears glistened on the edge of her eyelids. - -"I am ill, in truth," she said, as she seated herself, feebly and -wearily, in the chair Raymon offered her; "I feel that I am very ill, -and, in your presence, monsieur, I have the right to complain." - -Raymon had not hoped to progress so fast. He seized the opportunity by -the hair, as the saying is, and, taking possession of a hand which felt -cold and dry in his, he replied: - -"Indiana! do not say that; do not say that I am the cause of your -illness, for you make me mad with grief and joy." - -"And joy!" she repeated, fixing upon him her great blue eyes overflowing -with melancholy and amazement. - -"I should have said hope; for, if I have caused you unhappiness, madame, -I can perhaps bring it to an end. Say a word," he added, kneeling beside -her on a cushion that had fallen from the divan, "ask me for my blood, -my life!" - -"Oh! hush!" said Indiana bitterly, withdrawing her hand; "you made a -shameful misuse of promises before; try to repair the evil you have -done!" - -"I intend to do it; I will do it!" he cried, trying to take her hand -again. - -"It is too late," she said. "Give me back my companion, my sister; give -me back Noun, my only friend!" - -A cold shiver ran through Raymon's veins. This time he had no need to -encourage her emotion; there are emotions which awake unbidden, mighty -and terrible, without the aid of art. - -"She knows all," he thought, "and she has judged me." - -Nothing could be more humiliating to him than to be reproached for his -crime by the woman who had been his innocent accomplice; nothing more -bitter than to see Noun's rival lamenting her death. - -"Yes, monsieur," said Indiana, raising her face, down which the tears -were streaming, "you were the cause--" - -But she paused when she observed Raymon's pallor. It must have been most -alarming, for he had never suffered so keenly. - -Thereupon all the kindness of her heart and all the involuntary emotion -which he aroused in her resumed their sway over Madame Delmare. - -"Forgive me!" she said in dismay; "I hurt you terribly; I have suffered -so myself! Sit down and let us talk of something else." - -This sudden manifestation of her sweet and generous nature rendered -Raymon's emotion deeper than ever. He sobbed aloud; he put Indiana's -hand to his lips and covered it with tears and kisses. It was the first -time that he had been able to weep since Noun's death, and it was -Indiana who relieved his breast of that terrible weight. - -"Oh! since you, who never knew her, weep for her so freely," she said; -"since you regret so bitterly the injury you have done me, I dare not -reproach you any more. Let us weep for her together, monsieur, so that, -from her place in heaven, she may see us and forgive us." - -Raymon's forehead was wet with cold perspiration. If the words _you who -never knew her_ had delivered him from painful anxiety, this appeal to -his victim's memory, in Indiana's innocent mouth, terrified him with a -superstitious terror. Sorely distressed, he rose and walked feverishly -to a window and leaned on the sill to breathe the fresh air. Indiana -remained in her chair, silent and deeply moved. She felt a sort of -secret joy on seeing Raymon weep like a child and display the weakness -of a woman. - -"He is naturally kind," she murmured to herself; "he is fond of me; his -heart is warm and generous. He did wrong, but his repentance expiates -his fault, and I ought to have forgiven him sooner." - -She gazed at him with a softened expression; her confidence in him had -returned. She mistook the remorse of the guilty man for the repentance -of love. - -"Do not weep any more," she said, rising and walking up to him; "it was -I who killed her; I alone am guilty. This remorse will sadden my whole -life. I gave way to an impulse of suspicion and anger; I humiliated her, -wounded her to the heart. I vented upon her all my spleen against you; -it was you alone who had offended me, and I punished my poor friend for -it. I was very hard to her!" - -"And to me," said Raymon, suddenly forgetting the past to think only of -the present. - -Madame Delmare blushed. - -"I should not perhaps have reproached you for the cruel loss I sustained -on that awful night," she said; "but I cannot forget the imprudence of -your conduct toward me. The lack of delicacy in your romantic and -culpable project wounded me very deeply. I believed then that you loved -me!--and you did not even respect me!" - -Raymon recovered his strength, his determination, his love, his hopes; -the sinister presentiment, which had made his blood run cold, vanished -like a nightmare. He awoke once more, young, ardent, overflowing with -desire, with passion, and with hopes for the future. - -"I am guilty if you hate me," he said, vehemently, throwing himself at -her feet; "but, if you love me, I am not guilty--I never have been. Tell -me, Indiana, do you love me?" - -"Do you deserve it?" she asked. - -"If, in order to deserve it," said Raymon, "I must love you to -adoration--" - -"Listen to me," she said, abandoning her hands to him and fastening upon -him her great eyes, swimming in tears, wherein a sombre flame gleamed at -intervals. "Do you know what it is to love a woman like me? No, you do -not know. You thought that it was merely a matter of gratifying the -caprice of a day. You judged my heart by all the surfeited hearts over -which you have hitherto exerted your ephemeral domination. You do not -know that I have never loved as yet and that I will not give my -untouched virgin heart in exchange for a ruined, withered heart, my -enthusiastic love for a lukewarm love, my whole life for one brief day!" - -"Madame, I love you passionately; my heart too is young and ardent, and, -if it is not worthy of yours, no man's heart will ever be. I know how -you must be loved; I have not waited until this day to find out. Do I -not know your life? did I not describe it to you at the ball, the first -time that I ever had the privilege of speaking to you? Did I not read -the whole history of your heart in the first one of your glances that -ever fell upon me? And with what did I fall in love, think you? with -your beauty alone? Ah! that is surely enough to drive an older and less -passionate man to frenzy; but for my part, if I adore that gracious and -charming envelope, it is because it encloses a pure and divine soul, it -is because a celestial fire quickens it, and because I see in you not a -woman simply, but an angel." - -"I know that you possess the art of praising; but do not hope to move my -vanity. I have no need of homage, but of affection. I must be loved -without a rival, without reserve and forever; you must be ready to -sacrifice everything to me, fortune, reputation, duty, business, -principles, family--everything, monsieur, because I shall place the same -absolute devotion in my scale, and I wish them to balance. You see that -you cannot love me like that!" - -It was not the first time that Raymon had seen a woman take love -seriously, although such cases are rare, luckily for society; but he -knew that promises of love do not bind the honor, again luckily for -society. Sometimes too the women who had demanded from him these solemn -pledges had been the first to break them. He did not take fright -therefore at Madame Delmare's demands, or rather he gave no thought -either to the past or the future. He was borne along by the irresistible -fascination of that frail, passionate woman, so weak in body, so -resolute in heart and mind. She was so beautiful, so animated, so -imposing as she dictated her laws to him, that he remained as if -fascinated at her knees. - -"I swear," he said, "that I will be yours body and soul; I devote my -life, I consecrate my blood to you, I place my will at your service; -take everything, do as you will with my fortune, my honor, my -conscience, my thoughts, my whole being." - -"Hush!" said Indiana hastily, "here is my cousin." - -As she spoke the phlegmatic Sir Ralph Brown entered the room with his -usual tranquil air, expressing great surprise and pleasure to see his -cousin, whom he had not hoped to see. Then he asked permission to kiss -her by way of manifesting his gratitude, and, leaning over her with -methodical moderation, he kissed her on the lips, according to the -custom among children in his country. - -Raymon turned pale with anger and Ralph had no sooner left the room to -give some order, than he went to Indiana and tried to remove all trace -of that impertinent kiss. But Madame Delmare calmly pushed him away. - -"Remember," she said, "that you owe much reparation if you wish me to -believe in you." - -Raymon did not understand the delicacy of this rebuff; he saw in it -nothing but a rebuff and he was angry with Sir Ralph. Shortly after he -noticed that, when Sir Ralph spoke to Indiana in an undertone, he used -the more familiar form of address, and he was on the verge of mistaking -the reserve which custom imposed upon Sir Ralph at other times, for the -precaution of a favored lover. But he blushed for his insulting -suspicions as soon as he met the young woman's pure glance. - -That evening Raymon displayed his intellectual powers. There was a large -company and people listened to him; he could not escape the prominence -which his talents gave him. He talked, and if Indiana had been vain she -would have had her first taste of happiness in listening to him. But on -the contrary her simple, straightforward mind took fright at Raymon's -superiority; she struggled against the magic power which he exerted over -all about him, a sort of magnetic influence which heaven, or hell, -accords to certain men--a partial and ephemeral royalty, so real that no -mediocre mind can escape its ascendancy, so fleeting that no trace of it -remains after them, and that when they die we are amazed at the -sensation they made during their lives. - -There were many times when Indiana was fascinated by such a brilliant -display; but she at once said to herself sadly that she was eager for -happiness, not for glory. She asked herself in dismay if this man, for -whom life had so many different aspects, so many absorbing interests, -could devote his whole mind to her, sacrifice all his ambitions to her. -And while he defended step by step, with such courage and skill, such -ardor and self-possession, doctrines purely speculative and interests -entirely foreign to their love, she was terrified to see that she was of -so little account in his life while he was everything in hers. She said -to herself in terror that she was to him a three days' fancy and that he -had been to her the dream of a whole life. - -When he offered her his arm as they were leaving the salon, he whispered -a few words of love in her ear; but she answered sadly: - -"You have a great mind!" - -Raymon understood the reproof and passed the whole of the following day -at Madame Delmare's feet. The other guests, being engrossed by their -hunting, left them entirely to themselves. - -Raymon was eloquent; Indiana had such a craving to believe, that half of -his eloquence was wasted. Women of France, you do not know what a creole -is; you would undoubtedly have yielded less readily to conviction, for -you are not the ones to be deceived or betrayed! - - - - -XIII - - -When Sir Ralph returned from hunting and as usual felt Madame Delmare's -pulse, Raymon, who was watching him closely, detected an almost -imperceptible expression of surprise and pleasure on his placid -features. And then, in obedience to some mysterious secret impulse, the -two men looked at each other, and Sir Ralph's light eyes, fastened like -an owl's upon Raymon's black ones, forced them to look down. During the -rest of the day the baronet's manner toward Madame Delmare, beneath his -apparent imperturbability, was keenly observant, indicative of something -which might be called interest or solicitude if his face had been -capable of reflecting a decided sentiment. But Raymon exerted himself in -vain to discover if fear or hope were uppermost in his thoughts; Ralph -was impenetrable. - -Suddenly, as he stood a few steps behind Madame Delmare's chair, he -heard her cousin say to her in an undertone: - -"You would do well, cousin, to go out in the saddle to-morrow." - -"Why, I have no horse just now, as you know," she said. - -"We will find one for you. Will you hunt with us?" - -Madame Delmare resorted to various pretexts to escape. Raymon understood -that she preferred to remain with him, but he thought at the same time -that her cousin seemed to display extraordinary persistence in -preventing her from doing so. So he left the persons with whom he was -talking, walked up to her and joined Sir Ralph in urging her to go. He -had a feeling of bitter resentment against this importunate chaperon, -and determined to tire out his watchfulness. - -"If you will agree to follow the hunt," he said to Indiana, "you will -embolden me to follow your example, madame. I care little for hunting; -but to have the privilege of being your esquire----" - -"In that case I will go," replied Indiana, heedlessly. - -She exchanged a meaning glance with Raymon; but, swift as it was, Sir -Ralph caught it on the wing, and Raymon was unable, during the rest of -the evening, to glance at her or address her without encountering -Monsieur Brown's eyes or ears. A feeling of aversion, almost of -jealousy, arose in his heart. By what right did this cousin, this friend -of the family, assume to act as a school-master with the woman whom he -loved! He swore that Sir Ralph should repent, and he sought an -opportunity to insult him without compromising Madame Delmare; but that -was impossible. Sir Ralph did the honors of his establishment with a -cold and dignified courtesy which offered no handle for an epigram or a -contradiction. - -The next morning, before the rising-bell had rung, Raymon was surprised -to see his host's solemn face enter his room. There was something even -stiffer than usual in his manner, and Raymon felt his heart beat fast -with longing and impatience at the prospect of a challenge. But he came -simply to talk about a horse which Raymon had brought to Bellerive and -had expressed a desire to sell. The bargain was concluded in five -minutes; Sir Ralph made no objection to the price but produced a -_rouleau_ of gold from his pocket and counted down the amount on the -mantel with a coolness of manner that was altogether extraordinary, not -deigning to pay any heed to Raymon's remonstrances concerning such -scrupulous promptness. As he was leaving the room, he turned back to -say: - -"Monsieur, the horse belongs to me from this morning!" - -At that Raymon fancied that he could detect a purpose to prevent him -from hunting, and he observed dryly that he did not propose to follow -the hunt on foot. - -"Monsieur," replied Sir Ralph, with a slight trace of affectation, "I am -too well versed in the laws of hospitality." - -And he withdrew. - -On going down into the courtyard Raymon saw Madame Delmare in her -riding-habit, playing merrily with Ophelia, who was tearing her -handkerchief. Her cheeks had taken on a faint rosy tinge, her eyes shone -with a brilliancy that had long been absent from them. She had already -recovered her beauty; her curly black hair escaped from beneath her -little hat, in which she was charming; and the cloth habit buttoned to -the chin outlined her slender, graceful figure. The principal charm of -the creoles, to my mind, consists in the fact that the excessive -delicacy of their features and their proportions enables them to retain -for a long while the daintiness of childhood. Indiana, in her gay and -laughing mood, seemed to be no more than fourteen. - -Raymon, impressed by her charms, felt a thrill of triumph and paid her -the least insipid compliment he could invent upon her beauty. - -"You were anxious about my health," she said to him in an undertone; "do -you not see that I long to live?" He could not reply otherwise than by a -happy, grateful glance. Sir Ralph himself brought his cousin her horse; -Raymon recognized the one he had just sold. - -"What!" said Madame Delmare in amazement, for she had seen him trying -the animal the day before in the courtyard, "is Monsieur de Ramière so -polite as to lend me his horse?" - -"Did you not admire the creature's beauty and docility yesterday?" said -Sir Ralph; "he is yours from this moment. I am sorry, my dear, that I -couldn't have given him to you sooner." - -"You are growing facetious, cousin," said Madame Delmare; "I do not -understand this joke at all. Whom am I to thank--Monsieur de Ramière, -who consents to lend me his horse, or you, who perhaps asked him for -it?" - -"You must thank your cousin," said Monsieur Delmare, "who bought this -horse for you and makes you a present of him." - -"Is it really true, my dear Ralph?" said Madame Delmare, patting the -pretty creature with the delight of a girl at receiving her first -jewels. - -"Didn't we agree that I should give you a horse in exchange for the -piece of embroidery you are doing for me? Come, mount him, have no fear. -I have studied his disposition, and I tried him only this morning." - -Indiana threw her arms around Sir Ralph's neck, then leaped upon -Raymon's horse and fearlessly made him prance. - -This whole domestic scene took place in a corner of the courtyard before -Raymon's eyes. He was conscious of a paroxysm of violent anger when the -simple and trustful affection of those two displayed itself before him; -passionately in love as he was and with less than a whole day in which -to have Indiana to himself. - -"How happy I am!" she said, calling him to her side on the avenue. "It -seems my dear Ralph divined what gift would be most precious to me. And -aren't you happy too, Raymon, to see the horse you have ridden pass into -my hands? Oh! how I will love him and care for him! What do you call -him? Tell me; for I prefer not to take away the name you gave him." - -"If there is a happy man here," rejoined Raymon, "it should be your -cousin, who gives you presents and whom you kiss so heartily." - -"Are you really jealous of our friendship and of those loud smacks?" she -said with a laugh. - -"Jealous? perhaps so, Indiana; I am not sure. But when that red-cheeked -young cousin puts his lips to yours, when he takes you in his arms to -seat you on the horse that he _gives_ you and I _sell_ you, I confess -that I suffer. No, madame, I am not happy to see you the mistress of the -horse I loved. I can understand that one might be happy in giving him to -you; but to play the tradesman in order to provide another with the -means of making himself agreeable to you, is a very cleverly managed -humiliation on Sir Ralph's part. If I did not believe that all this -cunning was quite involuntary, I would like to be revenged on him." - -"Oh! fie! this jealousy is not becoming to you! How can our commonplace -intimacy arouse any feeling in you, in you who should be, so far as I am -concerned, outside of the common life of mankind and should create for -me a world of enchantment--in you of all men! I am displeased with you -already, Raymon; I perceive that there is something like wounded -self-esteem in this angry feeling displayed toward this poor cousin. It -seems to me that you are more jealous of the lukewarm preference which I -display for him in public than of the exclusive affection which I might -secretly entertain for another." - -"Forgive me, forgive me, Indiana, I am wrong! I am not worthy of you, -angel of goodness and gentleness! but I confess that I have suffered -cruelly because of the right that man has seemed to assume." - -"He assume rights, Raymon! Do you not know what sacred gratitude binds -us to him? do you not know that his mother was my mother's sister? that -we were born in the same valley; that in our early years he was my -protector; that he was my mainstay, my only teacher, my only companion -at Ile Bourbon; that he has followed me everywhere; that he left the -country which I left, to come and live where I lived; in a word, that he -is the only being who loves me and who takes any interest in my life?" - -"Curse him! all that you tell me, Indiana, inflames the wound. So he -loves you very dearly, does this Englishman, eh? Do you know how I love -you?" - -"Oh! let us not compare the two. If an attachment of the same nature -made you rivals, I should owe the preference to the one of longer -standing. But have no fear, Raymon, that I shall ever ask you to love me -as Ralph loves me." - -"Tell me about the man, I beg you; for who can penetrate his stone -mask?" - -"Must I do the honors for my cousin?" she said with a smile. "I confess -that I do not altogether like the idea of describing him; I love him so -dearly that I would like to flatter him; as he is, I am afraid that you -will not find him a very noble figure. Do try to help me; come, how does -he seem to you?" - -"His face--forgive me if I wound you--indicates absolute nonentity; but -there are signs of good sense and education in his conversation when he -deigns to speak; but he speaks so hesitatingly, so coldly, that no one -profits by his knowledge, his delivery is so depressing and tiresome. -And then there is something commonplace and dull in his thoughts which -is not redeemed by measured purity of expression. I think that his is a -mind imbued with all the ideas that have been suggested to him, but too -apathetic and too mediocre to have any of his own. He is just the sort -of man that one must be to be looked upon in society as a serious-minded -person. His gravity forms three-fourths of his merit, his indifference -the rest." - -"There is some truth in your portrait," said Indiana, "but there is -prejudice too. You boldly solve doubts which I should not dare to solve, -although I have known Ralph ever since I was born. It is true that his -great defect consists in looking frequently through the eyes of others; -but that is not the fault of his mind but of his education. You think -that, without education, he would have been an absolute nonentity; I -think that he would have been less so than he is. I must tell you one -fact in his life which will help to explain his character. He was -unfortunate to have a brother whom his parents openly preferred to him; -this brother had all the brilliant qualities that he lacks. He learned -easily, he had a taste for all the arts, he fairly sparkled with wit; -his face, while less regular than Ralph's, was more expressive. He was -affectionate, zealous, active, in a word, he was lovable. Ralph, on the -contrary, was awkward, melancholy, undemonstrative; he loved solitude, -learned slowly and did not make a display of what little knowledge he -possessed. When his parents saw how different he was from his older -brother, they maltreated him; they did worse than that: they humiliated -him. Thereupon, child as he was, his character became gloomy and pensive -and an unconquerable timidity paralyzed all his faculties. They had -succeeded in inspiring in him self-aversion and self-contempt; he became -discouraged with life, and, at the age of fifteen, he was attacked by -the spleen, a malady that is wholly physical under the foggy sky of -England, wholly mental under the revivifying sky of Ile Bourbon. He has -often told me that one day he left the house with a determination to -throw himself into the sea; but as he sat on the shore collecting his -thoughts, as he was on the point of carrying out his plan, he saw me -coming toward him in the arms of the negress who had been my nurse. I -was then five years old. I was pretty, they say, and I manifested a -predilection for my taciturn cousin which nobody shared. To be sure, he -was attentive and kind to me in a way I was not accustomed to in my -father's house. As we were both unhappy, we understood each other even -then. He taught me his father's language, and I lisped mine to him. This -blending of Spanish and English may be said to express Ralph's -character. When I threw my arms around his neck, I saw that he was -weeping, and, without knowing why, I began to weep too. Thereupon he -pressed me to his heart and, so he told me afterward, made a vow to live -for me, a neglected if not hated child, to whom his friendship would at -all events be a kindness and his life of some benefit. Thus I was the -first and only tie in his sad life. After that day we were hardly ever -apart; we passed our days leading a free and healthy life in the -solitude of the mountains. But perhaps these tales of our childhood bore -you, and you would prefer to join the hunt and have a gallop." - -"Foolish girl," said Raymon, seizing the bridle of Madame Delmare's -horse. - -"Very well, I will go on," said she. "Edmond Brown, Ralph's older -brother, died at the age of twenty; his mother also died of grief, and -his father was inconsolable. Ralph would have been glad to mitigate his -sorrow, but the coldness with which Monsieur Brown greeted his first -attempts increased his natural timidity. He passed whole hours in -melancholy silence beside that heartbroken old man, not daring to -proffer a word or a caress, he was so afraid that his consolation would -seem misplaced or trivial. His father accused him of lack of feeling, -and Edmond's death left Ralph more wretched and more misunderstood than -ever. I was his only consolation." - -"I cannot pity him, whatever you may do," Raymon interrupted; "but there -is one thing in his life and yours that I cannot understand: it is that -you never married." - -"I can give you a very good reason for that," she replied. "When I -reached a marriageable age, Ralph, who was ten years older than I--an -enormous difference in our climate, where the childhood of girls is so -brief--Ralph, I say, was already married." - -"Is Sir Ralph a widower? I never heard anyone mention his wife." - -"Never mention her to him. She was young and rich and lovely, but she -had been in love with Edmond--she had been betrothed to him; and when, -in order to serve family interests and family sentiment, she was made to -marry Ralph, she did not so much as try to conceal her aversion for him. -He was obliged to go to England with her, and when he returned to Ile -Bourbon after his wife's death, I was married to Monsieur Delmare and -just about to start for Europe. Ralph tried to live alone, but solitude -aggravated his misery. Although he has never mentioned Mistress Ralph -Brown to me, I have every reason to believe that he was even more -unhappy in his married life than he had been in his father's house, and -that his natural melancholy was increased by recent and painful -memories. He was attacked with the spleen again; whereupon he sold his -coffee plantation and came to France to settle down. His manner of -introducing himself to my husband was original, and would have made me -laugh if my good Ralph's attachment had not touched me deeply. -'Monsieur,' he said, 'I love your wife; it was I who brought her up; I -look upon her as my sister and even more as my daughter. She is my only -remaining relative and the only person to whom I am attached. Allow me -to establish myself near you and let us three pass our lives together. -They say that you are a little jealous of your wife, but they say also -that you are a man of honor and uprightness. When I tell you that I have -never had any other than brotherly love for her, and that I shall never -have, you can regard me with as little anxiety as if I were really your -brother-in-law. Isn't it so, monsieur?' Monsieur Delmare, who is very -proud of his reputation for soldierly frankness, greeted this outspoken -declaration with a sort of ostentatious confidence. But several months -of careful watching were necessary before that confidence became as -genuine as he boasted that it was. Now it is as impregnable as Ralph's -steadfast and pacific heart." - -"Are you perfectly sure, Indiana," said Raymon, "that Sir Ralph is not -deceiving himself the least bit in the world when he swears that he -never loved you?" - -"I was twelve years old when he left Ile Bourbon to go with his wife to -England; I was sixteen when he returned to find me married, and he -manifested more joy than sorrow. Now, Ralph is really an old man." - -"At twenty-nine?" - -"Don't laugh at what I say. His face is young, but his heart is worn out -by suffering, and he no longer loves anybody, in order to avoid -suffering." - -"Not even you?" - -"Not even me. His friendship is simply a matter of habit; it was -generous in the old days when he took upon himself to protect and -educate my childhood, and then I loved him as he loves me to-day because -of the need I had of him. To-day my whole heart is bent upon paying my -debt to him, and my life is passed in trying to beautify and enliven -his. But, when I was a child, I loved him with the instinct rather than -with the heart, and he, now that he is a man, loves me less with the -heart than with the instinct. I am necessary to him because I am almost -alone in loving him; and to-day, as Monsieur Delmare manifests some -attachment to him, he is almost as fond of him as of me. His protection, -formerly so fearless in face of my father's despotism, has become -lukewarm and cautious in face of my husband's. He never reproaches -himself because I suffer, provided that I am near him. He does not ask -himself if I am unhappy; it is enough for him to see that I am alive. He -does not choose to lend me a support, which, while it would make my lot -less cruel, would disturb his serenity by making trouble between him and -Monsieur Delmare. By dint of hearing himself say again and again that -his heart is dry, he has persuaded himself that it is true, and his -heart has withered in the inaction in which he has allowed it to fall -asleep from distrust. He is a man whom the affection of another person -might have developed; but it was withdrawn from him and he shrivelled -up. Now he asserts that happiness consists in repose, pleasure, in the -comforts of life. He asks no questions about cares that he has not. I -must say the word: Ralph is selfish." - -"Very good, so much the better," said Raymon; "I am no longer afraid of -him; indeed I will love him if you wish." - -"Yes, love him, Raymon," she replied; "he will appreciate it; and, so -far as we are concerned, let us never trouble ourselves to explain why -people love us, but how they love us. Happy the man who can be loved, no -matter for what reason!" - -"What you say, Indiana," replied Raymon, grasping her slender, willowy -form, "is the lament of a sad and solitary heart; but, in my case, I -want you to know both why and how, especially why." - -"To give me happiness, is it not?" she said, with a sad but passionate -glance. - -"To give you my life," said Raymon, brushing Indiana's floating hair -with his lips. - -A blast upon the horn near by warned them to be on their guard; it was -Sir Ralph, who saw them or did not see them. - - - - -XIV - - -Raymon was amazed at what seemed to take place in Indiana's being as -soon as the hounds were away. Her eyes gleamed, her cheeks flushed, the -dilation of her nostrils betrayed an indefinable thrill of fear or -pleasure, and suddenly, driving her spurs into her horse's side, she -left him and galloped after Ralph. Raymon did not know that hunting was -the only passion that Ralph and Indiana had in common. Nor did he -suspect that in that frail and apparently timid woman there abode a more -than masculine courage, that sort of delirious intrepidity which -sometimes manifests itself like a nervous paroxysm in the feeblest -creatures. Women rarely have the physical courage which consists in -offering the resistance of inertia to pain or danger; but they often -have the moral courage which attains its climax in peril or suffering. -Indiana's delicate fibres delighted above all things in the tumult, the -rapid movement and the excitement of the chase, that miniature image of -war with its fatigues, its stratagems, its calculations, its hazards and -its battles. Her dull, ennui-laden life needed this excitement; at such -times she seemed to wake from a lethargy and to expend in one day all -the energy that she had left to ferment uselessly in her blood for a -whole year. - -Raymon was terrified to see her ride away so fast, abandoning herself -fearlessly to the impetuous spirit of a horse that she hardly knew, -rushing him through the thickets, avoiding with amazing skill the -branches that lashed at her face as they sprang back, leaping ditches -without hesitation, venturing confidently on clayey, slippery ground, -heedless of the risk of breaking her slender limbs, but eager to be -first on the smoking scent of the boar. So much determination alarmed -him and nearly disgusted him with Madame Delmare. Men, especially -lovers, are addicted to the innocent fatuity of preferring to protect -weakness rather than to admire courage in womankind. Shall I confess it? -Raymon was terrified at the promise of high spirit and tenacity in love -which such intrepidity seemed to afford. It was not like the resignation -of poor Noun, who preferred to drown herself rather than to contend -against her misfortunes. - - -[Illustration 03: _THE BOAR HUNT_ -_Raymon was terrified to see her ride away so -fast, abandoning herself fearlessly to the impetuous -spirit of a horse that she hardly knew, rushing him -through the thickets, avoiding with amazing skill -the branches that lashed at her face as they sprang -back, leaping ditches without hesitation, venturing -confidently on clayey, slippery ground, heedless of the -risk of breaking her slender limbs, but eager to be -first on the smoking scent of the boar._] - - -"If there's as much vigor and excitement in her tenderness as there is -in her diversions," he thought; "if her will clings to me, fierce and -palpitating, as her caprice clings to that boar's quarters, why society -will impose no fetters on her, the law will have no force; my destiny -will have to succumb and I shall have to sacrifice my future to her -present." - -Cries of terror and distress, among which he could distinguish Madame -Delmare's voice, roused Raymon from these reflections. He anxiously -urged his horse forward and was soon overtaken by Ralph, who asked him -if he had heard the outcries. - -At that moment several terrified whippers-in rode up to them, crying out -confusedly that the boar had charged and overthrown Madame Delmare. -Other huntsmen, in still greater dismay, appeared, calling for Sir -Ralph, whose surgical skill was required by the injured person. - -"It's of no use," said a late arrival. "There is no hope, your help will -be too late." - -In that moment of horror, Raymon's eyes fell upon the pale, gloomy -features of Monsieur Brown. He did not cry out, he did not foam at the -mouth, he did not wring his hands; he simply took out his hunting-knife -and with a _sang-froid_ truly English was preparing to cut his own -throat, when Raymon snatched the weapon from him and hurried him in the -direction from which the cries came. - -Ralph felt as if he were waking from a dream when he saw Madame Delmare -rush to meet him and urge him forward to the assistance of her husband, -who lay on the ground, apparently lifeless. Sir Ralph made haste to -bleed him; for he had speedily satisfied himself that he was not dead; -but his leg was broken and he was taken to the château. - -As for Madame Delmare, in the confusion her name had been substituted by -accident for that of her husband, or perhaps Ralph and Raymon had -erroneously thought that they heard the name in which they were most -interested. - -Indiana was uninjured, but her fright and consternation had almost taken -away her power of locomotion. Raymon supported her in his arms and was -reconciled to her womanly heart when he saw how deeply affected she was -by the misfortune of a husband whom she had much to forgive before -pitying him. - -Sir Ralph had already recovered his accustomed tranquillity; but an -extraordinary pallor revealed the violent shock he had experienced; he -had nearly lost one of the two human beings whom he loved. - -Raymon, who alone, in that moment of confusion and excitement, had -retained sufficient presence of mind to understand what he saw, had been -able to judge of Ralph's affection for his cousin, and how little it was -balanced by his feeling for the colonel. This observation, which -positively contradicted Indiana's opinion, did not depart from Raymon's -memory as it did from that of the other witnesses of the scene. - -However Raymon never mentioned to Madame Delmare the attempted suicide -of which he had been a witness. In this ungenerous reserve there was a -suggestion of selfishness and bad temper which you will forgive perhaps -in view of the amorous jealousy which was responsible for it. - -After six weeks the colonel was with much difficulty removed to Lagny; -but it was more than six months thereafter before he could walk; for -before the fractured femur was fairly reduced he had an acute attack of -rheumatism in the injured leg, which condemned him to excruciating pain -and absolute immobility. His wife lavished the most loving attentions -upon him; she never left his bedside and endured without a complaint his -bitter fault-finding humor, his soldier-like testiness and his invalid's -injustice. - -Despite the ennui of such a depressing life, her health became robust -and flourishing once more and happiness took up its abode in her heart. -Raymon loved her, he really loved her. He came every day; he was -discouraged by no difficulty in the way of seeing her, he bore with the -infirmities of her husband, her cousin's coldness, the constraint of -their interviews. A glance from him filled Indiana's heart with joy for -a whole day. She no longer thought of complaining of life; her heart was -full, her youthful nature had ample employment, her moral force had -something to feed upon. - -The colonel gradually came to feel very friendly to Raymon. He was -simple enough to believe that his neighbor's assiduity in calling upon -him was a proof of the interest he took in his health. Madame de -Ramière also came occasionally, to sanction the liaison by her -presence, and Indiana became warmly and passionately attached to -Raymon's mother. At last the wife's lover became the husband's friend. - -As a result of being thus constantly thrown together, Raymon and Ralph -perforce became intimate in a certain sense; they called each other "my -dear fellow," they shook hands morning and night. If either of them -desired to ask a slight favor of the other, the regular form was this: -"I count upon your friendship," etc. And when they spoke of each other -they said: "He is a friend of mine." - -But, although they were both as frank and outspoken as a man can be in -the world, they were not at all fond of each other. They differed -essentially in their opinions on every subject; they had no likes or -dislikes in common; and, although they both loved Madame Delmare, they -loved her in such a different way that that sentiment divided them -instead of bringing them together. They found a singular pleasure in -contradicting each other and in disturbing each other's equanimity as -much as possible by reproaches which were none the less sharp and bitter -because they took the form of generalities. - -Their principal and most frequent controversies began with politics and -ended with morals. It was in the evening, when they were all assembled -around Monsieur Delmare's easy-chair, that discussions arose on the most -trivial pretexts. They always maintained the external courtesy which -philosophy imposed on the one and social custom on the other: but they -sometimes said to each other, under the thin veil of allusions, some -very harsh things, which amused the colonel; for he was naturally -bellicose and quarrelsome and loved disputes in default of battles. - -For my part, I believe that a man's political opinion is the whole man. -Tell me what your heart and your head are and I will tell you your -political opinions. In whatever rank or political party chance may have -placed us at our birth, our character prevails sooner or later over the -prejudice or artificial beliefs of education. You will call that a very -sweeping statement perhaps; but how could I persuade myself to augur -well of a mind that clings to certain theories which a generous spirit -rejects? Show me a man who maintains the usefulness of capital -punishment, and, however conscientious and enlightened he may be, I defy -you ever to establish any sympathetic connection between him and me. If -such a man attempts to instruct me as to facts which I do not know, he -will never succeed; for it will not be in my power to give him my -confidence. - -Ralph and Raymon differed on all points, and, yet, before they knew each -other, they had no clearly defined opinions. But, as soon as they were -at odds, each of them maintained the contrary of what the other -advanced, and in that way they would form for themselves an absolute, -unassailable conviction. Raymon was on all occasions the champion of -existing society, Ralph attacked its structure at every point. - -The explanation was simple: Raymon was happy and treated with the utmost -consideration, Ralph had known nothing of life but its evils and its -bitterness; one found everything very satisfactory, the other was -dissatisfied with everything. Men and things had maltreated Ralph and -heaped benefits upon Raymon; and, like two children, they referred -everything to themselves, setting themselves up as a court of last -resort in regard to the great questions of social order, although they -were equally incompetent. - -Thus Ralph always upheld his visionary scheme of a republic from which -he proposed to exclude all abuses, all prejudices, all injustice; a -scheme founded entirely upon the hope of a new race of men. Raymon -upheld his doctrine of an hereditary monarchy, preferring, he said, to -endure abuses, prejudice and injustice, to seeing scaffolds erected and -innocent blood shed. - -The colonel was almost always on Ralph's side at the beginning of the -discussion. He hated the Bourbons and imparted to all his opinions all -the animosity of his sentiments. But soon Raymon would adroitly bring -him over to his side by proving to him that the monarchy was in -principle much nearer the Empire than the Republic. Ralph was so lacking -in the power of persuasion, he was so sincere, so bungling, the poor -baronet! his frankness was so unpolished, his logic so dull, his -principles so rigid! He spared no one, he softened no harsh truth. - -"_Parbleu!_" he would say to the colonel, when that worthy cursed -England's intervention, "what in heaven's name have you, a man of some -common sense and reasoning power, I suppose, to complain of because a -whole nation fought fairly against you?" - -"Fairly?" Delmare would repeat the word, grinding his teeth together and -brandishing his crutch. - -"Let us leave political questions to be decided by the powers -concerned," Sir Ralph would say, "as we have adopted a form of -government which forbids us to discuss our interests ourselves. If a -nation is responsible for the faults of its legislature, what one can -you find that is guiltier than yours?" - -"And so I say, monsieur, shame upon France, which abandoned Napoléon -and submitted to a king proclaimed by the bayonets of foreigners!" the -colonel would exclaim. - -"For my part, I do not say shame upon France," Sir Ralph would rejoin, -"but woe to her! I pity her because she was so weak and so diseased, on -the day she was purged of her tyrant, that she was compelled to accept -your rag of a constitutional Charter, a mere shred of liberty which you -are beginning to respect now that you must throw it aside and conquer -your liberty over again." - -Thereupon Raymon would pick up the gauntlet that Sir Ralph threw down. A -knight of the Charter, he chose to be a knight of liberty as well, and -he proved to Ralph with marvelous skill that one was the expression of -the other; that, if he shattered the Charter he overturned his own idol. -In vain would the baronet struggle in the unsound arguments in which -Monsieur de Ramière entangled him; with admirable force he would argue -that a greater extension of the suffrage would infallibly lead to the -excesses of '93, and that the nation was not yet ripe for liberty, which -is not the same as license. And when Sir Ralph declared that it was -absurd to attempt to confine a constitution within a certain number of -articles, that what was sufficient at first would eventually become -insufficient, supporting his argument by the example of the -convalescent, whose needs increased every day, Raymon would reply to all -these commonplaces expressed with difficulty by Monsieur Brown that the -Charter was not an immovable circle, that it would stretch with the -necessities of France, attributing to it an elasticity which, he said, -would afford later a means of satisfying the demands of the nation, but -which in fact satisfied only those of the crown. - -As to Delmare, he had not advanced a step since 1815. He was a -stationary mortal, as full of prejudices and as obstinate as the -émigrés at Coblentz, the never-failing subjects of his implacable -irony. He was like an old child and had failed utterly to comprehend the -great drama of the downfall of Napoléon. He had seen naught but the -fortune of war in that crisis when the power of public opinion -triumphed. He was forever talking of treason and of selling the country, -as if a whole nation could betray a single man, as if France would have -allowed herself to be sold by a few generals! He accused the Bourbons of -tyranny and sighed for the glorious days of the Empire, when arms were -lacking to till the soil and families were without bread. He declaimed -against Franchet's police and extolled Fouché's. He was still at the -day after Waterloo. - -It was really a curious thing to listen to the sentimental idiocies of -Delmare and Monsieur de Ramière, philanthropic dreamers both, one under -the sword of Napoléon, the other under the sceptre of Saint-Louis; -Monsieur Delmare planted at the foot of the Pyramids, Raymon seated -under the monarchic shadow of the oak of Vincennes. Their Utopias, which -clashed at first, became reconciled in due time: Raymon limed the -colonel with his chivalrous sentiments; for one concession he exacted -ten, and he accustomed him little by little to the spectacle of -twenty-five years of victory ascending in a spiral column under the -folds of the white flag. If Ralph had not constantly cast his abrupt, -rough observations into the centre of Monsieur de Ramière's flowery -rhetoric, he would infallibly have won Delmare over to the throne of -1815; but Ralph irritated his self-esteem, and the bungling -outspokenness with which the Englishman strove to shake his convictions -served only to anchor him more firmly in his imperialism. Thus all -Monsieur de Ramière's efforts were wasted; Ralph trod heavily upon the -flowers of his eloquence and the colonel returned with renewed -enthusiasm to his tri-color. He swore that he would shake off the dust -from it some fine day, that he would spit on the lilies and restore the -Duc de Reichstadt to the throne of _his fathers_; he would begin anew -the conquest of the world; and he always concluded by lamenting the -disgrace that rested upon France, the rheumatism that glued him to his -chair and the ingratitude of the Bourbons to the old moustaches whom the -sun of the desert had burned and who had swarmed over the ice-floes of -the Moskowa. - -"My poor fellow!" Ralph would say, "for heaven's sake be fair; you -complain because the Restoration did not pay for services rendered the -Empire and because it did reimburse its _émigrés._ Tell me, if -Napoléon could come to life again to-morrow in all his power, would you -like it if he should withdraw his favor from you and bestow it on the -partisans of legitimacy? Every one for himself and his own; these are -business discussions, disputes concerning private interests, which have -little interest for France, now that you are almost all as incapacitated -as the _voltigeurs_ of the emigration, and that, whether gouty, married -or sulking, you are all equally useless to her. However, she must -support you all, and you see who can complain the loudest of her. When -the day of the Republic dawns, she will clear her skirts of all your -demands, and it will be no more than justice." - -These trivial but self-evident observations offended the colonel like so -many personal affronts; and Ralph who, with all his good sense, did not -realize that the pettiness of spirit of a man whom he esteemed could go -so far, fell into the habit of irritating him without mercy. - -Before Raymon's arrival there had been a tacit agreement between the two -to avoid every subject of controversy in which there might be some -clashing and wounding of delicate sensibilities. But Raymon brought into -their conversation all the subtleties of the language, all the petty -artifices of civilization. He taught them that people can say anything -to one another, indulge in all sorts of reproaches and shield themselves -behind the pretext of legitimate discussion. He introduced among them -the habit of disputation, then tolerated in the salons, because the -vindictive passions of the Hundred Days had finally become appeased, had -assumed divers milder shades. But the colonel had retained all the -vehemence of his passions, and Ralph made a sad mistake in thinking that -it was possible for him to listen to reason. Monsieur Delmare became -daily more sour toward him and drew nearer to Raymon, who, without -making too extensive concessions, knew how to assume an appearance of -graciousness in order to spare the other's self-esteem. - -It is a great imprudence to introduce politics as a pastime in the -domestic circle. If there exist to-day any peaceful and happy families, -I advise them to subscribe to no newspaper; not to read a single line of -the budget, to bury themselves in the depth of their country estates as -in an oasis, and to draw between themselves and the rest of society a -line that none may pass; for, if they allow the echoes of our disputes -to meet their ears, it is all over with their union and their repose. It -is hard to imagine how much gall and bitterness political differences -cause between near kindred. Most of the time they simply afford them an -opportunity for reproaching one another for defects of character, mental -obliquities and vices of the heart. - -They would not dare to call one another knave, imbecile, ambitious -villain or poltroon. They express the same idea by such names as -_jesuit, royalist, revolutionist_ and _trimmer._ These are different -words, but the insult is the same, and all the more stinging because -they may pursue and attack one another in this fashion without -restraint, without mercy. There is an end to all mutual toleration of -failings, all charitable spirit, all generous and delicate reserve; -nothing is overlooked, everything is attributed to political feeling, -and beneath that mask hatred and vengeance are freely exhaled. O ye -blessed dwellers in the country, if there still be any country in -France, shun, shun politics, and read the _Peau d'Ane_ by your -firesides! But the contagion is so great that there is no retreat -obscure enough, no solitude profound enough to hide and shelter the man -who would find a refuge for his amiable heart from the tempests of our -civil dissensions. - -In vain had the little château in Brie defended itself for years -against this ill-omened invasion; it lost in time its heedlessness, its -active domestic life, its long evenings of silence and meditation. Noisy -disputes awoke its slumbering echoes; bitter and threatening words -terrified the faded cherubs who had smiled amid the dust of the hangings -for a hundred years past. The excitements of present-day life found -their way into that ancient dwelling, and all those old-fashioned -splendors, all those relics of a period of pleasure and frivolity saw -with dismay the advent of an epoch of doubt and declamation, represented -by three men who shut themselves up together every day to quarrel from -morning till night. - - - - -XV - - -Despite these never-ending dissensions, Madame Delmare clung with the -confidence of her years to the hope of a happy future. It was her first -happiness; and her ardent imagination, her rich young heart, were able -to supply it with all that it lacked. She was ingenious in creating keen -and pure joys for herself--in bestowing upon herself the complement of -the precarious favors of her destiny. Raymon loved her. In truth he did -not lie when he told her that she was the only love of his life; he had -never loved so innocently nor so long. With her he forgot everything but -her. The world and politics were blotted out by the thought of her; he -enjoyed the domestic life, the being treated like one of the family, as -she treated him. He admired her patience and her strength of will; he -wondered at the contrast between her mind and her character; he wondered -especially that, after importing so much solemnity into their first -compact, she was so unexacting, satisfied with such furtive and -infrequent joys, and that she trusted him so blindly and so absolutely. -But love was a novel and generous passion in her heart, and a thousand -noble and delicate sentiments were included in it and gave it a force -which Raymon could not understand. - -For his own part, he was annoyed at first by the constant presence of -the husband or the cousin. He had intended that this love should be like -all his previous loves, but Indiana soon compelled him to rise to her -level. The resignation with which she endured the constant surveillance, -the happy air with which she glanced at him by stealth, her eyes which -spoke to him in eloquent though silent language, her sublime smile when -a sudden allusion in conversation brought their hearts nearer -together--these soon became keen pleasures which Raymon craved and -appreciated, thanks to the refinement of his mind and the culture of -education. - -What a difference between that chaste creature who seemed not to -contemplate the possibility of a _dénoûment_ to her love and all those -other women who were intent only upon hastening it while pretending to -shun it! When Raymon happened to be alone with her, Indiana's cheeks did -not turn a deeper red, nor did she avert her eyes in confusion. No, her -tranquil, limpid eyes were always fixed upon him in ecstasy; an angelic -smile played always about her lips, as ruddy as a little girl's who has -known no kisses but her mother's. When he saw her so trustful, so -passionate, so pure, living solely with the heart and not realizing that -her lover's heart was in torment when he was at her feet, Raymon dared -not be a man, lest he should seem to her inferior to her dreams of him, -and, through self-love, he became as virtuous as she. - -Madame Delmare, ignorant as a genuine creole, had never dreamed hitherto -of considering the momentous questions that were now discussed before -her every day. She had been brought up by Sir Ralph, who had a poor -opinion of the intelligence and reasoning power of womankind, and who -had confined himself to imparting some positive information likely to be -of immediate use. Thus she had a very shadowy idea of the world's -history, and any serious discussion bored her to death. But when she -heard Raymon apply to those dry subjects all the charm of his wit, all -the poesy of his language, she listened and tried to understand; then -she ventured timidly to ask ingenuous questions which a girl of ten -brought up according to worldly ideas would readily have answered. -Raymon took pleasure in enlightening that virgin mind which seemed -destined to open to receive his principles; but, despite the power he -exerted over her untrained, artless mind, his sophisms sometimes -encountered resistance from her. - -Indiana opposed to the interests of civilization, when raised to the -dignity of principles of action, the straight-forward ideas and simple -laws of good sense and humanity; her arguments were characterized by an -unpolished freedom which sometimes embarrassed Raymon and always charmed -him by its childlike originality. He applied himself as to a task of -serious importance to the attempt to bring her around gradually to his -principles, to his beliefs. He would have been proud to dominate her -conscientious and naturally enlightened convictions; but he had some -difficulty in attaining his end. Ralph's generous theories, his -unbending hatred of the vices of society, his keen impatience for the -reign of other laws and other morals were sentiments to which Indiana's -unhappy memories responded. But Raymon suddenly unhorsed his adversary -by demonstrating that this aversion for the present was the work of -selfishness; he described with much warmth his own attachments, his -devotion to the royal family, which he had the art to clothe with all -the heroism of a perilous loyalty, his respect for the persecuted faith -of his fathers, his religious sentiments, which were not the fruit of -reasoning, he said, but to which he clung by instinct and from -necessity. And the joy of loving one's fellow-creatures, of being bound -to the present generation by all the ties of honor and philanthropy; the -pleasure of serving one's country by repelling dangerous innovations, by -maintaining domestic peace, by giving, if need be, all one's blood to -save the shedding of one drop of that of the lowest of one's countrymen! -he depicted all these attractive Utopian visions with so much art and -charm that Indiana submitted to be led on to the feeling that she must -love and respect all that Raymon loved and respected. It was fairly -proved that Ralph was an egotist; when he maintained a generous idea, -they smiled; it was clear that at such times his heart and his mind were -in contradiction. Was it not better to believe Raymon, who had such a -big, warm, expansive heart? - -There were moments, however, when Raymon almost forgot his love to think -only of his antipathy. When he was with Madame Delmare, he could see -nobody but Sir Ralph, who presumed, with his rough, cool common sense, -to attack him, a man of superior talents, who had overthrown such -doughty adversaries! He was humiliated to find himself engaged with so -paltry an adversary, and thereupon would overwhelm him with the weight -of his eloquence; he would bring into play all the resources of his -talent, and Ralph, bewildered, slow in collecting his ideas, slower -still in expressing them, would be made painfully conscious of his -weakness. - -At such moments it seemed to Indiana that Raymon's thoughts were -altogether diverted from her; she had spasms of anxiety and terror as -she reflected that perhaps all those noble and high-sounding sentiments -so eloquently declaimed were simply the pompous scaffolding of words, -the ironical harangue of the lawyer, listening to himself and practising -the comedy which is to take by surprise the good-nature of the tribunal. -She was especially fearful when, as her eyes met his, she fancied that -she saw gleaming in them, not the pleasure of having been understood by -her, but the triumphant self-satisfaction of having made a fine -argument. She was afraid at such times, and her thoughts turned to -Ralph, the egotist, to whom they had perhaps been unjust; but Ralph was -not tactful enough to say anything to prolong this uncertainty, and -Raymon was very skilful in removing it. - -Thus there was but one really perturbed existence, but one really ruined -happiness in that domestic circle: the existence and happiness of Sir -Ralph Brown, a man born to misfortune, for whom life had displayed no -brilliant aspects, no intense, heart-filling joys; a victim of great but -secret unhappiness, who complained to no one and whom no one pitied; a -truly accursed destiny, in the poetic sense without thrilling -adventures; a commonplace, bourgeois, melancholy destiny, which no -friendship had sweetened, no love charmed, which was endured in silence, -with the heroism which the love of life and the need of hoping give; a -lonely mortal who had had a father and mother like everybody else, a -brother, a wife, a son, a friend, and who had reaped no benefit, -retained nothing of all those ties; a stranger in life who went his way -melancholy and indifferent, having not even that exalted consciousness -of his misfortune which enables one to find some fascination in sorrow. - -Despite his strength of character, he sometimes felt discouraged with -virtue. He hated Raymon, and it was in his power to drive him from Lagny -with a word; but he did not say it, because he had one belief, a single -one, which was stronger than Raymon's countless beliefs. It was neither -the church, nor the monarchy, nor society, nor reputation, nor the law, -which dictated his sacrifices and his courage--it was his conscience. - -He had lived so alone that he had not accustomed himself to rely upon -others; but he had learned, in his isolation, to know himself. He had -made a friend of his own heart; by dint of self-communion, of asking -himself the cause of the unjust acts of others, he had assured himself -that he had not earned them by any vice; he had ceased to be irritated -by them, because he set little store by his own personality, which he -knew to be insipid and commonplace. He understood the indifference of -which he was the object, and he had chosen his course with regard to it; -but his heart told him that he was capable of feeling all that he did -not inspire, and, while he was disposed to forgive everything in others, -he had decided to tolerate nothing in himself. This wholly inward life, -these wholly private sensations gave him all the outward appearance of a -selfish man; indeed nothing resembles selfishness more closely than -self-respect. - -However, as it often happens that, because we attempt to do too much -good, we do much less than enough, it happened that Sir Ralph made a -great mistake from over-scrupulousness and caused Madame Delmare an -irreparable injury from dread of burdening his own conscience with a -cause of reproach. That mistake was his failure to enlighten her as to -the real reasons of Noun's death. Had he done so she would doubtless -have reflected on the perils of her love for Raymon; but we shall see -later why Monsieur Brown dared not inform his cousin and what painful -scruples led him to keep silence on so momentous a question. When he -decided to break his silence it was too late; Raymon had had time to -establish his empire. - -An unforeseen event occurred to cloud the future prospects of the -colonel and his wife; a business house in Belgium, upon which all the -prosperity of the Delmare establishment depended, had suddenly failed, -and the colonel, who had hardly recovered his health, started in hot -haste for Antwerp. - -He was still so weak and ill that his wife wished to accompany him; but -Monsieur Delmare, being threatened with complete ruin and resolved to -honor all his obligations, feared that his journey would then seem too -much like a flight; so he determined to leave his wife at Lagny as a -pledge of his return. He even declined the company of Sir Ralph and -begged him to remain and stand by Madame Delmare in case of any trouble -on the part of anxious or over-eager creditors. - -At this painful crisis Indiana was alarmed at nothing save the -possibility of having to leave Lagny and be separated from Raymon; but -he comforted her by convincing her that the colonel would surely go to -Paris. Moreover he gave her his word that he would follow her, on some -pretext or other, wherever she might go, and the credulous creature -deemed herself almost happy in a misfortune which enabled her to put -Raymon's love to the test. As for him, a vague hope, a persistent, -importunate thought had absorbed his mind ever since he had heard of -this event: he was to be alone with Indiana at last, the first time for -six months. She had never seemed to attempt to avoid a tête-à-tête, -and although he was in no haste to triumph over a love whose ingenuous -chastity had for him the attraction of novelty, he was beginning to feel -that his honor was involved in bringing it to some conclusion. He -honorably repelled any malicious insinuation concerning his relations -with Madame Delmare; he declared very modestly that there was nothing -more than a placid and pleasant friendship between them; but not for -anything in the world would he have admitted, even to his best friend, -that he had been passionately in love for six months and had as yet -obtained no fruit of that love. - -He was somewhat disappointed in his anticipations when he saw that Sir -Ralph seemed determined to replace Monsieur Delmare so far as -surveillance was concerned, that he appeared at Lagny in the morning and -did not return to Bellerive until night; indeed, as their road was the -same for some distance, Ralph, with an intolerable affectation of -courtesy, insisted upon timing his departure by Raymon's. This -constraint soon became intensely disagreeable to Monsieur de Ramière, -and Madame Delmare fancied that she could detect in it not only a -suspicion insulting to herself, but a purpose to assume despotic control -over her conduct. - -Raymon dared not request a secret interview; whenever he had made the -attempt, Madame Delmare had reminded him of certain conditions agreed -upon between them. Meanwhile a week had passed since the colonel's -departure; he might return very soon; the present opportunity must be -turned to advantage. To allow Sir Ralph the victory would be a disgrace -to Raymon. One morning he slipped this letter into Madame Delmare's -hand: - -"Indiana! do you not love me as I love you? My angel! I am unhappy and -you do not see it. I am sad, anxious concerning your future, not my own; -for, wherever you may be, there I shall live and die. But the thought of -poverty alarms me on your account; ill and frail as you are, my poor -child, how will you endure privation? You have a rich and generous -cousin: your husband will perhaps accept at his hands what he will -refuse at mine. Ralph will ameliorate your lot, and I shall be able to -do nothing for you! - -"Be sure, be sure, my dear love, that I have reason to be depressed and -disappointed. You are heroic, you laugh at everything, you insist that I -must not grieve. Ah! how I crave your gentle words, your sweet glances, -to sustain my courage! But, by a monstrous fatality, these days that I -hoped to pass freely at your feet, have brought me nothing but a -constraint that grows ever more galling. - -"Say a word, Indiana, so that we may be alone at least an hour, that I -may weep upon your white hands and tell you all that I suffer, and that -a word from you may console and comfort me. - -"And then, Indiana, I have a childish caprice, a genuine lover's -caprice. I would like to enter your room. Oh! don't be frightened, my -gentle creole! It is my bounden duty not only to respect you, but to -fear you; that is the very reason why I would like to enter your room, -to kneel in that place where you were so angry with me, and where, bold -as I am, I dared not look at you. I would like to prostrate myself -there, to pass a meditative, happy hour there; I would crave no other -favor, Indiana, than that you should place your hand on my heart and -cleanse it of its crime, pacify it if it beats too rapidly, and give it -your confidence once more if you find me worthy of you at last. Yes! I -would like to prove to you that now I am worthy, that I know you through -and through, that I worship you with an adoration as pure and holy as -ever maiden conceived for her Madonna! I would like to be sure that you -no longer fear me, that you esteem me as much as I revere you; I would -like to live an hour as angels live, with my head upon your heart. Tell -me, Indiana, may I? One hour--the first, perhaps the last! - -"It is time to forgive me, Indiana, to give me back your confidence, so -cruelly snatched from me, so dearly redeemed. Are you not satisfied with -me? Have I not passed six months behind your chair, confining my desires -to a glance at your snow-white neck through the curls of your black -hair, as you leaned over your work, to a breath of the perfume which -emanates from you and which the air from the window at which you sit -brings faintly to my nostrils? Does not such submission deserve the -reward of a kiss? a sister's kiss, if you will, a kiss on the forehead? -I will remain true to our agreements, I swear it. I will ask for -nothing. But, cruel one, will you grant me nothing? Are you afraid of -yourself?" - -Madame Delmare went to her room to read this letter; she replied to it -instantly, and handed him the reply with a key to the park-gate, which -he knew too well. - -"I afraid of you, Raymon? Oh! no, not now. I know too well that you love -me, I am too blissfully happy in the belief that you love me. Come then, -for I am not afraid of myself either; if I loved you less, perhaps I -should be less calm; but I love you with a love of which you yourself -have no idea. Go away early, so that Ralph may suspect nothing. Return -at midnight; you are familiar with the park and the house; here is the -key of the small gate; lock it after you." - -This ingenuous, generous confidence made Raymon blush. He had tried to -inspire it, with the purpose of abusing it; he had counted on the -darkness, the opportunity, the danger. If Indiana had shown any fear, -she was lost; but she was perfectly calm; she placed her trust in his -good faith; he swore that he would give her no cause to repent. But the -important point was to pass a night in her bedroom, in order not to be a -fool in his own eyes, in order to defeat Ralph's prudence, and to be -able to laugh at him in his sleeve. That was a personal gratification -which he craved. - - - - -XVI - - -But Ralph was really intolerable on this particular evening; he had -never been more stupid and dull and tiresome. He could say nothing -apropos, and, to cap the climax of his loutishness, he gave no sign of -taking his leave even when the evening was far advanced. Madame Delmare -began to be ill at ease; she glanced alternately at the clock, which had -struck eleven--at the door, which had creaked in the wind--and at the -expressionless face of her cousin, who sat opposite her in front of the -fire, placidly watching the blaze without seeming to suspect that his -presence was distasteful. - -But Sir Ralph's tranquil mask, his petrified features, concealed at that -moment a profound and painful mental agitation. He was a man whom -nothing escaped because he observed everything with perfect -self-possession. He had not been deceived by Raymon's pretended -departure; he perceived very plainly Madame Delmare's anxiety at that -moment. He suffered more than she did herself, and he moved irresolutely -between the impulse to give her a salutary warning and the fear of -giving way to feelings which he disavowed; at last his cousin's interest -carried the day, and he summoned all his moral courage in order to break -the silence. - -"That reminds me," he said abruptly, following out the line of thought -with which his mind was busy, "that it was just a year ago to-day that -you and I sat in this chimney-corner as we are sitting now. The clock -marked almost the same hour; the weather was cold and threatening as it -is to-night. You were ill, and were disturbed by melancholy ideas; a -fact that almost makes me believe in the truth of presentiments." - -"What can he be coming to?" thought Madame Delmare, gazing at her cousin -with mingled surprise and uneasiness. - -"Do you remember, Indiana," he continued, "that you felt even less well -than usual that night? Why, I can remember your words as if I had just -heard them. 'You will call me insane,' you said, 'but some danger is -hovering about us and threatening some one of us--threatening me, I have -no doubt,' you added; 'I feel intensely agitated, as if some great -crisis in my destiny were at hand--I am afraid!' Those are your very -words." - -"I am no longer ill," said Indiana, who had suddenly turned as pale as -at the time of which Sir Ralph spoke; "I no longer believe in such -foolish terrors." - -"But I believe in them," he rejoined, "for you were a true prophet that -night, Indiana; a great danger did threaten us--a disastrous influence -surrounded this peaceful abode." - -"_Mon Dieu!_ I do not understand you!" - -"You soon will understand me, my poor girl. That was the evening that -Raymon de Ramière was brought here. Do you remember in what condition?" - -Ralph paused a few seconds, but dared not look at his cousin. As she -made no reply, he continued: - -"I was told to bring him back to life and I did so, as much to satisfy -you as to obey the instincts of humanity; but, in truth, Indiana, it was -a great misfortune that I saved that man's life! It was I who did all -the harm." - -"I don't know what you mean by harm!" rejoined Indiana, dryly. - -She was deeply moved in advance by the explanation which she foresaw. - -"I mean that unfortunate creature's death," said Ralph. "But for him she -would still be alive; but for his fatal love the lovely, honest girl who -loved you so dearly would still be at your side." - -Thus far Madame Delmare did not understand. She was exasperated beyond -measure by the strange and cruel method which her cousin adopted to -reproach her for her attachment to Monsieur de Ramière. - -"Enough of this," she said, rising. - -But Ralph apparently took no notice of her remark. - -"What always astonished me," he continued, "was that you never guessed -the real motive that led Monsieur de Ramière to scale the walls." - -A suspicion darted through Indiana's mind; her legs trembled under her, -and she resumed her seat. - -Ralph had buried the knife in her breast and made a ghastly wound. He no -sooner saw the effect of his work than he hated himself for it; he -thought only of the injury he had inflicted on the person whom he loved -best in all the world; he felt that his heart was breaking. He would -have wept bitterly if he could have wept; but the poor fellow had not -the gift of tears; he had naught of that which eloquently translates the -language of the heart. The external coolness with which he performed the -cruel operation gave him the air of an executioner in Indiana's eyes. - -"This is the first time," she said bitterly, "that I have known your -antipathy for Monsieur de Ramière to lead you to employ weapons that -are unworthy of you; but I do not see how it assists your vengeance to -stain the memory of a person who was dear to me, and whom her melancholy -end should have made sacred to us. I have asked you no questions, Sir -Ralph; I do not know what you refer to. With your permission I will -listen to no more." - -She rose and left Monsieur Brown bewildered and crushed. - -He had foreseen that he could not enlighten Madame Delmare except at his -own expense. His conscience had told him that he must speak, whatever -the result might be, and he had done it with all the abruptness of -method, all the awkwardness of execution of which he was capable. What -he had not fully appreciated was the violence of a remedy so long -delayed. - -He left Lagny in despair and wandered through the forest in a sort of -frenzy. - -It was midnight; Raymon was at the park gate. He opened it, but as he -opened it he felt his brow grow chill. For what purpose had he come to -this rendezvous? He had made divers virtuous resolutions, but would he -be amply rewarded by a chaste interview, by a sisterly kiss, for the -torture he was undergoing at that moment? For, if you remember under -what circumstances he had previously passed through those garden paths, -stealthily, at night, you will understand that it required a certain -degree of moral courage to go in search of pleasure along such a road -and amid such memories. - -Late in October the climate of the suburbs of Paris becomes damp and -foggy, especially at night and in the neighborhood of streams. Chance -decreed that the fog should be as dense on this night as on certain -other nights in the preceding spring. Raymon felt his way along the -mist-enveloped trees. He passed a summer-house which contained a fine -collection of geraniums in winter. He glanced at the door, and his heart -beat fast at the extravagant idea that it might open and give egress to -a woman wrapped in a pelisse. Raymon smiled at this superstitious -weakness and went his way. Nevertheless the cold seized him, and he felt -an unpleasant tightness at his throat as he approached the stream. - -He had to cross it to reach the flower-garden, and the only means of -crossing in that vicinity was a narrow wooden bridge. The fog became -more dismal than ever over the river-bed, and Raymon clung to the -railing of the bridge in order not to go astray among the reeds that -grew along the banks. The moon was just rising, and, as it strove to -pierce the vapors, cast an uncertain light on the plants which the wind -and the current moved to and fro. In the breeze which rustled the leaves -and ruffled the surface of the water there was a sort of wailing sound -like human words half-spoken. There was a faint sob close beside Raymon -and a sudden movement among the reeds; it was a curlew flying away at -his approach. The cry of that shore-bird closely resembles the moaning -of an abandoned child; and when it comes up from among the reeds you -would say that it was the last effort of a drowning man. Perhaps you -will consider that Raymon was very weak and cowardly; his teeth -chattered and he nearly fell; but he soon realized the absurdity of his -terror and crossed the bridge. - -He was half-way across when a human figure appeared in front of him, at -the end of the rail, as if waiting for him to approach. Raymon's ideas -became confused; his bewildered brain had not the strength to reason. He -retraced his steps and hid among the trees, gazing with a fixed, -terrified stare at that ill-defined apparition which remained in the -same place, as vague and uncertain as the river mist and the trembling -rays of the moon. He was beginning to believe that in his mental -preoccupation he had been deceived, and that what he took for a human -form was only a tree-trunk or the stalk of a shrub, when he distinctly -saw it move and walk toward him. - -At that moment, had not his legs absolutely refused to act, he would -have fled in as great a panic as the child who passes a cemetery at -night and fancies that he hears mysterious steps running after him on -the tips of the blades of grass. But he felt as if he were paralyzed, -and, to support himself, threw his arms around the trunk of the willow -behind which he was hidden. The next moment Sir Ralph, wrapped in a -light cloak which gave him the aspect of a phantom at three yards, -passed very close to him and took the path by which he had just come. - -"Bungling spy!" thought Raymon, as he saw him looking for his -footprints. "I will escape your cowardly surveillance, and while you are -mounting guard here I will be enjoying myself yonder." - -He crossed the bridge as lightly as a bird, and with the confidence of a -lover. His terrors were at an end; Noun had never existed; real life was -awakening all about him; Indiana awaited him yonder; and Ralph was on -sentry-go to keep him from entering. - -"Watch closely," said Raymon, gayly, as he saw him in the distance going -in the opposite direction. "Watch for me, dear Sir Rodolphe Brown; -protect my good fortune, O my officious friend; and, if the dogs are -restless, if the servants wake, pacify them, keep them quiet by saying: -'It is I who am watching, sleep in peace.'" - -Scruples, remorse, virtue were at an end for Raymon; he had paid dearly -enough for the hour that was striking. His blood that had frozen in his -veins flowed now toward his brain with maddening violence. A moment ago -the pallid terrors of death, dismal visions of the tomb; now the -impetuous realities of love, the keen joys of life. Raymon felt as bold -and full of animation as in the morning, when an ugly dream has -enveloped us in its shroud and suddenly a merry sunbeam awakens and -revivifies us. - -"Poor Ralph!" he thought as he ascended the secret staircase with a -bold, light step, "you would have it so!" - - - - -PART THIRD - - -XVII - - -On leaving Sir Ralph, Madame Delmare had locked herself into her room, -and a thousand tempestuous thoughts had invaded her mind. It was not the -first time that a vague suspicion had cast its ominous light upon the -fragile edifice of her happiness. Monsieur Delmare had previously let -slip in conversation some of those indelicate jests which pass for -compliments. He had complimented Raymon on his knightly triumphs in a -way to give the cue to ears that knew naught of the incident. Every time -that Madame Delmare had spoken to the gardener, Noun's name had been -injected, as if by an unavoidable necessity, into the most trivial -details, and then Monsieur de Ramière's had always glided in by virtue -of some mysterious junction of ideas which seemed to have taken -possession of the man's brain and to beset him in spite of himself. -Madame Delmare had been struck by his strange and bungling questions. He -became confused in his speech on the slightest pretext; he seemed to be -oppressed by a burden of remorse which he betrayed while struggling to -conceal it. At other times Indiana had found in Raymon's own confusion -those indications which she did not seek, but which forced themselves -upon her. One circumstance in particular would have enlightened her -further, if she had not closed her mind to all distrust. They had found -on Noun's finger a very handsome ring which Madame Delmare had noticed -some time before her death and which the girl claimed to have found. -Since her death Madame Delmare had always worn that pledge of sorrow, -and she had often noticed that Raymon changed color when he took her -hand to put it to his lips. Once he had begged her never to mention Noun -to him because he looked upon himself as the cause of her death; and -when she sought to banish that painful thought by taking all the blame -to herself, he had replied: - -"No, my poor Indiana, do not accuse yourself; you have no idea how -guilty I am." - -Those words, uttered in a bitter, gloomy tone, had alarmed Madame -Delmare. She had not dared to insist, and, now that she was beginning to -understand all these fragments of discoveries, she had not the courage -to fix her thoughts upon them and put them together. - -She opened her window, and, as she looked out upon the calm night, upon -the moon so pale and lovely behind the silvery vapors on the horizon, as -she remembered that Raymon was coming, that he was perhaps in the park -even now, and thought of all the joy she had anticipated in that hour of -love and mystery, she cursed Ralph who with a word had poisoned her hope -and destroyed her repose forever. She even felt that she hated him, the -unhappy man who had been a father to her and who had sacrificed his -future for her; for his future was Indiana's friendship; that was his -only treasure, and he resigned himself to the certainty of forfeiting it -in order to save her. - -Indiana could not read in the depths of his heart, nor had she been able -to fathom Raymon's. She was unjust, not from ingratitude, but from -ignorance. Being under the influence of a strong passion she could not -but feel strongly the blow that had been dealt her. For an instant she -laid the whole crime upon Ralph, preferring to accuse him rather than to -suspect Raymon. - -And then she had so little time to collect her thoughts, and make up her -mind: Raymon was coming. Perhaps it was he whom she had seen for some -minutes wandering about the little bridge. How much more intense would -her aversion for Ralph have been at that moment, if she could have -recognized him in that vague figure, which constantly appeared and -disappeared in the mist, and which, like a spirit stationed at the gate -of the Elysian Fields, sought to keep the guilty man from entering! - -Suddenly there came to her mind one of those strange, half-formed ideas, -which only restless and unhappy persons are capable of conceiving. She -risked her whole destiny upon a strange and delicate test against which -Raymon could not be on his guard. She had hardly completed her -mysterious preparations when she heard Raymon's footsteps on the secret -stairway. She ran and unlocked the door, then returned to her chair, so -agitated that she felt that she was on the point of falling; but, as in -all the great crises of her life, she retained a remarkable clearness of -perception and great strength of mind. - -Raymon was still pale and breathless when he opened the door; impatient -to see the light, to grasp reality once more. Indiana's back was turned -to him, she was wrapped in a fur-lined pelisse. By a strange chance it -was the same that Noun wore when she went to meet him in the park at -their last rendezvous. I do not know if you remember that at that time -Raymon had had for an instant the untenable idea that that woman -shrouded in her cloak was Madame Delmare. Now, when he saw once more the -same apparition sitting inert in a chair, with her head on her breast, -by the light of a pale, flickering lamp, on the same spot where so many -memories awaited him, in that room which he had not entered since the -darkest night in his life and which was full to overflowing of his -remorse, he involuntarily recoiled and remained in the doorway, his -terrified gaze fixed upon that motionless figure, and trembling like a -coward, lest, when it turned, it should display the livid features of a -drowned woman. - -Madame Delmare had no suspicion of the effect she produced upon Raymon. -She had wound about her head a handkerchief of India silk, tied -carelessly in true creole style; it was Noun's usual head-dress. Raymon, -fairly overcome by terror, nearly fell backward, thinking that his -superstitious fancies were realized. But, recognizing the woman he had -come to seduce, he forgot the one whom he had seduced and walked toward -her. Her face wore a grave, meditative expression: she gazed earnestly -at him, but with close attention rather than affection, and did not make -a motion to draw him to her side more quickly. - -Raymon, surprised by this reception, attributed it to some scruple of -chastity, to some girlish impulse of delicacy or constraint. He knelt at -her feet, saying: - -"Are you afraid of me, my beloved?" But at that moment he noticed that -Madame Delmare held something in her hands to which she seemed to direct -his attention with a playful affectation of gravity. He looked more -closely and saw a mass of black hair, of varying lengths, which seemed -to have been cut in haste, and which Indiana was smoothing with her -hand. - -"Do you recognize it?" she asked, fastening upon him her limpid eyes, in -which there was a peculiar, penetrating gleam. - -Raymon hesitated, looked again at the handkerchief about her head, and -thought that he understood. - -"Naughty girl!" he said, taking the hair in his hand, "why did you cut -it off? It was so beautiful, and I loved it so dearly!" - -"You asked me yesterday," she said with the shadow of a smile, "if I -would sacrifice it to you." - -"O Indiana!" cried Raymon, "you know well that you will be lovelier than -ever to me henceforth. Give it to me. I do not choose to regret the -absence from your head of that glorious hair which I admired every day, -and which now I can kiss every day without restraint. Give it to me, so -that it may never leave me." - -But as he gathered up in his hand that luxuriant mass of which some -locks reached to the floor, Raymon fancied that it had a dry, rough -feeling which his fingers had never noticed in the silken tresses over -Indiana's forehead. He was conscious, also, of an indefinable nervous -thrill, it felt so cold and dead, as if it had been cut a long time, and -seemed to have lost its perfumed moisture and vital warmth. Then he -looked at it again, and sought in vain the blue gleam which made -Indiana's hair resemble the blue-black wing of the crow; this was of an -Ethiopian black, of an Indian texture, of a lifeless heaviness. - -Indiana's bright piercing eyes followed Raymon's. He turned them -involuntarily upon an open ebony casket from which several locks of the -same hair protruded. - -"This is not yours," he said, untying the kerchief which concealed -Madame Delmare's hair. - -It was untouched, and fell over her shoulders in all its splendor. But -she made a gesture as if to push him away and said, still pointing to -the hair: - -"Don't you recognize this? Did you never admire, never caress it? Has -the damp night air robbed it of all its fragrance? Have you not a -thought, a tear for her who wore this ring?" - -Raymon sank upon a chair; Noun's locks fell from his trembling hand. So -much painful excitement had exhausted him. He was a man of choleric -temper, whose blood flowed rapidly, whose nerves were easily and deeply -irritated. He shivered from head to foot and fell in a swoon on the -floor. - -When he came to himself, Madame Delmare was on her knees beside him, -weeping copiously and asking his forgiveness; but Raymon no longer loved -her. - -"You have inflicted a horrible wound on me," he said; "a wound which it -is not in your power to cure. You will never restore the confidence I -had in your heart; that is evident to me. You have shown me how -vindictive and cruel your heart can be. Poor Noun! poor unhappy girl! It -was she whom I treated badly, not you; it was she who had the right to -avenge herself, and she did not. She took her own life in order to leave -me the future. She sacrificed herself to my repose. You are not the -woman to have done as much, madame! Give me her hair; it is mine--it -belongs to me; it is all that remains to me of the only woman who ever -loved me truly. Unhappy Noun! you were worthy of a better love! And you, -madame, dare to reproach me with her death; you, whom I loved so well -that I forgot her--that I defied the ghastly torture of remorse; you -who, on the faith of a kiss, have led me across that river--across that -bridge--alone, with terror at my side, pursued by the infernal illusions -of my crime! And when you discover with what a frantic passion I love -you, you bury your woman's nails in my heart, seeking there another drop -of blood which may still be made to flow for you! Ah! when I spurned so -devoted a love to take up with so savage a passion as yours, I was no -less mad than guilty." - -Madame Delmare did not reply. Pale and motionless, with dishevelled hair -and staring eyes, she moved Raymon to pity. He took her hand. - -"And yet," he said, "this love I feel for you is so blind that, in spite -of myself, I can still forget the past and the present--the sin that -blasted my life and the crime you have just committed. So love me, and I -will forgive you." - -Madame Delmare's despair rekindled desire and pride in her lover's -heart. When he saw how dismayed she was at the thought of losing his -love--how humble before him, how resigned to accept his decrees for the -future by way of atonement for the past--he remembered what his -intentions had been when he eluded Ralph's vigilance, and he realized -all the advantages of his position. He pretended to be absorbed in a -melancholy, sombre reverie for some moments; he hardly responded to -Indiana's tears and caresses. He waited until her heart should break and -overflow in sobs, until she should realize all the horrors of -desertion--until she should have exhausted all her strength in -heart-rending emotion; and then, when he saw her at his feet, fainting, -utterly worn out, awaiting death at a word from him, he seized her in -his arms with convulsive passion and strained her to his heart. She -yielded like a weak child; she abandoned her lips to him unresistingly. -She was almost dead. - -But suddenly, as if waking from a dream, she snatched herself away from -his burning caresses, rushed to the end of the room where Sir Ralph's -portrait hung on the panel; and, as if she would place herself under the -protection of that grave personage with the unruffled brow and tranquil -lips, she shrank back against the portrait, wild-eyed, quivering from -head to foot, in the clutches of a strange fear. It was this that made -Raymon think that she had been deeply moved in his arms--that she was -afraid of herself--that she was his. He ran to her; drew her by force -from her retreat, and told her that he had come with the purpose of -keeping his promises, but that her cruel treatment of him had absolved -him from his oath. - -"I am no longer either your slave or your ally," he said. "I am simply -the man who loves you madly and who has you in his arms, a wicked, -capricious, cruel, mad creature, but lovely and adored. With sweet, -confiding words you might have cooled my blood. Had you been as calm and -generous as yesterday, you would have made me mild and submissive as -usual. But you have kindled all my passions, overturned all my ideas. -You have made me unhappy, cowardly, ill, frantic, desperate, one after -another. You must make me happy now, or I feel that I can no longer -believe in you--that I can no longer love you or bless you. Forgive me, -Indiana, forgive me! If I frighten you it is your own fault; you have -made me suffer so that I have lost my reason!" - -Indiana trembled in every limb. She knew so little of life that she -believed resistance to be impossible; she was ready to concede from fear -what she would refuse from love; but, as she struggled feebly in -Raymon's arms, she said, in desperation: - -"So you are capable of using force with me?" - -Raymon paused, impressed with this moral resistance, which survived -physical resistance. He hastily pushed her away. - -"Never!" he cried: "I would rather die than possess you except by your -own will!" - -He threw himself on his knees, and all that the mind can supply in place -of the heart, all the poesy that the imagination can impart to the ardor -of the blood, he expressed in a fervent and dangerous entreaty. And when -he saw that she did not surrender, he yielded to necessity and -reproached her with not loving him; a commonplace expedient which he -despised and which made him smile, with a feeling of something like -shame at having to do with a woman so innocent as not to smile at it -herself. - -That reproach went to Indiana's heart more swiftly than all the -exclamations with which Raymon had embellished his discourse. - -But suddenly she remembered. - -"Raymon," she said, "the other, who loved you so dearly--of whom we were -speaking just now--she refused you nothing, I suppose?" - -"Nothing!" exclaimed Raymon, annoyed by this inopportune reminder. -"Instead of reminding me of her so continually, you would do well to -make me forget how dearly she loved me!" - -"Listen!" rejoined Indiana, thoughtfully and gravely; "have a little -courage, for I must say something more. Perhaps you have not been as -guilty towards me as I thought. It would be sweet to me to be able to -forgive you for what I considered a mortal insult. Tell me then--when I -surprised you here--for whom did you come? for her or for me?" - -Raymon hesitated; then, as he thought that the truth would soon be known -to Madame Delmare, that perhaps she knew it already, he answered: - -"For her." - -"Well, I prefer it so," she said sadly; "I prefer an infidelity to an -insult. Be frank to the end, Raymon. How long had you been in my room -when I came? Remember that Ralph knows all, and that, if I chose to -question him----" - -"There is no need of Sir Ralph's testimony, madame. I had been here -since the night before." - -"And you had passed the night in this room. Your silence is a sufficient -answer." - -They both remained silent for some moments; then Indiana rose and was -about to continue, when a sharp knock at the door checked the flow of -the blood in her veins. Neither she nor Raymon dared to breathe. - -A paper was slipped under the door. It was a leaf from a note-book on -which these words were scrawled in pencil, almost illegibly: - -"Your husband is here. - -"RALPH." - - - - -XVIII - - -"This is a wretchedly devised falsehood," said Raymon, as soon as the -sound of Ralph's footsteps had died away. "Sir Ralph needs a lesson, and -I will administer it in such shape----" - -"I forbid it," said Indiana, in a cold, determined tone: "my husband is -here: Ralph never lied. You and I are lost. There was a time when the -thought would have frozen me with horror; to-day it matters little to -me!" - -"Very well!" said Raymon, seizing her in his arms excitedly, "since -death encompasses us, be mine! Forgive everything, and let your last -word in this supreme moment be a word of love, my last breath a breath -of joy." - -"This moment of terror and courage might have been the sweetest moment -in my life," she said, "but you have spoiled it for me." - -There was a rumbling of wheels in the farmyard, and the bell at the gate -of the château was rung by a strong and impatient hand. - -"I know that ring," said Indiana, watchful and cool. "Ralph did not lie; -but you have time to escape; go!" - -"I will not," cried Raymon; "I suspect some despicable treachery and you -shall not be the only victim. I will remain and my breast shall protect -you----" - -"There is no treachery--listen--the servants are stirring and the gate -will be opened directly. Go: the trees in the garden will conceal you, -and the moon is not fairly out yet. Not a word more, but go!" - -Raymon was compelled to obey; but she accompanied him to the foot of the -stairs and cast a searching glance about the flower-garden. All was -silent and calm. She stood a long while on the last stair, listening -with terror to the grinding of his footsteps on the gravel, entirely -oblivious of her husband's arrival. What cared she for his suspicions -and his anger, provided that Raymon was out of danger? - -As for him he crossed the stream and hurried swiftly through the park. -He reached the small gate and, in his excitement, had some difficulty in -opening it. He was no sooner in the road than Sir Ralph appeared in -front of him and said with as much _sang-froid_ as if he were accosting -him at a party: - -"Be good enough to let me have that key. If there should be a search for -it, it would be less inconvenient for it to be found in my hands." - -Raymon would have preferred the most deadly insult to this satirical -generosity. - -"I am not the man to forget a well-meant service," said he; "I am the -man to avenge an insult and to punish treachery." - -Sir Ralph changed neither his tone nor his expression. - -"I want none of your gratitude," he rejoined, "and I await your -vengeance tranquilly; but this is no time to talk. There is your -path--think of Madame Delmare's good name." - -And he disappeared. - -This night of agitation had overturned Raymon's brain so completely that -he would readily have believed in witchcraft at that moment. He reached -Cercy at daybreak and went to bed with a raging fever. - -As for Madame Delmare, she did the honors of the breakfast table for her -husband and cousin with much calmness and dignity. She had not as yet -reflected upon her situation; she was absolutely under the influence of -instinct, which enjoined _sang-froid_ and presence of mind upon her. The -colonel was gloomy and thoughtful, but it was his business alone that -preoccupied him, and no jealous suspicion found a place in his thoughts. - -Toward evening Raymon mustered courage to think about his love; but that -love had diminished materially. He loved obstacles; but he hated to be -bored and he foresaw that he should be bored times without number now -that Indiana had the right to reproach him. However, he remembered at -last that his honor demanded that he should inquire for her, and he sent -his servant to prowl around Lagny and find out what was going on there. -The servant brought him the following letter which Madame Delmare -herself had handed him: - -"I hoped last night that I should lose either my reason or my life. -Unhappily for me I have retained both; but I will not complain, I have -deserved the suffering that I am undergoing; I chose to live this -tempestuous life; it would be cowardly to recoil to-day. I do not know -whether you are guilty, I do not want to know. We will never return to -that subject, will we? It causes us both too much suffering: so let this -be the last time it is mentioned between us. - -"You said one thing at which I felt a cruel joy. Poor Noun! from your -place in heaven forgive me! you no longer suffer, you no longer love, -perhaps you pity me! You told me, Raymon, that you sacrificed that -unhappy girl to me, that you loved me better than her. Oh! do not take -it back; you said it, and I feel so strongly the need to believe it that -I do believe it. And yet your conduct last night, your entreaties, your -wild outbreaks, might well have made me doubt it. I forgave you on -account of the mental disturbance under which you were laboring; but now -you have had time to reflect, to become yourself once more; tell me, -will you renounce loving me in that way? I, who love you with my heart, -have believed hitherto that I could arouse in you a love as pure as my -own. And then I had not thought very much about the future; I had not -looked ahead very far, and I had not taken alarm at the thought that the -day might come when, conquered by your devotion, I should sacrifice to -you my scruples and my repugnance. But to-day, it can no longer be the -same; I can see in the future only a ghastly parallel between myself and -Noun! Oh! the thought of being loved no more than she was! If I believed -it! And yet she was lovelier than I, far lovelier! Why did you prefer -me? You must have loved me differently and better.--That is what I -wanted you to say. Will you give up being my lover in the way that you -have been? In that case I can still esteem you, believe in your remorse, -your sincerity, your love; if not, think of me no more, you will never -see me again. I shall die of it perhaps, but I would rather die than -descend so low as to be your mistress." - -Raymon was sorely embarrassed as to how he should reply. This pride -offended him; he had never supposed hitherto that a woman who had thrown -herself into his arms could resist him thus outspokenly and give reasons -for her resistance. - -"She does not love me," he said to himself; "her heart is dry, she is -naturally overbearing." - -From that moment he loved her no longer. She had ruffled his -self-esteem; she had disappointed his hope of triumph, defeated his -anticipations of pleasure. In his eyes she was no more than Noun had -been. Poor Indiana! who longed to be so much more! Her passionate love -was misunderstood, her blind confidence was spurned. Raymon had never -understood her; how could he have continued to love her? - -Thereupon he swore, in his irritation, that he would triumph over her; -he swore it not from a feeling of pride but in a revengeful spirit. It -was no longer a matter of snatching a new pleasure, but of punishing an -insult; of possessing a woman, but of subduing her. He swore that he -would be her master, were it for but a single day, and that then he -would abandon her, to have the satisfaction of seeing her at his feet. - -On the spur of the moment he wrote this letter: - -"You want me to promise. Foolish girl, can you think of such a thing? I -will promise whatever you choose, because I can do nothing but obey you; -but, if I break my promises I shall be guilty neither to God nor to you. -If you loved me, Indiana, you would not inflict these cruel torments on -me, you would not expose me to the risk of perjuring myself, you would -not blush at the thought of being my mistress. But you think that in my -arms you would be degraded----" - -He felt that his bitterness was making itself manifest, despite his -efforts; he tore up this sheet, and, after taking time to reflect, began -anew: - -"You admit that you nearly lost your reason last night; for my part, I -lost mine altogether. I was culpable--but no, I was mad! Forget those -hours of suffering and excitement. I am calm now; I have reflected; I am -still worthy of you. Bless you, my angel from heaven, for saving me from -myself, for reminding me how I ought to love you. Now, Indiana, command -me! I am your slave, as you well know. I would give my life for an hour -in your arms; but I can suffer a whole lifetime to obtain a smile from -you. I will be your friend, your brother, nothing more. If I suffer, you -shall not know it. If my blood boils when I am near you, if my breast -takes fire, if a cloud passes before my eyes when I touch your hand, if -a sweet kiss from your lips, a sisterly kiss, scorches my forehead, I -will order my blood to be calm, my brain to grow cool, my mouth to -respect you. I will be gentle, I will be submissive, I will be -unhappy,--if you will be the happier therefor and enjoy my agony,--if -only I may hear you tell me again that you love me! Oh! tell me so! give -me back your confidence and my joy! tell me when we shall meet again. I -know not what result the events of last night may have had; how does it -happen that you do not refer to the subject, that you leave me in an -agony of suspense? Carle saw you all three walking together in the park. -The colonel seemed ill or depressed, but not angry. In that case that -Ralph did not betray us! What a strange man! But to what extent can we -rely on his discretion; and how shall I dare show myself at Lagny now -that our fate is in his hands? But I will dare. If it is necessary to -stoop so low as to implore him, I will silence my pride, I will overcome -my aversion, I will do anything rather than lose you. A word from you -and I will burden my life with as much remorse as I am able to carry; -for you I would abandon my mother herself; for you I would commit any -crime. Ah! if you realized the depth of my love, Indiana!" - -The pen fell from Raymon's hands; he was terribly fatigued, he was -falling asleep. But he read over his letter to make sure that his ideas -had not suffered from the influence of drowsiness; but it was impossible -for him to understand his own meaning, his brain was so affected by his -physical exhaustion. He rang for his servant, bade him go to Lagny -before daybreak; then slept that deep, refreshing sleep whose tranquil -delights only those who are thoroughly satisfied with themselves really -know. Madame Delmare had not retired; she was unconscious of fatigue and -passed the night writing. When she received Raymon's letter she answered -it in haste: - -"Thanks, Raymon, thanks! you restore my strength and my life. Now I can -dare anything, endure anything; for you love me, and the most severe -tests do not alarm you. Yes, we will meet again--we will defy everybody. -Ralph may do what he will with our secret. I am no longer disturbed -about anything since you love me; I am not even afraid of my husband. - -"You want to know about our affairs? I forgot to mention them yesterday, -and yet they have taken a turn which has an important bearing on my -fortunes. We are ruined. There is some talk of selling Lagny, and even -of going to live in the colonies. But of what consequence is all that? I -cannot make up my mind to think about it. I know that we shall never be -parted. You have sworn it, Raymon; I rely on your promise, do you rely -on my courage. Nothing will frighten me, nothing will turn me back. My -place is established at your side, and death alone can tear me from it." - -"Mere woman's effervescence!" said Raymon, crumpling the letter. -"Romantic projects, perilous undertakings, appeal to their feeble -imaginations as bitter substances arouse a sick man's appetite. I have -succeeded; I have recovered my influence; and, as for all this imprudent -folly with which she threatens me, we will see! It is all characteristic -of the light-headed, false creatures, always ready to undertake the -impossible and making of generosity a show virtue which must be attended -with scandal! Who would think, to read this letter, that she counts her -kisses and doles out her caresses like a miser!" - -That same day he went to Lagny. Ralph was not there, and the colonel -received him amicably and talked to him confidentially. He took him into -the park, where they were less likely to be disturbed, and told him that -he was utterly ruined and that the factory would be offered for sale on -the following day. Raymon made generous offers of assistance, but -Delmare declined them. - -"No, my friend," he said, "I have suffered too much from the thought -that I owed my fate to Ralph's kindness; I was in too much of a hurry to -repay him. The sale of this property will enable me to pay all my debts -at once. To be sure, I shall have nothing left, but I have courage, -energy and business experience; the future is before us. I have built up -my little fortune once, and I can begin it again. I must do it for my -wife's sake, for she is young, and I don't wish to leave her in poverty. -She still owns an estate of some little value at Ile Bourbon, and I -propose to go into retirement there and start in business afresh. In a -few years--in ten years at most--I hope that we shall meet again." - -Raymon pressed the colonel's hand, smiling inwardly at his confidence, -at his speaking of ten years as of a single day, when his bald head and -enfeebled body indicated a feeble hold upon existence, a life near its -close. Nevertheless he pretended to share his hopes. - -"I am delighted to see," he said, "that you do not allow yourself to be -cast down by these reverses. I recognize your manly heart, your -undaunted courage. But does Madame Delmare display the same courage? Do -you not anticipate some resistance on her part to your project of -expatriation?" - -"I shall be very sorry," the colonel replied, "but wives are made to -obey, not to advise. I have not yet definitely made my purpose known to -Indiana. With the exception of yourself, my friend, I do not know what -there is here that she should feel any regret at leaving; and yet I -anticipate tears and nervous attacks, from a spirit of contradiction, if -nothing else. The devil take the women! However, my dear Raymon, I rely -upon you all the same to make my wife listen to reason. She has -confidence in you; use your influence to prevent her from crying. I -detest tears." - -Raymon promised to come again the next day and inform Madame Delmare of -her husband's decision. - -"You will do me a very great favor," said the colonel. "I will take -Ralph to the farm, so that you may have a good chance to talk with her." - -"Well, luck is on my side!" thought Ralph, as he took his leave. - - - - -XIX - - -Monsieur Delmare's plans fell in perfectly with Raymon's wishes. He -foresaw that this love affair which, so far as he was concerned, was -drawing near its close, would soon bring him nothing but annoyance and -importunity, so that he was very glad to see events arranging themselves -in such a way as to save him from the wearisome but inevitable results -of a played-out intrigue. It only remained for him to take advantage of -Madame Delmare's last moments of excitement, and then to leave to his -complaisant destiny the task of ridding him of her tears and reproaches. - -So he returned to Lagny the next day, intending to exalt the unhappy -woman's enthusiasm to its apogee. - -"Do you know, Indiana," he said, when they met, "the part that your -husband has requested me to play with respect to you? A strange -commission, upon my word! I am to entreat you to go with him to Ile -Bourbon; to urge you to leave me; to tear out my heart and my life. Do -you think that he made a good choice of an advocate?" - -Madame Delmare's sombre gravity imposed a sort of respect on Raymon's -cunning. - -"Why do you come and tell me all this?" she said. "Are you afraid that I -shall allow myself to be moved? Are you afraid that I shall obey? Never -fear, Raymon, my mind is made up; I have passed two nights looking at it -on every side; I know to what I expose myself; I know what I must defy, -what I must sacrifice, what I must disdain to notice; I am ready to pass -through this stormy period of my destiny. Will not you be my support and -my guide?" - -Raymon was tempted to take fright at this cool determination and to take -these insane threats seriously; but in a moment he recurred to his -former opinion that Indiana did not really love him, and that she was -applying now to her situation the exaggerated sentiments she had learned -from books. He strove to be eloquent with passion, he devoted his -energies to dramatic improvisation, in order to maintain himself on his -romantic mistress's level, and he succeeded in prolonging her error. -But, to a calm and impartial auditor, this love scene would have seemed -a contest between stage illusion and reality. The grandiloquence of -Raymon's sentiments, the poesy of his ideas would have seemed a cold and -cruel parody of the real sentiments which Indiana expressed so simply: -in the one case mind, in the other heart. - -Raymon, who however had some little fear that she might carry out her -promises if he did not shrewdly undermine the plan of resistance she had -formed, persuaded her to counterfeit submission or indifference until -such time as she could come forth in open rebellion. It was essential, -he said, that they should have left Lagny before she declared herself, -in order to avoid a scandal in presence of the servants, and Ralph's -dangerous intervention in the affair. - -But Ralph did not leave his unfortunate friends. In vain did he offer -his whole fortune, his Bellerive estate, his English consols, and -whatever his plantations in the colonies would bring; the colonel was -inflexible. His affection for Ralph had diminished; he was no longer -willing to owe anything to him. Ralph might perhaps have been able to -move him had he possessed Raymon's wit and address; but when he had -plainly set forth his ideas and declared his sentiments, the poor -baronet believed that he had said everything, and he never attempted to -secure the retraction of a refusal. So he let Bellerive and followed -Monsieur and Madame Delmare to Paris, pending their departure for Ile -Bourbon. - -Lagny was offered for sale with the factory and the appurtenances. The -winter was a melancholy and depressing one to Madame Delmare. To be -sure, Raymon was in Paris, he saw her every day, he was attentive and -affectionate; but he remained barely an hour with her. He arrived just -after dinner, and when the colonel went out on business, he also took -his leave to attend some social function or other. Society, you know, -was Raymon's element, his life; he must have the noise, the bustle, the -crowd, to breathe freely, to display all his intellectual power, all his -ease of manner, all his superiority. In the privacy of the boudoir he -could make himself attractive, in society he became brilliant; and then -he was no longer the man of a small coterie, the friend of this one or -that one; he was the man of intellect who belongs to all alike, and to -whom society is a sort of fatherland. - -And then, as we have said, Raymon had some principle. When the colonel -manifested such confidence in him and esteem for him, when he saw that -he regarded him as the very type of honor and sincerity and desired him -to act as mediator between his wife and himself, he determined to -justify that confidence, to deserve that esteem, to reconcile that -husband and wife, to repel any attachment on the part of the latter -which might endanger the repose of the other. He became once more a -moral, virtuous, philosophical person. You will see for how long. - -Indiana, who did not understand this conversion, suffered horribly to be -so neglected; and yet she still had the satisfaction of feeling that her -hopes were not entirely destroyed. She was easily deceived; she asked -nothing better than to be deceived, her real life was so bitter and -desolate! Her husband had become almost impossible to live with. In -public he affected the heroic courage and indifference of a brave man; -but when he returned to the privacy of his own home he was simply an -irritable, severe, absurd child. Indiana was the victim of his disgust -with life, and, we must confess, she was largely to blame. If she had -raised her voice, if she had complained, affectionately but forcibly, -Delmare, who was only rough, would have blushed at the idea of being -considered unkind. Nothing was easier than to touch his heart and govern -him absolutely, if one chose to descend to his level and enter into the -circle of ideas that were within the scope of his mind. But Indiana was -stiff and haughty in her submissiveness; she always obeyed in silence; -but it was the silence and submissiveness of the slave who has made of -hatred a virtue and of unhappiness a merit. Her resignation was the -dignity of a king who accepts fetters and a dungeon rather than -voluntarily abdicate his throne and lay aside a vain title. A woman of a -commoner mould would have mastered that commonplace man; she would have -said what he said and reserved the right to think differently; she would -have pretended to respect his prejudices and secretly have trampled them -under foot; she would have caressed him and deceived him. Indiana saw -many women who acted thus; but she felt so far above them that she would -have blushed to imitate them. Being virtuous and chaste, she thought -that she was not called upon to flatter her master by her words so long -as she respected him in his actions. She did not care for his affection -because she could not respond to it. She would have considered it far -more blameworthy to make a show of love for the husband whom she did not -love, than to give her heart to the lover who inspired love in her. To -deceive was the crime in her eyes, and twenty times a day she felt that -she must declare her love for Raymon; naught detained her but the fear -of ruining him. Her impassive obedience irritated the colonel much more -than a cleverly managed rebellion would have done. Although his -self-esteem would have suffered if he had ceased to be master in his own -house, it suffered much more from the consciousness that he was master -in a hateful and absurd fashion. He would have liked to convince and he -simply commanded; to reign, and he governed. Sometimes he gave an order -that was awkwardly expressed, or, without reflection, issued orders that -were injurious to his own interests. Madame Delmare saw that they were -carried out without scrutiny, without question, with the indifference of -the horse that draws the plough in one direction or another. Delmare, -when he saw the result of the failure to understand his ideas, of the -misconstruction of his wishes, would fly into a rage; but when she had -proved to him with a few tranquil, icy words that she had simply caused -his orders to be obeyed, he was reduced to the necessity of turning his -wrath against himself. It was a cruel pang, a bitter affront to that man -of petty self-esteem and of violent passions. - -Several times he would have killed his wife, if he had been at Smyrna or -at Cairo. And yet he loved with all his heart that weak woman who lived -in subjection to him and kept the secret of his ill-treatment with -religious prudence. He loved her or pitied her--I do not know which. He -would have liked to win her love, for he was proud of her education and -of her superiority. He would have risen in his own eyes if she would -have stooped so far as to parley with his ideas and his principles. When -he went to her apartments in the morning with the purpose of picking a -quarrel with her, he sometimes found her asleep and dared not wake her. -He would gaze at her in silence; he would take fright at the delicacy of -her constitution, the pallor of her cheeks, at the air of calm -melancholy, of resignation to misfortune expressed by that motionless -and silent face. He would find in her features innumerable subjects of -self-reproach, remorse, anger and dread. He would blush at the thought -of the influence which so frail a creature had exerted over his -destiny--he, a man of iron, accustomed to command others, to see whole -battalions, spirited horses and frightened men march at a word from his -lips. - -And a wife who was still but a child had made him unhappy! She forced -him to look within himself--to scrutinize his own decisions, to modify -many of them, to retract some of them--and all this without saying: "You -are wrong; I beg that you will do thus or thus." She had never implored, -she had never deigned to show herself his equal and to avow herself his -companion. That woman, whom he could have crushed in his hand if he had -chosen, lay there, an insignificant creature, dreaming of another before -his eyes, perhaps, and defying him even in her sleep. He was tempted to -strangle her--to drag her out of bed by the hair, to trample on her and -force her to shriek for mercy and to implore his forgiveness; but she -was so pretty, so dainty and so fair, that he would suddenly take pity -on her, as a child is moved to pity as he gazes at the bird he intended -to kill. And he would weep like a woman, man of bronze as he was, and -would steal away so that she might not enjoy the triumph of seeing him -weep. In truth I know not which was the unhappier, he or she. She was -cruel from virtue, as he was kind from weakness; she had too much -patience, of which he had not enough; she had the failings of her good -qualities and he the good qualities of his failings. - -Around these two ill-assorted beings swarmed a multitude of friends who -strove to bring them nearer together, some in order to have something to -occupy their minds, others to give themselves importance, others as the -result of ill-advised affection. Some took the wife's part, others the -husband's. They quarrelled among themselves on the subject of Monsieur -and Madame Delmare, who, on the other hand, did not quarrel at all; for, -with Indiana's systematic submission, the colonel could never succeed in -picking a quarrel, whatever he might do. And then there were those who -knew nothing, but wanted to make themselves necessary. They counselled -submission to Madame Delmare and did not see that she was only too -submissive; others advised the husband to be inflexible and not to allow -his authority to pass into his wife's hands. These last, stupid mortals -who have so little feeling that they are always afraid that some one is -treading on them and who mistake cause and effect for each other, belong -to a species which you will find everywhere, which is constantly getting -entangled in other people's legs and makes a deal of noise in order to -attract attention. - -Monsieur and Madame Delmare had made a particularly large number of -acquaintances at Melun and at Fontainebleau. They met these people again -at Paris, and they were the keenest in the game of evil-speaking that -was being played about them. The wit of small towns is, as you doubtless -know, the most ill-natured in the world. Good people are always -misunderstood there, superior minds are sworn foes of the public. If a -battle is to be fought for a fool or a boor you will see them running -from all directions. If you have a dispute with any one, they come to -look on as at the theatre; they make bets; they crowd upon your heels, -so eager are they to see and hear. The one who falls they will cover -with mud and maledictions; the weakest is always in the wrong. If you -make war on prejudices, petty foibles, vices, you insult them -personally, you attack them in what they hold most dear, you are a -treacherous and dangerous man. You will be summoned before the courts to -make reparation by people whose names you do not know, but whom you will -be convicted of having referred to in your slurring allusions. What -advice shall I give you? If you meet one of these people, avoid stepping -in his shadow, even at sunset, when a man's shadow is thirty feet long; -all that ground belongs to the inhabitant of the small town, and you -have no right to set foot upon it. If you breathe the air that he -breathes, you injure him, you destroy his health; if you drink at his -fountain, you cause it to run dry; if you lend a hand to business in his -province, you increase the price of the articles he purchases; if you -offer him snuff, you poison it; if you think his daughter pretty, you -intend to seduce her; if you extol his wife's domestic virtues, it is -insulting irony, and in your heart you despise her for her ignorance; if -you are so ill-advised as to pay him a compliment in his own house, he -will not understand it, and he will go about everywhere saying that you -have insulted him. Take your penates and carry them into the woods or to -the desolate moors. There only will the man of the small town leave you -in peace. - -Even behind the manifold girdle of the walls of Paris the small town -pursued that ill-starred couple. Well-to-do families from Melun and -Fontainebleau took up their abode in the capital for the winter and -brought thither the blessing of their provincial manners. Cliques were -formed around Delmare and his wife, and all that was humanly possible -was attempted in order to make their position with respect to each other -more uncomfortable. Their unhappiness was increased thereby and their -mutual obstinacy did not diminish. - -Ralph had the good sense not to meddle in their dissensions. Madame -Delmare had suspected him of embittering her husband against her, or at -least of seeking to put an end to Raymon's intimacy with her; but she -soon realized the injustice of her suspicions. The colonel's perfect -tranquillity with respect to Monsieur de Ramière was irrefutable -evidence of her cousin's silence. Thereupon she felt that she must thank -him; but he sedulously avoided any conversation on that subject; -whenever she was alone with him, he eluded her hints and pretended not -to understand them. It was such a delicate subject that Madame Delmare -had not the courage to force Ralph to discuss it; she simply endeavored, -by her loving attentions, by her delicate and affectionate deference to -him, to make him understand her gratitude; but Ralph seemed to pay no -heed, and Indiana's pride was wounded by this display of supercilious -generosity. She was afraid that she should seem to play the rôle of the -guilty wife imploring the indulgence of a stern witness; she became cold -and constrained once more with poor Ralph. It seemed to her that his -conduct in this matter was the natural consequence of his selfishness; -that he loved her still, although he no longer esteemed her; that he -simply desired her society for his own diversion, that he disliked to -abandon habits which she had formed for him in her home and to deprive -himself of the attentions that she was never weary of bestowing upon -him. She fancied that he was by no means anxious to invent grievances -against her husband or herself. - -"That is just like his contempt for women," she thought; "in his eyes -they are simply domestic animals, useful to keep a house in order, -prepare meals and serve tea. He doesn't do them the honor of entering -into a discussion with them; their faults have no effect on him provided -that they do not interfere with his comfort or with his mode of life. -Ralph has no need of my heart; so long as my hands retain the knack of -preparing his pudding and of touching the strings of the harp for him, -what does he care for my love for another man, my secret suffering, my -deathly impatience under the yoke which is crushing me? I am his -servant, he asks nothing more of me than that." - - - - -XX - - -Indiana had ceased to reproach Raymon; he defended himself so badly that -she was afraid of finding him too worthy of blame. There was one thing -which she dreaded much more than being deceived, and that was being -abandoned. She could not live without her belief in him, without her -hope of the future he had promised her; for her life with Monsieur -Delmare and Ralph had become hateful to her, and if she had not expected -soon to escape from the power of those two men, she would have drowned -herself at once. She often thought of it; she said to herself that if -Raymon treated her as he had treated Noun there would be no other way -for her to avoid an unendurable future than to join Noun. That sombre -thought followed her everywhere and she took pleasure in it. - -Meanwhile the time fixed for their departure from France drew near. The -colonel seemed to have no suspicion of the resistance which his wife was -meditating; every day he made some progress in the settlement of his -affairs, every day he paid off one more creditor; and Madame Delmare -looked on with a tranquil eye at all these preparations, sure as she was -of her own courage. She was preparing, too, for her struggle with the -difficulties she anticipated. She sought to procure an ally in her aunt, -Madame de Carvajal, and dilated to her upon her repugnance to the -journey; and the old marchioness who--to give her no more than her -due--built great hopes of attracting _custom_ to her salon upon her -niece's beauty, declared that it was the colonel's duty to leave his -wife in France; that it would be downright barbarity to expose her to -the fatigues and dangers of an ocean voyage when her health had just -begun to show some slight improvement; in a word, that it was his place -to go to work at rebuilding his fortune, Indiana's to remain with her -old aunt and take care of her. At first Monsieur Delmare looked upon -these insinuations as the doting talk of an old woman; but he was forced -to pay more attention to them when Madame de Carvajal gave him clearly -to understand that her inheritance was to be had only at that price. -Although Delmare loved money like a man who had worked hard all his life -to amass it, he had some pride in his composition; he pronounced his -ultimatum with decision, and declared that his wife should go with him -at any risk. The marchioness, who could not believe that money was not -the absolute sovereign of every man of good sense, did not look upon -this as Monsieur Delmare's last word; she continued to encourage her -niece in her resistance, proposing to assume the responsibility for her -action in the eyes of the world. It needed all the indelicacy of a mind -corrupted by intrigue and ambition, all the shuffling of a heart -distorted by constant devotion to mere external show, to close her eyes -thus to the real causes of Indiana's rebellion. Her passion for Monsieur -de Ramière was a secret to no one but her husband; but as Indiana had -as yet given scandal nothing to seize upon, the secret was mentioned -only in undertones, and Madame de Carvajal had been confidentially -informed of it by more than a score of persons. The foolish old woman -was flattered by it; all that she desired was to have her niece _à la -mode_ in society, and an intrigue with Raymon was a fine beginning. And -yet Madame de Carvajal's moral character was not of the Regency type; -the Restoration had given a virtuous impulse to minds of that stamp; and -as _conduct_ was demanded at court, the marchioness detested nothing so -much as the scandal that ruins and destroys. Under Madame du Barry she -would have been less rigid in her principles; under the Dauphiness she -became one of the _high-necked._ But all this was for show, for the sake -of appearances; she kept her disapprobation and her scorn for notorious -misconduct, and she always awaited the result of an intrigue before -condemning it. Those infidelities which did not cross the threshold were -venial in her eyes. She became a Spaniard once more to pass judgment on -passions inside the blinds; in her eyes there was no guilt save that -which was placarded in the streets for passers-by to see. So that -Indiana, passionate but chaste, enamored but reserved, was a precious -subject to exhibit and exploit; such a woman as she was might fascinate -the strongest brains in that hypocritical society and withstand the -perils of the most delicate missions. There was an excellent chance to -speculate on the responsibility of so pure a mind and so passionate a -heart. Poor Indiana! luckily her fatal destiny surpassed all her hopes -and led her into an abyss of misery where her aunt's pernicious -protection did not seek her out. - -Raymon was not disturbed as to what was to become of her. This intrigue -had already reached the last stage of distaste, deathly ennui, so far as -he was concerned. To cause ennui is to descend as low as possible in the -regard of the person whom one loves. Luckily for the last days of her -illusion, Indiana had no suspicion of it. - -One morning, on returning from a ball, he found Madame Delmare in his -room. She had come at midnight; for five mortal hours she had been -waiting! It was in the coldest part of the year; she had no fire, but -sat with her head resting on her hand, enduring cold and anxiety with -the gloomy patience which the whole course of her life had taught her. -She raised her head when he entered, and Raymon, speechless with -amazement, could detect on her pale face no indication of anger or -reproach. - -"I was waiting for you," she said gently; "as you had not come to see me -for three days, and as things have happened which it is important that -you should know without delay, I came here last night in order to tell -you of them." - -"It is imprudent beyond belief!" said Raymon, cautiously locking the -door behind him; "and my people know that you are here! They just told -me so." - -"I made no attempt at concealment," she replied coldly; "and as for the -word you use, I consider it ill-chosen." - -"I said imprudent, I should have said insane." - -"And I should say _courageous._ But no matter; listen to me. Monsieur -Delmare starts for Bordeaux in three days, and sails thence for the -colony. You and I agreed that you should protect me from violence if he -employed it; there is no question that he will, for I made known my -determination last evening and he locked me into my room. I escaped -through a window; see, my hands are bleeding. They may be looking for me -at this moment, but Ralph is at Bellerive so that he will not be able to -tell where I am. I have decided to remain in hiding until Monsieur -Delmare has made up his mind to leave me behind. Have you thought about -making ready for my flight, of preparing a hiding-place for me? It is so -long since I have been able to see you alone, that I do not know what -your present inclinations are; but one day, when I expressed some doubt -concerning your resolution, you told me that you could not imagine love -without confidence; you reminded me that you had never doubted me, you -proved to me that I was unjust, and thereupon I was afraid of remaining -below your level if I did not cast aside such puerile suspicions and the -innumerable little exactions by which women degrade ordinary -love-affairs. I have endured with resignation the brevity of your calls, -the embarrassment of our interviews, the eagerness with which you seemed -to avoid any free exchange of sentiments with me; I have retained my -confidence in you. Heaven is my witness that when anxiety and fear were -gnawing at my heart I spurned them as criminal thoughts. I have come now -to seek the reward of my faith; the time has come; tell me, do you -accept my sacrifices?" - -The crisis was so urgent that Raymon did not feel bold enough to pretend -any longer. Desperate, frantic to find himself caught in his own trap, -he lost his head and vented his temper in coarse and brutal -maledictions. - -"You are a mad woman!" he cried, throwing himself into a chair. "Where -have you dreamed of love? in what romance written for the entertainment -of lady's-maids, have you studied society, I pray to know?" - -He paused, realizing that he had been far too rough, and cudgelling his -brains to find a way of saying the same things in other terms and of -sending her away without insulting her. - -But she was calm, like one prepared to listen to anything. - -"Go on," she said, folding her arms over her heart, whose throbbing -gradually grew less violent; "I am listening; I presume that you have -something more than that to say to me?" - -"Still another effort of the imagination, another love scene," thought -Raymon.--"Never," he cried, springing excitedly to his feet, "never will -I accept such sacrifices! When I told you that I should have the -strength to do it, Indiana, I boasted too much, or rather I slandered -myself; for the man is no better than a dastard who will consent to -dishonor the woman he loves. In your ignorance of life, you failed to -realize the importance of such a plan, and I, in my despair at the -thought of losing you, did not choose to reflect----" - -"Your power of reflection has returned very suddenly!" she said, -withdrawing her hand, which he tried to take. - -"Indiana," he rejoined, "do you not see that you impose the dishonorable -part on me, while you reserve the heroic part for yourself, and that you -condemn me because I desire to remain worthy of your love? Could you -continue to love me, ignorant and simple-hearted woman that you are, if -I sacrificed your life to my pleasure, your reputation to my selfish -interests?" - -"You say things that are very contradictory," said Indiana; "if I made -you happy by remaining with you, what do you care for public opinion? Do -you care more for it than for me?" - -"Oh! I do not care for it on my account, Indiana!" - -"Is it on my account then? I anticipated your scruples and to spare you -anything like remorse I have taken the initiative; I did not wait for -you to come and carry me away from my home, I did not even consult you -with regard to crossing my husband's threshold forever. That decisive -step is taken, and your conscience cannot reproach you for it. At this -moment, Raymon, I am dishonored. In your absence I counted on yonder -clock the hours that consummated my disgrace; and now, although the dawn -finds my brow as pure as it was yesterday, I am a lost creature in -public opinion. Yesterday there was still some compassion for me in the -hearts of other women; to-day there will be no feeling left but -contempt. I considered all these things before acting." - -"Infernal female foresight!" thought Raymon. - -And then, struggling against her as he would have done against a bailiff -who had come to levy on his furniture, he said in a caressing fatherly -tone: - -"You exaggerate the importance of what you have done. No, my love, all -is not lost because of one rash step. I will enjoin silence on my -servants." - -"Will you enjoin silence on mine who, I doubt not, are anxiously looking -for me at this moment. And my husband, do you think he will quietly keep -the secret? do you think he will consent to receive me to-morrow, when I -have passed a whole night under your roof? Will you advise me to go back -and throw myself at his feet, and ask him, as a proof of his -forgiveness, to be kind enough to replace on my neck the chain which has -crushed my life and withered my youth? You would consent, without -regret, to see the woman whom you loved so dearly go back and resume -another man's yoke, when you have her fate in your hands, when you can -keep her in your arms all your life, when she is in your power, offering -to remain there forever! You would not feel the least repugnance, the -least alarm in surrendering her at once to the implacable master, who -perhaps awaits her coming only to kill her!" - -A thought flashed through Raymon's brain. The moment had come to subdue -that womanly pride, or it would never come. She had offered him all the -sacrifices that he did not want, and she stood before him in overweening -confidence that she ran no other risks than those she had foreseen. -Raymon conceived a scheme for ridding himself of her embarrassing -devotion or of deriving some profit from it. He was too good a friend of -Delmare, he owed too much consideration to the man's unbounded -confidence to steal his wife from him; he must content himself with -seducing her. - -"You are right, my Indiana," he cried with animation, "you bring me back -to myself, you rekindle my transports which the thought of your danger -and the dread of injuring you had cooled. Forgive my childish solicitude -and let me prove to you how much of tenderness and genuine love it -denotes. Your sweet voice makes my blood quiver, your burning words pour -fire into my veins; forgive, oh! forgive me for having thought of -anything else than this ineffable moment when I at last possess you. Let -me forget all the dangers that threaten us and thank you on my knees for -the happiness you bring me; let me live entirely in this hour of bliss -which I pass at your feet and for which all my blood would not pay. Let -him come, that dolt of a husband who locks you up and goes to sleep upon -his vulgar brutality, let him come and snatch you from my transports! -let him come and snatch you from my arms, my treasure, my life! -Henceforth you do not belong to him; you are my sweetheart, my -companion, my mistress----" - -As he pleaded thus, Raymon gradually worked himself up, as he was -accustomed to do when _arguing_ his passions. It was a powerful, a -romantic situation; it offered some risks. Raymon loved danger, like a -genuine descendant of a race of valiant knights. Every sound that he -heard in the street seemed to denote the coming of the husband to claim -his wife and his rival's blood. To seek the joys of love in the stirring -emotions of such a situation was a diversion worthy of Raymon. For a -quarter of an hour he loved Madame Delmare passionately, he lavished -upon her the seductions of burning eloquence. He was truly powerful in -his language and sincere in his behavior--this man whose ardent brain -considered love-making a polite accomplishment. He played at passion so -well that he deceived himself. Shame upon that foolish woman! She -abandoned herself in ecstasy to those treacherous demonstrations; she -was happy, she was radiant with hope and joy; she forgave everything, -she almost accorded everything. - -But Raymon ruined himself by over-precipitation. If he had carried his -art so far as to prolong for twenty-four hours the situation in which -Indiana had risked herself, she would perhaps have been his. But the day -was breaking, bright and rosy; the sun poured floods of light into the -room, and the noise in the street increased with every moment. Raymon -cast a glance at the clock; it was nearly seven. - -"It is time to have done with it," he thought; "Delmare may appear at -any moment, and before that happens I must induce her to return home -voluntarily." - -He became more urgent and less tender; the pallor of his lips betrayed -the working of an impatience more imperious than delicate. There was in -his kisses a sort of abruptness, almost anger. Indiana was afraid. A -good angel spread its wings over that wavering and bewildered soul; she -came to herself and repelled the attacks of cold and selfish vice. - -"Leave me," she said; "I do not propose to yield through weakness what I -am willing to accord for love or gratitude. You cannot need proofs of my -affection; my presence here is a sufficiently decisive one, and I bring -the future with me. But allow me to keep all the strength of my -conscience to contend against the powerful obstacles that still separate -us; I need stoicism and tranquillity." - -"What are you talking about?" angrily demanded Raymon, who was furious -at her resistance and had not listened to her. - -And, losing his head altogether in that moment of torture and wrath, he -pushed her roughly away and strode up and down the room, with heaving -bosom and head on fire; then he took a carafe and drank a large glass of -water which suddenly calmed his excitement and cooled his love. -Whereupon he looked at her ironically and said: - -"Come, madame, it is time for you to retire." - -A ray of light at last enlightened Indiana and laid Raymon's heart bare -before her. - -"You are right," she said. - -And she walked toward the door. - -"Pray take your cloak and boa," he said, detaining her. - -"To be sure," she retorted, "those traces of my presence might -compromise you." - -"You are a child," he said, in a coaxing tone, as he adjusted her cloak -with ostentatious care; "you know very well that I love you; but really -you take pleasure in torturing me, and you drive me mad. Wait until I go -and call a cab. If I could, I would escort you home; but that would ruin -you." - -"Pray, do you not think that I am ruined already?" she asked bitterly. - -"No, my darling," replied Raymon, who asked nothing better than to -persuade her to leave him in peace. "Nobody has noticed your absence, as -they have not come here yet in search of you. Although I should be the -last one to be suspected, it would be natural to inquire at the houses -of all of your acquaintances. And then you can go and place yourself -under your aunt's protection; indeed, that is the course I advise you to -take; she will arrange everything. You will be supposed to have passed -the night at her house." - -Madame Delmare was not listening; she was gazing stupidly at the sun, as -it rose, huge and red, over an expanse of gleaming roofs. Raymon tried -to rouse her from her preoccupation. She turned her eyes on him but -seemed not to recognize him. Her cheeks had a greenish tinge and her -parched lips seemed paralyzed. - -Raymon was terrified. He remembered the other's suicide, and, in his -alarm, not knowing which way to turn, dreading lest he should become -twice a criminal in his own eyes, but feeling too exhausted mentally to -be able to deceive her again, he pushed her gently into an easy-chair, -locked the door, and went up to his mother's room. - - - - -XXI - - -He found her awake; she was accustomed to rise early, the result of -habits of hard-working activity which she had formed during the -emigration, and which she had not abandoned when she recovered her -wealth. - -Seeing Raymon enter her room so late, pale and excited, and in full -dress, she realized that he was struggling in one of the frequent crises -of his stormy life. She had always been his refuge and salvation in -these periods of agitation, of which no trace remained save a deep and -sorrowful one in her mother-heart. Her life had been withered and used -up by all that Raymon had acquired and reacquired. Her son's character, -impetuous yet cold, reflective yet passionate, was a consequence of her -inexhaustible love and generous indulgence. He would have been a better -man with a mother less kind; but she had accustomed him to make the most -of all the sacrifices that she consented to make for him; she had taught -him to seek and to advance his own well-being as zealously and as -powerfully as she sought it. Because she deemed herself created to -preserve him from all sorrows and to sacrifice all her own interests to -him, he had accustomed himself to believe that the whole world was -created for him and would place itself in his hand at a word from his -mother. By an abundance of generosity she had succeeded only in forming -a selfish heart. - -She turned pale, did the poor mother, and, sitting up in bed, gazed -anxiously at him. Her glance said at once: "What can I do for you? Where -must I go?" - -"Mother," he said, grasping the dry, transparent hand that she held out -to him, "I am horribly unhappy, I need your help. Save me from the -troubles by which I am surrounded. I love Madame Delmare, as you -know----" - -"I did not know it," said Madame de Ramière, in a tone of affectionate -reproof. - -"Don't try to deny it, dear mother," said Raymon, who had no time to -waste; "you did know it, and your admirable delicacy prevented you -speaking of it first. Well, that woman is driving me to despair, and my -brain is going." - -"Tell me what you mean!" said Madame de Ramière, with the youthful -vivacity born of ardent maternal love. - -"I do not mean to conceal anything from you, especially as I am not -guilty this time. For several months I have been trying to calm her -romantic brain and bring her back to a sense of her duties; but all my -efforts serve only to intensify this thirst for danger, this craving for -adventure that ferments in the brains of all the women of her country. -At this moment she is here, in my room, against my will, and I cannot -induce her to go away." - -"Unhappy child!" said Madame de Ramière, dressing herself in haste. -"Such a timid, gentle creature! I will go and see her, talk to her! that -is what you came to ask me to do, isn't it?" - -"Yes, yes," said Raymon, moved involuntarily by his mother's goodness of -heart; "go and make her understand the language of reason and kindness. -She will love virtue from your lips, I doubt not; perhaps she will give -way to your caresses; she will recover her self-control, poor creature! -she suffers so keenly!" - -Raymon threw himself into a chair and began to weep, the divers emotions -of the morning had so shaken his nerves. His mother wept with him and -could not make up her mind to go down until she had forced him to take -a few drops of ether. - -Indiana was not weeping and rose with a calm and dignified air when she -recognized her. Madame de Ramière was so little prepared for such a -dignified and noble bearing, that she felt embarrassed before the -younger woman, as if she had shown lack of consideration for her by -taking her by surprise in her son's bedroom. She yielded to the deep and -true emotion of her heart and opened her arms impulsively. Madame -Delmare threw herself into them; her despair found vent in bitter sobs -and the two women wept a long while on each other's bosom. - -But when Madame de Ramière would have spoken, Indiana checked her. - -"Do not say anything to me, madame," she said, wiping away her tears; -"you could find no words to say that would not cause me pain. Your -interest and your kisses are enough to prove your generous affection; my -heart is as much relieved as it can be. I will go now; I do not need -your urging to realize what I have to do." - -"But I did not come to send you away, but to comfort you," said Madame -de Ramière. - -"I cannot be comforted," she replied, kissing her once more; "love me, -that will help me a little; but do not speak to me. Adieu, madame; you -believe in God--pray for me." - -"You shall not go alone!" cried Madame de Ramière; "I will myself go -with you to your husband, to justify you, defend you and protect you." - -"Generous woman!" said Indiana, embracing her warmly, "you cannot do it. -You alone are ignorant of Raymon's secret; all Paris will be talking -about it to-night, and you would play an incongruous part in such a -story. Let me bear the scandal of it alone; I shall not suffer long." - -"What do you mean? would you commit the crime of taking your own life? -Dear child! you too believe in God, do you not?" - -"And so, madame, I start for Ile Bourbon in three days." - -"Come to my arms, my darling child! come and let me bless you! God will -reward your courage." - -"I trust so," said Indiana, looking up at the sky. - -Madame de Ramière insisted on sending for a carriage; but Indiana -resisted. She was resolved to return alone and without causing a -sensation. In vain did Raymon's mother express her alarm at the idea of -her undertaking so long a journey on foot in her exhausted, agitated -condition. - -"I have strength enough," she said; "a word from Raymon sufficed to give -me all I need." - -She wrapped herself in her cloak, lowered her black lace veil and left -the house by a secret door to which Madame de Ramière showed her the -way. As soon as she stepped into the street she felt as if her trembling -legs would refuse to carry her; it seemed to her every moment that she -could feel her furious husband's brutal hand seize her, throw her down -and drag her in the gutter. Soon the noise in the street, the -indifference of the faces that passed her on every side and the -penetrating chill of the morning air restored her strength and -tranquillity, but it was a pitiable sort of strength and a tranquillity -as depressing as that which sometimes prevails on the ocean and alarms -the far-sighted sailor more than the howling of the tempest. She walked -along the quays from the Institute to the Corps Législatif; but she -forgot to cross the bridge and continued to wander by the river, -absorbed in a bewildered reverie, in meditation without ideas, and -walking aimlessly on and on. - - -[Illustration 04: _SIR RALPH SAVES INDIANA_ -_In that moment of vertigo she leaned against a -wall and bent forward, fascinated, over what seemed -to her a solid mass. But the bark of a dog that was -capering about her distracted her thoughts and delayed -for some seconds the accomplishment of her -design. Meanwhile a man ran to the spot, guided -by the dog's voice, seized her around the waist, -dragged her back and laid her on the ruins of an -abandoned boat on the shore._] - - -She gradually drew nearer to the river, which washed pieces of ice -ashore at her feet and shattered them on the stones along the shore with -a dry sound that suggested cold. The greenish water exerted an -attractive force on Indiana's senses. One becomes accustomed to horrible -ideas; by dint of dwelling on them one takes pleasure in them. The -thought of Noun's suicide had soothed her hours of despair for so many -months, that suicide had assumed in her mind the form of a tempting -pleasure. A single thought, a religious thought, had prevented her from -deciding definitely upon it; but at this moment no well-defined thought -controlled her exhausted brain. She hardly remembered that God existed, -that Raymon ever existed, and she walked on, still drawing nearer the -bank, obeying the instinct of unhappiness and the magnetic force of -suffering. - -When she felt the stinging cold of the water on her feet, she woke as if -from a fit of somnambulism, and on looking about to discover where she -was, saw Paris behind her and the Seine rushing by at her feet, bearing -in its oily depths the white reflection of the houses and the grayish -blue of the sky. This constant movement of the water and the immobility -of the ground became confused in her bewildered mind, and it seemed to -her that the water was sleeping and the ground moving. In that moment of -vertigo she leaned against a wall and bent forward, fascinated, over -what seemed to her a solid mass. But the bark of a dog that was capering -about her distracted her thoughts and delayed for some seconds the -accomplishment of her design. Meanwhile a man ran to the spot, guided by -the dog's voice, seized her around the waist, dragged her back and laid -her on the ruins of an abandoned boat on the shore. She looked in his -face and did not recognize him. He knelt at her foot, unfastened his -cloak and wrapped it about her, took her hands in his to warm them and -called her by name. But her brain was too weak to make an effort; for -forty-eight hours she had forgotten to eat. - -However, when the blood began to circulate in her benumbed limbs, she -saw Ralph kneeling beside her, holding her hands and watching for the -return of consciousness. - -"Did you meet Noun?" she asked him. "I saw her pass along there," she -added, pointing to the river, distracted by her fixed idea. "I tried to -follow her, but she walked too fast, and I am not strong enough to walk. -It was like a nightmare." - -Ralph looked at her in sore distress. He too felt as if his head were -bursting and his brain running wild. - -"Let us go," she continued; "but first see if you can find my feet; I -lost them on the stones." - -Ralph saw that her feet were wet and paralyzed by cold. He carried her -in his arms to a house near by, where the kindly care of a hospitable -woman restored her to consciousness. Meanwhile Ralph sent word to -Monsieur Delmare that his wife was found; but the colonel had not -returned home when the news arrived. He was continuing his search in a -frenzy of anxiety and wrath. Ralph, being more perspicacious, had gone -to Monsieur de Ramière's, but he had found Raymon, who had just gone to -bed and who was very cool and ironical in his reception of him. Then he -had thought of Noun and had followed the river in one direction, while -his servant did the same in the other direction. Ophelia had speedily -found her mistress's scent and had led Ralph to the place where he found -her. - -When Indiana was able to recall what had taken place during that -wretched night, she tried in vain to remember the occurrences of her -moments of delirium. She was unable therefore to explain to her cousin -what thoughts had guided her action during the last hour; but he divined -them and understood the state of her heart without questioning her. He -simply took her hand and said to her in a gentle but grave tone: - -"Cousin, I require one promise from you; it is the last proof of -friendship which I shall ever ask at your hands." - -"Tell me what it is," she replied; "to oblige you is the only pleasure -that is left to me." - -"Well then," rejoined Ralph, "swear to me that you will not resort to -suicide without notifying me. I swear to you on my honor that I will not -oppose your design in any way. I simply insist on being notified: as for -life, I care about it as little as you do, and you know that I have -often had the same idea." - -"Why do you talk of suicide?" said Madame Delmare. "I have never -intended to take my own life. I am afraid of God; if it weren't for -that!----" - -"Just now, Indiana, when I seized you in my arms, when this poor -beast"--and he patted Ophelia--"caught your dress, you had forgotten God -and the whole universe, poor Ralph with the rest." - -A tear stood in Indiana's eye. She pressed Sir Ralph's hand. - -"Why did you stop me?" she said sadly; "I should be on God's bosom now, -for I was not guilty, I did not know what I was doing." - -"I saw that, and I thought that it was better to commit suicide after -due reflection. We will talk about it again if you choose." - -Indiana shuddered. The cab stopped in front of the house where she was -to confront her husband. She had not the strength to mount the steps and -Ralph carried her to her room. Their whole retinue was reduced to a -single maid servant, who had gone to discuss Madame Delmare's flight -with the neighbors, and Lelièvre, who, in despair, had gone to the -morgue to inspect the bodies brought in that morning. So Ralph remained -with Madame Delmare to nurse her. She was suffering intensely when a -loud peal of the bell announced the colonel's return. A shudder of -terror and hatred ran through her every vein. She seized her cousin's -arm. - -"Listen, Ralph," she said; "if you have the slightest affection for me, -you will spare me the sight of that man in my present condition. I do -not want to arouse his pity, I prefer his anger to that. Do not open the -door, or else send him away; tell him that I haven't been found." - -Her lips quivered, her arms clung to Ralph with convulsive strength, to -detain him. Torn by two conflicting feelings, the poor baronet could not -make up his mind what to do. Delmare was jangling the bell as if he -would break it, and his wife was almost dying in his chair. - -"You think only of his anger," said Ralph at last; "you do not think of -his misery, his anxiety; you still believe that he hates you. If you had -seen his grief this morning!" - -Indiana dropped her arms, thoroughly exhausted, and Ralph went and -opened the door. - -"Is she here?" cried the colonel, rushing in. "Ten thousand devils! I -have run about enough after her; I am deeply obliged to her for putting -such a pleasant duty on me! Deuce take her! I don't want to see her, for -I should kill her!" - -"You forget that she can hear you," replied Ralph in an undertone. "She -is in no condition to bear any painful excitement. Be calm." - -"Twenty-five thousand maledictions!" roared the colonel. "I have endured -enough myself since this morning. It's a good thing for me that my -nerves are like cables. Which of us is the more injured, the more -exhausted, which of us has the better right to be sick, I pray to -know,--she or I? And where did you find her? what was she doing? She is -responsible for my having outrageously insulted that foolish old woman, -Carvajal, who gave me ambiguous answers and blamed me for this charming -freak! Damnation! I am dead beat!" - -As he spoke thus in his harsh, hoarse voice, Delmare had thrown himself -on a chair in the ante-room; he wiped his brow from which the -perspiration was streaming despite the intense cold; he described with -many oaths his fatigues, his anxieties, his sufferings; he asked a -thousand questions, and, luckily, did not listen to the answers, for -poor Ralph could not lie, and he could think of nothing in what he had -to tell that was likely to appease the colonel. So he sat on a table, as -silent and unmoved as if he were absolutely without interest in the -sufferings of those two, and yet he was really more unhappy in their -unhappiness than they themselves were. - -Madame Delmare, when she heard her husband's imprecations, felt stronger -than she expected. She preferred this fierce wrath, which reconciled her -with herself, to a generous forbearance which would have aroused her -remorse. She wiped away the last trace of her tears and summoned what -remained of her strength, which she was well content to expend in a day, -so heavy a burden had life become to her. Her husband accosted her in a -harsh and imperious tone, but suddenly changed his expression and his -manner and seemed sorely embarrassed, overmatched by the superiority of -her character. He tried to be as cool and dignified as she was; but he -could not succeed. - -"Will you condescend to inform me, madame," he said, "where you passed -the morning and perhaps the night?" - -That _perhaps_ indicated to Madame Delmare that her absence had not been -discovered until late. Her courage increased with that knowledge. - -"No, monsieur," she replied, "I do not propose to tell you." - -Delmare turned green with anger and amazement. - -"Do you really hope to conceal the truth from me?" he said, in a -trembling voice. - -"I care very little about it," she replied in an icy tone. "I refuse to -tell you solely for form's sake. I propose to convince you that you have -no right to ask me that question?" - -"I have no right, ten thousand devils. Who is master here, pray tell, -you or I? Which of us wears a petticoat and ought to be running a -distaff? Do you propose to take the beard off my chin? It would look -well on you, hussy!" - -"I know that I am the slave and you the master. The laws of this country -make you my master. You can bind my body, tie my hands, govern my acts. -You have the right of the stronger, and society confirms you in it; but -you cannot command my will, monsieur; God alone can bend it and subdue -it. Try to find a law, a dungeon, an instrument of torture that gives -you any hold on it! you might as well try to handle the air and grasp -space." - -"Hold your tongue, you foolish, impertinent creature; your high-flown -novelist's phrases weary me." - -"You can impose silence on me, but not prevent me from thinking." - -"Silly pride! pride of a poor worm! you abuse the compassion I have had -for you! But you will soon see that this mighty will can be subdued -without too much difficulty." - -"I don't advise you to try it; your repose would suffer, and you would -gain nothing in dignity." - -"Do you think so?" he said, crushing her hand between his thumb and -forefinger. - -"I do think so," she said, without wincing. - -Ralph stepped forward, grasped the colonel's arm in his iron hand and -bent it like a reed, saying in a pacific tone: - -"I beg that you will not touch a hair of that woman's head." - -Delmare longed to fly at him; but he felt that he was in the wrong and -he dreaded nothing in the world so much as having to blush for himself. -So he simply pushed him away, saying: - -"Attend to your own business." - -Then he returned to his wife. - -"So, madame," he said, holding his arms tightly against his sides to -resist the temptation to strike her, "you rebel against me, you refuse -to go to Ile Bourbon with me, you desire a separation? Very well! -_Mordieu!_ I too----" - -"I desire it no longer," she replied. "I did desire it yesterday, it was -my will; it is not so this morning. You resorted to violence and locked -me in my room; I went out through the window to show you that there is a -difference between exerting an absurd control over a woman's actions and -reigning over her will. I passed several hours away from your -domination; I breathed the air of liberty in order to show you that you -are not morally my master, and that I look to no one on earth but myself -for orders. As I walked along I reflected that I owed it to my duty and -my conscience to return and place myself under your control once more. I -did it of my own free will. My cousin _accompanied_ me here, he did not -_bring me back_. If I had not chosen to come with him, he could not have -forced me to do it, as you can imagine. So, monsieur, do not waste your -time fighting against my determination; you will never control it, you -lost all right to change it as soon as you undertook to assert your -right by force. Make your preparations for departure; I am ready to -assist you and to accompany you, not because it is your will, but -because it is my pleasure. You may condemn me, but I will never obey -anyone but myself." - -"I am sorry for the derangement of your mind," said the colonel, -shrugging his shoulders. - -And he went to his room to put his papers in order, well satisfied in -his heart with Madame Delmare's resolution and anticipating no further -obstacles; for he respected her word as much as he despised her ideas. - - - - -XXII - - -Raymon, yielding to fatigue, slept soundly after his curt reception of -Sir Ralph, who came to his house to make inquiries. When he awoke, his -heart was full of a feeling of intense relief; he believed that the -worst crisis of his intrigue had finally come and gone. For a long time -he had foreseen that there would come a time when he would be brought -face to face with that woman's love and would have to defend his liberty -against the exacting demands of a romantic passion; and he encouraged -himself in advance by arguing against such pretensions. He had at last -reached and crossed that dangerous spot: he had said no, he would have -no occasion to go there again, for everything had happened for the best. -Indiana had not wept overmuch, had not been too insistent. She had been -quite reasonable; she had understood at the first word and had made up -her mind quickly and proudly. - -Raymon was very well pleased with his providence; for he had one of his -own, in whom he believed like a good son, and upon whom he relied to -arrange everything to other people's detriment rather than his own. That -providence had treated him so well thus far that he did not choose to -doubt it. To anticipate the result of his wrong-doing and to be anxious -concerning it would have been in his eyes a crime against the good Lord -who watched over him. - -He rose, still very much fatigued by the efforts of the imagination -which the circumstances of that painful scene had compelled him to make. -His mother returned; she had been to Madame de Carvajal to inquire as to -Madame Delmare's health and frame of mind. The marchioness was not -disturbed about her; she was, however, very much disgusted when Madame -de Ramière shrewdly questioned her. But the only thing that impressed -her in Madame Delmare's disappearance was the scandal that would result -from it. She complained very bitterly of her niece, whom, only the day -before, she had extolled to the skies; and Madame de Ramière understood -that the unfortunate Indiana had, by this performance, alienated her -kinswoman and lost the only natural prop that she still possessed. - -To one who could read in the depths of the marchioness's soul, this -would have seemed no great loss; but Madame de Carvajal was esteemed -virtuous beyond reproach, even by Madame de Ramière. Her youth had been -enveloped in the mysteries of prudence, or lost in the whirlwind of -revolutions. - -Raymon's mother wept over Indiana's lot and tried to excuse her; Madame -de Carvajal tartly reminded her that she was not sufficiently -disinterested in the matter to judge. - -"But what will become of the unhappy creature?" said Madame de Ramière. -"If her husband maltreats her, who will protect her?" - -"That will be as God wills," replied the marchioness; "for my part, I'll -have nothing more to do with her and I never wish to see her again." - -Madame de Ramière, kind-hearted and anxious, determined to obtain news -of Madame Delmare at any price. She bade her coachman drive to the end -of the street on which she lived and sent a footman to question the -concierge, instructing him to try to see Sir Ralph if he were in the -house. She awaited in her carriage the result of this manœuvre, and -Ralph himself soon joined her there. - -The only person, perhaps, who judged Ralph accurately was Madame de -Ramière; a few words sufficed to make each of them understand the -other's sincere and unselfish interest in the matter. Ralph narrated -what had passed during the morning; and, as he had nothing more than -suspicions concerning the events of the night, he did not seek -confirmation of them. But Madame de Ramière deemed it her duty to -inform him of what she knew, imparting to him her desire to break off -this ill-omened and impossible liaison. Ralph, who felt more at ease -with her than with anybody else, allowed the profound emotion which her -information caused him to appear on his face. - -"You say, madame," he murmured, repressing a sort of nervous shudder -that ran through his veins, "that she passed the night in your house?" - -"A solitary and sorrowful night, no doubt. Raymon, who certainly was not -guilty of complicity, did not come home until six o'clock, and at seven -he came up to me to ask me to go down and soothe the poor child's mind." - -"She meant to leave her husband! she meant to destroy her good name!" -rejoined Ralph, his eyes fixed on vacancy and a strange oppression at -his heart. "Then she must love this man, who is so unworthy of her, very -dearly!" - -Ralph forgot that he was talking to Raymon's mother. - -"I have suspected this a long while," he continued; "why could I not -have foretold the day on which she would consummate her ruin! I would -have killed her first!" - -Such language in Ralph's mouth surprised Madame de Ramière beyond -measure; she supposed that she was speaking to a calm, indulgent man, -and she regretted that she had trusted to appearances. - -"_Mon Dieu!_" she said in dismay, "do you judge her without mercy? will -you abandon her as her aunt has? Are you incapable of pity or -forgiveness? Will she not have a single friend left after a fault which -has already caused her such bitter suffering?" - -"Have no fear of anything of the sort on my part, madame," Ralph -replied; "I have known all for six months and I have said nothing. I -surprised their first kiss and I did not hurl Monsieur de Ramière from -his horse; I often intercepted their love messages in the woods and did -not tear them in pieces with my whip. I met Monsieur de Ramière on the -bridge he must cross to go to join her; it was night, we were alone and -I am four times as strong as he; and yet I did not throw the man into -the river; and when, after allowing him to escape, I discovered that he -had eluded my vigilance and had stolen into her house, instead of -bursting in the doors and throwing him out of the window, I quietly -warned them of the husband's approach and saved the life of one in order -to save the other's honor. You see, madame, that I am indulgent and -merciful. This morning I had that man under my hand; I was well aware -that he was the cause of all our misery, and, if I had not the right to -accuse him without proofs, I certainly should have been justified in -quarreling with him for his arrogant and mocking manner. But I bore with -his insulting contempt because I knew that his death would kill Indiana; -I allowed him to turn over and fall asleep again on the other side, -while Indiana, insane and almost dead, was on the shore of the Seine, -preparing to join his other victim. You see, madame, that I practise -patience with those whom I hate and indulgence with those I love." - -Madame de Ramière, sitting in her carriage opposite Ralph, gazed at him -in surprise mingled with alarm. He was so different from what she had -always seen him that she almost believed that he had suddenly become -deranged. The allusion he had just made to Noun's death confirmed her in -that idea; for she knew absolutely nothing of that story and took the -words that Ralph had let fall in his indignation for a fragment of -thought unconnected with his subject. He was, in very truth, passing -through one of those periods of intense excitement which occur at least -once in the lives of the most placid men, and which border so closely on -madness that one step farther would carry them across the line. His -wrath was restrained and concentrated like that of all cold -temperaments; but it was deep, like the wrath of all noble souls; and -the novelty of this frame of mind, which was truly portentous in him, -made him terrible to look upon. - -Madame de Ramière took his hand and said gently: - -"You must suffer terribly, my dear Monsieur Ralph, for you wound me -without mercy: you forget that the man of whom you speak is my son and -that his wrong-doing, if he has been guilty of any, must be infinitely -more painful to me than to you." - -Ralph at once came to himself, and said, kissing Madame de Ramière's -hand with an effusive warmth of regard, which was almost as unusual a -manifestation on his part as that of his wrath: - -"Forgive me, madame; you are right, I do suffer terribly, and I forget -those things which I should respect. Pray, forget yourself the -bitterness I have allowed to appear! my heart will not fail to lock -itself up again." - -Madame de Ramière, although somewhat reassured by this reply, could not -rid herself of all anxiety when she saw with what profound hatred Ralph -regarded her son. She tried to excuse him in his enemy's eyes, but he -checked her. - -"I divine your thoughts, madame," he said; "but have no fear, Monsieur -de Ramière and I are not likely to meet again at present. As for my -cousin, do not regret having enlightened me. If the whole world abandons -her, I swear that she will always have at least one friend." - -When Madame de Ramière returned home, toward evening, she found Raymon -luxuriously ensconced in front of the fire, warming his slippered feet -and drinking tea to banish the last vestiges of the nervous excitement -of the morning. He was still cast down by that artificial emotion; but -pleasant thoughts of the future revivified his faculties; he felt that -he had become free once more, and he abandoned himself unreservedly to -blissful meditations upon that priceless condition, which he had -hitherto been so unsuccessful in maintaining. - -"Why am I destined," he said to himself, "to weary so quickly of this -priceless freedom of the heart which I always have to buy so dearly? -When I feel that I am caught in a woman's net, I cannot break it quickly -enough, in order to recover my repose and mental tranquillity. May I be -cursed if I sacrifice them in such a hurry again! The trouble these two -creoles have caused me will serve as a warning, and hereafter I do not -propose to meddle with any but easy-going, laughing Parisian -women--genuine women of the world. Perhaps I should do well to marry and -have done with it, as they say----" - -He was absorbed by such comforting, commonplace thoughts as these, when -his mother entered, tired and deeply moved. - -"She is better," she said; "everything has gone off as well as possible; -I hope that she will grow calmer and----" - -"Who?" inquired Raymon, waking with a start among his castles in Spain. - -However, he concluded on the following day that he still had a duty to -perform, namely, to regain that woman's esteem, if not her love. He did -not choose that she should boast of having left him; he proposed that -she should be persuaded that she had yielded to the influence of his -good sense and his generosity. He desired to govern her even after he -had spurned her; and he wrote to her as follows: - -"I do not write to ask your pardon, my dear, for a few cruel or -audacious words that escaped me in the delirium of my passion. In the -derangement of fever no man can form perfectly coherent ideas or express -himself in a proper manner. It is not my fault that I am not a god, that -I cannot control in your presence the turbulent ardor of my blood, that -my brain whirls, that I go mad. Perhaps I may have a right to complain -of the merciless _sang-froid_ with which you condemned me to frightful -torture and never took pity on me; but that was not your fault. You are -too perfect to play the same rôle in this world that we common mortals -play, subject as we are to human passions, slaves of our less-refined -organization. As I have often told you, Indiana, you are not a woman, -and, when I think of you tranquilly and without excitement, you are an -angel. I adore you in my heart as a divinity. But alas! in your presence -the _old Adam_ has often reasserted his rights. Often, under the -perfumed breath from your lips, a scorching flame has consumed mine; -often when, as I leaned toward you, my hair has brushed against yours, a -thrill of indescribable bliss has run through my veins, and thereupon I -have forgotten that you were an emanation from Heaven, a dream of -everlasting felicity, an angel sent from God's bosom to guide my steps -in this life and to describe to me the joys of another existence. Why, O -chaste spirit, did you assume the alluring form of a woman? Why, O angel -of light, did you clothe yourself in the seductions of hell? Often have -I thought that I held happiness in my arms, and it was only virtue. - -"Forgive me these reprehensible regrets, my love; I was not worthy of -you, but perhaps we should both have been happier if you would have -consented to stoop to my level. But my inferiority has constantly caused -you pain and you have imputed your own virtues to me as crimes. - -"Now that you absolve me--as I am sure that you do, for perfection -implies mercy--let me still raise my voice to thank you and bless you. -Thank you, do I say? Ah! no, my life, that is not the word; for my heart -is more torn than yours by the courage that snatches you from my arms. -But I admire you; and, through my tears, I congratulate you. Yes, my -Indiana, you have mustered strength to accomplish this heroic sacrifice. -It tears out my heart and my life; it renders my future desolate, it -ruins my existence. But I love you well enough to endure it without a -complaint; for my honor is nothing, yours is all in all. I would -sacrifice my honor to you a thousand times; but yours is dearer to me -than all the joys you have given me. No, no! I could not have enjoyed -such a sacrifice. In vain should I have tried to blunt my conscience by -delirious transports; in vain would you have opened your arms to -intoxicate me with celestial joys--remorse would have found me out; it -would have poisoned every hour of my life, and I should have been more -humiliated than you by the contempt of men. O God! to see you degraded -and brought to shame by me! to see you deprived of the veneration which -encompassed you! to see you insulted in my arms and to be unable to wipe -out the insult! for, though I should have shed all my blood for you, it -would not have availed you. I might have avenged you, perhaps, but could -never have justified you. My zeal in your defence would have been an -additional accusation against you; my death an unquestionable proof of -your crime. Poor Indiana! I should have ruined you! Ah! how miserably -unhappy I should be! - -"Go, therefore, my beloved; go and reap under another sky the fruits of -virtue and religion. God will reward us for such an effort, for God is -good. He will reunite us in a happier life, and perhaps--but the mere -thought is a crime; and yet I cannot refrain from hoping! Adieu, -Indiana, adieu! You see that our love is a sin! Alas! my heart is -broken. Where could I find strength to say adieu to you!" - -Raymon himself carried this letter to Madame Delmare's; but she shut -herself up in her room and refused to see him. So he left the house -after handing the letter secretly to the servant and cordially embracing -the husband. As he left the last step behind him, he felt much -better-hearted than usual; the weather was finer, the women fairer, the -shops more brilliant. It was a red-letter day in Raymon's life. - -Madame Delmare placed the letter, with the seal unbroken, in a box which -she did not propose to open until she reached her destination. She -wished to go to take leave of her aunt, but Sir Ralph with downright -obstinacy opposed her doing so. He had seen Madame de Carvajal; he knew -that she would overwhelm Indiana with reproaches and scorn; he was -indignant at this hypocritical severity, and could not endure the -thought of Madame Delmare exposing herself to it. - -On the following day, as Delmare and his wife were about entering the -diligence, Sir Ralph said to them with his accustomed _sang-froid_: - -"I have often given you to understand, my friends, that it was my wish -to accompany you; but you have refused to understand, or, at all events, -to give me an answer. Will you allow me to go with you?" - -"To Bordeaux?" queried Monsieur Delmare. - -"To Bourbon," replied Sir Ralph. - -"You cannot think of it," rejoined Monsieur Delmare; "you cannot shift -your establishment about from place to place at the caprice of a couple -whose situation is precarious and whose future is uncertain. It would be -abusing your friendship shamefully to accept the sacrifice of your whole -life and of your position in society. You are rich and young and free; -you ought to marry again, found a family--" - -"That is not the question," said Sir Ralph, coldly. "As I have not the -art of enveloping my ideas in words which change their meaning, I will -tell you frankly what I think. It has seemed to me that in the last six -months our friendship has fallen off perceptibly. Perhaps I have made -mistakes which my dulness of perception has prevented me from detecting. -If I am wrong, a word from you will suffice to set my mind at rest; -allow me to go with you. If I have deserved severe treatment at your -hands, it is time to tell me so; you ought not, by abandoning me thus, -to leave me to suffer remorse for having failed to make reparation for -my faults." - -The colonel was so touched by this artless and generous appeal that he -forgot all the wounds to his self-esteem which had alienated him from -his friend. He offered him his hand, swore that his friendship was more -sincere than ever, and that he refused his offers only from delicacy. - -Madame Delmare held her peace. Ralph made an effort to obtain a word -from her. - -"And you, Indiana," he said in a stifled voice, "have you still a -friendly feeling for me?" - -That question reawoke all the filial affection, all the memories of -childhood, of years of intimacy, which bound their hearts together. They -threw themselves weeping into each other's arms, and Ralph nearly -swooned; for strong emotions were constantly fermenting in that robust -body, beneath that calm and reserved exterior. He sat down to avoid -falling and remained for a few moments without speaking, pale as death; -then he seized the colonel's hand in one of his and his wife's in the -other. - -"At this moment, when we are about to part, perhaps forever, be frank -with me. You refuse my proposal to accompany you on my account and not -on your own?" - -"I give you my word of honor," said Delmare, "that in refusing you I -sacrifice my happiness to yours." - -"For my part," said Indiana, "you know that I would like never to leave -you." - -"God forbid that I should doubt your sincerity at such a moment!" -rejoined Ralph; "your word is enough for me; I am content with you -both." - -And he disappeared. - -Six weeks later the brig _Coraly_ sailed from the port of Bordeaux. -Ralph had written to his friends that he would be in that city just -prior to their sailing; but, as his custom was, in such a laconic style -that it was impossible to determine whether he intended to bid them -adieu for the last time or to accompany them. They waited in vain for -him until the last moment, and when the captain gave the signal to weigh -anchor he had not appeared. Gloomy presentiments added their bitterness -to the dull pain that gnawed at Indiana's heart, when the last houses of -the town vanished amid the trees on the shore. She shuddered at the -thought that she was thenceforth alone in the world with the husband -whom she hated! that she must live and die with him, without a friend to -comfort her, without a kinsman to protect her against his brutal -domination. - -But, as she turned, she saw on the deck behind her Ralph's placid and -kindly face smiling into hers. - -"So you have not abandoned me after all?" she said, as she threw her -arms about his neck, her face bathed in tears. - -"Never!" replied Ralph, straining her to his heart. - - - - -XXIII - - -LETTER FROM MADAME DELMARE TO MONSIEUR -DE RAMIÈRE - -"Ile Bourbon, June 3d, 18-- - - -"I had determined to weary you no more with reminders of me; but, after -reading on my arrival here the letter you sent me just before I left -Paris, I feel that I owe you a reply because, in the agitation caused by -horrible suffering, I went too far. I was mistaken with regard to you, -and I owe you an apology, not as a _lover_ but as a _man._ - -"Forgive me, Raymon, for in the most ghastly moment of my life I took -you for a monster. A single word, a single glance from you banished all -confidence and all hope from my heart forever. I know that I can never -be happy again; but I still hope that I may not be driven to despise -you; that would be the last blow. - -"Yes, I took you for a dastard, for the worst of all human creatures, an -_egotist._ I conceived a horror of you. I regretted that Bourbon was not -so far away as I longed to fly from you, and indignation gave me -strength to drain the cup to the dregs. - -"But since I have read your letter I feel better. I do not regret you, -but I no longer hate you, and I do not wish to leave your life a prey to -remorse for having ruined mine. Be happy, be free from care; forget me. -I am still alive and I may live a long while. - -It is a fact that you are not to blame; I was the one who was mad. Your -heart was not dry, but it was closed to me. You did not lie to me, but I -deceived myself. You were neither perjured nor cold; you simply did not -love me. - -"Oh! _mon Dieu!_ you did not love me! In heaven's name how must you be -loved? But I will not stoop to complaints; I am not writing to you for -the purpose of poisoning with hateful memories the repose of your -present life; nor do I propose to implore your compassion for sorrows -which I am strong enough to bear alone. On the contrary, knowing better -the rôle for which you are suited, I absolve you and forgive you. - -"I will not amuse myself by refuting the charges in your letter; it -would be too easy a matter; I will not reply to your observations with -regard to my duties. Never fear, Raymon; I am familiar with them and I -did not love you little enough to disregard them without due reflection. -It is not necessary to tell me that the scorn of mankind would have been -the reward of my downfall; I was well aware of it. I knew too that the -stain would be deep, indelible and painful beyond words; that I should -be spurned on all sides, cursed, covered with shame, and that I should -not find a single friend to pity me and comfort me. The only mistake I -had made was the feeling confident that you would open your arms to me, -and that you would assist me to forget the scorn, the misery and the -desertion of my friends. The only thing I had not anticipated was that -you might refuse to accept my sacrifice after I had consummated it. I -had imagined that that was impossible. I went to your house with the -expectation that you would repel me at first from principle and a sense -of duty, but firmly convinced that when you learned the inevitable -consequences of what I had done, you would feel bound to assist me to -endure them. No, upon my word I would never have believed that you would -abandon me undefended to the consequences of such a dangerous -resolution, and that you would leave me to gather its bitter fruits -instead of taking me to your bosom and making a rampart of your love. - -"In that case how gladly I would have defied the distant mutterings of a -world that was powerless to injure me! how I would have defied hatred, -being strong in your love! how feeble my remorse would have been, and -how easily the passion you would have inspired would have stifled its -voice! Engrossed by you alone, I would have forgotten myself; proud in -the possession of your heart, I should have had no time to blush for my -own. A word from you, a glance, a kiss would have sufficed to absolve -me, and the memory of men and laws could have found no place in such a -life. You see I was mad; according to your cynical expression I had -acquired my knowledge of life from novels written for lady's-maids, from -those gay, childish works of fiction in which the heart is interested in -the success of wild enterprises and in impossible felicities. What you -said, Raymon, was horribly true! The thing that terrifies and crushes me -is that you are right. - -"One thing that I cannot understand so well is that the impossibility -was not the same for both of us; that I, a weak woman, derived from the -exaltation of my feelings sufficient strength to place myself alone in a -romantic, improbable situation, and that you, a brave man, could not -find in your will-power, sufficient courage to follow me. And yet you -had shared my dreams of the future, you had assented to my illusions, -you had nourished in me that hope impossible of realization. For a long -while you had listened to my childish plans, my pygmy-like aspirations, -with a smile on your lips and joy in your eyes, and your words were all -love and gratitude. You too were blind, short-sighted, boastful. How did -it happen that your reason did not return until the danger was in sight? -Why, I thought that danger charmed the eyes, strengthened the -resolution, put fear to flight; and yet you trembled like a leaf when -the crisis came! Have you men no courage except the physical courage -that defies death? are you not capable of the moral courage that -welcomes misfortune? Do you, who explain everything so admirably, -explain that to me, I beg. - -"It may be that your dream was not like mine; in my case, you see, -courage was love. You had fancied that you loved me, and you had -awakened, surprised to find that you had made such a mistake, on the day -that I went forward trusting in the shelter of my mistake. Great God! -what an extraordinary delusion it was of yours, since you did not then -foresee all the obstacles that struck you when the time for action came! -since you did not mention them to me until it was too late! - -"But why should I reproach you now? Are we responsible for the impulses -of our hearts? was it in your power to say that you would always love -me? No, of course not. My misfortune consists in my inability to make -myself agreeable to you longer and more really. I look about for the -cause of it and find none in my heart; but it apparently exists, none -the less. Perhaps I loved you too well, perhaps my affection was -annoying and tiresome. You were a man, you loved liberty and pleasure. I -was a burden to you. Sometimes I tried to put fetters on your life. -Alas! those were very paltry offences to plead in justification of such -a cruel desertion! - -"Enjoy, therefore, the liberty you have purchased at the expense of my -whole life; I will interfere with it no more. Why did you not give me -this lesson sooner? My wound would have been less deep, and yours also, -perhaps. - -"Be happy! that is the last wish my broken heart will ever form! Do not -exhort me to think of God, leave that for the priests, who have to -soften the hard hearts of the guilty. For my part, I have more faith -than you; I do not serve the same God, but I serve Him more loyally and -with a purer heart. Yours is the God of men, the king, the founder and -the upholder of your race; mine is the God of the universe, the creator, -the preserver and the hope of all creatures. Yours made everything for -you alone; mine made all created things for one another. You deem -yourselves the masters of the world; I deem you only its tyrants. You -think that God protects you and authorizes you to possess the empire of -the earth; I think that He permits that for a little time, and that the -day will come when His breath will scatter you like grains of sand. No, -Raymon, you do not know God; or rather let me repeat what Ralph said to -you one day at Lagny: you believe in nothing. Your education and your -craving for an irresistible power to oppose to the brute force of the -people, have led you to adopt without scrutiny the beliefs of your -fathers; but the conviction of God's existence has never reached your -heart--I doubt if you have ever prayed to Him. For my part, I have but -one belief, the only one probably that you have not: I believe in Him; -but the religion you have devised I will have nothing to do with; all -your morality, all your principles, are simply the interests of your -social order which you have raised to the dignity of laws and which you -claim to trace back to God himself, just as your priests instituted the -rites and ceremonies of the church to establish their power over the -nations and amass wealth. But it is all falsehood and impiety. I, who -invoke God and understand Him, know that there is nothing in common -between Him and you, and that by clinging to Him with all my strength I -separate myself from you, whose constant aim it is to overthrow His -works and sully His gifts. I tell you, it ill becomes you to invoke His -name to crush the resistance of a poor, weak woman, to stifle the -lamentations of a broken heart. God does not choose that the creations -of His hands shall be oppressed and trodden under foot. If He vouchsafed -to descend so far as to intervene in our paltry quarrels, He would crush -the strong and raise the weak; He would pass His mighty hand over our -uneven heads and level them like the surface of the sea; He would say to -the slave: 'Cast off thy chains and fly to the mountains where I have -placed water and flowers and sunshine for thee.' He would say to the -kings: 'Throw your purple robes to the beggars to sit upon, and go to -sleep in the valleys where I have spread for you carpets of moss and -heather.' To the powerful He would say: 'Bend your knees and bear the -burdens of your weaker brethren; for henceforth you will need them and I -will give them strength and courage.' Yes, those are my dreams; they are -all of another life, of another world, where the laws of the brutal will -not have passed over the heads of the peaceably inclined; where -resistance and flight will not be crimes; where man can escape man as -the gazelle escapes the panther; where the chain of the law will not be -stretched about him to force him to throw himself under his enemy's -feet; and where the voice of prejudice will not be raised in his -distress to insult his sufferings and to say to him: 'You shall be -deemed cowardly and base because you did not bend the knee and crawl.' - -"No, do not talk to me about God, you of all men, Raymon; do not invoke -His name to send me into exile and reduce me to silence. In submitting -as I do I yield to the power of men. If I listened to the voice which -God has placed in the depths of my heart, and to the noble instinct of a -bold and strong nature, which perhaps is the genuine conscience, I -should fly to the desert, I should learn to do without help, protection -and love: I should go and live for myself in the heart of our beautiful -mountains: I should forget the tyrants, the unjust and the ungrateful. -But alas! man cannot do without his fellowman, and even Ralph cannot -live alone. - -"Adieu, Raymon! may you be happy without me! I forgive you for the harm -you have done me. Talk of me sometimes to your mother, the best woman I -have ever known. Understand that there is neither anger nor vengeance in -my heart against you; my grief is worthy of the love I had for you. - - -"INDIANA." - - -The unfortunate creature was over-boastful. This profound and calm -sorrow was due simply to a sense of what her own dignity demanded when -she addressed Raymon; but, when she was alone, she gave way freely to -its consuming violence. Sometimes, however, a vague gleam of hope shone -in her troubled eyes. Perhaps she never lost the last vestige of -confidence in Raymon's love, despite the cruel lessons of experience, -despite the distressing thoughts which placed before her mind every day -his indifference and indolence when his interests or his pleasures were -not concerned. It is my belief that, if Indiana could have persuaded -herself to face the bald truth, she would not have dragged out her -hopeless, ruined life so long. - -Woman is naturally foolish; it is as if Heaven, to counterbalance the -eminent superiority over us men which she owes to her delicacy of -perception, had implanted a blind vanity, an idiotic credulity in her -heart. It may be that one need only be an adept in the art of bestowing -praise and flattering the self-esteem, to obtain dominion over that -subtle, supple and perspicacious being. Sometimes the men who are most -incapable of obtaining any sort of ascendancy over other men, obtain an -unbounded ascendancy over the minds of women. Flattery is the yoke that -bends those ardent but frivolous heads so low. Woe to him who undertakes -to be frank and outspoken in love! he will have Ralph's fate. - -This is what I should reply if you should tell me that Indiana is an -exceptional character, and that the ordinary woman displays neither her -stoical coolness nor her exasperating patience in resistance to conjugal -despotism. I should tell you to look at the reverse of the medal, and -see the miserable weakness, the stupid blindness she displays in her -relations with Raymon. I should ask you where you ever found a woman who -was not as ready to deceive as to be deceived; who had not the art to -confine for ten years in the depths of her heart the secret of a hope -sacrificed so thoughtlessly in a day of frenzied excitement, and who -would not become, in one man's arms, as pitiably weak as she could be -strong and invincible in another man's. - - - - -XXIV - - -Madame Delmare's home had become more peaceable, however. With their -false friends had disappeared many of the difficulties which, under the -fostering hand of those officious meddlers, had been envenomed with all -the warmth of their zeal. Sir Ralph, with his silence and his apparent -non-interference, was more skilful than all of them in letting drop -those airy trifles of intimate companionship which float about in the -favoring breeze of pleasant gossip. But Indiana lived almost alone. Her -house was in the mountains above the town, and Monsieur Delmare, who had -a warehouse in the port, went down every morning for the whole day, to -superintend his business with the Indies and with France. Sir Ralph, who -had no other home than theirs, but who found ways to add to their -comfort without their suspecting his gifts, devoted himself to the study -of natural history or to superintending the plantation; Indiana, -resuming the easy-going habits of creole life, passed the scorching -hours of the day in her straw chair, and the long evenings in the -solitude of the mountains. - -Bourbon is in truth, simply a huge cone, the base of which is about -forty leagues in circumference, while its gigantic mountain peaks rise -to the height of ten thousand feet. From almost every part of that -imposing mass, the eye can see in the distance, beyond the beetling -rocks, beyond the narrow valleys and stately forests, the unbroken -horizon surrounding the azure-hued sea like a girdle. From her window, -Indiana could see between the twin peaks of a wooded mountain opposite -that on which their house was built, the white sails on the Indian -Ocean. During the silent hours of the day, that spectacle attracted her -eyes and gave to her melancholy a fixed and uniform tinge of despair. -That splendid sight made her musings bitter and gloomy, instead of -casting its poetical influence upon them; and she would lower the -curtain that hung at her window and shun the very daylight, in order to -shed bitter, scalding tears in the secrecy of her heart. - -But when the land breeze began to blow, toward evening, and to bring to -her nostrils the fragrance of the flowering rice-fields, she would go -forth into the wilderness, leaving Delmare and Ralph on the veranda, to -enjoy the aromatic infusion of the _faham_ and to loiter over their -cigars. She would climb to the top of some accessible peak, the extinct -crater of a former volcano, and gaze at the setting sun as it kindled -the red vapors of the atmosphere into flame and spread a sort of dust of -gold and rubies over the murmuring stalks of the sugar cane and the -glistening walls of the cliff. She rarely went down into the gorges of -the St. Gilles River, because the sight of the sea, although it -distressed her, fascinated her with its magnetic mirage. It seemed to -her that beyond those waves and that distant haze the magic apparition -of another land would burst upon her gaze. Sometimes the clouds on the -shore assumed strange forms in her eyes: at one time she would see a -white wave rise upon the ocean and describe a gigantic line which she -took for the façade of the Louvre; again two square sails would emerge -suddenly from the mist and recall to her mind the towers of Notre-Dame -at Paris, when the Seine sends up a dense mist which surrounds their -foundations and leaves them as if suspended in the sky; at other times -there were patches of pink clouds which, in their changing shapes, -imitated all the caprices of architecture in a great city. That woman's -mind slumbered in the illusions of the past, and she would quiver with -joy at sight of that magnificent Paris, whose realities were connected -with the most unhappy period of her life. A curious sort of vertigo -would take possession of her brain. Standing at a great height above the -shore, and watching the gorges that separated her from the ocean recede -before her eyes, it seemed as if she were flying swiftly through space -toward the fascinating city of her imagination. Dreaming thus, she would -cling to the rock against which she was leaning, and to one who had at -such times seen her eager eyes, her bosom heaving with impatient longing -and the horrifying expression of joy on her face, she would have seemed -to manifest all the symptoms of madness. And yet those were her hours of -pleasure, the only moments of well-being to which she looked forward -hopefully during the day. If her husband had taken it into his head to -forbid these solitary walks, I do not know what thought she would have -lived upon; for in her everything centred in a certain faculty of -inventing allusions, in an eager striving toward a point which was -neither memory, nor anticipation, nor hope, nor regret, but longing in -all its devouring intensity. Thus she lived for weeks and months beneath -the tropical sky, recognizing, loving, caressing but one shade, -cherishing but one chimera. - -Ralph, for his part, was attracted to gloomy, secluded spots in his -walks, where the wind from the sea could not reach him; for the sight of -the ocean had become as antipathetic to him as the thought of crossing -it again. France held only an accursed place in his heart's memory. -There it was that he had been unhappy to the point of losing courage, -accustomed as he was to unhappiness and patient with his misery. He -strove with all his might to forget it; for, although he was intensely -disgusted with life, he wished to live as long as he should feel that he -was necessary. He was very careful therefore never to utter a word -relating to the time he had passed in that country. What would he not -have given to tear that ghastly memory from Madame Delmare's mind! But -he had so little confidence of his ability, he felt that he was so -awkward, so lacking in eloquence, that he avoided her instead of trying -to divert her thoughts. In the excess of his delicate reserve, he -continued to maintain the outward appearance of indifference and -selfishness. He went off and suffered alone, and, to see him scouring -woods and mountains in pursuit of birds and insects, one would have -taken him for a naturalist sportsman engrossed by his innocent passion -and utterly indifferent to the passions of the heart that were stirring -in his neighborhood. And yet hunting and study were merely the pretext -behind which he concealed his long and bitter reveries. - -This conical island is split at the base on all sides and conceals in -its embrasures deep gorges through which flow pure and turbulent -streams. One of these gorges is called Bernica. It is a picturesque -spot, a sort of deep and narrow valley, hidden between two perpendicular -walls of rock, the surface of which is studded with clumps of saxatile -shrubs and tufts of ferns. - -A stream flows in the narrow trough formed by the meeting of the two -sides. At the point where they meet it plunges down into frightful -depths, and, where it falls, forms a basin surrounded by reeds and -covered with a damp mist. Around its banks and along the edges of the -tiny stream fed by the overflow of the basin grow bananas and oranges, -whose dark and healthy green clothe the inner walls of the gorge. -Thither Ralph fled to avoid the heat and companionship. All his walks -led to that favorite goal; the cool, monotonous plash of the waterfall -lulled his melancholy to sleep. When his heart was torn by the secret -agony so long concealed, so cruelly misunderstood, it was there that he -expended in unknown tears, in silent lamentations, the useless energy of -his heart and the concentrated activity of his youth. - -In order that you may understand Ralph's character, it will be well to -tell you that at least half of his life had been passed in the depths of -that ravine. Thither he had gone, in his early childhood, to steel his -courage against the injustice with which he had been treated in his -family. It was there that he had put forth all the energies of his soul -to endure the destiny arbitrarily imposed upon him, and that he had -acquired the habit of stoicism which he had carried to such a point that -it had become a second nature to him. There too, in his youth, he had -carried little Indiana on his shoulders; he had laid her on the grass by -the stream while he fished in the clear water or tried to scale the -cliff in search of birds' nests. - -The only dwellers in that solitude were the gulls, petrels, coots and -sea-swallows. Those birds were incessantly flying up and down, hovering -overhead or circling about, having chosen the holes and clefts in those -inaccessible walls to rear their wild broods. Toward night they would -assemble in restless groups and fill the echoing gorge with their -hoarse, savage cries. Ralph liked to follow their majestic flight, to -listen to their melancholy voices. He taught his little pupil their -names and their habits; he showed her the lovely Madagascar teal, with -its orange breast and emerald back; he bade her admire the flight of the -red-winged tropic-bird, which sometimes strays to those regions and -flies in a few hours from Mauritius to Rodrigues, whither, after a -journey of two hundred leagues, it returns to sleep under the -_veloutier_ in which its nest is hidden. The petrel, harbinger of the -tempest, also spread its tapering wings over those cliffs; and the queen -of the sea, the frigate-bird, with its forked tail, its slate-colored -coat and its jagged beak, which lights so rarely that it would seem that -the air is its country, and constant movement its nature, raised its cry -of distress above all the rest. These wild inhabitants were apparently -accustomed to seeing the two children playing about the dwellings, for -they hardly condescended to take fright at their approach; and when -Ralph reached the shelf on which they had installed their families, they -would rise in black clouds and light, as if in derision, a few feet -above him. Indiana would laugh at their evolutions, and would carry -home, carefully, in her hat of rice-straw, the eggs Ralph had succeeded -in stealing for her, and for which he had often to fight stoutly against -powerful blows from the wings of the great amphibious creatures. - -These memories rushed tumultuously to Ralph's mind, but they were -extremely bitter to him; for times had changed greatly, and the little -girl who had always been his companion had ceased to be his friend, or -at all events was no longer his friend, as formerly, in absolute -simpleness of heart. Although she returned his affection, his devotion, -his regard, there was one thing which prevented any confidence between -them, one memory upon which all the emotions of their lives turned as -upon a pivot. Ralph felt that he could not refer to it; he had ventured -to do it once, on a day of danger, and his bold act had availed nothing. -To recur to it now would be nothing more than cold-blooded barbarity, -and Ralph had made up his mind to forgive Raymon, the man for whom he -had less esteem than for any man on earth, rather than add to Indiana's -sorrow by condemning him according to his own ideas of what justice -demanded. - -So he held his peace and even avoided her. Although living under the -same roof, he had managed so that he hardly saw her except at meals; and -yet he watched over her like a mysterious providence. He left the house -only when the heat confined her to her hammock; but at night, when she -had gone out, he would invent an excuse for leaving Delmare on the -veranda and would go and wait for her at the foot of the cliffs where he -knew she was in the habit of sitting. He would remain there whole hours, -sometimes gazing at her through the branches upon which the moon cast -its white light, but respecting the narrow space which separated them, -and never venturing to shorten her sad reverie by an instant. When she -came down into the valley she always found him on the edge of a little -stream along which ran the path to the house. Several broad flat stones, -around which the water rippled in silver threads, served him as a seat. -When Indiana's white dress appeared on the bank, Ralph would rise -silently, offer her his arm and take her back to the house without -speaking to her, unless Indiana, being more discouraged and depressed -than usual, herself opened the conversation. Then, when he had left her, -he would go to his own room and wait until the whole house was asleep -before going to bed. If he heard Delmare scolding, Ralph would grasp the -first pretext that came to his mind to go to him, and would succeed in -pacifying him or diverting his thoughts without ever allowing him to -suspect that such was his purpose. - -The construction of the house, which was transparent, so to speak, -compared with the houses in our climate, and the consequent necessity of -being always under the eyes of everybody else, compelled the colonel to -put more restraint upon his temper. Ralph's inevitable appearance, at -the slightest sound, to stand between him and his wife, forced him to -keep a check upon himself; for Delmare had sufficient self-esteem to -retain control of himself before that acute but stern censor. And so he -waited until the hour for retiring had delivered him from his judge -before venting the ill-humor which business vexations had heaped up -during the day. But it was of no avail; the secret influence kept vigil -with him, and, at the first harsh word, at the first loud tone that was -audible through the thin partitions, the sound of moving furniture or of -somebody walking about, as if by accident, in Ralph's room, seemed to -impose silence on him and to warn him that the silent and patient -solicitude of Indiana's protector was not asleep. - - - - -PART FOURTH - - -XXV - - -Now it happened that the ministry of the 8th of August, which overturned -so many things in France, dealt a serious blow at Raymon's security. -Monsieur de Ramière was not one of those blindly vain mortals who -triumph on a day of victory. He had made politics the mainspring of all -his ideas, the basis of all his dreams of the future. He had flattered -himself that the king, by adopting a policy of shrewd concessions, would -maintain for a long time to come the equilibrium which assured the -existence of the noble families. But the rise to power of the Prince de -Polignac destroyed that hope. Raymon saw too far ahead, he was too well -acquainted with the new society not to stand on his guard against -momentary triumphs. He understood that his whole future trembled in the -balance with that of the monarchy, and that his fortune, perhaps his -life, hung by a thread. - -Thereupon he found himself in a delicate and embarrassing position. -Honor made it his duty to devote himself, despite all the risks of such -devotion, to the family whose interests had been thus far closely -connected with his own. In that respect he could hardly disregard his -conscience and the memory of his forefathers. But this new order of -things, this tendency toward an absolute despotism, offended his -prudence, his common-sense, and, so he said, his convictions. It -compromised his whole existence, it did worse than that, it made him -ridiculous, him, a renowned publicist who had ventured so many times to -promise, in the name of the crown, justice for all and fidelity to the -sworn compact. But now all the acts of the government gave a formal -contradiction to the young eclectic politician's imprudent assertions; -all the calm and slothful minds who, two days earlier, asked nothing -better than to cling to the constitutional throne, began to throw -themselves into the opposition and to denounce as rascality the efforts -of Raymon and his fellows. The most courteous accused him of lack of -foresight and incapacity. Raymon felt that it was humiliating to be -considered a dupe after playing such a brilliant rôle in the game. He -began secretly to curse and despise this royalty which thus degraded -itself and involved him in its downfall; he would have liked to be able -to cut loose from it without disgrace before the hour of battle. For -some time he made incredible efforts to gain the confidence of both -camps. The opposition ranks of that period were not squeamish concerning -the admission of new recruits. They needed them, and the credentials -they required were so trivial, that they enlisted considerable numbers. -Nor did they disdain the support of great names, and day after day -adroitly flattering allusions in their newspapers tended to detach the -brightest gems from that worn-out crown. Raymon was not deceived by -these demonstrations of esteem; but he did not reject them, for he was -certain of their utility. On the other hand, the champions of the throne -became more intolerant as their situation became more desperate. They -drove from their ranks, without prudence and without regard for -propriety, their strongest defenders. They soon began to manifest their -dissatisfaction and distrust to Raymon. He, in his embarrassment, -attached to his reputation as the principal ornament of his existence, -was very opportunely taken down with an acute attack of rheumatism, -which compelled him to abandon work of every sort for the moment and to -go into the country with his mother. - -In his isolation Raymon really suffered to feel that he was like a -corpse amid the devouring activity of a society on the brink of -dissolution, to feel that he was prevented, by his embarrassment as to -the color he should assume no less than by illness, from enlisting under -the warlike banners that waved on all sides, summoning the most obscure -and the least experienced to the great conflict. The intense pains of -his malady, solitude, ennui and fever insensibly turned his ideas into -another channel. He asked himself, for the first time, perhaps, if -society had deserved all the pains he had taken to make himself -agreeable to it, and he judged society justly when he saw that it was so -indifferent with regard to him, so forgetful of his talents and his -glory. Then he took comfort for having been its dupe by assuring himself -that he had never sought anything but his personal gratification; and -that he had found it there, thanks to himself. Nothing so confirms us in -egotism as reflection. Raymon drew this conclusion from it: that man, in -the social state, requires two sorts of happiness, happiness in public -life and in private life, social triumphs and domestic joys. - -His mother, who nursed him assiduously, fell dangerously ill; it was his -turn to forget his own sufferings and to take care of her; but his -strength was not sufficient. Ardent, passionate souls display miraculous -stores of health in times of danger; but lukewarm, indolent souls do not -arouse such supernatural outbursts of bodily strength. Although Raymon -was a good son, as the phrase is understood in society, he succumbed -physically under the weight of fatigue. Lying on his bed of pain, with -no one at his pillow save hirelings and now and then a friend who was in -haste to return to the excitements of social life, he began to think of -Indiana, and he sincerely regretted her, for at that time she would have -been most useful to him. He remembered the dutiful attentions she had -lavished on her crabbed old husband and he imagined the gentle and -beneficent care with which she would have encompassed her lover. - -"If I had accepted her sacrifice," he thought, "she would be dishonored; -but what would it matter to me now? Abandoned as I am by a frivolous, -selfish world, I should not be alone; she whom everybody spurned with -contumely would be at my feet, impelled by love; she would weep over my -sufferings and would find a way to allay them. Why did I discard that -woman? She loved me so dearly that she would have found consolation for -the insults of her fellows by bringing a little happiness into my -domestic life." - -He determined to marry when he recovered, and he mentally reviewed the -names and faces that had impressed him in the salons of the two -divisions of society. Fascinating apparitions flitted through his -dreams; head-dresses laden with flowers, snowy shoulders enveloped in -swansdown capes, supple forms imprisoned in muslin or satin: such -alluring phantoms fluttered their gauze wings before Raymon's heavy, -burning eyes; but he had seen these peris only in the perfumed whirl of -the ballroom. On waking, he asked himself whether their rosy lips knew -any other smiles than those of coquetry; whether their white hands could -dress the wounds of sorrow; whether their refined and brilliant wit -could stoop to the painful task of consoling and diverting a horribly -bored invalid. Raymon was a man of keen intelligence and he was more -distrustful than other men of the coquetry of women; he had a more -intense hatred of selfishness because he knew that from a selfish person -he could obtain nothing to advance his own happiness. And then Raymon -was no less embarrassed concerning the choice of a wife than concerning -the choice of his political colors. The same reasons imposed moderation -and prudence on him. He belonged to a family of high rank and unbending -pride which would brook no mésalliance, and yet wealth could no longer -be considered secure except in plebeian hands. According to all -appearance that class was destined to rise over the ruins of the other, -and in order to maintain oneself on the surface of the movement one must -be the son-in-law of a manufacturer or a stock-broker. Raymon concluded -therefore that it would be wise to wait and see which way the wind blew -before entering upon a course of action which would decide his whole -future. - -These positive reflections made plain to him the utter lack of affection -which characterizes marriages of convenience, so-called, and the hope of -having some day a companion worthy of his love entered only incidentally -into his prospects of happiness. Meanwhile his illness might be -prolonged, and the hope of better days to come does not efface the keen -consciousness of present pains. He recurred to the unpleasant thought of -his blindness on the day he had declined to kidnap Madame Delmare, and -he cursed himself for having comprehended so imperfectly his real -interests. - -At this juncture he received the letter Indiana wrote him from Ile -Bourbon. The sombre and inflexible energy which she retained, amid -shocks which might well have crushed her spirit, made a profound -impression on Raymon. - -"I judged her ill," he thought; "she really loved me, she still loves -me; for my sake she would have been capable of those heroic efforts -which I considered to be beyond a woman's strength; and now I probably -need say but a word to draw her, like an irresistible magnet, from one -end of the world to the other. If six months, eight months, perhaps, -were not necessary to obtain that result, I would like to make the -trial!" - -He fell asleep meditating that idea: but he was soon awakened by a great -commotion in the next room. He rose with difficulty, put on a -dressing-gown, and dragged himself to his mother's apartment. She was -very ill. - -Toward morning she found strength to talk with him; she was under no -illusion as to the brief time she had yet to live and her mind was busy -with her son's future. - -"You are about to lose your best friend," she said; "may Heaven replace -her by a companion worthy of you! But be prudent, Raymon, and do not -risk the repose of your whole life for a mere chimera of your ambition. -I have known but one woman, alas! whom I should have cared to call my -daughter; but Heaven has disposed of her. But listen, my son. Monsieur -Delmare is old and broken; who knows if that long voyage did not exhaust -the rest of his vitality? Respect his wife as long as he lives; but if, -as I believe will be the case, he is summoned soon to follow me to the -grave, remember there is still one woman in the world who loves you -almost as dearly as your mother loved you." - -That evening Madame de Ramière died in her son's arms. Raymon's grief -was deep and bitter; in the face of such a loss there could be neither -false emotion nor selfish scheming. His mother was really necessary to -him; with her he lost all the moral comfort of his life. He shed -despairing tears upon her pallid forehead, her lifeless eyes. He -maligned Heaven, he cursed his destiny, he wept for Indiana. He called -God to account for the happiness He owed him. He reproached Him for -treating him like other men and tearing everything from him at once. -Then he doubted the existence of this God who chastised him; he chose to -deny Him rather than submit to His decrees. He lost all the illusions -with all the realities of life; and he returned to his bed of fever and -suffering, as crushed and hopeless as a deposed king, as a fallen angel. - -When he was nearly restored to health, he cast a glance at the condition -of France. Matters were going from bad to worse; on all sides there were -threats of refusal to pay taxes. Raymon was amazed at the foolish -confidence of his party, and deeming it wise not to plunge into the -mêlée as yet, he shut himself up at Cercy with the melancholy memory -of his mother and Madame Delmare. - -By dint of pondering the idea to which he had attached little importance -at its first conception, he accustomed himself to the thought that -Indiana was not lost to him, if he chose to take the trouble to beckon -her back. He detected many inconveniences in the scheme but many more -advantages. It was not in accord with his interest to wait until she was -a widow before marrying her, as Madame de Ramière had suggested. -Delmare might live twenty years longer, and Raymon did not choose to -renounce forever the chance of a brilliant marriage. He conceived a -better plan than that in his cheerful and fertile imagination. He could, -by taking a little trouble, exert an unbounded influence over his -Indiana; he felt that he possessed sufficient mental cunning and knavery -to make of that enthusiastic and sublime creature a devoted and -submissive mistress. He could shield her from the ferocity of public -opinion, conceal her behind the impenetrable wall of his private life, -keep her as a precious treasure in the depths of his retreat, and employ -her to sweeten his moments of solitude and meditation with the joys of a -pure and generous affection. He would not have to exert himself overmuch -to escape the husband's wrath; he would not come three thousand leagues -in pursuit of his wife when his business interests made his presence -absolutely necessary in the other hemisphere. Indiana would demand -little in the way of pleasure and liberty after the bitter trials which -had bent her neck to the yoke. She was ambitious only for love, and -Raymon felt that he would love her from gratitude as soon as she made -herself useful to him. He remembered also the constancy and gentleness -she had shown during the long days of his coldness and neglect. He -promised himself that he would cleverly retain his liberty, so that she -would not dare to complain. He flattered himself that he could acquire -sufficient control over her convictions to make her consent to anything, -even to his marriage; and he based that hope upon numerous examples of -secret liaisons which he had known to continue despite the laws of -society, by virtue of the prudence and skill with which the parties had -succeeded in avoiding the judgment of public opinion. - -"Besides," he said to himself, "that woman will have made an -irrevocable, boundless sacrifice for me. She will have travelled the -world over for me and have left behind her all means of existence--all -possibility of pardon. Society is stern and unforgiving only to paltry, -commonplace faults. Uncommon audacity takes it by surprise, notorious -misfortune disarms it; it will pity, perhaps admire this woman who will -have done for me what no other woman would have dared to try. It will -blame her, but it will not laugh at her, and I shall not be blamed for -taking her in and protecting her after such a signal proof of her love. -Perhaps, on the contrary, my courage will be extolled, at all events I -shall have defenders, and my reputation will undergo a glorious and -indecisive trial. Society likes to be defied sometimes; it does not -accord its admiration to those who crawl along the beaten paths. In -these days public opinion must be driven with a whip." - -Under the influence of these thoughts he wrote to Madame Delmare. His -letter was what it was sure to be from the pen of so adroit and -experienced a man. It breathed love, grief, and, above all, truth. Alas! -what a slender reed the truth is, to bend thus with every breath! - -However, Raymon was wise enough not to express the object of his letter -in so many words. He pretended to look upon Indiana's return as a joy of -which he had no hope; but he had but little to say of her duty. He -repeated his mother's last words; he described with much warmth the -state of despair to which his loss had reduced him, the ennui of -solitude and the danger of his position politically. He drew a dismal -and terrifying picture of the revolution that was rising above the -horizon, and, while feigning to rejoice that he was to meet its coming -alone, he gave Indiana to understand that the moment had come for her to -manifest that enthusiastic loyalty, that perilous devotion of which she -had boasted so confidently. He cursed his destiny and said that virtue -had cost him very dear, that his yoke was very heavy: that he had held -happiness in his hand and had had the strength of will to doom himself -to eternal solitude. - -"Do not tell me again that you once loved me," he added; "I am so weak -and discouraged that I curse my courage and hate my duties. Tell me that -you are happy, that you have forgotten me, so that I may have strength -not to come and tear you away from the bonds that keep you from me." - -In a word, he said that he was unhappy; that was equivalent to telling -Indiana that he expected her. - - - - -XXVI - - -During the three months that elapsed between the despatch of this letter -and its arrival at Ile Bourbon, Madame Delmare's situation had become -almost intolerable, as the result of a domestic incident of the greatest -importance to her. She had adopted the depressing habit of writing down -every evening a narrative of the sorrowful thoughts of the day. This -journal of her sufferings was addressed to Raymon, and, although she had -no intention of sending it to him, she talked with him, sometimes -passionately, sometimes bitterly, of the misery of her life and of the -sentiments which she could not overcome. These papers fell into -Delmare's hands, that is to say, he broke open the box which contained -them as well as Raymon's letters, and devoured them with a jealous, -frenzied eye. In the first outbreak of his wrath he lost the power to -restrain himself and went outside, with fast-beating heart and clenched -fists, to await her return from her walk. Perhaps, if she had been a few -minutes later, the unhappy man would have had time to recover himself; -but their evil star decreed that she should appear before him almost -immediately. Thereupon, unable to utter a word, he seized her by the -hair, threw her down and stamped on her forehead with his heel. - -He had no sooner made that bloody mark of his brutal nature upon a poor, -weak creature, than he was horrified at what he had done. He fled in -dire dismay, and locked himself in his room, where he cocked his pistol -preparatory to blowing out his brains; but as he was about to pull the -trigger he looked out on the veranda and saw that Indiana had risen and, -with a calm, self-possessed air, was wiping away the blood that covered -her face. As he thought that he had killed her, his first feeling was of -joy when he saw her on her feet; then his wrath blazed up anew. - -"It is only a scratch," he cried, "and you deserve a thousand deaths! -No, I will not kill myself; for then you would go and rejoice over it in -your lover's arms. I do not propose to assure the happiness of both of -you; I propose to live to make you suffer, to see you die by inches of -deathly ennui, to dishonor the infamous creature who has made a fool of -me!" - -He was battling with the tortures of jealous rage, when Ralph entered -the veranda by another door and found Indiana in the dishevelled -condition in which that horrible scene had left her. But she had not -manifested the slightest alarm, she had not uttered a cry, she had not -raised her hand to ask for mercy. Weary of life as she was, it seemed -that she had been desirous to give Delmare time to commit murder by -refraining from calling for help. It is certain that when the assault -took place Ralph was within twenty yards, and that he had not heard the -slightest sound. - -"Indiana!" he cried, recoiling in horror and surprise; "who has wounded -you thus?" - -"Do you ask?" she replied with a bitter smile; "what other than _your -friend_ has the _right_ and the inclination?" - -Ralph dropped the cane he held; he needed no other weapons than his -great hands to strangle Delmare. He reached his door in two leaps and -burst it open with his fist. But he found Delmare lying on the floor, -with purple cheeks and swollen throat, struggling in the noiseless -convulsions of apoplexy. - -He seized the papers that were scattered over the floor. When he -recognized Raymon's handwriting and saw the ruins of the letter-box, he -understood what had happened; and, carefully collecting the accusing -documents, he hastened to hand them to Madame Delmare and urged her to -burn them at once. Delmare had probably not taken time to read them all. - -Then he begged her to go to her room while he summoned the slaves to -look after the colonel; but she would neither burn the papers nor hide -the wound. - -"No," she said haughtily, "I will not do it! That man did not scruple to -tell Madame de Carvajal of my flight long ago; he made haste to publish -what he called my dishonor. I propose to show to everybody this token of -his own dishonor which he has taken pains to stamp on my face. It is a -strange sort of justice that requires one to keep secret another's -crimes, when that other assumes the right to brand one without mercy!" - -When Ralph found the colonel was in a condition to listen to him, he -heaped reproaches upon him with more energy and severity than one would -have thought him capable of exhibiting. Thereupon Delmare, who certainly -was not an evil-minded man, wept like a child over what he had done; but -he wept without dignity, as a man can do when he abandons himself to the -sensation of the moment, without reasoning as to its causes and effects. -Prompt to jump to the opposite extreme, he would have called his wife -and solicited her pardon; but Ralph objected and tried to make him -understand that such a puerile reconciliation would impair the authority -of one without wiping out the injury done to the other. He was well -aware that there are injuries which are never forgiven and miseries -which one can never forget. - -From that moment, the husband's personality became hateful in the wife's -eyes. All that he did to atone for his treatment of her deprived him of -the slight consideration he had retained thus far. He had in very truth -made a tremendous mistake; the man who does not feel strong enough to be -cold and implacable in his vengeance should abjure all thought of -impatience or resentment. There is no possible rôle between that of the -Christian who forgives and that of the man of the world who spurns. But -Delmare had his share of selfishness too; he felt that he was growing -old, that his wife's care was becoming more necessary to him every day. -He was terribly afraid of solitude, and if, in the paroxysm of his -wounded pride, he recurred to his habits as a soldier and maltreated -her, reflection soon led him back to the characteristic weakness of old -men, whom the thought of desertion terrifies. Too enfeebled by age and -hardships to aspire to become a father, he had remained an old bachelor -in his home, and had taken a wife as he would have taken a housekeeper. -It was not from affection for her, therefore, that he forgave her for -not loving him, but from regard for his own comfort: and if he grieved -at his failure to command her affections, it was because he was afraid -that he should be less carefully tended in his old age. - -When Madame Delmare, for her part, being deeply aggrieved by the -operation of the laws of society, summoned all her strength of mind to -hate and despise them, there was a wholly personal feeling at the bottom -of her thoughts. But it may be that this craving for happiness which -consumes us, this hatred of injustice, this thirst for liberty which -ends only with life, are the constituent elements of _egotism_, a name -by which the English designate love of self, considered as one of the -privileges of mankind and not as a vice. It seems to me that the -individual who is selected out of all the rest to suffer from the -working of institutions that are advantageous to his fellowmen ought, if -he has the least energy in his soul, to struggle against this arbitrary -yoke. I also think that the greater and more noble his soul is, the more -it should rankle and fester under the blows of injustice. If he has ever -dreamed that happiness was to be the reward of virtue, into what ghastly -doubts, what desperate perplexity must he be cast by the disappointments -which experience brings! - -Thus all Indiana's reflections, all her acts, all her sorrows were a -part of this great and terrible struggle between nature and -civilization. If the desert mountains of the island could have concealed -her long, she would assuredly have taken refuge among them on the day of -the assault upon her; but Bourbon was not of sufficient extent to afford -her a secure hiding-place, and she determined to place the sea and -uncertainty as to her place of refuge between her tyrant and herself. -When she had formed this resolution, she felt more at ease and was -almost gay and unconcerned at home. Delmare was so surprised and -delighted that he indulged apart in this brutal reasoning: that it was a -good thing to make women feel the law of the strongest now and then. - -Thereafter she thought of nothing but flight, solitude and independence; -she considered in her tortured, grief-stricken brain innumerable plans -of a romantic establishment in the deserts of India or Africa. At night -she followed the flight of the birds to their resting-place at Ile -Rodrigue. That deserted island promised her all the pleasures of -solitude, the first craving of a broken heart. But the same reasons that -prevented her from flying to the interior of Bourbon caused her to -abandon the idea of seeking refuge in the small islands near by. She -often met at the house tradesmen from Madagascar, who had business -relations with her husband; dull, vulgar, copper-colored fellows who had -no tact or shrewdness except in forwarding their business interests. -Their stories attracted Madame Delmare's attention, none the less; she -enjoyed questioning them concerning the marvelous products of that -island, and what they told her of the prodigies performed by nature -there intensified more and more the desire that she felt to go and hide -herself away there. The size of the island and the fact that Europeans -occupied so small a portion of it led her to hope that she would never -be discovered. She decided upon that place, therefore, and fed her idle -mind upon dreams of a future which she proposed to create for herself, -unassisted. She was already building her solitary cabin under the shade -of a primeval forest, on the bank of a nameless river; she fancied -herself taking refuge under the protection of those savage tribes whom -the yoke of our laws and our prejudices has not debased. Ignorant -creature that she was, she hoped to find there the virtues that are -banished from our hemisphere, and to live in peace, unvexed by any -social constitution; she imagined that she could avoid the dangers of -isolation, escape the malignant diseases of the climate. A weak woman, -who could not endure the anger of one man, but flattered herself that -she could defy the hardships of uncivilized life! - -Amid these romantic thoughts and extravagant plans she forgot her -present ills; she made for herself a world apart, which consoled her for -that in which she was compelled to live; she accustomed herself to think -less of Raymon, who was soon to cease to be a part of her solitary and -philosophical existence. She was so busily occupied in constructing for -herself a future according to her fancy that she let the past rest a -little; and already, as she felt that her heart was freer and braver, -she imagined that she was reaping in advance the fruits of her solitary -life. But Raymon's letter arrived, and that edifice of chimeras vanished -like a breath. She felt, or fancied that she felt, that she loved him -more than before. For my part, I like to think that she never loved him -with all the strength of her soul. It seems to me that misplaced -affection is as different from requited affection as an error from the -truth. It seems to me that, although the excitement and ardor of our -sentiments abuse us to the point of believing that that is love in all -its power, we learn later, when we taste the delights of a true love, -how entirely we deceived ourselves. - -But Raymon's situation, as he described it, rekindled in Indiana's heart -that generous flame which was a necessity of her nature. Fancying him -alone and unhappy, she considered it her duty to forget the past and not -to anticipate the future. A few hours earlier, she intended to leave her -husband under the spur of hatred and resentment; now, she regretted that -she did not esteem him so that she might make a real sacrifice for -Raymon's sake. So great was her enthusiasm that she feared that she was -doing too little for him in fleeing from an irascible master at the -peril of her life, and subjecting herself to the miseries of a four -months' voyage. She would have given her life, with the idea that it was -too small a price to pay for a smile from Raymon. Women are made that -way. - -Thus it was simply a question of leaving the island. It was very -difficult to elude Delmare's distrust and Ralph's clear-sightedness. But -those were not the principal obstacles; it was necessary to avoid giving -the notice of her proposed departure, which, according to law, every -passenger is compelled to give through the newspapers. - -Among the few vessels lying in the dangerous roadstead of Bourbon was -the ship _Eugène_, soon to sail for Europe. For a long while Indiana -sought an opportunity to speak with the captain without her husband's -knowledge, but whenever she expressed a wish to walk down to the port, -he ostentatiously placed her in Ralph's charge, and followed them with -his own eyes with maddening persistence. However, by dint of picking up -with the greatest care every scrap of information favorable to her plan, -Indiana learned that the captain of the vessel bound for France had a -kinswoman at the village of Saline in the interior of the island, and -that he often returned from her house on foot, to sleep on board. From -that moment she hardly left the cliff that served as her post of -observation. To avert suspicion, she went thither by roundabout paths, -and returned in the same way at night when she had failed to discover -the person in whom she was interested on the road to the mountains. - -She had but two days of hope remaining, for the land-wind had already -begun to blow. The anchorage threatened to become untenable, and Captain -Random was impatient to be at sea. - -However, she prayed earnestly to the God of the weak and oppressed, and -went and stationed herself on the very road to Saline, disregarding the -danger of being seen, and risking her last hope. She had not been -waiting an hour when Captain Random came down the path. He was a genuine -sailor, always rough-spoken and cynical, whether he was in good or bad -humor; his expression froze Indiana's blood with terror. Nevertheless, -she mustered all her courage and walked to meet him with a dignified and -resolute air. - -"Monsieur," she said, "I place my honor and my life in your hands. I -wish to leave the colony and return to France. If, instead of granting -me your protection, you betray the secret I confide to you, there is -nothing left for me to do but throw myself into the sea." - -The captain replied with an oath that the sea would refuse to sink such -a pretty lugger, and that, as she had come of her own accord and hove to -under his lee, he would promise to tow her to the end of the world. - -"You consent then, monsieur?" said Madame Delmare anxiously. "In that -case here is the pay for my passage in advance." - -And she handed him a casket containing the jewels Madame de Carvajal had -given her long before; they were the only fortune that she still -possessed. But the sailor had different ideas, and he returned the -casket with words that brought the blood to her cheeks. - -"I am very unfortunate, monsieur," she replied, restraining the tears of -wrath that glistened behind her long lashes; "the proposition I am -making to you justifies you in insulting me; and yet, if you knew how -odious my life in this country is to me, you would have more pity than -contempt for me." - -Indiana's noble and touching countenance imposed respect on Captain -Random. Those who do not wear out their natural delicacy by over-use -sometimes find it healthy and unimpaired in an emergency. He recalled -Colonel Delmare's unattractive features and the sensation that his -attack on his wife had caused in the colonies. While ogling with a -lustful eye that fragile, pretty creature, he was struck by her air of -innocence and sincerity. He was especially moved when he noticed on her -forehead a white mark which the deep flush on her face brought out in -bold relief. He had had some business relations with Delmare which had -left him ill-disposed toward him; he was so close-fisted and unyielding -in business matters. - -"Damnation!" he cried, "I have nothing but contempt for a man who is -capable of kicking such a pretty woman in the face! Delmare's a pirate, -and I am not sorry to play this trick on him; but be prudent, madame, -and remember that I am compromising my good name. You must make your -escape quietly when the moon has set, and fly like a poor petrel from -the foot of some sombre reef." - -"I know, monsieur," she replied, "that you cannot do me this very great -favor without transgressing the law; you may perhaps have to pay a fine; -that is why I offer you this casket, the contents of which are worth at -least twice the price of a passage." - -The captain took the casket with a smile. - -"This is not the time to settle our account," he said; "I am willing to -take charge of your little fortune. Under the circumstances I suppose -you won't have very much luggage; on the night we are to sail, hide -among the rocks at the _Anse aux Lataniers_; between one and two o'clock -in the morning a boat will come ashore pulled by two stout rowers, and -bring you aboard." - - - - -XXVII - - -The day preceding her departure passed away like a dream. Indiana was -afraid that it would be long and painful; it seemed to last but a -moment. The silence of the neighborhood, the peaceful tranquillity -within the house were in striking contrast to the internal agitation by -which Madame Delmare was consumed. She locked herself into her room to -prepare the few clothes she intended to carry; then she concealed them -under her dress and carried them one by one to the rocks at the _Anse -aux Lataniers_, where she placed them in a bark basket and buried them -in the sand. The sea was rough and the wind increased from hour to hour. -As a precautionary measure the _Eugène_ had left the roadstead, and -Madame Delmare could see in the distance her white sails bellied out by -the breeze, as she stood on and off, making short tacks, in order to -hold the land. Her heart went out eagerly toward the vessel, which -seemed to be pawing the air impatiently, like a race-horse, full of fire -and ardor, as the word is about to be given. But when she returned to -the interior of the island she found in the mountain gorges a calm, soft -atmosphere, bright sunlight, the song of birds and humming of insects, -and everything going on as on the day before, heedless of the intense -emotions by which she was tortured. Then she could not believe in the -reality of her situation, and wondered if her approaching departure were -not the illusion of a dream. - -Toward night the wind fell. The _Eugène_ approached the shore, and at -sunset Madame Delmare on her rocky perch heard the report of a cannon -echoing among the cliffs. It was the signal of departure on the -following day, on the return of the orb then sinking below the horizon. - -After dinner Monsieur Delmare complained of not feeling well. His wife -thought that her opportunity had gone, that he would keep the whole -house awake all night, and that her plan would be defeated; and then he -was suffering, he needed her; that was not the moment to leave him. -Thereupon remorse entered her soul and she wondered who would have pity -on that old man when she had abandoned him. She shuddered at the thought -that she was about to commit what was a crime in her own eyes, and that -the voice of conscience would rise even louder than the voice of -society, to condemn her. If Delmare, as usual, had harshly demanded her -services, if he had displayed an imperious and capricious spirit in his -sufferings, resistance would have seemed natural and lawful to the -down-trodden slave; but, for the first time in his life, he submitted to -the pain with gentleness, and seemed grateful and affectionate to his -wife. At ten o'clock he declared that he felt entirely well, insisted -that she should go to her own room, and that no one should pay any -further attention to him. Ralph, too, assured her that every symptom of -illness had disappeared and that a quiet night's sleep was the only -remedy that he needed. - -When the clock struck eleven all was silent and peaceful in the house. -Madame Delmare fell on her knees and prayed, weeping bitterly; for she -was about to burden her heart with a grievous sin, and from God alone -could come such forgiveness as she could hope to receive. She stole -softly into her husband's room. He was sleeping soundly; his features -were composed, his breathing regular. As she was about to withdraw, she -noticed in the shadows another person asleep in a chair. It was Ralph, -who had risen noiselessly and come to watch over her husband in his -sleep, to guard against accident. - -"Poor Ralph!" thought Indiana; "what an eloquent and cruel reproach to -me!" - -She longed to wake him, to confess everything to him, to implore him to -save her from herself; and then she thought of Raymon. - -"One more sacrifice," she said to herself, "and the most cruel of -all--the sacrifice of my duty." - -Love is woman's virtue; it is for love that she glories in her sins, it -is from love that she acquires the heroism to defy her remorse. The more -dearly it costs her to commit the crime, the more she will have deserved -at the hands of the man she loves. It is like the fanaticism that places -the dagger in the hand of the religious enthusiast. - -She took from her neck a gold chain which came to her from her mother -and which she had always worn; she gently placed it around Ralph's neck, -as the last pledge of an everlasting friendship, then lowered the lamp -so that she could see her old husband's face once more, and make sure -that he was no longer ill. He was dreaming at that moment and said in a -faint, sad voice: - -"Beware of that man, he will ruin you." - -Indiana shuddered from head to foot and fled to her room. She wrung her -hands in pitiable uncertainty; then suddenly seized upon the thought -that she was no longer acting in her own interest but in Raymon's; that -she was going to him, not in search of happiness, but to make him happy, -and that, even though she were to be accursed for all eternity, she -would be sufficiently recompensed if she embellished her lover's life. -She rushed from the house and walked swiftly to the _Anse aux -Lataniers_, not daring to turn and look at what she left behind her. - -She at once set about disinterring her bark basket and sat upon it, -trembling and silent, listening to the whistling of the wind, to the -plashing of the waves as they died at her feet, and to the shrill -groaning of the _satanite_ among the great bunches of seaweed that clung -to the steep sides of the cliffs; but all these noises were drowned by -the throbbing of her heart, which rang in her ears like a funeral knell. - -She waited a long while; she looked at her watch and found that the -appointed time had passed. The sea was so high, and navigation about the -shores of the island is so difficult in the best of weather, that she -was beginning, to despair of the courage of the men who were to take her -aboard, when she spied on the gleaming waves the black shadow of a -_pirogue_, trying to make the land. But the swell was so strong and the -sea so rough that the frail craft constantly disappeared, burying itself -as it were in the dark folds of a shroud studded with silver stars. She -rose and answered their signal several times with cries which the wind -whisked away before carrying them to the ears of the oarsmen. At last, -when they were near enough to hear her, they pulled toward her with much -difficulty; then paused to wait for a wave. As soon as they felt it -raise the skiff they redoubled their efforts, and the wave broke and -threw them up on the beach. - -The ground on which Saint-Paul is built is composed of sea sand and -gravel from the mountains, which the Des Galets river brings from a long -distance from its mouth by the strength of its current. These heaps of -rounded pebbles form submarine mountains near the shore which the waves -overthrow and rebuild at their pleasure. Their constant shifting makes -it impossible to avoid them, and the skill of the pilot is useless among -these constantly appearing and disappearing obstacles. Large vessels -lying in the harbor of Saint-Denis often drag their anchors and are cast -on shore by the force of the currents; they have no other resource when -this off-shore wind begins to blow, and to make the turbulent receding -waves perilous, than to put to sea as quickly as possible, and that is -what the _Eugène_ had done. - -The skiff bore Indiana and her fortunes amid the wild waves, the howling -of the storm and the oaths of the two rowers, who had no hesitation in -cursing loudly the danger to which they exposed themselves for her sake. -Two hours ago, they said, the ship should have been under way, and on -her account the captain had obstinately refused to give the order. They -added divers insulting and cruel reflections, but the unhappy fugitive -consumed her shame in silence; and when one of them suggested to the -other that they might be punished if they were lacking in the respect -they had been ordered to pay the _captain's mistress_: - -"Never you fear!" was the reply; "the sharks are the lads we've got to -settle accounts with this night. If we ever see the captain again, I -don't believe he'll be any uglier than them." - -"Talking of sharks," said the first, "I don't know whether one of 'em -has got scent of us already, but I can see a face in our wake that don't -belong to a Christian." - -"You fool! to take a dog's face for a sea-wolf's! Hold! my four-legged -passenger, we forgot you and left you on shore; but, blast my eyes, if -you shall eat up the ship's biscuit! Our orders only mentioned a young -woman, nothing was said about a cur----" - -As he spoke he raised his oar to hit the beast on the head; but Madame -Delmare, casting her tearful, distraught eyes upon the sea, recognized -her beautiful Ophelia, who had found her scent on the rocks and was -swimming after her. As the sailor was about to strike her, the waves, -against which she was struggling painfully, carried her away from the -skiff, and her mistress heard her moaning with impatience and -exhaustion. She begged the oarsmen to take her into the boat and they -pretended to comply; but, as the faithful beast approached, they dashed -out her brains with loud shouts of laughter, and Indiana saw before her -the dead body of the creature who had loved her better than Raymon. At -the same time a huge wave drew the skiff down as it were into the depths -of an abyss, and the laughter of the sailors changed to imprecations and -yells of terror. However, thanks to its buoyancy and lightness the -_pirogue_ righted itself like a duck and climbed to the summit of the -wave, to plunge into another ravine and mount again to another foaming -crest. As they left the shore behind, the sea became less rough, and -soon the skiff flew along swiftly and without danger toward the ship. -Thereupon, the oarsmen recovered their good humor and with it the power -of reflection. They strove to atone for their brutal treatment of -Indiana; but their cajolery was more insulting than their anger. - -"Come, come, my young lady," said one of them, "take courage, you're -safe now; of course the captain will give us a glass of the best wine in -the locker for the pretty parcel we've fished up for him." - -The other affected to sympathize with the young lady because her clothes -were wet; but, he said, the captain was waiting for her and would take -good care of her. Indiana listened to their remarks in deadly terror, -without speaking or moving; she realized the horror of her situation, -and could see no other way of escaping the outrages which awaited her -than to throw herself into the sea. Two or three times she was on the -point of jumping out of the boat; but she recovered courage, a sublime -courage, with the thought: - -"It is for him, Raymon, that I suffer all these indignities. I must live -though I were crushed with shame!" - -She put her hand to her oppressed heart and touched the hilt of a dagger -which she had concealed there in the morning, with a sort of instinctive -prevision of danger. The possession of that weapon restored all her -confidence; it was a short, pointed stiletto, which her father used to -carry; an old Spanish weapon which had belonged to a Medina-Sidonia, -whose name was cut on the blade, with the date 1300. Doubtless it had -rusted in noble blood, had washed out more than one affront, punished -more than one insolent knave. With it in her possession, Indiana felt -that she became a Spaniard once more, and she went aboard the ship with -a resolute heart, saying to herself that a woman incurred no risk so -long as she had a sure means of taking her own life before submitting to -dishonor. She avenged herself for the harsh treatment of her guides only -by rewarding them handsomely for their fatigue; then she went to her -cabin and anxiously awaited the hour of departure. - -At last the day broke, and the sea was covered with small boats bringing -the passengers aboard. Indiana looked with terror through the port-hole -at the faces of those who came aboard the _Eugène_; she dreaded lest -she should see her husband, coming to claim her. At last the echoes of -the last gun died away on the island which had been her prison. The ship -began to cut her way through the waves, and the sun, rising from the -ocean, cast its cheerful, rosy light on the white peaks of the Salazes -as they sank lower and lower on the horizon. - - -[Illustration 05: _MADAME DELMARE'S FLIGHT_ -_She waited a long while; she looked at her watch -and found that the appointed time had passed. The -sea was so high, and navigation about the shores of -the island is so difficult in the best of weather, that -she was beginning, to despair of the courage of the -men who were to take her aboard, when she spied on -the gleaming waves the black shadow of a_ pirogue, -_trying to make the land._] - - -When they were a few leagues from port, a sort of comedy was played on -board to avoid a confession of trickery. Captain Random pretended to -discover Madame Delmare on his vessel; he feigned surprise, questioned -the sailors, went through the form of losing his temper and of quieting -down again, and ended by drawing up a report of the finding of a -_stowaway_ on board; that is the technical term used on such occasions. - -Allow me to go no farther with the story of this voyage. It will be -enough for me to tell you, for Captain Random's justification, that, -despite his rough training, he had enough natural good sense to -understand Madame Delmare's character very quickly; he ventured upon -very few attempts to abuse her unprotected condition and eventually was -touched by it and acted as her friend and protector. But that worthy -man's loyal behavior and Indiana's dignity did not restrain the comments -of the crew, the mocking glances, the insulting suspicions and the broad -and stinging jests. These were the real torments of the unhappy woman -during that journey, for I say nothing of the fatigue, the discomforts, -the dangers, the tedium and the sea-sickness; she paid no heed to them. - - - - -XXVIII - - -Three days after the despatch of his letter to Ile Bourbon, Raymon had -entirely forgotten both the letter and its purpose. He had felt -decidedly better and had ventured to make a visit in the neighborhood. -The estate of Lagny, which Monsieur Delmare had left to be sold for the -benefit of his creditors, had been purchased by a wealthy manufacturer, -Monsieur Hubert, a shrewd and estimable man, not like all wealthy -manufacturers, but like a small number of the newly-rich. Raymon found -the new owner comfortably settled in that house which recalled so many -memories. He took pleasure in giving a free rein to his emotion as he -wandered through the garden where Noun's light footprints seemed to be -still visible on the gravel, and through those great rooms which seemed -still to retain the echoes of Indiana's soft words; but soon the -presence of a new hostess changed the current of his thoughts. - -In the main salon, on the spot where Madame Delmare was accustomed to -sit and work, a tall, slender young woman, with a glance that was at -once pleasant and mischievous, caressing and mocking, sat before an -easel, amusing herself by copying in water-colors the odd hangings on -the walls. The copy was a fascinating thing, a delicate satire instinct -with the bantering yet refined nature of the artist. She had amused -herself by exaggerating the pretentious finicalness of the old frescoes; -she had grasped the false and shifting character of the age of Louis -XIV. on those stilted figures. While refreshing the colors that time had -faded, she had restored their affected graces, their perfume of -courtiership, their costumes of the boudoir and the shepherd's hut, so -curiously identical. Beside that work of historical raillery she had -written the word _copy._ - -She raised her long eyes, instinct with merriment of a caustic, -treacherous, yet attractive sort, slowly to Raymon's face. For some -reason she reminded him of Shakespeare's Anne Page. There was in her -manner neither timidity nor boldness, nor affectation, nor -self-distrust. Their conversation turned upon the influence of fashion -in the arts. - -"Is it not true, monsieur, that the moral coloring of the period was in -that brush?" she said, pointing to the wainscoting, covered with rustic -cupids after the style of Boucher. "Isn't it true that those sheep do -not walk or sleep or browse like sheep of to-day? And that pretty -landscape, so false and so orderly, those clumps of many-petalled roses -in the middle of the forest where naught but a bit of eglantine grows in -our days, those tame birds of a species that has apparently disappeared, -and those pink satin gowns which the sun never faded--is there not in -all these a deal of poesy, ideas of luxury and pleasure, of a whole -useless, harmless, joyous life? Doubtless these absurd fictions were -quite as valuable as our gloomy political deliverances! If only I had -been born in those days!" she added with a smile; "frivolous and -narrow-minded creature that I am, I should have been much better fitted -to paint fans and produce masterpieces of thread-work than to read the -newspapers and understand the debates in the Chambers!" - -Monsieur Hubert left the young people together; and their conversation -drifted from one subject to another, until it fell at last upon Madame -Delmare. - -"You were very intimate with our predecessors in this house," said the -young woman, "and it is generous on your part to come and see new faces -here. Madame Delmare," she added, with a penetrating glance at him, "was -a remarkable woman, so they say; she must have left memories here which -place us at a disadvantage, so far as you are concerned." - -"She was an excellent woman," Raymon replied, unconcernedly, "and her -husband was a worthy man." - -"But," rejoined the reckless girl, "she was something more than an -excellent woman, I should judge. If I remember rightly there was a charm -about her personality which calls for a more enthusiastic and more -poetic description. I saw her two years ago, at a ball at the Spanish -ambassador's. She was fascinating that night; do you remember?" - -Raymon started at this reminder of the evening that he spoke to Indiana -for the first time. He remembered at the same moment that he had noticed -at that ball the distingué features and clever eyes of the young woman -with whom he was now talking; but he did not then ask who she was. - -Not until he had taken his leave of her and was congratulating Monsieur -Hubert on his daughter's charms, did he learn her name. - -"I have not the good fortune to be her father," said the manufacturer; -"but I did the best I could by adopting her. Do you not know my story?" - -"I have been ill for several months," Raymon replied, "and have heard -nothing of you beyond the good you have already done in the province." - -"There are people," said Monsieur Hubert with a smile, "who consider -that I did a most meritorious thing in adopting Mademoiselle de Nangy; -but you, monsieur, who have elevated ideas, will judge whether I did -anything more than true delicacy required. Ten years ago, a widower and -childless, I found myself possessed of funds to a considerable amount, -the results of my labors, which I was anxious to invest. I found that -the estate and château of Nangy in Bourgogne, national property, were -for sale and suited me perfectly. I had been in possession some time -when I learned that the former lord of the manor and his seven-year-old -granddaughter were living in a hovel, in extreme destitution. The old -man had received some indemnity, but he had religiously devoted it to -the payment of debts incurred during the emigration. I tried to better -his condition and to give him a home in my house; but he had retained in -his poverty all the pride of his rank. He refused to return to the house -of his ancestors as an object of charity, and died shortly after my -arrival, having steadfastly refused to accept any favors at my hands. -Then I took his child there. The little patrician was proud already and -accepted my assistance most unwillingly; but at that age prejudices are -not deeply rooted and resolutions do not last long. She soon accustomed -herself to look upon me as her father and I brought her up as my own -daughter. She has rewarded me handsomely by the happiness she has -showered on my old age. And so, to make sure of my happiness, I have -adopted Mademoiselle de Nangy, and my only hope now is to find her a -husband worthy of her and able to manage prudently the property I shall -leave her." - -Encouraged by the interest with which Raymon listened to his -confidences, the excellent man, in true bourgeois fashion, gradually -confided all his business affairs to him. His attentive auditor found -that he had a fine, large fortune administered with the most minute -care, and which simply awaited a younger proprietor, of more fashionable -tastes than the worthy Hubert, to shine forth in all its splendor. He -felt that he might be the man destined to perform that agreeable task, -and he gave thanks to the ingenious fate which reconciled all his -interests by offering him, by favor of divers romantic incidents, a -woman of his own rank possessed of a fine plebeian fortune. It was a -chance not to be let slip, and he put forth all his skill in the effort -to grasp it. Moreover, the heiress was charming; Raymon became more -kindly disposed toward his providence. - -As for Madame Delmare, he would not think of her. He drove away the -fears which the thought of his letter aroused from time to time; he -tried to persuade himself that poor Indiana would not grasp his meaning -or would not have the courage to respond to it; and he finally succeeded -in deceiving himself and believing that he was not blameworthy, for -Raymon would have been horrified to find that he was selfish. He was not -one of those artless villains who come on the stage to make a naïve -confession of their vices to their own hearts. Vice is not reflected in -its own ugliness, or it would frighten itself; and Shakespeare's Iago, -who is so true to life in his acts, is false in his words, being forced -by our stage conventions to lay bare himself the secret recesses of his -deep and tortuous heart. Man rarely tramples his conscience under foot -thus coolly. He turns it over, squeezes it, pinches it, disfigures it; -and when he has distorted it and exhausted it and worn it out, he -carries it about with him as an indulgent and obliging mentor which -accommodates itself to his passions and his interests, but which he -pretends always to consult and to fear. - -He went often to Lagny, therefore, and his visits were agreeable to -Monsieur Hubert; for, as you know, Raymon had the art of winning -affection, and soon the rich bourgeois's one desire was to call him his -son-in-law. But he wished that his adopted daughter should choose him -freely and that they should be allowed every opportunity to know and -judge each other. - -Laure de Nangy was in no haste to assure Raymon's happiness; she kept -him perfectly balanced between fear and hope. Being less generous than -Madame Delmare, but more adroit, distant yet flattering, haughty yet -cajoling, she was the very woman to subjugate Raymon; for she was as -superior to him in cunning as he was to Indiana. She soon realized that -her admirer craved her fortune much more than herself. Her placid -imagination anticipated nothing better in the way of homage; she had too -much sense, too much knowledge of the world to dream of love when two -millions were at stake. She had chosen her course calmly and -philosophically, and she was not inclined to blame Raymon; she did not -hate him because he was of a calculating, unsentimental temper like the -age in which he lived; but she knew him too well to love him. She made -it a matter of pride not to fall below the standard of that cold and -scheming epoch; her self-esteem would have suffered had she been swayed -by the foolish illusions of an ignorant boarding-school miss; she would -have blushed at being deceived as at being detected in a foolish act; in -a word, she made her heroism consist in steering clear of love, as -Madame Delmare's consisted in sacrificing everything to it. - -Mademoiselle de Nangy was fully resolved, therefore, to submit to -marriage as a social necessity; but she took a malicious pleasure in -making use of the liberty which still belonged to her, and in imposing -her authority for some time on the man who aspired to deprive her of it. -No youth, no sweet dreams, no brilliant and deceptive future for that -girl, who was doomed to undergo all the miseries of wealth. For her, -life was a matter of stoical calculation, happiness a childish delusion -against which she must defend herself as a weakness and an absurdity. - -While Raymon was at work building up his fortune, Indiana was drawing -near the shores of France. But imagine her surprise and alarm, when she -landed, to see the tri-colored flag floating on the walls of Bordeaux! -The city was in a state of violent agitation; the prefect had been -almost murdered the night before; the populace were rising on all sides; -the garrison seemed to be preparing for a bloody conflict, and the -result of the revolution was still unknown. - -"I have come too late!" was the thought that fell upon Madame Delmare -like a stroke of lightning. - -In her alarm she left on board the little money and the few clothes that -she possessed, and ran about through the city in a state of frenzy. She -tried to find a diligence for Paris, but the public conveyances were -crowded with people who were either escaping or going to claim a share -in the spoils of the vanquished. Not until evening did she succeed in -finding a place. As she was stepping into the coach an improvised patrol -of National Guards objected to the departure of the passengers and -demanded to see their papers. Indiana had none. While she argued against -the absurd suspicions of the triumphant party, she heard it stated all -about her that the monarchy had fallen, that the king was a fugitive, -and that the ministers had been massacred with all their adherents. This -news, proclaimed with laughter and stamping and shouts of joy, dealt -Madame Delmare a deadly blow. In the whole revolution she was personally -interested in but one fact; in all France she knew but one man. She fell -on the ground in a swoon, and came to herself in a hospital--several -days later. - -After two months she was discharged, without money or linen or effects, -weak and trembling, exhausted by an inflammatory brain fever which had -caused her life to be despaired of several times. When she found herself -in the street, alone, hardly able to walk, without friends, resources or -strength, when she made an effort to recall the particulars of her -situation and realized that she was hopelessly lost in that great city, -she had an indescribable thrill of terror and despair as she thought -that Raymon's fate had long since been decided and that there was not a -solitary person about her who could put an end to her horrible -uncertainty. The horror of desertion bore down with all its might upon -her crushed spirit, and the apathetic despair born of hopeless misery -gradually deadened all her faculties. In the mental numbness which she -felt stealing over her, she dragged herself to the harbor, and, -shivering with fever, sat down on a stone to warm herself in the -sunshine, gazing listlessly at the water plashing at her feet. She sat -there several hours, devoid of energy, of hope, of purpose; but suddenly -she remembered her clothes and her money, which she had left on the -_Eugène_, and which she might possibly recover; but it was nightfall, -and she dared not go among the sailors who were just leaving their work -with much rough merriment and question them concerning the ship. -Desiring, on the other hand, to avoid the attention she was beginning to -attract, she left the quay and concealed herself in the ruins of a house -recently demolished behind the great esplanade of Les Quinconces. There, -cowering in a corner, she passed that cold October night, a night laden -with bitter thoughts and alarms. At last the day broke; hunger made -itself felt insistent and implacable. She decided to ask alms. Her -clothes, although in wretched condition, still indicated more -comfortable circumstances than a beggar is supposed to enjoy. People -looked at her curiously, suspiciously, ironically, and gave her nothing. -Again she dragged herself to the quays, inquired about the _Eugène_ and -learned from the first waterman she addressed that she was still in the -roadstead. She hired him to put her aboard and found Random at -breakfast. - -"Well, well, my fair passenger," he cried, "so you have returned from -Paris already! You have come in good time, for I sail to-morrow. Shall I -take you back to Bourbon?" - -He informed Madame Delmare that he had caused search to be made for her -everywhere, that he might return what belonged to her. But Indiana had -not a scrap of paper upon her from which her name could be learned when -she was taken to the hospital. She had been entered on the books there -and also on the police books under the designation _unknown_; so the -captain had been unable to learn anything about her. - -The next day, despite her weakness and exhaustion, Indiana started for -Paris. Her anxiety should have diminished when she saw the turn -political affairs had taken; but anxiety does not reason, and love is -fertile in childish fears. - -On the very evening of her arrival at Paris she hurried to Raymon's -house and questioned the concierge in an agony of apprehension. - -"Monsieur is quite well," was the reply; "he is at Lagny." - -"At Lagny! you mean at Cercy, do you not?" - -"No, madame, at Lagny, which he owns now." - -"Dear Raymon!" thought Indiana, "he has bought that estate to afford me -a refuge where public malice cannot reach me. He knew that I would -come!" - -Drunk with joy, she hastened, light of heart and instinct with new life, -to take apartments in a furnished house, and devoted the night and part -of the next day to rest. It was so long since the unfortunate creature -had enjoyed a peaceful sleep! Her dreams were sweet and deceptive, and -when she woke she did not regret them, for she found hope at her pillow. -She dressed with care; she knew that Raymon was particular about all the -minutiæ of the toilet, and she had ordered the night before a pretty -new dress which was brought to her just as she rose. But, when she was -ready to arrange her hair, she sought in vain the long and magnificent -tresses she had once had; during her illness they had fallen under the -nurse's shears. She noticed it then for the first time, her -all-engrossing thoughts had diverted her mind so completely from small -things. - -Nevertheless, when she had curled her short black locks about her pale -and melancholy brow, when she had placed upon her shapely head a little -English hat, called then, by way of allusion to the recent blow to great -fortunes, a _three per cent._; when she had fastened at her girdle a -bunch of the flowers whose perfume Raymon loved, she hoped that she -would still find favor in his sight; for she was as pale and fragile as -in the first days of their acquaintance, and the effect of her illness -had effaced the traces of the tropical sunshine. - -She hired a cab in the afternoon and arrived about nine at night at a -village on the outskirts of Fontainebleau. There she ordered the driver -to put up his horse and wait for her until the next day, and started off -alone, on foot, by a path which led to Lagny park by a walk of less than -quarter of an hour through the woods. She tried to open the small gate -but found it locked on the inside. It was her wish to enter by stealth, -to avoid the eyes of the servants and take Raymon by surprise. She -skirted the park wall. It was quite old; she remembered that there were -frequent breaches, and, by good luck, she found one and passed over -without much difficulty. - -When she stood upon ground which belonged to Raymon and was to be -thenceforth her refuge, her sanctuary, her fortress and her home, her -heart leaped for joy. With light, triumphant foot she hastened along the -winding paths she knew so well. She reached the English garden, which -was dark and deserted on that side. Nothing was changed in the -flower-beds; but the bridge, the painful sight of which she dreaded, had -disappeared, and the course of the stream had been altered; the spots -which might have recalled Noun's death had been changed, and no others. - -"He wished to banish that cruel memory," thought Indiana. "He was wrong, -I could have endured it. Was it not for my sake that he planted the -seeds of remorse in his life? Henceforth we are quits, for I too have -committed a crime. I may have caused my husband's death. Raymon can open -his arms to me, we will take the place of innocence and virtue to each -other." - -She crossed the stream on boards laid across where a bridge was to be -built and passed through the flower-garden. She was forced to stop, for -her heart was beating as if it would burst; she looked up at the windows -of her old bedroom. O bliss! a light was shining through the blue -curtains, Raymon was there. As if he could occupy any other room! The -door to the secret stairway was open. - -"He expects me at any time," she thought; "he will be happy but not -surprised." - -At the top of the staircase she paused again to take breath; she felt -less strong to endure joy than sorrow. She stooped and looked through -the keyhole. Raymon was alone, reading. It was really he, it was Raymon -overflowing with life and vigor; his trials had not aged him, the -tempests of politics had not taken a single hair from his head; there he -sat, placid and handsome, his head resting on his white hand which was -buried in his black hair. - -Indiana impulsively tried the door, which opened without resistance. - -"You expected me!" she cried, falling on her knees and resting her -feeble head upon Raymon's bosom; "you counted the months and days, you -knew that the time had passed, but you knew too that I could not fail to -come at your call. You called me and I am here, I am here! I am dying!" - -Her ideas became tangled in her brain; for some time she knelt there, -silent, gasping for breath, incapable of speech or thought. Then she -opened her eyes, recognized Raymon as if just waking from a dream, -uttered a cry of frantic joy, and pressed her lips to his, wild, ardent -and happy. He was pale, dumb, motionless, as if struck by lightning. - -"Speak to me, in Heaven's name," she cried; "it is I, your Indiana, your -slave whom you recalled from exile and who has travelled three thousand -leagues to love you and serve you; it is your chosen companion, who has -left everything, risked everything, defied everything, to bring you this -moment of joy! You are happy, you are content with her, are you not? I -am waiting for my reward; with a word, a kiss I shall be paid a hundred -fold." - -But Raymon did not reply; his admirable presence of mind had abandoned -him. He was crushed with surprise, remorse and terror when he saw that -woman at his feet; he hid his face in his hands and longed for death. - -"My God! my God! you don't speak to me, you don't kiss me, you have -nothing to say to me!" cried Madame Delmare, pressing Raymon's knees to -her breast; "is it because you cannot? Joy makes people ill, it kills -sometimes, I know! Ah! you are not well, you are suffocating, I -surprised you too suddenly! Try to look at me; see how pale I am, how -old I have grown, how I have suffered! But it was for you, and you will -love me all the better for it! Say one word to me, Raymon, just one." - -"I would like to weep," said Raymon in a stifled tone. - -"And so would I," said she, covering his hands with kisses. "Ah! yes, -that would do you good. Weep, weep on my bosom, and I will wipe your -tears away with my kisses. I have come to bring you happiness, to be -whatever you choose--your companion, your servant or your mistress. -Formerly I was very cruel, very foolish, very selfish. I made you suffer -terribly, and I refused to understand that I demanded what was beyond -your strength. But since then I have reflected, and as you are not -afraid to defy public opinion with me, I have no right to refuse to make -any sacrifice. Dispose of me, of my blood, of my life, as you will; I am -yours body and soul. I have travelled three thousand leagues to tell you -this, to give myself to you. Take me, I am your property, you are my -master." - -I cannot say what infernal project passed rapidly through Raymon's -brain. He removed his clenched hands from his face and looked at Indiana -with diabolical _sang-froid_; then a wicked smile played about his lips -and made his eyes gleam, for Indiana was still lovely. - -"First of all, we must conceal you," he said, rising. - -"Why conceal me here?" she said; "aren't you at liberty to take me in -and protect me, who have no one but you on earth, and who, without you, -shall be compelled to beg on the public highway? Why, even society can -no longer call it a crime for you to love me; I have taken everything on -my own shoulders! But where are you going?" she cried, as she saw him -walking toward the door. - -She clung to him with the terror of a child who does not wish to be left -alone a single instant, and dragged herself along on her knees behind -him. - -His purpose was to lock the door; but he was too late. The door opened -before he could reach it, and Laure de Nangy entered. She seemed less -surprised than exasperated, and did not utter an exclamation, but -stooped a little to look with snapping eyes at the half-fainting woman -on the floor; then, with a cold, bitter, scornful smile, she said: - -"Madame Delmare, you seem to enjoy placing three persons in a very -strange situation; but I thank you for assigning me the least ridiculous -rôle of the three, and this is how I discharge it. Be good enough to -retire." - -Indignation renewed Indiana's strength; she rose and drew herself up to -her full height. - -"Who is this woman, pray?" she said to Raymon, "and by what right does -she give me orders in your house?" - -"You are in my house, madame," retorted Laure. - -"Speak, in heaven's name, monsieur," cried Indiana fiercely, shaking the -wretched man's arm; "tell me whether she is your mistress or your wife!" - -"She is my wife," Raymon replied with a dazed air. - -"I forgive your uncertainty," said Madame de Ramière with a cruel -smile. "If you had remained where your duty required you to remain, you -would have received cards to monsieur's marriage. Come, Raymon," she -added in a tone of sarcastic amiability, "I am moved to pity by your -embarrassment. You are rather young; you will realize now, I trust, that -more prudence is advisable. I leave it for you to put an end to this -absurd scene. I would laugh at it if you didn't look so utterly -wretched." - -With that she withdrew, well satisfied with the dignity she had -displayed, and secretly triumphant because the incident had placed her -husband in a position of inferiority and dependence with regard to her. - -When Indiana recovered the use of her faculties she was alone in a close -carriage, being driven rapidly toward Paris. - - - - -XXIX - - -The carriage stopped at the barrier. A servant whom Madame Delmare -recognized as a man who had formerly been in Raymon's service came to -the door and asked where he should leave _madame_. Indiana instinctively -gave the name and street number of the lodging-house at which she had -slept the night before. On arriving there, she fell into a chair and -remained there until morning, without a thought of going to bed, without -moving, longing for death but too crushed, too inert to summon strength -to kill herself. She believed that it was impossible to live after such -terrible blows, and that death would of its own motion come in search of -her. She remained there all the following day, taking no sustenance, -making no reply to the offers of service that were made her. - -I do not know that there is anything more horrible on earth than life in -a furnished lodging-house in Paris, especially when it is situated, as -this one was, in a dark, narrow street, and only a dull, hazy light -crawls regretfully, as it were, over the smoky ceilings and soiled -windows. And then there is something chilly and repellent in the sight -of the furniture to which you are unaccustomed and to which your idle -glance turns in vain for a memory, a touch of sympathy. All those -objects which belong, so to speak, to no one, because they belong to all -comers; that room where no one has left any trace of his passage save -now and then a strange name, found on a card in the mirror-frame; that -mercenary roof, which has sheltered so many poor travellers, so many -lonely strangers, with hospitality for none; which looks with -indifference upon so many human agitations and can describe none of -them: the discordant, never-ending noise from the street, which does not -even allow you to sleep and thus escape grief or ennui: all these are -causes of disgust and irritation even to one who does not bring to the -horrible place such a frame of mind as Madame Delmare's. You ill-starred -provincial, who have left your fields, your blue sky, your verdure, your -house and your family, to come and shut yourself up in this dungeon of -the mind and the heart--see Paris, lovely Paris, which in your dreams -has seemed to you such a marvel of beauty! see it stretch away yonder, -black with mud and rainy, as noisy and pestilent and rapid as a torrent -of slime! There is the perpetual revel, always brilliant and perfumed, -which was promised you; there are the intoxicating pleasures, the -wonderful surprises, the treasures of sight and taste and hearing which -were to contend for the possession of your passions and faculties, which -are of limited capacity and powerless to enjoy them all at once! See, -yonder, the affable, winning, hospitable Parisian, as he was described -to you, always in a hurry, always careworn! Tired out before you have -seen the whole of this ever-moving population, this inextricable -labyrinth, you take refuge, overwhelmed with dismay, in the cheerful -precincts of a furnished lodging-house, where, after hastily installing -you, the only servant of a house that is often of immense size leaves -you to die in peace, if fatigue or sorrow deprive you of the strength to -attend to the thousand necessities of life. - -But to be a woman and to find oneself in such a place, spurned by -everybody, three thousand leagues from all human affection; to be -without money, which is much worse than being abandoned in a vast desert -without water; to have in all one's past not a single happy memory that -is not poisoned or withered, in the whole future not a single hope to -divert one's thoughts from the emptiness of the present, is the last -degree of misery and hopelessness. And so Madame Delmare, making no -attempt to contend against a destiny that was fulfilled, against a -broken, ruined life, submitted to the gnawings of hunger, fever and -sorrow without uttering a complaint, without shedding a tear, without -making an effort to die an hour earlier, to suffer an hour less. - -They found her on the morning of the second day, lying on the floor, -stiff with cold, with clenched teeth, blue lips and lustreless eyes; but -she was not dead. The landlady examined her secretary and, seeing how -poorly supplied it was, considered whether the hospital was not the -proper place for this stranger, who certainly had not the means to pay -the expenses of a long and costly illness. However, as she was a woman -_overflowing with humanity_, she caused her to be put to bed and sent -for a doctor to ascertain if the illness would last more than a day or -two. - -A doctor appeared who had not been sent for. Indiana, on opening her -eyes, found him beside her bed. I need not tell you his name. - -"Oh! you here! you here!" she cried, throwing herself, almost fainting, -on his breast. "You are my good angel! But you come too late, and I can -do nothing for you except to die blessing you." - -"You will not die, my dear," replied Ralph with deep emotion; "life may -still smile upon you. The laws which interfered with your happiness no -longer fetter your affection. I would have preferred to destroy the -invincible spell which a man whom I neither like nor esteem has cast -upon you; but that is not in my power, and I am tired of seeing you -suffer. Hitherto your life has been perfectly frightful; it cannot be -more so. Besides, even if my gloomy forebodings are realized and the -happiness of which you have dreamed is destined to be of short duration, -you will at least have enjoyed it for some little time, you will not die -without a taste of it. So I sacrifice all my repugnance and dislike. The -destiny which casts you, all alone as you are, into my arms, imposes -upon me the duties of a father and a guardian toward you. I come to tell -you that you are free and that you may unite your lot to Monsieur de -Ramière's. Delmare is no more." - -Tears rolled slowly down Ralph's cheeks while he was speaking. Indiana -suddenly sat up in bed and cried, wringing her hands in despair: - -"My husband is dead! and it was I who killed him! And you talk to me of -the future and happiness, as if such a thing were possible for the heart -that detests and despises itself! But be sure that God is just and that -I am cursed. Monsieur de Ramière is married." - -She fell back, utterly exhausted, into her cousin's arms. They were -unable to resume conversation until several hours later. - -"Your justly disturbed conscience may be set at rest," said Ralph, in a -solemn, but sad and gentle tone. "Delmare was at death's door when you -deserted him: he did not wake from the sleep in which you left him, he -never knew of your flight, he died without cursing you or weeping for -you. Toward morning, when I woke from the heavy sleep into which I had -fallen beside his bed, I found his face purple and he was burning hot -and breathing stertorously in his sleep; he was already stricken with -apoplexy. I ran to your room and was surprised not to find you there; -but I had no time to try to discover the explanation of your absence; I -was not seriously alarmed about it until after Delmare's death. -Everything that skill could do was of no avail, the disease progressed -with startling rapidity, and he died an hour later, in my arms, without -recovering the use of his senses. At the last moment, however, his -benumbed, clouded mind seemed to make an effort to come to life; he felt -for my hand which he took for yours--his were already stiff and numb--he -tried to press it, and died, stammering your name." - -"I heard his last words," said Indiana gloomily; "at the moment that I -left him forever, he spoke to me in his sleep. 'That man will ruin you,' -he said. Those words are here," she added, putting one hand to her heart -and the other to her head. - -"When I succeeded in taking my eyes and my thoughts from that dead -body," continued Ralph, "I thought of you; of you, Indiana, who were -free thenceforth, and who could not weep for your master unless from -kindness of heart or religious feeling. I was the only one whom his -death deprived of something, for I was his friend, and, even if he was -not always very sociable, at all events I had no rival in his heart. I -feared the effect of breaking the news to you too suddenly, and I went -to the door to wait for you, thinking that you would soon return from -your morning walk. I waited a long while. I will not attempt to describe -my anxiety, my search, and my alarm when I found Ophelia's body, all -bleeding and bruised by the rocks; the waves had washed it upon the -beach. I looked a long while, alas! expecting to discover yours; for I -thought that you had taken your own life, and for three days I believed -that there was nothing left on earth for me to love. It is useless to -speak of my grief; you must have foreseen it when you abandoned me. - -"Meanwhile, a rumor that you had fled spread swiftly through the colony. -A vessel came into port that had passed the _Eugène_ in Mozambique -Channel; some of the ship's company had been aboard your ship. A -passenger had recognized you, and in less than three days the whole -island knew of your departure. - -"I spare you the absurd and insulting reports that resulted from the -coincidence of those two events on the same night, your flight and your -husband's death. I was not spared in the charitable conclusions that -people amused themselves by drawing; but I paid no attention to them. I -had still one duty to perform on earth, to make sure of your welfare and -to lend you a helping hand if necessary. I sailed soon after you; but I -had a horrible voyage and have been in France only a week. My first -thought was to go to Monsieur de Ramière to inquire about you; but by -good luck I met his servant Carle, who had just brought you here. I -asked him no questions except where you were living, and I came here -with the conviction that I should not find you alone." - -"Alone, alone! shamefully abandoned!" cried Madame Delmare. "But let us -not speak of that man, let us never speak of him. I can never love him -again, for I despise him; but you must not tell me that I once loved -him, for that reminds me of my shame and my crime; it casts a terrible -reproach upon my last moments. Ah! be my angel of consolation; you who -never fail to come and offer me a friendly hand in all the crises of my -miserable life. Fulfil with pity your last mission; say to me words of -affection and forgiveness, so that I may die at peace, and hope for -pardon from the Judge who awaits me on high." - -She hoped to die; but grief rivets the chain of life instead of breaking -it. She was not even dangerously ill; she simply had no strength, and -lapsed into a state of languor and apathy which resembled imbecility. - -Ralph tried to distract her; he took her away from everything that could -remind her of Raymon. He took her to Touraine, he surrounded her with -all the comforts of life; he devoted all his time to making a portion of -hers endurable; and when he failed, when he had exhausted all the -resources of his art and his affection without bringing a feeble gleam -of pleasure to that gloomy, careworn face, he deplored the powerlessness -of his words and blamed himself bitterly for the ineptitude of his -affection. - -One day he found her more crushed and hopeless than ever. He dared not -speak to her, but sat down beside her with a melancholy air. Thereupon, -Indiana turned to him and said, pressing his hand tenderly: - -"I cause you a vast deal of pain, poor Ralph! and you must be patient -beyond words to endure the spectacle of such egotistical, cowardly -misery as mine! Your unpleasant task was finished long ago. The most -insanely exacting woman could not ask of friendship more than you have -done for me. Now leave me to the misery that is gnawing at my heart; do -not spoil your pure and holy life by contact with an accursed life; try -to find elsewhere the happiness which cannot exist near me." - -"I do in fact give up all hope of curing you, Indiana," he replied; "but -I will never abandon you even if you should tell me that I annoy you; -for you still require bodily care, and if you are not willing that I -should be your friend, I will at all events be your servant. But listen -to me; I have an expedient to propose to you which I have kept in -reserve for the last stage of the disease, but which certainly is -infallible." - -"I know but one remedy for sorrow," she replied, "and that is -forgetting; for I have had time to convince myself that argument is -unavailing. Let us hope everything from time, therefore. If my will -could obey the gratitude which you inspire in me, I should be now as -cheerful and calm as in the days of our childhood; believe me, my -friend, I take no pleasure in nourishing my trouble and inflaming my -wound; do I not know that all my sufferings rebound on your heart? Alas! -I would like to forget, to be cured! but I am only a weak woman. Ralph, -be patient and do not think me ungrateful." - -She burst into tears. Sir Ralph took her hand. - -"Listen, dear Indiana," he said; "to forget is not in our power; I do -not accuse you! I can suffer patiently; but to see you suffer is beyond -my strength. Indeed, why should we struggle thus, weak creatures that we -are, against a destiny of iron? It is quite enough to drag this -cannon-ball; the God whom you and I adore did not condemn man to undergo -so much misery without giving him the instinct to escape from it; and -what constitutes, in my opinion, man's most marked superiority over the -brute is his ability to understand what the remedy is for all his ills. -The remedy is suicide; that is what I propose, what I advise." - -"I have often thought of it," Indiana replied after a short silence. -"Long ago I was violently tempted to resort to it, but religious -scruples arrested me. Since then my ideas have reached a higher level, -in solitude. Misfortune clung to me and gradually taught me a different -religion from that taught by men. When you came to my assistance I had -determined to allow myself to die of hunger; but you begged me to live, -and I had not the right to refuse you that sacrifice. Now, what holds me -back is your existence, your future. What will you do all alone, poor -Ralph, without family, without passions, without affections? Since I -have received these horrible wounds in my heart I am no longer good for -anything to you; but perhaps I shall recover. Yes, Ralph, I will do my -utmost, I swear. Have patience a little longer; soon, perhaps, I shall -be able to smile. I long to become tranquil and light-hearted once more -in order to devote to you this life for which you have fought so stoutly -with misfortune." - -"No, my dear, no; I do not desire such a sacrifice; I will never accept -it," said Ralph. "Wherein is my life more precious than yours, pray? Why -must you inflict a hateful future upon yourself in order that mine may -be pleasant? Do you think that it will be possible for me to enjoy it -while feeling that your heart has no share in it? No, I am not so -selfish as that. Let us not attempt, I beg you, an impossible heroism; -it is overweening pride and presumption to hope to renounce all -self-love thus. Let us view our situation calmly and dispose of our -remaining days as common property which neither of us has the right to -appropriate at the other's expense. For a long time, ever since my -birth, I may say, life has been a bore and a burden to me; now I no -longer feel the courage to endure it without bitterness of heart and -impiety. Let us go together; let us return to God, who exiled us in this -world of trials, in this vale of tears, but who will surely not refuse -to open His arms to us when, bruised and weary, we go to Him and implore -His indulgence and His mercy. I believe in God, Indiana, and it was I -who first taught you to believe in Him. So have confidence in me; an -upright heart cannot deceive one who questions it with sincerity. I feel -that we have both suffered enough here on earth to be cleansed of our -sins. The baptism of unhappiness has surely purified our souls -sufficiently; let us give them back to Him who gave them." - -This idea engrossed Ralph and Indiana for several days, at the end of -which it was decided that they should commit suicide together. It only -remained to choose what sort of death they would die. - -"It is a matter of some importance," said Ralph; "but I have already -considered it, and this is what I have to suggest. The act that we are -about to undertake not being the result of a momentary mental -aberration, but of a deliberate determination formed after calm and -pious reflection, it is important that we should bring to it the -meditative seriousness of a Catholic receiving the sacraments of his -Church. For us the universe is the temple in which we adore God. In the -bosom of majestic, virgin nature we are impressed by the consciousness -of His power, pure of all human profanation. Let us go back to the -desert, therefore, so that we may be able to pray. Here, in this country -swarming with men and vices, in the bosom of this civilization which -denies God or disfigures Him, I feel that I should be ill at ease, -distraught and depressed. I would like to die cheerfully, with a serene -brow and with my eyes gazing heavenward. But where can we find heaven -here? I will tell you, therefore, the spot where suicide appeared to me -in its noblest and most solemn aspect. It is in Ile Bourbon, on the -verge of a precipice, on the summit of the cliff from which the -transparent cascade, surmounted by a gorgeous rainbow, plunges into the -lonely ravine of Bernica. That is where we passed the sweetest hours of -our childhood; that is where I bewailed the bitterest sorrows of my -life; that is where I learned to pray, to hope; that is where I would -like, during one of the lovely nights of that latitude, to bury myself -in those pure waters and go down into the cool, flower-decked grave -formed by the depths of the verdure-lined abyss. If you have no -predilection for any other spot, give me the satisfaction of offering up -our twofold sacrifice on the spot which witnessed the games of our -childhood and the sorrows of our youth." - -"I agree," said Madame Delmare, placing her hand in Ralph's to seal the -compact. "I have always been drawn to the banks of the stream by an -invincible attraction, by the memory of my poor Noun. To die as she died -will be sweet to me; it will be an atonement for her death, which I -caused." - -"Moreover," said Ralph, "another sea voyage, made under the influence of -other feelings than those which have agitated us hitherto, is the best -preparation we could imagine for communing with ourselves, for detaching -ourselves from earthly affections, for raising ourselves in unalloyed -purity to the feet of the Supreme Being. Isolated from the whole world, -always ready to leave this life with glad hearts, we shall watch with -enchanted eyes the tempest arouse the elements and unfold its -magnificent spectacles before us. Come, Indiana, let us go; let us shake -the dust of this ungrateful land from our feet. To die here, under -Raymon's eyes, would be to all appearance a mere commonplace, cowardly -revenge. Let us leave that man's punishment to God; and let us go and -beseech Him to open the treasures of His mercy to that barren and -ungrateful heart." - -They left France. The schooner _Nahandove_, as fleet and nimble as a -bird, bore them to their twice-abandoned country. Never was there so -pleasant and fast a passage. It seemed as if a favorable wind had -undertaken to guide safely into port those two ill-fated beings who had -been tossed about so long among the reefs and shoals of life. During -those three months Indiana reaped the fruit of her docile compliance -with Ralph's advice. The sea air, so bracing and so penetrating, -restored her impaired health; a wave of peace overflowed her wearied -heart. The certainty that she would soon have done with her sufferings -produced upon her the effect of a doctor's assurances upon a credulous -patient. Forgetting her past life, she opened her heart to the profound -emotions of religious hope. Her thoughts were all impregnated with a -mysterious charm, a celestial perfume. Never had the sea and sky seemed -to her so beautiful. It seemed to her that she saw them for the first -time, she discovered so many new splendors and glories in them. Her brow -became serene once more, and one would have said that a ray of the -Divine essence had passed into her sweetly melancholy eyes. - -A change no less extraordinary took place in Ralph's soul and in his -outward aspect; the same causes produced almost the same results. His -heart, so long hardened against sorrow, softened in the revivifying -warmth of hope. Heaven descended also into that bitter, wounded heart. -His words took on the stamp of his feelings and for the first time -Indiana became acquainted with his real character. The reverent, filial -intimacy that bound them together took from the one his painful shyness, -from the other her unjust prejudices. Every day cured Ralph of some -_gaucherie_ of his nature, Indiana of some error of her judgment. At the -same time the painful memory of Raymon faded away and gradually vanished -in face of Ralph's unsuspected virtues, his sublime sincerity. As the -one grew greater in her estimation, the other fell away. At last, by -dint of comparing the two men, every vestige of her blind and fatal love -was effaced from her heart. - - - - -XXX - - -It was last year, one evening during the never-ending summer that reigns -in those latitudes, that two passengers from the schooner _Nahandove_ -journeyed into the mountains of Ile Bourbon three days after landing. -These two persons had devoted the interval to repose, a precaution quite -inconsistent with the plan which had brought them to the colony. But -such was evidently not their opinion; for, after taking _faham_ together -on the veranda, they dressed with especial care as if they intended to -pass the evening in society, and, taking the road to the mountain, they -reached the ravine of Bernica after about an hour's walk. - -Chance willed that it should be one of the loveliest evenings for which -the moon ever furnished light in the tropics. That luminary had just -risen from the dark waves and was beginning to cast a long band of -quick-silver on the sea; but its rays did not shine into the gorge, and -the edges of the basin reflected only the trembling gleam of a few -stars. Even the lemon-trees on the higher slopes of the mountain were -not covered with the pale diamonds with which the moon sprinkles their -polished, brittle leaves. The ebony trees and the tamarinds murmured -softly in the darkness; only the bushy tufts at the summit of the huge -palm-trees, whose slender trunks rose a hundred feet from the ground, -shone with a greenish tinge in the silvery beams. - -The sea-birds were resting quietly in the crevices of the cliffs, and -only a few blue pigeons, concealed behind the projections of the -mountain, raised their melancholy, passionate note in the distance. -Lovely beetles, living jewels, rustled gently in the branches of the -coffee-trees, or skimmed the surface of the lake with a buzzing noise, -and the regular plashing of the cascade seemed to exchange mysterious -words with the echoes on its shores. - -The two solitary promenaders ascended by a steep and winding path to the -top of the gorge, to the spot where the torrent plunges down in a white -column of vapor to the foot of the precipice. They found themselves on a -small platform admirably adapted to their purpose. A number of -convolvuli hanging from the trunks of trees formed a natural cradle -suspended over the waterfall. Sir Ralph, with wonderful self-possession, -cut away several branches which might impede their spring, then took his -companion's hand and drew her to a seat beside him on a moss-covered -rock from which in the daytime the beautiful view from that spot could -be seen in all its wild and charming grandeur. But at that moment the -darkness and the dense vapor from the cascade enveloped everything and -made the height of the precipice seem immeasurable and awe-inspiring. - -"Let me remind you, my dear Indiana," said Ralph, "that the success of -our undertaking requires the greatest self-possession on our part. If -you jump hastily in a direction where, because of the darkness, you see -no obstacles, you will inevitably bruise yourself on the rocks and your -death will be slow and painful; but, if you take care to throw yourself -in the direction of the white line which marks the course of the -waterfall you will fall into the lake with it, and the water itself will -see to it that you do not miss your aim. But, if you prefer to wait an -hour, the moon will rise high enough to give us light." - -"I am willing," Indiana replied, "especially as we ought to devote these -last moments to religious thoughts." - -"You are right, my dear," said Ralph. "This last hour should be one of -meditation and prayer. I do not say that we ought to make our peace with -the Eternal, that would be to forget the distance that separates us from -His sublime power; but we ought, I think, to make our peace with the men -who have caused our suffering, and to confide to the wind which blows -toward the northeast words of pity for those from whom three thousand -leagues of ocean separate us." - -Indiana received this suggestion without surprise or emotion. For -several months past her thoughts had become more and more elevated in -direct proportion to the change that had taken place in Ralph. She no -longer listened to him simply as a phlegmatic adviser; she followed him -in silence as a good spirit whose mission it was to take her from the -earth and deliver her from her torments. - -"I agree," she said; "I am overjoyed to feel that I can forgive without -an effort, that I have neither hatred nor regret nor love nor resentment -in my heart; indeed, at this moment, I hardly remember the sorrows of my -sad life and the ingratitude of those who surrounded me. Almighty God! -Thou seest the deepest recesses of my heart; Thou knowest that it is -pure and calm, and that all my thoughts of love and hope have turned to -Thee." - -Thereupon, Ralph seated himself at Indiana's feet and began to pray in a -loud voice that rose above the roar of the cascade. It was the first -time perhaps since he was born that his whole thought came to his lips. -The hour of his death had struck; his heart was no longer held in check -by fetters or mysteries; it belonged to God alone; the chains of society -no longer weighed it down. Its ardor was no longer a crime, it was free -to soar upward to God who awaited it; the veil that concealed so much -virtue, grandeur and power fell away, and the man's mind rose at its -first leap to the level of his heart. - -As a bright flame burns amid dense clouds of smoke and scatters them, so -did the sacred fire that glowed in the depths of his being send forth -its brilliant light. The first time that that inflexible conscience -found itself delivered from its trammels and its fears, words came of -themselves to the assistance of his thoughts, and the man of mediocre -talents, who had never said any but commonplace things in his life, -became, in his last hour, eloquent and convincing as Raymon had never -been. Do not expect me to repeat to you the strange harangue that he -confided to the echoes of the vast solitude; not even he himself, if he -were here, could repeat it. There are moments of mental exaltation and -ecstasy when our thoughts are purified, subtilized, etherealized as it -were. These infrequent moments raise us so high, carry us so far out of -ourselves, that when we fall back upon the earth we lose all -consciousness and memory of that intellectual debauch. Who can -understand the anchorite's mysterious visions? Who can tell the dreams -of the poet before his exaltation cooled so that he could write them -down for us? Who can say what marvellous things are revealed to the soul -of the just man when Heaven opens to receive him? Ralph, a man so -utterly commonplace to all outward appearance--and yet an exceptional -man, for he firmly believed in God and consulted the book of his -conscience day by day--Ralph at that moment was adjusting his accounts -with eternity. It was the time to be himself, to lay bare his whole -moral being, to lay aside, before the Judge, the disguise that men had -forced upon him. Casting away the haircloth in which sorrow had -enveloped his bones, he stood forth sublime and radiant as if he had -already entered into the abode of divine rewards. - -As she listened to him, it did not occur to Indiana to be surprised; she -did not ask herself if it were really Ralph who talked like that. The -Ralph she had known had ceased to exist, and he to whom she was -listening now seemed to be a friend whom she had formerly seen in her -dreams and who finally became incarnate for her on the brink of the -grave. She felt her own pure soul soar upward in the same flight. A -profound religious sympathy aroused in her the same emotions, and tears -of enthusiasm fell from her eyes upon Ralph's hair. - -Thereupon, the moon rose over the tops of the great palms, and its -beams, shining between the branches of the convolvuli, enveloped Indiana -in a pale, misty light which made her resemble, in her white dress and -with her long hair falling over her shoulders, the wraith of some maiden -lost in the desert. - -Sir Ralph knelt before her and said: - -"Now, Indiana, you must forgive me for all the injury I have done you, -so that I may forgive myself for it." - -"Alas!" she replied, "what can I possibly have to forgive you, my poor -Ralph? Ought I not, on the contrary, to bless you to the last moment of -my life, as you have forced me to do in all the days of misery that have -fallen to my lot?" - -"I do not know how far I have been blameworthy," rejoined Ralph; "but it -is impossible that, in the course of such a long and terrible battle -with my destiny, I should not have been many times without my own -volition." - -"Of what battle are you speaking?" queried Indiana. - -"That is what I must explain to you before we die; that is the secret of -my life. You asked me to tell it to you on the ship that brought us -here, and I promised to do so on the shore of Bernica Lake, when the -moon should rise upon us for the last time." - -"That moment has come," she said, "and I am listening." - -"Summon all your patience then, for I have a long story to tell you, -Indiana, and that story is my own." - -"I thought that I knew it, inasmuch as I have hardly ever been separated -from you." - -"You do not know it; you do not know it for a single day, a single -hour," said Ralph sadly. "When could I have told it to you, pray? It is -Heaven's will that the only suitable moment for me to do so, should be -the last moment of your life and my own. But it is as innocent and -proper to-day as it would formerly have been insane and criminal. It is -a personal gratification for which no one has the right to blame me at -this hour, which you accord to me in order to complete the task of -patience and gentleness which you have taken upon yourself with regard -to me. Endure to the end, therefore, the burden of my unhappiness; and -if my words tire you and annoy you, listen to the waterfall as it sings -the hymn of the dead over me. - -"I was born to love; none of you chose to believe it, and your error in -that regard had a decisive influence on my character. It is true that -nature, while giving me an ardent heart, was guilty of a strange -inconsistency; she placed on my face a stone mask and on my tongue a -weight that it could not raise; she refused me what she grants to the -most ordinary mortals, the power to express my feelings by the glance or -by speech. That made me selfish. People judged the mental being by the -outer envelope and, like an imperfect fruit I was compelled to dry up -under the rough husk which I could not cast off. I was hardly born when -I was cast out of the heart which I most needed. My mother put me away -from her breast with disgust, because my baby face could not return her -smile. At an age when one can hardly distinguish a thought from a -desire, I was already branded with the hateful designation of egotist. - -"Thereupon it was decided that no one would love me, because I was -unable to put in words my affection for anyone. They made me unhappy, -they declared that I did not feel my unhappiness; I was almost banished -from my father's house; they sent me to live among the rocks like a -lonely shore-bird. You know what my childhood was, Indiana. I passed the -long days in the desert, with no anxious mother to come there in search -of me, with no friendly voice amid the silence of the ravines to remind -me that the approach of night called me back to the cradle. I grew up -alone, I lived alone; but God would not permit me to be unhappy to the -end, for I shall not die alone. - -"Heaven however sent me a gift, a consolation, a hope. You came into my -life as if Heaven had created you for me. Poor child! abandoned like me, -like me set adrift in life without love and without protectors, you -seemed to be destined for me--at least I flattered myself that it was -so. Was I too presumptuous? For ten years you were mine, absolutely -mine; I had no rivals, no misgivings. At that time I had had no -experience of what jealousy is. - -"That time, Indiana, was the least dismal period of my life. I made of -you my sister, my daughter, my companion, my pupil, my whole society. -Your need of me made my life something more than that of a wild beast; -for your sake I threw off the gloom into which the contempt of my own -family had cast me. I began to esteem myself by becoming useful to you. -I must tell you everything, Indiana; after accepting the burden of life -for you, my imagination suggested the hope of a reward. I accustomed -myself--forgive the words I am about to use; even to-day I cannot utter -them without fear and trembling--I accustomed myself to think that you -would be my wife; child that you were, I looked upon you as my -betrothed; my imagination arrayed you in the charms of young womanhood; -I was impatient to see you in your maturity. My brother, who had usurped -my share of the family affection and who took pleasure in peaceful -avocations, had a garden on the hillside which we can see from here by -daylight, and which subsequent owners have transformed into a -rice-field. The care of his flowers occupied his pleasantest moments, -and every morning he went out to watch their progress with an impatient -eye, and to wonder, child that he was, because they had not grown so -much as he expected in a single night. You, Indiana, were my whole -vocation, my only joy, my only treasure; you were the young plant that I -cultivated, the bud that I was impatient to see bloom. I, too, looked -eagerly every morning for the effect of another day that had passed over -your head; for I was already a young man and you were but a child. -Already passions of which you did not know the name were stirring my -bosom; my fifteen years played havoc with my imagination, and you were -surprised to see me so often in a melancholy mood, sharing your games, -but taking no pleasure in them. You could not imagine that a fruit or a -bird was no longer a priceless treasure to me as it was to you, and I -already seemed cold and odd to you. And yet you loved me such as I was; -for, despite my melancholy, there was not a moment of my life that was -not devoted to you; my sufferings made you dearer to my heart; I -cherished the insane hope that it would be your mission to change them -to joys some day. - -"Alas! forgive me for the sacrilegious thought which kept me alive for -ten years; if it were a crime in the accursed child to hope for you, -lovely, simple-hearted child of the mountains, God alone is guilty of -giving him, for his only sustenance, that audacious thought. Upon what -could that wounded, misunderstood heart subsist, who encountered new -necessities at every turn and found a refuge nowhere? from whom could he -expect a glance, a smile of love, if not from you, whose lover and -father he was at the same time? - -"Do not be shocked to find that you grew up under the wing of a poor -bird consumed by love; never did any impure homage, any blameworthy -thought endanger the virginity of your soul; never did my mouth brush -from your cheeks that bloom of innocence which covered them as the fruit -is covered with a moist vapor in the morning. My kisses were the kisses -of a father, and when your innocent and playful lips met mine they did -not find there the stinging flame of virile desire. No, it was not with -you, a tiny blue-eyed child, that I was in love. As I held you in my -arms, with your innocent smile and your dainty caresses, you were simply -my child, or at most my little sister; but I was in love with your -fifteen years, when, yielding to the ardor of my own youth, I devoured -the future with a greedy eye. - -"When I read you the story of Paul and Virginie, you only half -understood it. You wept, however; you saw only the story of a brother -and sister where I had quivered with sympathy, realizing the torments of -two lovers. That book made me miserable, whereas it was your joy. You -enjoyed hearing me read of the attachment of a faithful dog, of the -beauty of the cocoa-palms and the songs of Dominique the negro. But I, -when I was alone, read over and over the conversations between Paul and -his sweetheart, the impulsive suspicions of the one, the secret -sufferings of the other. Oh! how well I understood those first anxieties -of youth, seeking in his own heart an explanation of the mysteries of -life, and seizing enthusiastically on the first object of love that -presents itself to him! But do me justice, Indiana--I did not commit the -crime of hastening by a single day the placid development of your -childhood; I did not let a word escape me which could suggest to you -that there were such things as tears and misery in life. I left you, at -the age of ten, in all the ignorance, all the security that were yours -when your nurse placed you in my arms, one day when I had determined to -die. - -"Often as I sat alone on this cliff I wrung my hands frantically as I -listened to all the sounds of spring time and of love which the mountain -gives forth, as I saw the creepers chase each other to and fro, the -insects sleeping in a voluptuous embrace in the calyx of a flower, as I -inhaled the burning dust which the palm-trees sent to one -another--ethereal transports, subtle joys to which the gentle summer -breeze serves as a couch. At such times I was frantic, I was mad. I -appealed for love to the flowers, to the birds, to the voice of the -torrent. I called wildly upon that unknown bliss, the mere thought of -which made my brain whirl. But I would see you running toward me, along -yonder path, merry and laughing, so tiny in the distance and so awkward -about climbing the rocks that one might have taken you for a penguin, -with your white dress and your brown hair. Then my blood would grow -calm, my lips cease to burn. In presence of the little Indiana of seven -I would forget the Indiana of fifteen of whom I had just been dreaming. -I would open my arms to you with pure delight; your kisses would cool my -forehead. At those times I was happy; I was a father. - -"How many free, peaceful days we have passed in this ravine! How many -times I have bathed your feet in the pure water of yonder basin! How -many times I have watched you sleeping among the reeds, shaded by the -leaf of a palm for an umbrella! It was at those times that my tortures -would occasionally begin anew. It was a sore affliction to me that you -were so small. I would ask myself whether, suffering as I did, I could -live until the day when you could understand me and respond to my love. -I would gently lift your silken locks and kiss them with passion. I -would compare them with curls I had cut from your head in preceding -years and which I kept in my wallet. I would joyously make sure of the -darker shade that each recurring spring gave to them. Then I would -examine the marks on the trunk of a date-tree nearby, that I had made to -show the progressive increase in your height for four or five years. The -tree still bears those scars, Indiana; I found them on it the last time -I came here to suffer. Alas! in vain did you grow taller and taller; in -vain did your beauty keep all its promises; in vain did your hair become -black as ebony. You did not grow for me; not for me did your charms -develop. The first time that your heart beat faster it was for another -than me. - -"Do you remember how we ran, as light of foot as two turtle-doves, among -the thickets of wild rose bushes? Do you remember, too, that we -sometimes went astray in the forests over our heads? Once we tried to -reach the mist-enveloped peaks of the Salazes; but we had not foreseen -that the higher we went the scarcer the fruit became, the less -accessible the streams, the more terrible and more penetrating the cold. - -"When we saw the vegetation receding behind us you would have returned; -but when we had crossed the fern belt we found a quantity of wild -strawberries, and you were so busy filling your basket with them that -you thought no more about leaving the place. But we had to abandon the -idea of going on. We were walking on volcanic rocks covered with little -brown spots, and with woolly plants growing among them. Those wretched -wind-beaten weeds made us think of the goodness of God, who has given -them a warm garment to withstand the violence of the storm. Then the -mist became so dense that we could not tell where we were going, and we -had to go down again. I carried you in my arms. I crept carefully down -the deep slopes of the mountain. Darkness surprised us as we entered the -first woods, in the third belt of vegetation. I picked some pomegranates -for you and made shift to quench my own thirst with the convolvuli, the -stalks of which contain an abundant supply of cool, pure water. -Thereupon we recalled the adventure of our favorite heroes, when they -lost themselves in the forests of the Rivière-Rouge. But we had no -loving mothers, nor zealous servants, nor faithful dog to search for us. -But I was content; I was proud. I shared with no one the duty of -watching over you, and I considered myself more fortunate than Paul. - -"Yes, it was a profound and pure and true passion that you inspired in -me even then. Noun, at ten years, was a head taller than you; a creole -in the fullest acceptation of the word, she was already developed. Her -melting eyes already shone with a curious expression; her bearing and -character were those of a young woman. But I did not love Noun, or I -loved her only because of you, with whom she always played. It never -occurred to me to wonder whether she was beautiful already; whether she -would be more beautiful some day. I never looked at her. In my eyes she -was more of a child than you; for, you see, I loved you. I staked all my -hopes upon you; you were the companion of my life, the dream of my -youth. - -"Those days of exile in England, that period of pain and grief, I will -not describe. If I treated any one badly, it was not you; and if any one -treated me badly, I do not propose to complain. There I became more -_egotistical_ that is to say more depressed and more distrustful than -ever. By being suspicious of me, people had compelled me to become -self-sufficient and to rely upon myself. Thus I had only the testimony -of my own heart to support me in those trials. It was attributed to me -as a crime that I did not love a woman who married me only because she -was forced to and who never treated me with anything but contempt. It -was afterwards remarked that one of the principal characteristics of my -egotism was the aversion I seemed to feel for children. Raymon more than -once bantered me cruelly concerning that supposed peculiarity, observing -that the care necessary for the education of children was quite -inconsistent with the rigidly methodical ways of an old bachelor. I -fancy that he did not know that I had been a father, and that it was I -who educated you. But none of you would ever understand that the memory -of my son was as intensely painful to me after many years as on the -first day, and that my sore heart swelled at the sight of flaxen heads -that reminded me of him. When a man is unhappy, people are terribly -afraid of not finding him blameworthy enough, because they dread being -compelled to pity him. - -"But what no one will ever be able to understand is the profound -indignation, the black despair which took possession of me when I, a -poor child of the desert, upon whom no one had ever deigned to cast a -pitying glance, was forced to leave this spot and take upon myself the -burdens of society; when I was told that I must fill an empty place that -had spurned me; when they tried to make me understand that I had duties -to fulfil toward those men and women who had disregarded their duties -toward me. Think of it! no one of all my kindred had chosen to be my -protector and now they all called upon me to undertake the defence of -their interests! They would not even leave me to enjoy in peace what -pariahs enjoy, the air of solitude! I had but one thing in life that I -cherished, one thought, one hope--that you would belong to me forever; -they deprived me of that, they told me that you were not rich enough for -me. Bitter mockery! for me whom the mountains had nourished and whom my -father's roof had cast out! me, who had never been allowed to learn the -use of riches, and upon whom was now laid the duty of managing to -advantage the riches of other people! - -"However I submitted. I had no right to pray that my paltry happiness -might be spared; I was despised enough, Heaven knows! to resist would -have been to make myself odious. My mother, inconsolable for her other -son's death, threatened to die herself if I did not follow out my -destiny. My father, who accused me of not knowing how to comfort him, as -if I were to blame because he loved me so little, was ready to curse me -if I tried to escape from his yoke. I bent my head; but what I suffered -even you yourself, although you too have been very unhappy, could never -understand. If, after being hunted and maltreated and oppressed as I -have been, I have not returned mankind evil for evil, perhaps it is a -fair conclusion that my heart is not so cold and sterile as it has been -accused of being. - -"When I came back here, when I saw the man to whom you had been -married--forgive me, Indiana, that was the time when I was genuinely -selfish; there must always be selfishness in love, since there was a -touch of it even in mine--I felt an indescribably cruel joy in the -thought that that legal sham would give you a master and not a husband. -You were surprised at the species of affection for him I displayed; it -was because I did not look upon him as a rival. I knew well enough that -that old man could neither feel nor inspire love, and that your heart -would come forth untouched from that marriage. I was grateful to him for -your coldness and your melancholy. If he had remained here, I should -perhaps have become a very guilty man; but you left me alone and it was -not in my power to live without you. I tried to conquer the indomitable -love which had sprung to life again in all its force when I found you as -fair and sad as I had dreamed of you in your childhood. But solitude -only intensified my suffering and I yielded to the craving I felt to see -you, to live under the same roof, to breathe the same air, to drink my -fill every hour of the melodious tones of your voice. You know what -obstacles I had to meet, what distrust I had to overcome; I realized -then what duties I had voluntarily undertaken; I could not connect my -life with yours without quieting your husband's suspicions by a sacred -promise, and I have never known what it was to trifle with my word. I -pledged myself therefore with my mind and my heart never to forget my -rôle of brother, and I ask you, Indiana, if I ever was false to my -oath. - -"I realized also that it would be difficult, perhaps impossible, for me -to perform that painful task, if I laid aside the disguise that -precluded any intimate relations, any profound sentiment; I realized -that I must not play with the danger, for my passion was too intense to -come forth victorious from a battle. I felt that I must erect about -myself a triple wall of ice, in order to repel your interest in me, in -order to deprive myself of your compassion, which would have ruined me. -I said to myself that on the day that you pitied me, I should be already -guilty, and I made up my mind to live under the weight of that horrible -accusation of indifference and selfishness, which, thank Heaven! you did -not fail to bring against me. The success of my ruse surpassed my hopes; -you lavished upon me a sort of insulting pity like that which is -accorded to eunuchs; you denied me the possession of a heart and -passions; you trampled me under foot, and I had not the right to display -energy enough to be angry and vow vengeance, for that would have -betrayed me and shown you that I was a man. - -"I complain of mankind at large and not of you, Indiana. You were always -kind and merciful; you tolerated me under this despicable disguise I had -adopted in order to be near you; you never made me blush for my rôle, -you were all in all to me, and sometimes I thought with pride that if -you looked kindly upon me in the guise I had assumed in order that you -might misunderstand me, you might perhaps love me if you should know me -some day as I really was. Alas! what other than you would not have -spurned me? what other would have held out her hand to that speechless, -witless clown? Everybody but you held aloof with disgust from the -_egotist!_ Ah! there was one being in the world generous enough not to -tire of that profitless exchange; there was one heart large enough to -shed something of the blessed flame that animated it upon the narrow, -benumbed heart of the poor abandoned wretch. It required a heart that -had too much of that of which I had not enough. There was under Heaven -but one Indiana capable of caring for a Ralph. - -"Next to you the person who showed me the most indulgence was Delmare. -You accused me of preferring him to you, of sacrificing your comfort to -my own by refusing to interfere in your domestic quarrels. Unjust, blind -woman! you did not see that I served you as well as it was possible to -do; and, above all, you did not understand that I could not raise my -voice in your behalf without betraying myself. What would have become of -you if Delmare had turned me out of his house? who would have protected -you, patiently, silently, but with the persevering steadfastness of an -undying love? Not Raymon surely. And then I was fond of him from a -feeling of gratitude, I confess;--yes, fond of that rough, vulgar -creature who had it in his power to deprive me of my only remaining joy, -and who did not do it; that man whose misfortune it was not to be loved -by you, so that there was a secret bond of sympathy between us! I was -fond of him too for the very reason that he had never caused me the -tortures of jealousy. - -"But I have come now to the most ghastly sorrow of my life, to the fatal -time when your love, of which I had dreamed so long, belonged to -another. Then and not till then did I fully realize the nature of the -sentiment that I had held in check so many years. Then did hatred pour -poison into my breast and jealousy consume what was left of my strength. -Hitherto my imagination had kept you pure; my respect encompassed you -with a veil which the innocent audacity of dreams dared not even raise; -but when I was assailed by the horrible thought that another had -involved you in his destiny, had snatched you from my power and was -intoxicating himself with deep draughts of the bliss of which I dared -not I even dream, I became frantic; I would have rejoiced to see that -detested man at the foot of this precipice and to roll stones down upon -his head. - -"However your sufferings were so great that I forgot my own. I did not -choose to kill him, because you would have wept for him. Indeed I was -tempted twenty times, Heaven forgive me! to be a vile and despicable -wretch, to betray Delmare and serve my enemy. Yes, Indiana, I was so -insane, so miserable at the sight of your suffering, that I repented -having tried to enlighten you and that I would have given my life to -bequeath my heart to that man! Oh! the villain! may God forgive him for -the injury he has done me! but may He punish him for the misery he has -heaped on your head! It is for that that I hate him; for, so far as I am -concerned, I forget what my life has been, when I see what he has made -of yours. He is a man whom society should have branded on the forehead -on the day of his birth! whom it should have spat upon and cast out as -the hardest-hearted and vilest of men! But on the contrary, she bore it -aloft in triumph. Ah! I recognize mankind in that, and I ought not to be -indignant; for man simply obeys his nature in adoring the deformed -creature who destroys the happiness and consideration of another. - -"Forgive me, Indiana, forgive me! it is cruel perhaps to complain before -you, but this is the first time and the last; let me curse the -ungrateful wretch who has driven you to the grave. This terrible lesson -was necessary to open your eyes. In vain did a voice from Noun's -deathbed and Delmare's cry out to you: 'Beware of him, he will ruin -you!'--you were deaf: your evil genius led you on and, dishonored as you -are, public opinion condemns you and absolves him. He did all sorts of -evil and no heed was paid to it. He killed Noun and you forgot it; he -ruined you and you forgave him. You see, he had the art to dazzle the -eyes and deceive the mind; his adroit, deceitful words found their way -to the heart; his viper's glance fascinated; and if nature had given him -my metallic features and my dull intelligence she would have made a -perfect man of him. - -"Yes, I say, may God punish him, for he was barbarous to you! or, -rather, may He forgive him, for perhaps he was more stupid than wicked! -He did not understand you; he did not appreciate the happiness he might -have enjoyed! Oh! you loved him so dearly! He might have made your life -so beautiful! In his place I would not have been virtuous; I would have -fled with you into the heart of the mountains; I would have torn you -from society to have you all to myself, and I should have had but one -fear, that you would not be accursed and abandoned sufficiently so that -I might be all in all to you. I would have been jealous of your -consideration, but not in the same way that he was; my aim would have -been to destroy it in order to replace it by my love. I should have -suffered intensely to see another man give you the slightest morsel of -pleasure, a moment's gratification; it would have been a theft from me; -for your happiness would have been my care, my property, my life, my -honor! Oh! how vain and how wealthy I would have been with this wild -ravine for my only home, these mountain trees for my only fortune, if -heaven had given them to me with your love! Let us weep, Indiana; it is -the first time in my life that I have wept; it is God's will that I -should not die without knowing that melancholy pleasure." - -Ralph was weeping like a child. It was in very truth the first time that -stoical soul had ever given way to self-compassion; and yet there was in -those tears more sorrow for Indiana's fate than for his own. - -"Do not weep for me," he said, seeing that her face too was bathed in -tears. "Do not pity me; your pity wipes out the whole past, and the -present is no longer bitter. Why should I suffer now? You no longer love -him." - -"If I had known you as you are, Ralph, I should never have loved him," -cried Madame Delmare; "it was your virtue that was my ruin." - -"And then," continued Ralph, looking at her with a sorrowful smile, "I -have many other causes of joy. You unwittingly confided something to me -during the hours that we poured out our hearts to each other on board -ship. You told me that this Raymon was never so fortunate as he had the -presumption to claim to be, and you relieved me of a part of my -torments. You took away my remorse for having watched over you so -ineffectually; for I had the insolence to try to protect you from his -fascinations; and therein I insulted you, Indiana. I did not have faith -in your strength; that is another crime for you to forgive." - -"Alas!" said Indiana, "you ask me to forgive! me who have made your -whole life miserable, who have rewarded so pure and generous a love with -incredible blindness, barbarous ingratitude! Why, I am the one who -should crawl at your feet and implore forgiveness." - -"Then this love of mine arouses neither disgust nor anger in your -breast, Indiana? O my God! I thank Thee! I shall die happy! Listen, -Indiana; cease to blame yourself for my sufferings. At this moment I -regret none of Raymon's joys, and I think that my fate would arouse his -envy if he had the heart of a man. Now I am your brother, your husband, -your lover for all eternity. Since the day that you promised to leave -this life with me, I have cherished the sweet thought that you belonged -to me, that you had returned to me never to leave me again. I began once -more to call you my betrothed under my breath. It would have been too -much happiness--or, it may be, not enough--to possess you on earth. In -God's bosom the bliss awaits me of which my childhood dreamed. There, -Indiana, you will love me; there, your divine intellect, stripped of all -the lying fictions of this life, will make up to me for a whole life of -sacrifices, suffering and self-denial; there, you will be mine, O my -Indiana! for you are heaven! and if I deserve to be saved, I deserve to -possess you. This is what I had in mind when I asked you to put on this -white dress; it is the wedding dress; and yonder rock jutting out into -the basin is the altar that awaits us." - -He rose and plucked a branch from a flowering orange tree in a -neighboring thicket and placed it on Indiana's black hair; then he knelt -at her feet. - - -[Illustration 06: _RALPH AND INDIANA SEEK DEATH -TOGETHER_ -_Their lips met; and doubtless there is in a love -that comes from the heart a greater power than in -the ardor of a fugitive desire; for that kiss, on the -threshold of another life, summed up for them all -the joys of this._ - -_Thereupon Ralph took his fiancée in his arms and -bore her away to plunge with her in the torrent._] - - -"Make me happy," he said; "tell me that your heart consents to this -marriage in another world. Give me eternity; do not compel me -to pray for absolute annihilation." - -If the story of Ralph's inward life has produced no effect upon you, if -you have not come to love that virtuous man, it is because I have proved -to be an unfaithful interpreter of his memories, because I have not been -able to exert the power possessed by a man who is profoundly in earnest -in his passion. Moreover, the moon does not lend me its melancholy -influence, nor do the song of the grosbeak, the perfume of the -cinnamon-tree, and all the luxurious and intoxicating seductions of a -night in the tropics appeal to your head and heart. It may be, too, that -you do not know by experience what powerful and novel sensations awake -in the heart at the thought of suicide, and how all the things of this -life appear in their true light at the moment of severing our connection -with them. This sudden light filled all the inmost recesses of Indiana's -heart; the bandage, which had long been loosened, fell from her eyes -altogether. Newly awake to the truth and to nature, she saw Ralph's -heart as it really was. She also saw his features as she had never seen -them; for the mental exaltation of his position had produced the same -effect on him that the Voltaic battery produces on paralyzed limbs; it -had set him free from the paralysis that had fettered his eyes and his -voice. Arrayed in all the glory of his frankness and his virtue he was -much handsomer than Raymon, and Indiana felt that he was the man she -should have loved. - -"Be my husband in heaven and on earth," she said, "and let this kiss -bind me to you for all eternity!" - -Their lips met; and doubtless there is in a love that comes from the -heart a greater power than in the ardor of a fugitive desire; for that -kiss, on the threshold of another life, summed up for them all the joys -of this. - -Thereupon Ralph took his fiancée in his arms and bore her away to -plunge with her in the torrent. - - - - -CONCLUSION - -TO J. NERAUD - - -On a hot, sunshiny day in January last I started from Saint-Paul and -wandered into the wild forests of Ile Bourbon to muse and dream. I -dreamed of you, my friend; those virgin forests had retained for me the -memory of your wanderings and your studies, the ground had kept the -imprint of your feet. I found everywhere the marvellous things with -which your magical tales charmed the tedium of my vigils in the old -days, and, in order that we might enjoy them together, I called upon old -Europe, where obscurity encompasses you with its modest advantages, to -send you to me. Happy man, whose intellect and merits no treacherous -friend has made known to the world! - -I walked in the direction of a lonely spot in the highest part of the -island, called _Brulé de Saint-Paul._ - -A huge fragment of mountain, which was dislodged and fell during some -volcanic disturbance, has formed on the slope of the principal mountain -a sort of long arena studded with rocks arranged in the most magical -disorder, in the most extraordinary confusion. Here, a huge boulder -balances itself on a number of small fragments; there, rises a wall of -slender, light, porous rocks with dentilated edges and openwork -decoration like a Moorish building; farther on, an obelisk of basalt, -whose sides an artist seems to have carved and polished, stands upon a -crenelated bastion; in another place, a gothic fortress is crumbling to -decay beside a curious, shapeless pagoda. That spot is the rendezvous of -all the rough drafts of art, all the sketches of architecture; it would -seem that all the geniuses of all nations and of all ages went for their -inspiration to that vast work of hazard and demolition. There, doubtless -some magically elaborate design of chance gave birth to the Moorish -style of sculpture. In the heart of the forests, art found in the -palm-tree one of its most beautiful models. The _vacoa_ which anchors -itself in the ground and clings to it with a hundred arms branched from -its main stalk, evidently furnished the first suggestion of the plan of -a cathedral supported by its light flying buttresses. In the _Brulé de -Saint-Paul_ all shapes, all types of beauty, all humorous and bold -conceits were assembled, piled upon one another, arranged and -constructed in one tempestuous night. The spirits of air and fire -undoubtedly presided over this diabolical operation; they alone could -give to their productions that awe-inspiring, fanciful, incomplete -character which distinguishes their works from those of man; they alone -could have piled up those monstrous boulders, moved those gigantic -masses, toyed with mountains as with grains of sand, and strewn, amid -creations which man has tried to copy, those grand conceptions of art, -those sublime contrasts impossible of realization, which seem to defy -the audacity of the artist and to say to him derisively: "Try it again." - -I halted at the foot of a crystallized basaltic monument, about sixty -feet high and cut with facets as if by a lapidary. At the top of this -strange object an inscription seemed to have been traced in bold -characters by an immortal hand. Those vulcanized rocks often present -that phenomenon; long ago, when their substance, softened by the action -of fire, was still warm and malleable, they received and retained the -imprint of the shells and climbing plants that clung to them. These -chance contacts have resulted in some strange freaks, curious -hieroglyphics, mysterious characters which seem to have been stamped -there like the seal of some supernatural being, written in cabalistic -letters. - -I stood there a long time, detained by a foolish idea that I might find -a meaning for those ciphers. This profitless search caused me to fall -into a profound meditation, during which I forgot that time was flying. - -Already the mists were gathering about the peaks of the mountains, -creeping down the sides and rapidly shutting out their outlines. Before -I had descended half way to the plateau, they reached the belt that I -was crossing and enveloped it in an impenetrable curtain. A moment later -a high wind came up and swept the mist away in a twinkling. Then it -fell; the mist settled down once more, to be once more driven away by a -terrific squall. - -I sought shelter from the storm in a grotto which afforded me some -protection; but another scourge came to the assistance of the wind. -Torrents of rain swelled the streams, all of which flow from the summit -of the mountain. In an hour, everything was inundated and the sides of -the mountain, with water pouring down on every side, formed one vast -cascade which rushed madly down toward the lowlands. - -After two days of most painful and dangerous travelling, I found myself, -guided by Providence, I doubt not, at the door of a house built in an -exceedingly wild locality. The simple but attractive cottage had -withstood the tempest, being sheltered by a rampart of cliffs which -leaned over it as if to act as an umbrella. A little lower, a waterfall -plunged madly down into a ravine and formed at the bottom a brimming -lake, above which, clumps of lovely trees still reared their -storm-tossed, tired heads. - -I knocked vigorously; but the face that appeared in the doorway made me -recoil. Before I had opened my mouth to ask for shelter the master of -the house had welcomed me gravely and silently with a wave of his hand. -I entered and found myself alone with him, face to face with Sir Ralph -Brown. - -In the year that had passed since the _Nahandove_ brought Sir Ralph and -his companion back to the colony, he had not been seen in the town three -times; and, as for Madame Delmare, her seclusion had been so absolute -that her existence was still a problematical matter to many of the -people. It was about the same time that I first landed at Bourbon, and -my present interview with Monsieur Brown was the second one I had had in -my life. - -The first had left an ineradicable impression on me; it was at -Saint-Paul, on the seashore. His features and bearing had impressed me -only slightly at first; but when, through mere idle curiosity, I -questioned the colonists concerning him, their replies were so strange, -so contradictory, that I scrutinized the recluse of Bernica more -closely. - -"He's a clown--a man of no education," said one; "an absolute nullity, -who has only one good quality--that of keeping his mouth shut." - -"He's an extremely well educated and profound man," said another, "but -too strongly persuaded of his own superiority, contemptuous and -conceited--so much so that he considers any words wasted that he happens -to exchange with the common herd." - -"He's a man who cares for nobody but himself," said a third; "a man of -inferior capacity, but not stupid; profoundly selfish and, they say, -hopelessly unsociable." - -"Why, don't you know?" said a young man brought up in the colony and -thoroughly imbued with the characteristic narrow-mindedness of -provincials, "he's a knave, a villain who poisoned his friend in the -most dastardly way in order to marry his wife." - -This assertion bewildered me so that I turned to another, older -colonist, whom I knew to be possessed of considerable common sense. - -As my glance eagerly requested a solution of these enigmas, he answered: - -"Sir Ralph was formerly an excellent man, who was not a favorite because -he was not communicative, but whom everybody esteemed. That is all I can -say about him; for, since his unfortunate experience, I have had no -relations with him." - -"What experience?" I inquired. - -He told me about Colonel Delmare's sudden death, his wife's flight -during the same night, and Monsieur Brown's departure and return. The -obscurity which surrounded all these circumstances had been in nowise -lessened by the investigations of the authorities; there was no evidence -that the fugitive had committed the crime. The king's attorney had -refused to prosecute; but the partiality of the magistrates for Monsieur -Brown was well known, and they had been severely criticised for not -having at least enlightened public opinion concerning an affair which -left the reputations of two persons marred by a hateful suspicion. - -A fact that seemed to justify these suspicions was the furtive return of -the two accused persons and their mysterious establishment in the depths -of the ravine of Bernica. They had run away at first, so it was said, to -give the affair time to die out; but public opinion had been so cold in -France that they had been driven to return and take refuge in the -desert, to gratify their criminal attachment in peace. - -But all these theories were set at naught by another fact which was -vouched for by persons who seemed better informed: Madame Delmare, I was -told, had always manifested a decided coolness, almost downright -aversion for her cousin Monsieur Brown. - -I had thereupon scrutinized the hero of so many strange tales -carefully--conscientiously, if I may say so. He was sitting on a bale of -merchandise, awaiting the return of a sailor whom he had sent to make -some purchase or other for him. His eyes, blue as the sea, were gazing -pensively at the horizon, with such a placid and honest expression; all -the lines of his face were so perfectly in harmony with one another; -nerves, muscles, blood, all seemed so tranquil, so perfect, so -well-ordered in that robust and healthy individual, that I would have -sworn that all the tales were deadly insults, that he had no crime on -his conscience, that he had never had one in his mind, that his heart -and his hands were as pure as his brow. - -But suddenly the baronet's distraught glance had fallen upon me, as I -was staring at him with eager and impertinent curiosity. Confused and -embarrassed as a thief caught in the act, I lowered my eyes, for Sir -Ralph's expression conveyed a stern rebuke. Since then I had often -thought of him, involuntarily; he had appeared in my dreams. I was -conscious, as I thought of him, of that vague feeling of uneasiness, -that indescribable emotion, which are like the magnetic fluid with which -an unusual destiny is encompassed. - -My desire to know Sir Ralph was very real, therefore, and very keen; but -I should have preferred to watch him furtively, without being seen -myself. It seemed to me that I had wronged him. The crystalline -appearance of his eyes froze me with terror. It was so evident that he -was a man of towering superiority, either in virtue or in villainy, that -I felt very small and mean in his presence. - -His hospitality was neither showy nor vulgar. He took me to his room, -lent me some clothes and clean linen; then led me to his companion, who -was awaiting us to take supper. - -As I saw how young and lovely she still was--she seemed barely -eighteen--and admired her bloom, her grace, and her sweet voice, I felt -a thrill of painful emotion. I reflected that that woman was either very -guilty or very unfortunate: guilty of a detestable crime or dishonored -by a detestable accusation. - -I was detained at Bernica for a week by the overflowing of the rivers, -the inundation of the plains, the rain and the wind; and then came the -sun, and it never occurred to me to leave my hosts. - -Neither of them could be called brilliant. They had little wit, I should -say--perhaps indeed they had none at all; but they had that quality -which makes one's words impressive and pleasant to hear; they had -intellect of the heart. Indiana is ignorant, but not with that narrow, -vulgar ignorance which proceeds from indolence, from carelessness or -nullity of character. She is eager to learn what the engrossing -preoccupations of her life had prevented her from finding out; and then, -too, there may have been a little coquetry in the way she questioned Sir -Ralph, in order to bring into the light her friend's vast stores of -knowledge. - -I found her playful, but without petulance; her manners have retained a -trace of the languor and melancholy natural to creoles, but in her they -seemed to me to have a more abiding charm; her eyes especially have an -incomparably soft expression and seem to tell the story of a life of -suffering; and when her mouth smiles, there is still a touch of -melancholy in those eyes, but the melancholy that seems to be the -contemplation of happiness or the emotion of gratitude. - -One morning I said to them that at last I was going away. - -"Already!" was their answer. - -The accent of regret was so genuine, so touching, that I felt -encouraged. I had determined that I would not leave Sir Ralph without -asking him to tell me his story; but I felt an insurmountable timidity -because of the horrible suspicion that had been planted in my mind. - -I tried to overcome it. - -"Men are great villains," I said to him; "they have spoken ill of you to -me. I am not surprised, now that I know you. Your life must have been a -very beautiful one, to be so slandered----" - -I stopped abruptly when I detected an expression of innocent surprise on -Madame Delmare's features. I understood that she knew nothing of the -atrocious calumnies current in the colony, and I encountered upon Sir -Ralph's face an unequivocal look of haughty displeasure. I rose at once -to take my leave of them, shamefaced and sad, crushed by Monsieur -Brown's glance, which reminded me of our first meeting and the silent -interview of the same sort we had had on the sea-shore. - -Bitterly chagrined to leave that excellent man in such a frame of mind, -regretting that I had annoyed and wounded him in return for the happy -days I owed to him, I felt my heart swell within me and I burst into -tears. - -"Young man," he said, taking my hand, "remain with us another day; I -have not the courage to let the only friend we have on the island leave -us in this way--I understand you," he added, after Madame Delmare had -left the room; "I will tell you my story, but not before Indiana. There -are wounds which one must not re-open." - -That evening we went for a walk in the woods. The trees, which had been -so fresh and lovely a fortnight earlier, were entirely stripped of their -leaves, but they were already covered with great resinous buds. The -birds and insects had resumed possession of their empire. The withered -flowers already had young buds to replace them. The streams -perseveringly carried seaward the gravel with which their beds were -filled. Everything was returning to life and health and happiness. - -"Just see," said Ralph to me, "with what astounding rapidity this -kindly, fecund nature repairs its losses! Does it not seem as if it were -ashamed of the time wasted, and were determined, by dint of a lavish -expenditure of sap and vigor, to do over in a few days the work of a -year?" - -"And it will succeed," rejoined Madame Delmare. "I remember last year's -storms; at the end of a month there was no trace of them." - -"It is the image of a heart broken by sorrow," I said to her; "when -happiness comes back, it renews its youth and blooms again very -quickly." - -Indiana gave me her hand and looked at Monsieur Brown with an -indescribable expression of affection and joy. - -When night fell she went to her room, and Sir Ralph, bidding me sit -beside him on a bench in the garden, told me his history to the point at -which we dropped it in the last chapter. - -There he made a long pause and seemed to have forgotten my presence -completely. - -Impelled by my interest in his narrative, I decided to interrupt his -meditation by one last question. - -He started like a man suddenly awakened; then, smiling pleasantly, he -said: - -"My young friend, there are memories which we rob of their bloom by -putting them in words. Let it suffice you to know that I was fully -determined to kill Indiana with myself. But doubtless the consummation -of our sacrifice was still unrecorded in the archives of Heaven. A -doctor would tell you perhaps that a very natural attack of vertigo took -possession of my wits and led me astray as to the location of the path. -For my own part, who am not a doctor at all in such matters, I prefer to -believe that the angel of Abraham and Tobias, that beautiful white angel -with the blue eyes and the girdle of gold, whom you often saw in your -childish dreams, came down from Heaven on a moonbeam, and, as he hovered -in the trembling vapor of the cataract, stretched his silvery wings over -my gentle companion's head. The only thing that I am able to tell you is -that the moon sank behind the great peaks of the mountain and no ominous -sound disturbed the peaceful murmur of the waterfall; the birds on the -cliff did not take their flight until a white streak appeared on the -horizon; and the first ruddy beam that fell upon the clump of -orange-trees found me on my knees blessing God. - -"Do not think, however, that I accepted instantly the unhoped-for -happiness which gave a new turn to my destiny. I was afraid to sound the -radiant future that was dawning for me; and when Indiana raised her eyes -and smiled upon me, I pointed to the waterfall and talked of dying. - -"'If you do not regret having lived until this morning,' I said to her, -'we can both declare that we have tasted happiness in all its plenitude; -and it is an additional reason for ceasing to live, for perhaps my star -would pale to-morrow. Who can say that, on leaving this spot, on coming -forth from this intoxicating situation to which thoughts of death and -love have brought me, I shall not become once more the detestable brute -whom you despised yesterday? Will you not blush for yourself when you -find me again as you have always known me? Oh! Indiana, spare me that -horrible agony; it would be the complement of my destiny.' - -"'Do you doubt your heart, Ralph?' said Indiana with an adorable -expression of love and confidence, 'or does not mine offer you -sufficient guarantee?' - -"Shall I tell you? I was not happy at first. I did not doubt Madame -Delmare's sincerity, but I was terrified by thought of the future. -Having distrusted myself beyond measure for thirty years, I could not -feel assured in a single day of my ability to please and to retain her -love. I had moments of uncertainty, alarm and bitterness; I sometimes -regretted that I had not jumped into the lake when a word from Indiana -had made me so happy. - -"She too must have had attacks of melancholy. She found it difficult to -break herself of the habit of suffering, for the heart becomes used to -unhappiness, it takes root in it and cuts loose from it only with an -effort. However, I must do her heart the justice to say that she never -had a regret for Raymon; she did not even remember him enough to hate -him. - -"At last, as always happens in deep and true attachments, time, instead -of weakening our love, established it firmly and sealed it; each day -gave it added intensity, because each day brought fresh obligations on -both sides to esteem and to bless. All our fears vanished one by one; -and when we saw how easy it was to destroy those causes of distrust, we -smilingly confessed to each other that we took our happiness like -cowards and that neither of us deserved it. From that moment we have -loved each other in perfect security." - -Ralph paused; then, after a few moments of profound meditation in which -we were equally absorbed, he continued, pressing my hand: - -"I say nothing of my happiness; if there are griefs that never betray -their existence and envelop the heart like a shroud, so there are joys -that remain buried in the heart of man because no earthly voice can -describe them. Moreover, if some angel from heaven should light upon one -of these flowering branches and describe those joys in the language of -his native land, you would not understand them, young man, for the -tempest has not bruised and shattered you. Alas! what can the heart that -has not suffered understand of happiness? As to our crimes----" he added -with a smile. - -"Oh!" I cried, my eyes wet with tears. - -"Listen, monsieur," he continued, interrupting me; "you have lived but a -few hours with the two outlaws of Bernica, but a single hour would -suffice for you to learn their whole life. All our days resemble one -another; they are all calm and lovely; they pass by as swiftly and as -pure as those of our childhood. Every night we bless God; we pray to him -every morning, we implore at his hands the sunshine and shade of the day -before. The greater part of our income is devoted to the redemption of -poor and infirm blacks. That is the principal cause of the evil that the -colonists say of us. Would that we were rich enough to set free all -those who live in slavery! Our servants are our friends; they share our -joys, we nurse them in sickness. This is the way our life is spent, -without vexations, without remorse. We rarely speak of the past, rarely -of the future; but always of the former without bitterness, of the -latter without alarm. If we sometimes surprise ourselves with tears in -our eyes, it is because great joys always cause tears to flow; the eyes -are dry in great misery." - -"My friend," I said after a long silence, "if the accusations of the -world should reach your ears, your happiness would answer loudly -enough." - -"You are young," he replied, "in your eyes, for your conscience is -ingenuous and pure and unsoiled by the world, our happiness is the proof -of our virtue; in the eyes of the world it is our crime. Solitude is -sweet, I tell you, and men are not worth a regret." - -"All do not accuse you," I said; "but even those who appreciate your -true character blame you for despising public opinion, and those who -acknowledge your virtue say that you are arrogant and proud." - -"Believe me," replied Ralph, "there is more pride in that reproach than -in any alleged scorn. As for public opinion, monsieur, judging from -those whom it exalts, ought we not always to hold out our hand to those -whom it tramples upon? It is said that its approval is necessary to -happiness; they who think so should respect it. For my part, I sincerely -pity any happiness that rises or falls with its capricious breath." - -"Some moralists criticise your solitary life; they claim that every man -belongs to society, which demands his presence. They add that you set an -example which it is dangerous to follow." - -"Society should demand nothing of the man who expects nothing from it," -Sir Ralph replied. "As for the contagion of example, I do not believe in -it, monsieur; too much energy is required to break with the world, and -too much suffering to acquire that energy. So let this unknown happiness -flow on in peace, for it costs nobody anything, and conceals itself for -fear of making others envious. Go, young man, follow the course of your -destiny; have friends, a profession, a reputation, a fatherland. As for -me, I have Indiana. Do not break the chains that bind you to society, -respect its laws if they protect you, accept its judgments if they are -fair to you: but if some day it calumniates you and spurns you, have -pride enough to find a way to do without it." - -"Yes," said I, "a pure heart will enable us to endure exile; but, to -make us love it, one must have such a companion as yours." - -"Ah!" he said, "if you knew how I pity this world of yours, which looks -down on me!" - -The next day I left Ralph and Indiana; one embraced me, the other shed a -few tears. - -"Adieu," they said to me; "return to the world; if some day it banishes -you, remember our Indian cottage." - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Indiana, by George Sand - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIANA *** - -***** This file should be named 63445-0.txt or 63445-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/4/4/63445/ - -Produced by Dagny and Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free -Literature (Images generously made available by Hathi -Trust.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/63445-0.zip b/old/63445-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1b3ab0e..0000000 --- a/old/63445-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63445-h.zip b/old/63445-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 101035e..0000000 --- a/old/63445-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63445-h/63445-h.htm b/old/63445-h/63445-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 60d0e51..0000000 --- a/old/63445-h/63445-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10902 +0,0 @@ -<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Indiana, by George Sand. - </title> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} -.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%} -hr.full {width: 95%;} - -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} -hr.r65 {width: 65%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} - -ul.index { list-style-type: none; } -li.ifrst { margin-top: 1em; } -li.indx { margin-top: .5em; } -li.isub1 {text-indent: 1em;} -li.isub2 {text-indent: 2em;} -li.isub3 {text-indent: 3em;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - - .tdl {text-align: left;} - .tdr {text-align: right;} - .tdc {text-align: center;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; -} /* page numbers */ - -.linenum { - position: absolute; - top: auto; - right: 10%; -} /* poetry number */ - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.sidenote { - width: 10%; - padding-bottom: .5em; - padding-top: .5em; - padding-left: .5em; - padding-right: .5em; - margin-left: .5em; - float: left; - clear: left; - margin-top: .5em; - font-size: smaller; - color: black; - background: #eeeeee; - border: dashed 1px; -} - -.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} - -.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} - -.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} - -.br {border-right: solid 2px;} - -.bbox {border: solid 2px;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.u {text-decoration: underline;} - -.gesperrt -{ - letter-spacing: 0.2em; - margin-right: -0.2em; -} - -em.gesperrt -{ - font-style: normal; -} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.figleft { - float: left; - clear: left; - margin-left: 0; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 1em; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; -} - -.figright { - float: right; - clear: right; - margin-left: 1em; - margin-bottom: - 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 0; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; -} - -/* Notes */ -.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - -.actor {font-size: 0.8em; - text-align: center;} - -/* Poetry */ -.poem { - margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; - text-align: left; -} - -.poem br {display: none;} - -.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Indiana, by George Sand - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Indiana - -Author: George Sand - -Illustrator: Oreste Cortazzo - -Translator: George Burnham Yves - -Release Date: October 12, 2020 [EBook #63445] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIANA *** - - - - -Produced by Dagny and Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free -Literature (Images generously made available by Hathi -Trust.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/indiana_cover.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -</div> - -<h4>The Masterpieces of George Sand,</h4> - -<h3>Amandine Lucille Aurore Dupin, Baroness<br /> -Dudevant, <i>NOW FOR THE FIRST<br /> -TIME COMPLETELY TRANSLATED<br /> -INTO ENGLISH INDIANA</i></h3> - -<h3><i>BY G. BURNHAM IVES</i></h3> - -<h5><i>WITH SIX PHOTOGRAVURES AFTER PAINTINGS BY<br /> -ORESTE CORTAZZO</i></h5> - -<h4><i>IN ONE VOLUME</i></h4> - -<h4><i>PRINTED ONLY FOR SUBSCRIBERS BY<br /> -GEORGE BARRIE & SON<br /> -PHILADELPHIA</i></h4> - - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h4>CONTENTS</h4> -<p><a href="#INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a><br /> -<a href="#PREFACE_TO_THE_EDITION_OF_1832">PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1832</a><br /> -<a href="#PREFACE_TO_THE_EDITION_OF_1842">PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1842</a><br /> -<a href="#PART_FIRST">PART FIRST</a><br /> -<a href="#PART_SECOND">PART SECOND</a><br /> -<a href="#PART_THIRD">PART THIRD</a><br /> -<a href="#PART_FOURTH">PART FOURTH</a><br /> -<a href="#CONCLUSION"></a></p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h4> -<p><a href="#figure01"><i>MADAME DELMARE DISCOVERS NOUN'S BODY</i></a><br /> -<a href="#figure02"><i>MADAME DELMARE DRESSES DE RAMIÈRES WOUNDS</i></a><br /> -<a href="#figure03"><i>THE BOAR HUNT</i></a><br /> -<a href="#figure04"><i>SIR RALPH SAVES INDIANA</i></a><br /> -<a href="#figure05"><i>MADAME DELMARE'S FLIGHT</i></a><br /> -<a href="#figure06"><i>RALPH AND INDIANA SEEK DEATH TOGETHER</i></a></p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="figure01"></a> -<img src="images/figure01.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="center"><i>MADAME DELMARE DISCOVERS<br /> -NOUN'S BODY</i></p> -<p><i>Terror nailed her to the spot; but the stream -flowed on, slowly drawing a body from the reeds -among which it had caught, and bringing it toward -Madame Delmare.</i></p></div> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a></h4> - - -<p>I wrote Indiana during the autumn of 1831. It was my first novel; I -wrote it without any fixed plan, having no theory of art or philosophy -in my mind. I was at the age when one writes with one's instincts, and -when reflection serves only to confirm our natural tendencies. Some -people chose to see in the book a deliberate argument against marriage. -I was not so ambitious, and I was surprised to the last degree at all -the fine things that the critics found to say concerning my subversive -purposes. Criticism is far too acute; that is what will cause its death. -It never passes judgment ingenuously on what has been done ingenuously. -It looks for noon at four o'clock, as the old women say, and must cause -much suffering to artists who care more for its decrees than they ought -to do.</p> - -<p>Under all régimes and in all times there has been a race of critics, -who, in contempt of their own talent, have fancied that it was their -duty to ply the trade of denouncers, of purveyors to the prosecuting -attorney's office; extraordinary functions for men of letters to assume -with regard to their confrères! The rigorous measures of government -against the press never satisfy these savage critics. They would have -them directed not only against works but against persons as well, and, -if their advice were followed, some of us would be forbidden to write -anything whatsoever.</p> - -<p>At the time that I wrote <i>Indiana</i>, the cry of Saint Simonism was -raised on every pretext. Later they shouted all sorts of other things. Even -now certain writers are forbidden to open their mouths, under pain of -seeing the police agents of certain newspapers pounce upon their work and -hale them before the police of the constituted powers. If a writer puts -noble sentiments in the mouth of a mechanic, it is an attack on the -bourgeoisie; if a girl who has gone astray is rehabilitated after -expiating her sin, it is an attack on virtuous women; if an impostor -assumes titles of nobility, it is an attack on the patrician caste; if a -bully plays the swashbuckling soldier, it is an insult to the army; if a -woman is maltreated by her husband, it is an argument in favor of -promiscuous love. And so with everything. Kindly brethren, devout and -generous critics! What a pity that no one thinks of creating a petty -court of literary inquisition in which you should be the torturers! -Would you be satisfied to tear the books to pieces and burn them at a -slow fire, and could you not, by your urgent representations, obtain -permission to give a little taste of the rack to those writers who -presume to have other gods than yours?</p> - -<p>Thank God, I have forgotten the names of those who tried to discourage -me at my first appearance, and who, being unable to say that my first -attempt had fallen completely flat, tried to distort it into an -incendiary proclamation against the repose of society. I did not expect -so much honor, and I consider that I owe to those critics the thanks -which the hare proffered the frogs, imagining from their alarm that he -was entitled to deem himself a very thunderbolt of war.</p> - - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">GEORGE SAND.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 5%;">Nohant, May, 1852.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="PREFACE_TO_THE_EDITION_OF_1832">PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1832</a></h4> - - -<p>If certain pages of this book should incur the serious reproach of -tending toward novel beliefs, if unbending judges shall consider their -tone imprudent and perilous, I should be obliged to reply to the -criticism that it does too much honor to a work of no importance; that, -in order to attack the great questions of social order, one must either -be conscious of great strength of purpose or pride one's self upon great -talent, and that such presumption is altogether foreign to a very simple -tale, in which the author has invented almost nothing. If, in the course -of his task, he has happened to set forth the lamentations extorted from -his characters by the social malady with which they were assailed; if he -has not shrunk from recording their aspirations after a happier -existence, let the blame be laid upon society for its inequalities, upon -destiny for its caprices! The author is merely a mirror which reflects -them, a machine which reverses their tracing, and he has no reason for -self-reproach if the impression is exact, if the reflection is true.</p> - -<p>Consider further that the narrator has not taken for text or devise a -few shrieks of suffering and wrath scattered through the drama of human -life. He does not claim to conceal serious instruction beneath the -exterior form of a tale; it is not his aim to lend a hand in -constructing the edifice which a doubtful future is preparing for us and -to give a sly kick at that of the past which is crumbling away. He knows -too well that we live in an epoch of moral deterioration, wherein the -reason of mankind has need of curtains to soften the too bright glare -which dazzles it. If he had felt sufficiently learned to write a -genuinely useful book, he would have toned down the truth, instead of -presenting it in its crude tints and with its startling effects. That -book would have performed the functions of blue spectacles for weak -eyes.</p> - -<p>He does not abandon the idea of performing that honorable and laudable -task some day; but, being still a young man, he simply tells you to-day -what he has seen, not presuming to draw his conclusions concerning the -great controversy between the future and the past, which perhaps no man -of the present generation is especially competent to do. Too -conscientious to conceal his doubts from you, but too timid to transform -them into certainties, he relies upon your reflections and abstains from -weaving into the woof of his narrative preconceived opinions, judgments -all formed. He plies with exactitude his trade of narrator. He will tell -you everything, even painful truths; but, if you should wrap him in the -philosopher's robe, you would find that he was exceedingly confused, -simple story-teller that he is, whose mission is to amuse and not to -instruct.</p> - -<p>Even were he more mature and more skilful, he would not dare to lay his -hand upon the great sores of dying civilization. One must be so sure of -being able to cure them when one ventures to probe them! He would much -prefer to arouse your interest in old discarded beliefs, in -old-fashioned, vanished forms of devotion, to employing his talent, if -he had any, in blasting overturned altars. He knows, however, that, in -these charitable times, a timorous conscience is despised by public -opinion as hypocritical reserve, just as, in the arts, a timid bearing -is sneered at as an absurd mannerism; but he knows also that there is -honor, if not profit, in defending lost causes.</p> - -<p>To him who should misunderstand the spirit of this book, such a -profession of faith would sound like an anachronism. The narrator hopes -that few auditors, after listening to his tale to the end, will deny the -moral to be derived from the facts, a moral which triumphs there as in -all human affairs; it seemed to him, when he wrote the last line, that -his conscience was clear. He flattered himself, in a word, that he had -described social miseries without too much bitterness, human passions -without too much passion. He placed the mute under his strings when they -echoed too loudly; he tried to stifle certain notes of the soul which -should remain mute, certain voices of the heart which cannot be awakened -without danger.</p> - -<p>Perhaps you will do him justice if you agree that the being who tries to -free himself from his lawful curb is represented as very wretched -indeed, and the heart that rebels against the decrees of its destiny as -in sore distress. If he has not given the best imaginable rôle to that -one of his characters who represents <i>the law</i>, if that one who -represents <i>opinion</i> is even less cheerful, you will see a third -representing <i>illusion</i>, who cruelly thwarts the vain hopes and -enterprises of passion. Lastly, you will see that, although he has not -strewn rose-leaves on the ground where the law pens up our desires like -a sheep's appetite, he has scattered thistles along the roads which lead -us away from it.</p> - -<p>These facts, it seems to me, are sufficient to protect this book from -the reproach of immorality; but, if you absolutely insist that a novel -should end like one of Marmontel's tales, you will perhaps chide me on -account of the last pages; you will think that I have done wrong in not -casting into misery and destitution the character who has transgressed -the laws of mankind through two volumes. In this regard, the author will -reply that before being moral he chose to be true; he will say again, -that, feeling that he was too new to the trade to compose a -philosophical treatise on the manner of enduring life, he has restricted -himself to telling you the story of <i>Indiana</i>, a story of the human -heart, with its weaknesses, its passions, its rights and its wrongs, its -good qualities and its evil qualities.</p> - -<p>Indiana, if you insist upon an explanation of every thing in the -book, is a type; she is woman, the feeble being whose mission it is to -represent <i>passions</i> repressed, or, if you prefer, suppressed by -<i>the law</i>; she is desire at odds with necessity; she is love -dashing her head blindly against all the obstacles of civilization. But -the serpent wears out his teeth and breaks them in trying to gnaw a -file; the powers of the soul become exhausted in trying to struggle -against the positive facts of life. That is the conclusion you may draw -from this tale, and it was in that light that it was told to him who -transmits it to you.</p> - -<p>But despite these protestations the narrator anticipates reproaches. -Some upright souls, some honest men's consciences will be alarmed -perhaps to see virtue so harsh, reason so downcast, opinion so unjust. -He is dismayed at the prospect; for the thing that an author should fear -more than anything in the world is the alienating from his works the -confidence of good men, the awakening of an ominous sympathy in -embittered souls, the inflaming of the sores, already too painful, which -are made by the social yoke upon impatient and rebellious necks.</p> - -<p>The success which is based upon an unworthy appeal to the passions of -the age is the easiest to win, the least honorable to strive for. The -historian of <i>Indiana</i> denies that he has ever dreamed of it; if he -thought that he had reached that result, he would destroy his book, even -though he felt for it the artless fatherly affection which swaddles the -rickety offspring of these days of literary abortions.</p> - -<p>But he hopes to justify himself by stating that he thought it better to -enforce his principles by real examples than by poetic fancies. He -believes that his tale, with the depressing atmosphere of frankness that -envelopes it, may make an impression upon young and ardent brains. They -will find it difficult to distrust a historian who forces his way -brutally through the midst of facts, elbowing right and left, with no -more regard for one camp than for the other. To make a cause odious or -absurd is to persecute it, not to combat it. It may be that the whole -art of the novelist consists in interesting the culprits whom he wishes -to redeem, the wretched whom he wishes to cure, in their own story.</p> - -<p>It would be giving overmuch importance to a work that is destined -doubtless to attract very little notice, to seek to protect it against -every sort of accusation. Therefore the author surrenders -unconditionally to the critics; a single charge seems to him too serious -to accept, and that is the charge that he has written a dangerous book. -He would prefer to remain in a humble position forever to building his -reputation upon a ruined conscience. He will add a word therefore to -repel the blame which he most dreads.</p> - -<p>Raymon, you will say, is society; egoism is substituted for morality and -reason. Raymon, the author will reply, is the false reason, the false -morality by which society is governed; he is the man of honor as the -world understands the phrase, because the world does not examine closely -enough to see everything. The good man you have beside Raymon; and you -will not say that he is the enemy of order; for he sacrifices his -happiness, he loses all thought of self before all questions of social -order.</p> - -<p>Then you will say that virtue is not rewarded with sufficient blowing of -trumpets. Alas! the answer is that we no longer witness the triumph of -virtue elsewhere than at the boulevard theatres. The author will tell -you that he has undertaken to exhibit society to you, not as virtuous, -but as necessary, and that honor has become as difficult as heroism in -these days of moral degeneration. Do you think that this truth will -cause great souls to loathe honor? I think just the opposite.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="PREFACE_TO_THE_EDITION_OF_1842">PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1842</a></h4> - - -<p>In allowing the foregoing pages to be reprinted, I do not mean to imply -that they form a clear and complete summary of the beliefs which I hold -to-day concerning the rights of society over individuals. I do it simply -because I regard opinions freely put forth in the past as something -sacred, which we should neither retract nor cry down nor attempt to -interpret as our fancy directs. But to-day, having advanced on life's -highway and watched the horizon broaden around me, I deem it my duty to -tell the reader what I think of my book.</p> - -<p>When I wrote <i>Indiana</i>, I was young; I acted in obedience to -feelings of great strength and sincerity which overflowed thereafter in -a series of novels, almost all of which were based on the same idea: -the ill-defined relations between the sexes, attributable to the -constitution of our society. These novels were all more or less -inveighed against by the critics, as making unwise assaults upon the -institution of marriage. <i>Indiana</i>, notwithstanding the narrowness -of its scope and the ingenuous uncertainty of its grasp, did not escape -the indignation of several self-styled serious minds, whom I was -strongly disposed at that time to believe upon their simple statement -and to listen to with docility. But, although my reasoning powers were -developed hardly enough to write upon so grave a subject, I was not so -much of a child that I could not pass judgment in my turn on the -thoughts of those persons who passed judgment on mine. However -simple-minded a man accused of crime may be and however shrewd the -magistrate, the accused has enough common-sense to know whether the -magistrate's sentence is equitable or inequitable, wise or absurd.</p> - -<p>Certain journalists of our day who set themselves up as -representatives and guardians of public morals—I know not by virtue -of what mission they act, since I know not by what faith they are -commissioned—pronounced judgment pitilessly against my poor tale, -and, by representing it as an argument against social order, gave it an -importance and a sort of echo which it would not otherwise have -obtained. They thereby imposed a very serious and weighty rôle upon a -young author hardly initiated in the most elementary social ideas, whose -whole literary and philosophical baggage consisted of a little -imagination, courage and love of the truth. Sensitive to the reproofs -and almost grateful for the lessons which they were pleased to -administer, he examined the arguments which arraigned the moral -character of his thoughts before the bar of public opinion, and, by -virtue of that examination, which he conducted entirely without pride, -he gradually acquired convictions which were mere feelings at the outset -of his career and which to-day are fundamental principles.</p> - -<p>During ten years of investigations, of scruples, and of irresolution, -often painful but always sincere, shunning the rôle of pedagogue which -some attributed to me to make me ridiculous, abhorring the imputation of -pride and spleen with which others pursued me to make me odious, -proceeding according to the measure of my artistic faculties, to seek -the synthesis of life by analyzing it, I related facts which have -sometimes been acknowledged to be plausible, and drew characters which -have often been described as having been studied with care. I restricted -myself to that, striving to establish my own conviction rather than to -shake other people's, and saying to myself that, if I were mistaken, -society would find no lack of loud voices to overturn my arguments and -to repair by judicious answers the evil that my imprudent questions -might have done. Numerous voices did, in fact, arise to put the public -on its guard against the dangerous writer, but, as for the judicious -answers, the public and the author are still awaiting them.</p> - -<p>A long while after I wrote the preface to <i>Indiana</i> under the -influence of a remnant of respect for constituted society, I was still -seeking to solve this insoluble problem: <i>the method of reconciling -the welfare and the dignity of individuals oppressed by that same -society without modifying society itself.</i> Leaning over the victims -and mingling his tears with theirs, making himself their interpreter -with his readers, but, like a prudent advocate, not striving overmuch to -palliate the wrong-doing of his clients, and addressing himself to the -clemency of the judges rather than to their austerity, the novelist is -really the advocate of the abstract beings who represent our passions -and our sufferings before the tribunal of superior force and the jury of -public opinion. It is a task which has a gravity of its own beneath its -trivial exterior, and a task which it is exceedingly difficult to -confine to its true path, pestered as you are at every step by those who -accuse you of being too serious in respect to form and by those who -accuse you of being too frivolous in respect to substance.</p> - -<p>I do not flatter myself that I performed this task skilfully; but I am -sure that I attempted it in all seriousness, amid inward hesitations -wherein my conscience, sometimes dismayed by its ignorance of its -rights, sometimes inspired by a heart enamored of justice and truth, -marched forward to its goal, without swerving too far from the straight -road and without too many backward steps.</p> - -<p>To enlighten the public as to this inward struggle by a series of -prefaces and discussions would have been a puerile method, wherein the -vanity of talking about one's self would have taken too much space to -suit me. I could but abstain from it as well as from touching too -hastily upon the points which were still obscure in my mind. -Conservators called me too bold, innovators too timid. I confess that I -had respect and sympathy for the past and the future alike, and in the -battle I found no peace of mind until the day when I fully realized that -the one should not be the violation and the annihilation of the other, -but its continuation and development.</p> - -<p>After this novitiate of ten years, being initiated at last in broader -ideas which I derived not from myself but from the philosophical -progress which had taken place around me—and particularly from a -few vast intellects which I religiously questioned, and, generally -speaking, from the spectacle of the sufferings of my fellowmen,—I -realized at last that, although I may have done well to distrust myself -and to hesitate to put forth my views at the epoch of ignorance and -inexperience when I wrote <i>Indiana</i>, my present duty is to -congratulate myself on the bold utterances to which I allowed myself to -be impelled then and afterwards; bold utterances for which I have been -reproached so bitterly, and which would have been bolder still had I -known how legitimate and honest and sacred they were.</p> - -<p>To-day therefore, having re-read the first novel of my youth with as -much severity and impartiality as if it were the work of another person, -on the eve of giving it a publicity which it has not yet derived from -the popular edition, having resolved beforehand not to retract—one -should never retract what was said or done in good faith—but to -condemn myself if I should discover that my former tendencies were -mistaken or dangerous, I find myself so entirely in accord with myself -with respect to the sentiment which dictated <i>Indiana</i> and which -would dictate it now if I had that story to tell to-day for the first -time, that I have not chosen to change anything in it save a few -ungrammatical sentences and some inappropriate words. Doubtless many -more of the same sort remain, and the literary merits of my writings I -submit without reserve to the animadversions of the critics; I gladly -accord to them all the competence in that regard which I myself lack. -That there is an incontestable mass of talent in the daily press of the -present day, I do not deny and I delight to acknowledge it. But that -there are many philosophers and moralists in this array of polished -writers, I do positively deny, with due respect to those who have -condemned me, and who will condemn me again on the first opportunity, -from their lofty plane of morality and philosophy.</p> - -<p>I repeat then, I wrote <i>Indiana</i>, and I was justified in writing -it; I yielded to an overpowering instinct of outcry and rebellion which -God had implanted in me, God who makes nothing that is not of some use, -even the most insignificant creatures, and who interposes in the most -trivial as well as in great causes. But what am I saying? is this cause -that I am defending so very trivial, pray? It is the cause of half of -the human race, nay, of the whole human race; for the unhappiness of -woman involves that of man, as that of the slave involves that of the -master, and I strove to demonstrate it in <i>Indiana.</i> Some persons -said that I was pleading the cause of an individual; as if, even -assuming that I was inspired by personal feeling, I was the only unhappy -mortal in this peaceful and radiant human race! So many cries of pain -and sympathy answered mine that I know now what to think concerning the -supreme felicity of my fellowman.</p> - -<p>I do not think that I have ever written anything under the influence of -a selfish passion; I have never even thought of avoiding it. They who -have read me without prejudice understand that I wrote <i>Indiana</i> with -a feeling, not deliberately reasoned out, to be sure, but a deep and -genuine feeling that the laws which still govern woman's existence in -wedlock, in the family and in society are unjust and barbarous. I had -not to write a treatise on jurisprudence but to fight against public -opinion; for it is that which postpones or advances social reforms. The -war will be long and bitter; but I am neither the first nor the last nor -the only champion of so noble a cause, and I will defend it so long as -the breath of life remains in my body.</p> - -<p>This feeling which inspired me at the beginning I reasoned out and -developed as it was combated and reproved. Unjust and malevolent critics -taught me much more than I should have discovered in the calm of -impunity. For this reason therefore I offer thanks to the bungling -judges who enlightened me. The motives that inspired their judgments -cast a bright light upon my mind and enveloped my conscience in a sense -of profound security. A sincere mind turns everything to advantage, and -facts that would discourage vanity redouble the ardor of genuine -devotion.</p> - -<p>Let no one look upon the reproof which, from the depths of a heart that -is to-day serious and tranquil, I have just addressed to the majority of -journalists of my time, as implying even a suggestion of protest against -the right of censorship with which public morality invests the French -press. That criticism often ill performs and ill comprehends its mission -in the society of the present day, is evident to all; but that the -mission is in itself providential and sacred, no one can deny unless he -be an atheist in the matter of progress, unless he be an enemy of the -truth, a blasphemer of the future and an unworthy child of France! -Liberty of thought, liberty to write and to speak, blessed conquest of -the human mind! what are the petty sufferings and the fleeting cares -engendered by thy errors or abuses compared to the infinite blessings -which thou hast in store for the world!</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>INDIANA</h4> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="PART_FIRST">PART FIRST</a></h4> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4>I</h4> - - -<p>On a certain cool, rainy evening in autumn, in a small château in Brie, -three pensive individuals were gravely occupied in watching the wood -burn on the hearth and the hands of the clock move slowly around the -dial. Two of these silent guests seemed to give way unreservedly to the -vague ennui that weighed upon them; but the third gave signs of open -rebellion: he fidgeted about on his seat, stifled half audibly divers -melancholy yawns, and tapped the snapping sticks with the tongs, with a -manifest intention of resisting the common enemy.</p> - -<p>This person, who was much older than the other two, was the master of -the house, Colonel Delmare, an old warrior on half-pay, once a very -handsome man, now over-corpulent, with a bald head, gray moustache and -awe-inspiring eye; an excellent master before whom everybody trembled, -wife, servants, horses and dogs.</p> - -<p>At last he left his chair, evidently vexed because he did not know how -to break the silence, and began to walk heavily up and down the whole -length of the salon, without laying aside for an instant the rigidity -which characterizes all the movements of an ex-soldier, resting his -weight on his loins and turning the whole body at once, with the -unfailing self-satisfaction peculiar to the man of show and the model -officer.</p> - -<p>But the glorious days had passed, when Lieutenant Delmare inhaled -triumph with the air of the camps; the retired officer, forgotten now by -an ungrateful country, was condemned to undergo all the consequences of -marriage. He was the husband of a young and pretty wife, the proprietor -of a commodious manor with its appurtenances, and, furthermore, a -manufacturer who had been fortunate in his undertakings; in consequence -whereof the colonel was ill-humored, especially on the evening in -question; for it was very damp, and the colonel had rheumatism.</p> - -<p>He paced gravely up and down his old salon, furnished in the style of -Louis XV., halting sometimes before a door surmounted by nude Cupids in -fresco, who led in chains of flowers well-bred fawns and good-natured -wild boars; sometimes before a panel overladen with paltry, -over-elaborated sculpture, whose tortuous vagaries and endless -intertwining the eye would have wearied itself to no purpose in -attempting to follow. But these vague and fleeting distractions did not -prevent the colonel, whenever he turned about, from casting a keen and -searching glance at the two companions of his silent vigil, resting upon -them alternately that watchful eye which for three years past had been -standing guard over a fragile and priceless treasure, his wife.</p> - -<p>For his wife was nineteen years of age; and if you had seen her buried -under the mantel of that huge fire-place of white marble inlaid with -burnished copper; if you had seen her, slender, pale, depressed, with -her elbow resting on her knee, a mere child in that ancient household, -beside that old husband, like a flower of yesterday that had bloomed in -a gothic vase, you would have pitied Colonel Delmare's wife, and the -colonel even more perhaps than his wife.</p> - -<p>The third occupant of this lonely house was also sitting under the same -mantel, at the other end of the burning log. He was a man in all the -strength and all the bloom of youth, whose glowing cheeks, abundant -golden hair and full whiskers presented a striking contrast to the -grizzly hair, weather-beaten complexion and harsh countenance of the -master of the house; but the least <i>artistic</i> of men would none the -less have preferred Monsieur Delmare's harsh and stern expression to the -younger man's regular but insipid features. The bloated face carved in -relief on the sheet of iron that formed the back of the fire-place, with -its eye fixed constantly on the burning logs, was less monotonous -perhaps than the pink and white fair-haired character in this narrative, -absorbed in like contemplation. However, his strong and supple figure, -the clean-cut outline of his brown eyebrows, the polished whiteness of -his forehead, the tranquil expression of his limpid eyes, the beauty of -his hands, and even the rigorously correct elegance of his hunting -costume, would have caused him to be considered a very comely <i>cavalier</i> -in the eyes of any woman who had conceived a passion for the so-called -<i>philosophic</i> tastes of another century. But perhaps Monsieur Delmare's -young and timid wife had never as yet examined a man with her eyes; -perhaps there was an entire absence of sympathy between that pale and -unhappy woman and that sound sleeper and hearty eater. Certain it is -that the conjugal Argus wearied his hawklike eye without detecting a -glance, a breath, a palpitation, between these two very dissimilar -beings. Thereupon, being assured that he had not the slightest pretext -for jealousy to occupy his mind, he relapsed into a state of depression -more profound than before, and abruptly plunged his hands into his -pockets.</p> - -<p>The only cheerful and attractive face in the group was that of a -beautiful hunting dog, of the large breed of pointers, whose head was -resting on the knees of the younger man. She was remarkable by reason of -her long body, her powerful hairy legs, her muzzle, slender as a fox's, -and her intelligent face, covered with disheveled hair, through which -two great tawny eyes shone like topazes. Those dog's eyes, so fierce and -threatening during the chase, had at that moment an indefinable -expression of affectionate melancholy; and when her master, the object -of that instinctive love, sometimes so superior to the deliberate -affection of man, ran his fingers through the beautiful creature's silky -silver locks, her eyes sparkled with pleasure, while her long tail swept -the hearth in regular cadence, and scattered the ashes over the inlaid -floor.</p> - -<p>It was a fitting subject for Rembrandt's brush, that interior, dimly -lighted by the fire on the hearth. At intervals fugitive white gleams -lighted up the room and the faces, then, changing to the red tint of the -embers, gradually died away; the gloom of the salon varying as the -fitful gleams grew more or less dull. Each time that Monsieur Delmare -passed in front of the fire, he suddenly appeared, like a ghost, then -vanished in the mysterious depths of the salon. Strips of gilding stood -forth in the light now and then on the oval frames, adorned with wreaths -and medallions and fillets of wood, on furniture, inlaid with ebony and -copper, and even on the jagged cornices of the wainscoting. But when a -brand went out, resigning its brilliancy to some other blazing point, -the objects which had been in the light a moment before withdrew into -the shadow, and other projections stood forth from the obscurity. Thus -one could have grasped in due time all the details of the picture, from -the console supported by three huge gilded tritons, to the frescoed -ceiling, representing a sky studded with stars and clouds, and to the -heavy hangings of crimson damask, with long tassels, which shimmered -like satin, their ample folds seeming to sway back and forth as they -reflected the flickering light.</p> - -<p>One would have said, from the immobility of the two figures in bold -relief before the fire, that they feared to disturb the immobility of -the scene; that they had been turned to stone where they sat, like the -heroes of a fairy tale, and that the slightest word or movement would -bring the walls of an imaginary city crumbling about their ears. And the -dark-browed master, who alone broke the silence and the shadow with his -regular tread, seemed a magician who held them under a spell.</p> - -<p>At last the dog, having obtained a smile from her master, yielded to the -magnetic power which the eye of man exerts over that of the lower -animals. She uttered a low whine of timid affection and placed her fore -paws on her beloved's shoulders with inimitable ease and grace of -movement.</p> - -<p>"Down, Ophelia, down!"</p> - -<p>And the young man reproved the docile creature sternly in English, -whereupon she crawled toward Madame Delmare, shamefaced and repentant, -as if to implore her protection. But Madame Delmare did not emerge from -her reverie, and allowed Ophelia's head to rest on her two white hands, -as they lay clasped on her knee, without bestowing a caress upon her.</p> - -<p>"Has that dog taken up her quarters in the salon for good?" said the -colonel, secretly well-pleased to find a pretext for an outburst of -ill-humor, to pass the time. "Be off to your kennel, Ophelia! Come, out -with you, you stupid beast!"</p> - -<p>If anyone had been watching Madame Delmare closely he could have -divined, in that trivial and commonplace incident of her private life, -the painful secret of her whole existence. An imperceptible shudder ran -over her body, and her hands, in which she unconsciously held the -favorite animal's head, closed nervously around her rough, hairy neck, -as if to detain her and protect her. Whereupon Monsieur Delmare, drawing -his hunting-crop from the pocket of his jacket, walked with a -threatening air toward poor Ophelia, who crouched at his feet, closing -her eyes, and whining with grief and fear in anticipation. Madame -Delmare became even paler than usual; her bosom heaved convulsively, -and, turning her great blue eyes upon her husband with an indescribable -expression of terror, she said:</p> - -<p>"In pity's name, monsieur, do not kill her!"</p> - -<p>These few words gave the colonel a shock. A feeling of chagrin took the -place of his angry impulse.</p> - -<p>"That, madame, is a reproof which I understand very well," he said, "and -which you have never spared me since the day that I killed your spaniel -in a moment of passion while hunting. He was a great loss, was he not? A -dog that was forever forcing the hunting and rushing after the game! -Whose patience would he not have exhausted? Indeed, you were not nearly -so fond of him until he was dead; before that you paid little attention -to him; but now that he gives you a pretext for blaming me—"</p> - -<p>"Have I ever reproached you?" said Madame Delmare in the gentle tone -which we adopt from a generous impulse with those we love, and from -self-esteem with those whom we do not love.</p> - -<p>"I did not say that you had," rejoined the colonel in a half-paternal, -half-conjugal tone; "but the tears of some women contain bitterer -reproaches than the fiercest imprecations of others. <i>Morbleu!</i> -madame, you know perfectly well that I hate to see people weeping about -me."</p> - -<p>"I do not think that you ever see me weep."</p> - -<p>"Even so! don't I constantly see you with red eyes? On my word, that's -even worse!"</p> - -<p>During this conjugal colloquy the young man had risen and put Ophelia -out of the room with the greatest tranquillity; then he returned to his -seat opposite Madame Delmare after lighting a candle and placing it on -the chimney-piece.</p> - -<p>This act, dictated purely by chance, exerted a sudden influence upon -Monsieur Delmare's frame of mind. As soon as the light of the candle, -which was more uniform and steadier than that of the fire, fell upon his -wife, he observed the symptoms of suffering and general prostration -which were manifest that evening in her whole person: in her weary -attitude, in the long brown hair falling over her emaciated cheeks and -in the purple rings beneath her dull, inflamed eyes. He took several -turns up and down the room, then returned to his wife and, suddenly -changing his tone:</p> - -<p>"How do you feel to-day, Indiana?" he said, with the stupidity of a man -whose heart and temperament are rarely in accord.</p> - -<p>"About as usual, thank you," she replied, with no sign of surprise or -displeasure.</p> - -<p>"'As usual' is no answer at all, or rather it's a woman's answer; a -Norman answer, that means neither yes nor no, neither well nor ill."</p> - -<p>"Very good; I am neither well nor ill."</p> - -<p>"I say that you lie," he retorted with renewed roughness; "I know that -you are not well; you have told Sir Ralph here that you are not. Tell -me, isn't that the truth? Did she not tell you so, Monsieur Ralph?"</p> - -<p>"She did," replied the phlegmatic individual addressed, paying no heed -to the reproachful glance which Indiana bestowed upon him.</p> - -<p>At that moment a fourth person entered the room: it was the factotum of -the household, formerly a sergeant in Monsieur Delmare's regiment.</p> - -<p>He explained briefly to Monsieur Delmare that he had his reasons for -believing that charcoal thieves had been in the park the last few nights -at the same hour, and that he had come to ask for a gun to take with him -in making his nightly round before locking the gates. Monsieur Delmare, -scenting powder in the adventure, at once took down his fowling-piece, -gave Lelièvre another, and started to leave the room.</p> - -<p>"What!" said Madame Delmare in dismay, "you would kill a poor peasant on -account of a few bags of charcoal?"</p> - -<p>"I will shoot down like a dog," retorted Delmare, irritated by this -remonstrance, "any man whom I find prowling around my premises at night. -If you knew the law, madame, you would know that it authorizes me to do -it."</p> - -<p>"It is a horrible law," said Indiana, warmly. But she quickly repressed -this impulse and added in a lower tone: "But your rheumatism? You forget -that it rains, and that you will suffer for it to-morrow if you go out -to-night."</p> - -<p>"You are terribly afraid that you will have to nurse your old husband," -replied Delmare, impatiently opening the door.</p> - -<p>And he left the room, still muttering about his age and his wife.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>II</h4> - - -<p>The two personages whom we have mentioned, Indiana Delmare and Sir -Ralph, or, if you prefer, Monsieur Rodolphe Brown, continued to face -each other, as calm and cold as if the husband were standing between -them. The Englishman had no idea of justifying himself, and Madame -Delmare realized that she had no serious grounds for reproaching him, -for he had spoken with no evil intention. At last, making an effort, she -broke the silence and upbraided him mildly.</p> - -<p>"That was not well done of you, my dear Ralph," she said. "I had -forbidden you to repeat the words that I let slip in a moment of pain, -and Monsieur Delmare is the last person in the world whom I should want -told of my trouble."</p> - -<p>"I can't understand you, my dear," Sir Ralph replied; "you are ill and -you refuse to take care of yourself. I had to choose between the chance -of losing you and the necessity of letting your husband know."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Madame Delmare, with a sad smile, "and you decided to -<i>notify the authorities.</i>"</p> - -<p>"You are wrong, you are wrong, on my word, to allow yourself to inveigh -so against the colonel; he is a man of honor, a worthy man."</p> - -<p>"And who says that he's not, Sir Ralph?"</p> - -<p>"Why, you do, without meaning to. Your depression, your ailing -condition, and, as he himself observes, your red eyes, tell everybody -every hour in the day that you are not happy."</p> - -<p>"Hush, Sir Ralph, you go too far. I have never given you permission to -find out so much."</p> - -<p>"I anger you, I see; but what would you have! I am not clever; I am not -acquainted with the subtle distinctions of your language, and then, too, -I resemble your husband in many ways. Like him I am utterly in the dark -as to what a man must say to a woman, either in English or in French, to -console her. Another man would have conveyed to your mind, without -putting it in words, the idea that I have just expressed so awkwardly; -he would have had the art to insinuate himself into your confidence -without allowing you to detect his progress, and perhaps he would have -succeeded in affording some relief to your heart, which puts fetters on -itself and locks itself up before me. This is not the first time that I -have noticed how much more influence words have upon women than ideas, -especially in France. Women more than——"</p> - -<p>"Oh! you have a profound contempt for women, my dear Ralph. I am alone -here against two of you, so I must make up my mind never to be right."</p> - -<p>"Put us in the wrong, my dear cousin, by recovering your health, your -good spirits, your bloom, your animation of the old days; remember Ile -Bourbon and that delightful retreat of ours, Bernica, and our happy -childhood, and our friendship, which is as old as you are yourself."</p> - -<p>"I remember my father, too," said Indiana, dwelling sadly upon the words -and placing her hand in Sir Ralph's.</p> - -<p>They relapsed into profound silence.</p> - -<p>"Indiana," said Ralph, after a pause, "happiness is always within our -reach. Often one has only to put out his hand to grasp it. What do you -lack? You have modest competence, which is preferable to great wealth, -an excellent husband, who loves you with all his heart, and, I dare to -assert, a sincere and devoted friend."</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare pressed Sir Ralph's hand faintly, but she did not change -her attitude; her head still hung forward on her breast and her -tear-dimmed eyes were fixed on the magic effects produced by the embers.</p> - -<p>"Your depression, my dear friend," continued Sir Ralph, "is due purely -to physical causes; which one of us can escape disappointment, vexation? -Look below you and you will see people who envy you, and with good -reason. Man is so constituted that he always aspires to what he has -not."</p> - -<p>I spare you a multitude of other commonplaces which the excellent Sir -Ralph put forth in a tone as monotonous and sluggish as his thoughts. It -was not that Sir Ralph was a fool, but he was altogether out of his -element. He lacked neither common sense nor shrewdness; but the rôle of -consoler of women was, as he himself acknowledged, beyond his capacity. -And this man had so little comprehension of another's grief, that with -the best possible disposition to furnish a remedy, he could not touch it -without inflaming it. He was so conscious of his awkwardness that he -rarely ventured to take notice of his friend's sorrows; and on this -occasion he made superhuman efforts to perform what he considered the -most painful duty of friendship.</p> - -<p>When he saw that Madame Delmare was obliged to make an effort to listen -to him, he held his peace, and naught could be heard save the -innumerable little voices whispering in the burning wood, the plaintive -song of the log as it becomes heated and swells, the crackling of the -bark as it curls before breaking, and the faint phosphorescent -explosions of the alburnum, which emits a bluish flame. From time to -time the baying of a dog mingled with the whistling of the wind through -the cracks of the door and the beating of the rain against the -windowpanes. That evening was one of the saddest that Madame Delmare had -yet passed in her little manor-house in Brie.</p> - -<p>Moreover, an indefinable vague feeling of suspense weighed upon that -impressionable soul and its delicate fibres. Weak creatures live on -alarms and presentiments. Madame Delmare had all the superstitions of a -nervous, sickly Creole; certain nocturnal sounds, certain phases of the -moon were to her unfailing presages of specific events, of impending -misfortunes, and the night spoke to that dreamy, melancholy creature a -language full of mysteries and phantoms which she alone could understand -and translate according to her fears and her sufferings.</p> - -<p>"You will say again that I am mad," she said, withdrawing her hand, -which Sir Ralph still held, "but some disaster, I don't know what, is -preparing to fall upon us. Some danger is impending over -someone—myself, no doubt—but, look you, Ralph, I feel intensely -agitated, as at the approach of a great crisis in my destiny. I am -afraid," she added, with a shudder, "I feel faint."</p> - -<p>And her lips became as white as her cheeks. Sir Ralph, terrified, not by -Madame Delmare's presentiments, which he looked upon as symptoms of -extreme mental exhaustion, but by her deathly pallor, pulled the -bell-rope violently to summon assistance. No one came, and as Indiana -grew weaker and weaker, Sir Ralph, more alarmed in proportion, moved her -away from the fire, deposited her in a reclining chair, and ran through -the house at random, calling the servants, looking for water or salts, -finding nothing, breaking all the bell-ropes, losing his way in the -labyrinth of dark rooms, and wringing his hands with impatience and -anger against himself.</p> - -<p>At last it occurred to him to open the glass door that led into the -park, and to call alternately Lelièvre and Noun, Madame Delmare's -Creole maid.</p> - -<p>A few moments later Noun appeared from one of the dark paths in the -park, and hastily inquired if Madame Delmare were worse than usual.</p> - -<p>"She is really ill," replied Sir Ralph.</p> - -<p>They returned to the salon and devoted themselves to the task of -restoring the unconscious Madame Delmare, one with all the ardor of -useless and awkward zeal, the other with the skill and efficacy of -womanly affection.</p> - -<p>Noun was Madame Delmare's foster-sister; the two young women had been -brought up together and loved each other dearly. Noun was tall and -strong, glowing with health, active, alert, overflowing with ardent, -passionate creole blood; and she far outshone with her resplendent -beauty the frail and pallid charms of Madame Delmare; but the tenderness -of their hearts and the strength of their attachment killed every -feeling of feminine rivalry.</p> - -<p>When Madame Delmare recovered consciousness, the first thing that she -observed was the unusual expression of her maid's features, the damp and -disordered condition of her hair and the excitement which was manifest -in her every movement.</p> - -<p>"Courage, my poor child," she said kindly; "my illness is more -disastrous to you than to myself. Why, Noun, you are the one to take -care of yourself; you are growing thin and weeping as if it were not -your destiny to live; dear Noun, life is so bright and fair before you!"</p> - -<p>Noun pressed Madame Delmare's hand to her lips effusively, and said, in -a sort of frenzy, glancing wildly about the room:</p> - -<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i> madame, do you know why Monsieur Delmare is -in the park?"</p> - -<p>"Why?" echoed Indiana, losing instantly the faint flush that had -reappeared on her cheeks. "Wait a moment—I don't know—You -frighten me! What is the matter, pray?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Delmare declares that there are thieves in the park," replied -Noun in a broken voice. "He is making the rounds with Lelièvre, both -armed with guns."</p> - -<p>"Well?" said Indiana, apparently expecting some shocking news.</p> - -<p>"Why, madame," rejoined Noun, clasping her hands frantically, "isn't it -horrible to think that they are going to kill a man?"</p> - -<p>"Kill a man!" cried Madame Delmare, springing to her feet with the -terrified credulity of a child frightened by it's nurse's tales.</p> - -<p>"Ah! yes, they will kill him," said Noun, stifling her sobs.</p> - -<p>"These two women are mad," thought Sir Ralph, who was watching this -strange scene with a bewildered air. "Indeed," he added mentally, "all -women are."</p> - -<p>"But why do you say that, Noun," continued Madame Delmare; "do you -believe that there are any thieves there?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! if they were really thieves! but some poor peasant perhaps, who has -come to pick up a handful of wood for his family!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, that would be ghastly, as you say! But it is not probable; right -at the entrance to Fontainebleau forest, when it is so easy to steal -wood there, nobody would take the risk of a park enclosed by walls. Bah! -Monsieur Delmare won't find anybody in the park, so don't you be -afraid."</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="figure02"></a> -<img src="images/figure02.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="center"><i>MADAME DELMARE DRESSES DE<br /> -RAMIÈRES WOUNDS.</i></p> -<p><i>A mattress was placed on several chairs, and -Indiana, assisted by her women, busied herself in -dressing the wounded hand, while Sir Ralph, who -had some surgical knowledge, drew a large quantity -of blood from him.</i></p></div> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p>But Noun was not listening; she walked from the window to her mistress's -chair, her ears strained to catch the slightest sound; she seemed torn -between the longing to run after Monsieur Delmare and the desire to -remain with the invalid.</p> - -<p>Her anxiety seemed so strange, so uncalled-for to Monsieur Brown, that -he laid aside his customary mildness of manner, and said, grasping her -arm roughly:</p> - -<p>"Have you lost your wits altogether? don't you see that you frighten -your mistress and that your absurd alarms have a disastrous effect upon -her?"</p> - -<p>Noun did not hear him; she had turned her eyes upon her mistress, who -had just started on her chair as if the concussion of the air had -imparted an electric shock to her senses. Almost at the same instant the -report of a gun shook the windows of the salon, and Noun fell upon her -knees.</p> - -<p>"What miserable woman's terrors!" cried Sir Ralph, worn out by their -emotion; "in a moment a dead rabbit will be brought to you in triumph, -and you will laugh at yourselves."</p> - -<p>"No, Ralph," said Madame Delmare, walking with a firm step toward the -door, "I tell you that human blood has been shed."</p> - -<p>Noun uttered a piercing shriek and fell upon her face.</p> - -<p>The next moment they heard Lelièvre's voice in the park:</p> - -<p>"He's there! he's there! Well aimed, my colonel! the brigand is -down!"</p> - -<p>Sir Ralph began to be excited. He followed Madame Delmare. A few moments -later a man covered with blood and giving no sign of life was brought -under the peristyle.</p> - -<p>"Not so much noise! less shrieking!" said the colonel with rough gayety -to the terrified servants who crowded around the wounded man; "this is -only a joke; my gun was loaded with nothing but salt. Indeed I don't -think I touched him; he fell from fright."</p> - -<p>"But what about this blood, monsieur?" said Madame Delmare in a -profoundly reproachful tone, "was it fear that caused it to flow?"</p> - -<p>"Why are you here, madame?" cried Monsieur Delmare, "what are you doing -here?"</p> - -<p>"I have come to repair the harm that you have done, as it is my duty to -do," replied Madame Delmare coldly.</p> - -<p>She walked up to the wounded man with a courage of which no one of the -persons present had as yet felt capable, and held a light to his face. -Thereupon, instead of the plebeian features and garments which they -expected to see, they discovered a young man with noble features and -fashionably dressed, albeit in hunting costume. He had a trifling wound -on one hand, but his torn clothes and his swoon indicated a serious -fall.</p> - -<p>"I should say as much!" said Lelièvre; "he fell from a height of twenty -feet. He was just putting his leg over the wall when the colonel fired, -and a few grains of small shot or salt in the right hand prevented his -getting a hold. The fact is, I saw him fall, and when he got to the -bottom he wasn't thinking much about running away, poor devil!"</p> - -<p>"Would any one believe," said one of the female servants, "that a man so -nicely dressed would amuse himself by stealing?"</p> - -<p>"And his pockets are full of money!" said another, who had unbuttoned -the supposed thief's waistcoat.</p> - -<p>"It is very strange," said the colonel, gazing, not without emotion, at -the man stretched out before him. "If the man is dead it's not my fault; -examine his hand, madame, and see if you can find a particle of lead in -it."</p> - -<p>"I prefer to believe you, monsieur," replied Madame Delmare, who, with a -self-possession and moral courage of which no one would have deemed her -capable, was closely scrutinizing his pulse and the arteries of his -neck. "Certainly," she added, "he is not dead, and he requires speedy -attention. The man hasn't the appearance of a thief and perhaps he -deserves our care; even if he does not deserve it, our duty calls upon -us women to care for him none the less."</p> - -<p>Thereupon Madame Delmare ordered the wounded man to be carried to the -billiard room, which was nearest. A mattress was placed on several -chairs, and Indiana, assisted by her women, busied herself in dressing -the wounded hand, while Sir Ralph, who had some surgical knowledge, drew -a large quantity of blood from him.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the colonel, much embarrassed, found himself in the position -of a man who has shown more ill-temper than he intended to show. He felt -the necessity of justifying himself in the eyes of the others, or rather -of making them justify him in his own eyes. So he had remained under the -peristyle, surrounded by his servants, and indulging with them in the -excited, prolix and perfectly useless disquisitions which are always -forthcoming after the event. Lelièvre had already explained twenty -times, with the most minute details, the shot, the fall and its results, -while the colonel, who had recovered his good-nature among his own -people, according to his custom, after giving way to his anger, -impeached the purposes of a man who entered private property in the -night-time over the wall. Every one agreed with the master, when the -gardener, quietly leading him aside, assured him that the thief was the -living image of a young land-owner who had recently settled in the -neighborhood, and whom he had seen talking with Mademoiselle Noun three -days before at the rustic fête at Rubelles.</p> - -<p>This information gave a different turn to Monsieur Delmare's ideas; on -his ample forehead, bald and glistening, appeared a huge swollen vein, -which was always the precursor of a tempest.</p> - -<p>"Morbleu!" he said, clenching his fists, "Madame Delmare takes a deal of -interest in this puppy, who sneaks into my park over the wall!"</p> - -<p>And he entered the billiard room, pale and trembling with wrath.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>III</h4> - - -<p>"You may be reassured, monsieur," said Indiana; "the man you killed will -be quite well in a few days; at least we hope so, although he is not yet -able to talk."</p> - -<p>"That's not the question, madame," said the colonel, in a voice that -trembled with suppressed passion; "I insist upon knowing the name of -this interesting patient of yours, and how it came about that he mistook -the wall of my park for the avenue to my house."</p> - -<p>"I have absolutely no idea," replied Madame Delmare with such a cold and -haughty air that her redoubtable spouse was bewildered for an instant.</p> - -<p>But his jealous suspicions soon regained the upper hand.</p> - -<p>"I shall find out, madame," he said in an undertone; "you may be sure -that I shall find out."</p> - -<p>Thereupon, as Madame Delmare pretended not to notice his rage and -continued her attentions to the wounded man, he left the room, in order -not to explode before the women, and recalled the gardener.</p> - -<p>"What is the name of the man who, you say, resembles our prowler?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur de Ramière. It is he who has just bought Monsieur de Cercy's -little English house."</p> - -<p>"What sort of man is he? a nobleman, a fop, a fine gentleman?"</p> - -<p>"A fine gentleman, monsieur; noble, I think."</p> - -<p>"Undoubtedly," rejoined the colonel with emphasis. "Monsieur de -Ramière! Tell me, Louis," he added, lowering his voice, "have you ever -seen this fop prowling about here?"</p> - -<p>"Last night, monsieur," Louis replied, with an embarrassed air, "I -certainly saw—as to its being a fop, I can't say, but it was a man, -sure enough."</p> - -<p>"And you saw him?"</p> - -<p>"As plainly as I see you, under the windows of the orangery."</p> - -<p>"And you didn't fall upon him with the handle of your shovel?"</p> - -<p>"I was just going to do it, monsieur; but I saw a woman in white come -out of the orangery and go to meet him. At that I said to myself: -'Perhaps it's monsieur and madame, who have taken a fancy to walk a bit -before daybreak;' and I went back to bed. But this morning I heard -Lelièvre talking about a thief whose tracks he had seen in the park, -and I said to myself: 'There's something under this.'"</p> - -<p>"And why didn't you tell me immediately, stupid?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Dame!</i> monsieur, there are some things in life that are <i>so -delicate!</i>"</p> - -<p>"I understand—you presume to have doubts. You are a fool; if -you ever have another insolent idea of this sort I'll cut off your ears. -I know very well who the thief is and why he came into the garden. I -have put all these questions to you simply to find out what care you -take of your orangery. Remember that I have some rare plants there that -madame sets great store by, and that there are collectors who are insane -enough to rob their neighbors' hothouses; it was I whom you saw last -night with Madame Delmare."</p> - -<p>And the poor colonel walked away, more tormented, more exasperated than -before, leaving his gardener far from convinced that there are -horticulturists fanatical enough to risk a bullet in order to purloin a -shoot or a cutting.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Delmare returned to the billiard-room and, paying no heed to -the symptoms of returning consciousness which the wounded man displayed -at last, he was preparing to search the pockets of his jacket which lay -on a chair, when he put out his hand and said in a faint voice:</p> - -<p>"You wish to know who I am, monsieur, but it is useless. I will tell you -when we are alone. Until then spare me the embarrassment of making -myself known in my present disagreeable and absurd position."</p> - -<p>"It is a great pity in truth!" retorted the colonel sourly; "but I -confess that I hardly appreciate it. However, as I trust that we shall -meet again, and alone, I consent to defer an acquaintance until then. -Meanwhile will you kindly tell me where I shall have you taken."</p> - -<p>"To the public house in the nearest village, if you please."</p> - -<p>"But monsieur is no condition to be moved, is he, Ralph?" said Madame -Delmare hastily.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur's condition affects you far too much, madame," said the -colonel. "Leave the room, all of you," he said to the women in -attendance. "Monsieur feels better, and he will find strength now to -explain his presence on my premises."</p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur," rejoined the wounded man, "and I beg all those who have -been kind enough to bestow any care upon me to listen to my -acknowledgment of my misconduct. I feel that is of much importance that -there should be no misunderstanding here of my motives, and it is of -importance to myself that I should not be deemed what I am not. Let me -tell you then what rascally scheme brought me to your park. You have -installed, monsieur, by methods of extreme simplicity, known to you -alone, a factory which is immeasurably superior to all similar factories -in the province, both in respect to its processes and its product. My -brother owns a very similar establishment in the south of France, but -the cost of running it is enormous. His business was approaching -shipwreck when I learned of the success of your venture; whereupon I -determined to come and ask you to give me advice on certain points,—a -generous service which could not possibly injure your own interests, as -my brother's output is of an entirely different nature from yours. But -the gate of your English garden was rigorously closed to me; and when I -asked for an interview with you, I was told that you would not even -allow me to look over your establishment. Repelled by these discourteous -refusals, I determined to save my brother's life and honor even at the -peril of my own; I entered your premises at night by scaling the wall, -and tried to obtain entrance to the factory in order to examine the -machinery. I had determined to hide in a corner; to bribe your workmen, -to steal your secret,—in a word, to enable an honest man to profit by -it without injuring you. Such was my crime. Now, monsieur, if you demand -any other reparation than that which you have just taken, I am ready to -offer it to you as soon as I am strong enough; indeed, I may perhaps -demand it."</p> - -<p>"I think that we should cry quits, monsieur," replied the colonel, half -relieved from a great anxiety. "Take notice, all of you, of the -explanation monsieur has given me. I am over-avenged, assuming that I -require any revenge. Go now and leave us to discuss my profitable -business operations."</p> - -<p>The servants left the room; but they alone were deceived by this -reconciliation. The wounded man, weakened by his long speech, was not -capable of appreciating the tone of the colonel's last words. He fell -back into Madame Delmare's arms and lost consciousness a second time. -She leaned over him, not deigning to raise her eyes to her angry -husband, and the two strikingly contrasted faces of Monsieur Delmare and -Monsieur Brown, the one pale and distorted by anger, the other calm and -expressionless as usual, questioned each other in silence.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Delmare did not need to say a word to make himself understood; -however he drew Sir Ralph aside and said, crushing his fingers in his -grasp:</p> - -<p>"This is an admirably woven intrigue, my friend. I am delighted, -perfectly delighted with this young fellow's quick wit, which enabled -him to save my honor in the eyes of my servants. But, <i>mordieu!</i> he -shall pay dear for the insult, which I feel in the depths of my heart. -And that woman nursing him, who pretends not to know him! Ah! how true -it is that cunning is inborn in those creatures!"</p> - -<p>Sir Ralph, utterly nonplussed, walked methodically up and down -the room three times. At his first turn he drew the conclusion: -<i>improbable</i>; at the second: <i>impossible</i>; at the third: -<i>proven.</i> Then, returning with his impassive face to the colonel, -he pointed to Noun, who was standing behind the wounded man, wringing -her hands, with haggard eyes and livid cheeks, in the immobility of -despair, terror and misery.</p> - -<p>A real discovery carries with it such a power of swift and overwhelming -conviction, that the colonel was more impressed by Sir Ralph's emphatic -gesture than he would have been by the most persuasive eloquence. -Doubtless Sir Ralph had more than one means of striking the right scent; -he recalled the fact that Noun was in the park when he called her, her -wet hair, her damp, muddy shoes, which testified to a strange fancy for -walking abroad in the rain—trivial details which had made but slight -impression on him at the time that Madame Delmare fainted, but which -recurred to his memory now. Then, too, the extraordinary terror she had -manifested, her convulsive agitation, and the cry she had uttered when -she heard the shot.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Delmare did not require all this evidence; being more -penetrating because he had more interest in the matter, he had only to -look at the girl's face to see that she alone was guilty. But his wife's -assiduity in ministering to the hero of this amorous adventure became -more and more distasteful to him.</p> - -<p>"Leave us, Indiana," he said. "It is late and you are not well. Noun -will remain with monsieur to take care of him during the night, and -to-morrow, if he is better, we will see about having him taken home."</p> - -<p>There was nothing to say in reply to this unexpected complaisance. -Madame Delmare, who was so determined in her resistance to her husband's -violence, always yielded to his milder moods. She requested Sir Ralph to -remain a little longer with the patient, and withdrew to her bedroom.</p> - -<p>Not without ulterior motives had the colonel arranged things thus. An -hour later, when everybody had gone to bed and the house was still, he -stole softly into the room where Monsieur de Ramière lay, and, hiding -behind a curtain, was speedily convinced, by the young man's -conversation with the lady's-maid, that an amorous intrigue between the -two was in progress. The young creole's unusual beauty had created a -sensation at the rustic balls in the neighborhood. She had not lacked -offers of homage, even from members of some of the first families of the -province. More than one handsome officer of lancers, in garrison at -Melun, had put himself out to please her; but Noun was still to have her -first love affair, and only one of her suitors had succeeded in pleasing -her: Monsieur de Ramière.</p> - -<p>Colonel Delmare was by no means desirous of following the development of -their liaison; so he retired as soon as he had made sure that his wife -had not for an instant occupied the thoughts of the Almaviva of this -adventure. He heard enough of it, however, to realize the difference -between the love of poor Noun, who threw herself into the affair with -all the vehemence of her passionate nature, and that of the well-born -youth, who yielded to the impulse of a day without abjuring the right to -resume his reason on the morrow.</p> - -<p>When Madame Delmare awoke she found Noun beside her bed, embarrassed and -downcast. But she had ingenuously given credence to Monsieur de -Ramière's explanation, the more readily as persons interested in -Monsieur Delmare's line of trade had previously tried to surprise the -secrets of the Delmare factory, by stratagem or by fraud. She attributed -her companion's embarrassment therefore to the excitement and fatigue of -the night, and Noun took courage when she saw the colonel calmly enter -his wife's room and discuss the affair of the previous evening with her -as a perfectly natural occurrence.</p> - -<p>In the morning Sir Ralph had satisfied himself as to the patient's -condition. The fall, although a severe one, had had no serious result; -the wound in the hand had already closed; Monsieur de Ramière had -expressed a desire to be taken to Melun, and he had distributed the -contents of his purse among the servants to induce them to keep quiet -concerning his adventure, in order, he said, that his mother, who lived -within a few leagues, might not be alarmed. Thus the story became known -very slowly, and in several different versions. Certain information -concerning the English factory of Monsieur de Ramière, the brother, -added weight to the fiction the intruder had happily improvised. The -colonel and Sir Ralph had the delicacy to keep Noun's secret, without -even letting her know that they knew it; and the Delmare family soon -ceased to give any thought to the incident.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>IV</h4> - - -<p>You will find it difficult to believe perhaps that Monsieur de Ramière, -a young man of brilliant intellect, considerable talents and many -estimable qualities, accustomed to salon triumphs and to adventures in -perfumed boudoirs, had conceived a very durable passion for the -housekeeper in the household of a small manufacturer in Brie. And yet -Monsieur de Ramière was neither fop nor libertine. We have said that he was -intelligent—that is to say, he appreciated the advantages of birth -at their real value. He was a man of high principle when he argued with -himself; but vehement passions often carried him beyond the bounds of -his theories. At such times he was incapable of reflection, or he -avoided appearing before the tribunal of his conscience: he went astray, -as if without his own knowledge, and the man of yesterday strove to -deceive him of to-morrow. Unfortunately the most salient feature in his -character was not his principles, which he possessed in common with many -other white-gloved philosophers and which no more preserved him from -inconsistency than they preserve them; but his passions, which no -principles could stifle, and which made of him a man apart in that -degenerate society where it is so difficult to depart from the beaten -path without appearing ridiculous. Raymon had the art of being often -culpable without arousing hatred, often eccentric without being -offensive; indeed he sometimes succeeded in arousing the pity of people -who had the most reason to complain of him. There are men who are -humored thus by every one who approaches them. Sometimes an attractive -face and animated speech make up the sum total of their sensibility. We -do not presume to judge Monsieur Raymon de Ramière so harshly, nor to -draw his portrait before exhibiting him in action. We are examining him -now at a distance, like the multitude who pass him in the street.</p> - -<p>Monsieur de Ramière was in love with the young creole with the great -black eyes, who had aroused the admiration of the whole province at the -fête of Rubelles; but he was in love and nothing more. He had made her -acquaintance because he had nothing else to do, perhaps, and success had -kindled his desires; he had obtained more than he asked, and on the day -that he triumphed over that easily vanquished heart he returned home -dismayed by his victory, and said to himself, striking his forehead:</p> - -<p>"God grant that she doesn't love me!"</p> - -<p>Thus it was not until after he had accepted all the proofs of her love -that he began to suspect the existence of that love. Then he repented, -but it was too late; he must either resign himself to what the future -might have in store, or retreat like a coward toward the past. Raymon -did not hesitate; he allowed himself to be loved, he loved in return for -gratitude; he scaled the walls of the Delmare estate from love of -danger; he had a terrible fall from awkwardness; and he was so touched -by his lovely young mistress's grief that he deemed himself justified -thenceforth in his own eyes in continuing to dig the pit into which she -was destined to fall.</p> - -<p>When he had recovered, winter had no storms, darkness no perils, remorse -no stings which could deter him from passing through the corner of the -forest to meet the young creole and swear to her that he had never loved -any other woman; that he preferred her to the queens of society, and a -thousand other exaggerations which will always be fashionable with poor -and credulous maidens. In January Madame Delmare went to Paris with her -husband; Sir Ralph Brown, their excellent neighbor, betook himself to -his own estate, and Noun, being left in charge of her master's country -house, was able to absent herself on various pretexts. It was -unfortunate for her, and this facility of intercourse with her lover -greatly abridged the ephemeral happiness which she was destined to -enjoy. The forest with its poetic shadows, its arabesques of hoar-frost, -its moonlight effects, the mysterious going and coming by the little -gate, the furtive departure in the morning when Noun's little feet, as -she accompanied him to the gate, left their prints on the snow in the -park—all these accessories of an amorous intrigue served to prolong -Monsieur de Ramière's intoxication. Noun, in white <i>déshablilé</i>, with -her long black hair for ornament, was a lady, a queen, a fairy; when he -saw her come forth from that red brick castle, a heavy, square structure -of the time of the Regency, with a semi-feudal aspect, he could easily -fancy her a châtelaine of the Middle Ages, and in the summerhouse -filled with rare flowers, where she made him drunk with the seductions -of youth and passion, he readily forgot all that he was destined to -remember later.</p> - -<p>But when Noun, disdaining precautions and defying danger in her turn, -came to him at his home, with her white apron and neckerchief -coquettishly arranged according to the fashion of her country, she was -nothing more than a maid and a maid in the service of a pretty woman—a -circumstance that always makes a soubrette seem like a makeshift. And -yet Noun was very lovely, it was in that dress that he had first seen -her at that village fête where he had forced his way through the crowd -of curious bystanders, and had enjoyed the petty triumph of carrying her -off from a score of rivals. Noun would lovingly remind him of that day; -she did not know, poor child, that Raymon's love did not date back so -far, and that her day of pride had been only a day of vanity to him. And -then the courage with which she sacrificed her reputation to him—that -courage which should have made him love her all the more—displeased -Monsieur de Ramière. The wife of a peer of France who should sacrifice -herself so recklessly would be a priceless conquest; but a lady's maid! -That which is heroism in the one becomes brazen-faced effrontery in the -other. With the one a world of jealous rivals envies you; with the other -a rabble of scandalized flunkeys condemns you. The lady of quality -sacrifices twenty previous lovers to you; the lady's maid sacrifices -only a husband that she might have had.</p> - -<p>What can you expect? Raymon was a man of fashionable morals, of elegant -manners, of poetic passion. In his eyes a grisette was not a woman, and -Noun, by virtue of a beauty of the first order, had taken him by -surprise on a day of popular merrymaking. All this was not Raymon's -fault; he had been reared to shine in society, all his thoughts had been -directed toward an exalted goal, all his faculties had been moulded to -enjoy princely good fortune, and the ardor of his blood had led him into -bourgeois amours against his will. He had done all that he possibly -could do to prolong his enjoyment, but he had failed; what was he to do -now? Ideas extravagant in generosity had passed through his brain; on -the days when he was most in love with his mistress he had thought -seriously of raising her to his level, of legitimizing their union. Yes, -upon my honor, he had thought of it; but love, which legitimizes -everything, was growing weaker now; it was passing away with the perils -of the intrigue and the piquant charm of mystery. Marriage was no longer -possible; and note this: Raymon reasoned very cogently and altogether in -his mistress's favor.</p> - -<p>If he had really loved her, he could, by sacrificing to her his future, -his family and his reputation, still have found happiness, and, -consequently, have made her happy; for love is a contract no less than -marriage. But, his ardor having cooled as he felt that it had, what -future could he create for her? Should he marry her and display day -after day a gloomy face, a cold heart, a comfortless home? Should he -marry her and make her odious to her family, contemptible in the eyes of -her equals, and a laughing-stock to her servants; take the risk of -introducing her in a social circle where she would feel that she was out -of place; where humiliation would kill her; and, lastly, overwhelm her -with remorse by forcing her to realize all the trials she had brought -upon her lover?</p> - -<p>No, you will agree with him that it was impossible, that it would not -have been generous, that a man cannot contend thus with society, and -that such heroic virtue resembles Don Quixote breaking his lance against -a windmill; an iron courage which a breath of wind scatters; the -chivalry of another age which arouses the pitying contempt of this age.</p> - -<p>Having thus weighed all the arguments, Monsieur de Ramière concluded -that it would be better to break that unfortunate bond. Noun's visits -were beginning to be painful to him. His mother, who had gone to Paris -for the winter, would not fail to hear of the little scandal before -long. Even now she was surprised at his frequent visits to Cercy, their -country estate, and at his passing whole weeks there. He had, to be -sure, alleged as a pretext, an important piece of work which he was -finishing away from the noise of the city; but that pretext was -beginning to be worn out. It grieved Raymon to deceive so kind a mother, -to deprive her for so long a time of his filial attentions; and—how -shall I tell you?—he left Cercy and did not return.</p> - -<p>Noun wept and waited, and as the days and weeks passed, unhappy creature -that she was, she ventured so far as to write. Poor girl! that was the -last stroke. A letter from a lady's maid! Yet she had taken -satin-finished paper and perfumed wax from Madame Delmare's desk, and -her style from her heart. But the spelling! Do you know how much energy -a syllable more or less adds to or detracts from the sentiments? Alas! -the poor half-civilized girl from Ile Bourbon did not know even that -there were rules for the use of language. She believed that she wrote -and spoke as correctly as her mistress, and when she found that Raymon -did not return she said to herself:</p> - -<p>"And yet my letter was well adapted to bring him."</p> - -<p>That letter Raymon lacked courage to read to the end. It was a -masterpiece of ingenuous and graceful passion; it is doubtful if -Virginia wrote Paul a more charming one after she left her native land. -But Monsieur de Ramière made haste to throw it in the fire, fearful -lest he should blush for himself. Once more, what do you expect? This is -a prejudice of education, and self-love is a part of love just as -self-interest is a part of friendship.</p> - -<p>Monsieur de Ramière's absence had been noticed in society; that is much -to say of a man, in respect to this society of ours where all men -resemble one another. One may be a man of intelligence and still care -for society, just as one may be a fool and despise it. Raymon liked it, -and he was justified in his liking, for he was a favorite and was much -sought after; and that multitude of indifferent or sneering masks -assumed for him attentive and interested smiles. Unfortunate men may be -misanthropes, but those persons of whom one is fond are rarely -ungrateful; at least so Raymon thought. He was grateful for the -slightest manifestations of attachment, desirous of universal esteem, -proud of having a large number of friends.</p> - -<p>In this society, whose prejudices are absolute, everything had succeeded -in his case, even his faults; and when he sought the cause of this -universal affection which had always encompassed him, he found it in -himself, in his longing to obtain it, in the joy it caused him, in the -hearty kindliness which he dealt out lavishly without exhausting it.</p> - -<p>He owed it in some measure to his mother too, whose superior -intelligence, sparkling conversation and private virtues made her an -exceptional woman. It was from her that he inherited those excellent -principles which always led him back to the right path and prevented -him, despite the impetuosity of his twenty-five years, from ever -forfeiting his claim to public esteem. Moreover, people were more -indulgent to him than to others because his mother had the knack of -apologizing for him while blaming him, of commanding indulgence when she -seemed to implore it. She was one of those women who had lived through -different epochs so utterly dissimilar that their minds become as -flexible as their destinies; who have grown rich on experience of -misfortune; who have escaped the scaffolds of '93, the vices of the -Directory, the vanities of the Empire and the enmities of the -Restoration; rare women, whose kind is dying out.</p> - -<p>It was at a ball at the Spanish ambassador's that Raymon reappeared in -society.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur de Ramière, if I am not mistaken," said a pretty woman to her -neighbor.</p> - -<p>"He is a comet who appears at irregular intervals," was the reply. "It -is centuries since any one heard of the pretty fellow."</p> - -<p>The lady who spoke thus was a middle-aged foreigner. Her companion -blushed slightly.</p> - -<p>"He's very good-looking, is he not, madame?" she said.</p> - -<p>"Charming, on my word," replied the old Sicilian.</p> - -<p>"You are talking about the hero of the eclectic salons, the dark-eyed -Raymon, I'll be bound," said a dashing colonel of the guard.</p> - -<p>"He has a fine head to study," rejoined the younger woman.</p> - -<p>"And what pleases you even more, I dare say," said the colonel, "a -wicked head."</p> - -<p>The young woman was his wife.</p> - -<p>"Why a wicked head?" queried the Sicilian.</p> - -<p>"Full of genuine Southern passions, madame, worthy of the bright -sunlight of Palermo."</p> - -<p>Two or three young women put forward their flower-laden heads to hear -what the colonel was saying.</p> - -<p>"He made ravages in the garrison last year, I promise you," he -continued. "We fellows shall be obliged to pick a quarrel with him, in -order to get rid of him."</p> - -<p>"If he's a Lovelace, so much the worse for him," said a young lady with -a satirical cast of countenance; "I can't endure men whom everybody -loves."</p> - -<p>The ultramontane countess waited until the colonel had walked away, when -she tapped Mademoiselle de Nangy's fingers lightly with her fan and -said:</p> - -<p>"Don't speak so; you don't know here what to think of a man who wants to -be liked."</p> - -<p>"Do you think, pray, that all they have to do is to want it?" said the -damsel with the long sardonic eyes.</p> - -<p>"Mademoiselle," said the colonel, coming up again to invite her to -dance; "take care that the charming Raymon does not overhear you."</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle de Nangy laughed; but during the rest of the evening the -pretty group of which she was one dared not mention Monsieur de -Ramière's name again.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>V</h4> - - -<p>Monsieur de Ramière wandered amid the undulating waves of that -gayly-dressed crowd without distaste and without ennui.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, he was fighting against a feeling of chagrin. On returning -to his own sphere he had a species of remorse, of shame for all the wild -ideas which a misplaced attachment had suggested to him. He looked at -the women so brilliantly beautiful in the bright light; he listened to -their refined and clever conversation; he heard their talents highly -praised; and in those marvellous specimens of their sex, those almost -royal costumes, those exquisitely appropriate remarks, he found on all -sides an implied reproach for having been untrue to his destiny. But, -despite this species of mental bewilderment, Raymon suffered from more -genuine remorse; for his intentions were always kind and considerate to -the last degree, and a woman's tears broke his heart, hardened as it -was.</p> - -<p>The honors of the evening were universally accorded to a young woman -whose name no one knew, and who enjoyed the privilege of monopolizing -attention because her appearance in society was a novelty. The -simplicity of her costume alone would have sufficed to make her a -distinguished figure amid the diamonds, feathers and flowers in which -the other women were arrayed. Strings of pearls woven into her black -hair were her only jewels. The lustreless white of her necklace, her -crêpe dress and her bare shoulders blended at a little distance, and -the heated atmosphere of the apartments had barely succeeded in bringing -to her cheeks a faint flush of as delicate a shade as that of a Bengal -rose blooming on the snow. She was a tiny, dainty, slender creature; a -salon type of beauty to which the bright light of the candles gave a -fairylike touch, and which a sunbeam would have dimmed. When she danced -she was so light that a breath would have whisked her away; but in her -lightness there was no animation, no pleasure. When she was seated she -bent forward as if her too flexible body lacked strength to support -itself, and when she spoke she smiled sadly. Fantastic tales were at the -very height of their vogue at this period. Accordingly, those who were -learned in that line compared this young woman to a fascinating -apparition evoked by sorcery, which would fade away and vanish like a -dream when the first flush of dawn appeared on the horizon.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile they crowded about her to invite her to dance.</p> - -<p>"Make haste," said a dandy of a romantic turn to one of his friends; -"the cock will crow soon, and even now your partner's feet have ceased -to touch the floor. I'll wager that you can't feel her hand in yours."</p> - -<p>"Pray look at Monsieur de Ramière's dark, strongly-marked face," said -an <i>artistic</i> lady to her neighbor. "Contrast him with that pale, -slender young woman, and see if the <i>solid</i> tone of the one -doesn't make an admirable foil for the <i>delicate</i> tone of the other."</p> - -<p>"That young woman," said a woman who knew everybody and who played the -part of an almanac at social functions, "is the daughter of that old -fool, De Carvajal, who tried to play Joséphin, and who died ruined at -Ile Bourbon. This lovely exotic flower has made a foolish marriage, I -believe; but her aunt stands well at court."</p> - -<p>Raymon had drawn near the fair Indian. A peculiar emotion seized him -every time that he looked at her; he had seen that pale, sad face; -perhaps in some dream, but at all events he had seen it, and his eyes -rested upon it with the delight we all feel on seeing once more a -charming vision which we thought that we had lost forever.</p> - -<p>Raymon's gaze disturbed her who was the object of it; she was awkward -and shy, like a person unaccustomed to society, and the sensation that -she caused seemed to embarrass rather than to please her. Raymon made -the circuit of the salon, succeeded finally in learning that her name -was Madame Delmare, and went and asked her to dance.</p> - -<p>"You do not remember me," he said, when they were alone in the midst of -the crowd; "but I have not been able to forget you, madame. And yet I -saw you for an instant only, through a cloud; but in that instant you -seemed so kind, so compassionate."</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare started.</p> - -<p>"Oh! yes, monsieur," she said quickly, "it is you! I recognized you, -too."</p> - -<p>Then she blushed and seemed to fear that she had offended the -proprieties. She looked around as if to see whether anyone had heard -her. Her timidity enhanced her natural charm, and Raymon was touched to -the heart by the tone of that creole voice, slightly husky, but so sweet -that it seemed made to pray or to bless.</p> - -<p>"I was afraid," he said, "that I should never have an opportunity to -thank you. I could not call upon you and I knew that you went but little -into society. I feared, also, that if I made your acquaintance I should -come in contact with Monsieur Delmare, and our previous relations could -not fail to make that contact disagreeable. How glad I am for this -moment, which enables me to pay the debt of my heart!"</p> - -<p>"It would be much pleasanter for me," said she, "if Monsieur Delmare -also could enjoy it; and if you knew him better you would know that he -is as kind as he is brusque. You would forgive him for having been your -involuntary assailant, for his heart certainly bled more freely than -your wound."</p> - -<p>"Let us not talk of Monsieur Delmare, madame; I forgive him with all my -heart. I injured him and he took the law into his own hands. I have -nothing more to do but to forget; but as to you, madame, who lavished -such delicate and generous attentions upon me, I choose to remember all -my life your treatment of me, your pure features, your angelic -gentleness, and these hands which poured balm upon my wounds and which I -dared not kiss."</p> - -<p>While he spoke Raymon held Madame Delmare's hand, to be prepared to walk -through their figure in the contradance. He pressed that hand gently in -his, and all the young woman's blood rushed to her heart.</p> - -<p>When he led Madame Delmare back to her seat, her aunt, Madame de -Carvajal, had gone; the crowd was thinning. Raymon sat down beside her. -He had that ease of manner which a wide experience in affairs of the -heart imparts; it is the violence of our desires, the precipitate haste -of our love, that makes us stupid when we are with women. The man who -has rubbed the edge off his emotions a little is more anxious to please -than to love. Nevertheless Monsieur de Ramière felt more deeply moved -in the presence of that simple, unspoiled woman than he had ever been. -Perhaps this swift impression was due to his memory of the night he had -passed at her house; but it is certain that, while he talked to her with -animation, his heart did not lead his mouth astray. However, the habit -he had acquired with other women gave to his words a power of persuasion -to which the untutored Indiana yielded, not understanding that it had -not all been invented expressly for her.</p> - -<p>In general—and women are well aware of it—a man who talks -wittily of love is only moderately in love. Raymon was an exception; he -expressed passion artistically and felt it ardently. But it was not -passion that rendered him eloquent, it was eloquence that made him -passionate. He knew that he had a weakness for women, and he would -become eloquent in order to seduce a woman and fall in love with her -while seducing her. It was sentiment of the sort dealt in by advocates -and preachers, who weep hot tears when they perspire freely. He -sometimes fell in with women who were shrewd enough to distrust these -heated improvisations; but he had committed what are called follies for -love's sake: he had run away with a girl of noble birth; he had -compromised women of very high station; he had had three sensational -duels; he had displayed to a crowded evening party, to a whole theatre -full of spectators, the bewilderment of his heart and the disarray of -his thoughts. A man who does all this without fear of ridicule or of -curses, and who succeeds in avoiding both, is safe from all assault; he -can take any risk and hope for anything. Thus the most skilfully -constructed defences yielded to the consideration that Raymon was madly -in love when he meddled with love at all. A man capable of making a fool -of himself for love is a rare prodigy in society, and one that women do -not disdain.</p> - -<p>I do not know how it happened, but when he escorted Madame de Carvajal -and Madame Delmare to their carriage he succeeded in putting Indiana's -little hand to his lips. Never before had a man's furtive, burning kiss -breathed upon that woman's fingers, although she was born in a fiery -climate and was nineteen years old; nineteen years of Ile Bourbon, which -are equivalent to twenty-five in our country.</p> - -<p>Ill and nervous as she was, that kiss almost extorted a shriek from her, -and she had to be assisted into the carriage. Raymon had never come in -contact with such a delicate organization. Noun, the creole, was in -robust health, and Parisian women do not faint when their hands are -kissed.</p> - -<p>"If I should see her twice," he said to himself as he walked away, "I -should lose my head over her."</p> - -<p>The next morning he had completely forgotten Noun.</p> - -<p>All that he knew about her was that she belonged to Madame Delmare. The -pale-faced Indiana engrossed all his thoughts, filled all his dreams. -When Raymon began to feel the shafts of love he was in the habit of -seeking to distract his thoughts, not in order to stifle the budding -passion, but, on the contrary, to drive away the reasoning power that -urged him to weigh its consequences. Of an ardent temperament, he -pursued his object hotly. He had not the power to quell the tempests -which arose in his bosom, nor to rekindle them when he felt that they -were dying away and vanishing.</p> - -<p>He succeeded the next day in learning that Monsieur Delmare had gone to -Brussels on a business trip, and had left his wife in charge of Madame -de Carvajal, of whom he was not at all fond, but who was Madame -Delmare's only relative. He, an upstart soldier, belonged to a poor and -obscure family, of which he seemed to be ashamed, simply because he -repeated so often that he was not ashamed of it. But, although he passed -his life reproaching his wife for alleged scorn of him which she did not -entertain, he was conscious that he ought not to compel her to live on -terms of intimacy with his uneducated kindred. Moreover, despite his -dislike for Madame de Carvajal, he could not refuse to treat her with -great deference for these reasons.</p> - -<p>Madame de Carvajal, who was descended from a noble Spanish family, was -one of those women who cannot make up their minds to be of no account in -the world. In the days when Napoleon ruled Europe she had burned incense -to the glory of Napoleon, and with her husband and brother-in-law had -joined the party of the Joséphinos; but her husband had lost his life -at the fall of the conqueror's short-lived dynasty, and Indiana's father -had taken refuge in the French colonies. Thereupon Madame de Carvajal, -being a clever and active person, had repaired to Paris, and there, by -some fortunate speculations on the Bourse, had built up for herself a -new competence on the ruins of her past splendors. By dint of shrewd -wit, intrigues and piety she had also obtained some favor at Court, and -her establishment, while it was by no means brilliant, was one of the -most respectable of all those presided over by protégés of the Civil -List.</p> - -<p>When Indiana arrived in France after her father's death, as the bride of -Colonel Delmare, Madame de Carvajal was but moderately pleased by so -paltry an alliance. Nevertheless she saw that Monsieur Delmare, whose -good sense and activity in business were worth a dowry, prospered with -his slender capital; and she purchased for Indiana the little château -of Lagny and the factory connected with it. In two years, thanks to -Monsieur Delmare's technical knowledge and certain funds advanced by Sir -Rodolphe Brown, his wife's cousin by marriage, the colonel's affairs -took a fortunate turn; he began to pay off his debts, and Madame de -Carvajal, in whose eyes fortune was the first recommendation, manifested -much affection for her niece and promised her the remnant of her wealth. -Indiana, who was devoid of ambition, was devotedly kind and attentive to -her aunt from gratitude, not from self-interest; but there was at least -as much of one as of the other in the colonel's manœuvres. He was a man -of iron in the matter of his political opinions; he would listen to no -argument concerning the unassailable glory of his great emperor, and he -upheld that glory with the blind obstinacy of a child of sixty years. He -was obliged therefore to put forth all his patience to refrain from -breaking out again and again in Madame de Carjaval's salon, where the -Restoration was lauded to the skies. What Delmare suffered at the hands -of five or six pious old women is beyond description. His vexation on -this account was in part the cause of his frequent ill-humor against his -wife.</p> - -<p>So much for Madame de Carvajal; we return now to Monsieur de Ramière. -At the end of three days he had learned all these domestic details, so -actively had he followed up everything likely to put him in the way of -an intimate acquaintance with the Delmare family. He learned that by -acquiring Madame de Carvajal's favor he could obtain opportunities of -meeting Indiana. On the evening of the third day he procured an -introduction to the aunt.</p> - -<p>In her salon there were four or five barbarians solemnly playing -<i>reversi</i>, and two or three young men of family, as utterly vapid as -it is allowable for a man to be who has sixteen quarterings of nobility. -Indiana was at work patiently filling in the background of a piece of -embroidery on her aunt's frame. She was leaning over her work, -apparently absorbed by that mechanical operation, and, it may be, well -pleased to escape in this way the dull chatter of her neighbors. For -aught I know, behind the long black hair that fell over the flowers of -her embroidery, she was reviewing in her mind the emotions of that -fleeting instant which had opened the door of a new life to her, when -the servant's voice, announcing several new arrivals, made it necessary -for her to rise. She did so mechanically, for she had paid no heed to -the names, and barely lifted her eyes from her embroidery; but a voice -at her side made her start as if she had received an electric shock, and -she was obliged to lean on her work-table to avoid falling.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>VI</h4> - - -<p>Raymon was not prepared for that silent salon, peopled only by a few -taciturn guests. It was impossible to utter a word which was not heard -in every corner of the room. The dowagers who were playing cards seemed -to be there for the sole purpose of embarrassing the conversation of the -younger guests, and Raymon fancied that he could read on their stern -features the secret satisfaction which old age takes in avenging itself -by blocking other people's pleasure. He had counted upon a less -constrained, tenderer interview than that of the ball, and it was just -the opposite. This unexpected difficulty gave greater intensity to his -desires, more fire to his glances, more animation and vivacity to the -roundabout remarks he addressed to Madame Delmare. The poor child was -altogether unused to this style of attack. She could not possibly defend -herself, because nothing was asked of her; but she was forced to listen -to the proffer of an ardent heart, to learn how dearly she was loved, -and to allow herself to be encompassed by all the perils of seduction -without making any resistance. Her embarrassment increased with Raymon's -boldness. Madame de Carvajal, who made some reasonably well-founded -claims to wit, and to whom Monsieur de Ramière's wit had been highly -praised, left the card-table to challenge him to a refined discussion -concerning love, into which she introduced much Spanish heat and German -metaphysics. Raymon eagerly accepted the challenge, and, on the pretext -of answering the aunt, said to the niece all that she would have refused -to hear. The poor young wife, without a protector and exposed to so -lively and skilful an assault on all sides, could not muster strength to -take part in that thorny discussion. In vain did her aunt, who was -anxious to exhibit her to advantage, call upon her to testify to the -truth of certain subtle theories of sentiment; she confessed blushingly -that she knew nothing about such things, and Raymon, intoxicated with -joy to see her cheeks flush and her bosom heave, swore inwardly that he -would teach her.</p> - -<p>Indiana slept less that night than she had done for the last two or -three nights; as we have said, she had never been in love, and her heart -had long been ripe for a sentiment which none of the men she had met -hitherto had succeeded in arousing. She had been brought up by a father -of an eccentric and violent character, and had never known the happiness -which is derived from the affection of another person. Monsieur de -Carvajal, drunk with political passions, consumed by ambitious regrets, -had become the most cruel planter and the most disagreeable neighbor in -the colonies; his daughter had suffered keenly from his detestable -humor. But, by dint of watching the constant tableau of the evils of -slavery, of enduring the weariness of solitude and dependence, she had -acquired a superficial patience, proof against every trial, an adorable -kindliness toward her inferiors, but also an iron will and an -incalculable power of resistance to everything that tended to oppress -her. By marrying Delmare she simply changed masters; by coming to live -at Lagny, she changed her prison and the locus of her solitude. She did -not love her husband, perhaps for the very reason that she was told that -it was her duty to love him, and that it had become with her a sort of -second nature, a principle of conduct, a law of conscience, to resist -mentally every sort of moral constraint. No one had attempted to point -out to her any other law than that of blind obedience.</p> - -<p>Brought up in the desert, neglected by her father, surrounded by slaves, -to whom she could offer no other assistance or encouragement than her -compassion and her tears, she had accustomed herself to say: "A day will -come when everything in my life will be changed, when I shall do good to -others, when some one will love me, when I shall give my whole heart to -the man who gives me his; meanwhile, I will suffer in silence and keep -my love as a reward for him who shall set me free." This liberator, this -Messiah had not come; Indiana was still awaiting him. She no longer -dared, it is true, to confess to herself her whole thought. She had -realized under the clipped hedge-rows of Lagny that thought itself was -more fettered there than under the wild palms of Ile Bourbon; and when -she caught herself saying, as she used to say: "A day will come—a man -will come"—she forced that rash longing back to the depths of her -heart, and said to herself: "Death alone will bring that day!"</p> - -<p>And so she was dying. A strange malady was consuming her youth. She was -without strength and unable to sleep. The doctors looked in vain for any -discoverable disorder, for none existed; all her faculties were failing -away in equal degree, all her organs were gradually degenerating; her -heart was burning at a slow fire, her eyes were losing their lustre, the -circulation of her blood was governed entirely by excitement and fever; -a few months more and the poor captive bird would surely die. But, -whatever the extent of her resignation and her discouragement, the need -remained the same. That silent, broken heart was still calling -involuntarily to some generous youthful heart to revivify it. The being -whom she had loved most dearly hitherto was Noun, the cheery and brave -companion of her tedious solitude; and the man who had manifested the -greatest liking for her was her phlegmatic cousin Sir Ralph. What food -for the all-consuming activity of her thoughts—a poor girl, ignorant -and neglected like herself, and an Englishman whose only passion was -fox-hunting!</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare was genuinely unhappy, and the first time that she felt -the burning breath of a young and passionate man enter her frigid -atmosphere, the first time that a tender and caressing word delighted -her ear, and quivering lips left a mark as of a red-hot iron on her -hand, she thought neither of the duties that had been laid upon her, nor -of the prudence that had been enjoined upon her, nor of the future that -had been predicted for her; she remembered only the hateful past, her -long suffering, her despotic masters. Nor did it occur to her that the -man before her might be false or fickle. She saw him as she wished him -to be, as she had dreamed of him, and Raymon could easily have deceived -her if he had not been sincere.</p> - -<p>But how could he fail to be sincere with so lovely and loving a woman? -What other had ever laid bare her heart to him with such candor and -ingenuousness? With what other had he been able to look forward to a -future so captivating and so secure? Was she not born to love him, this -slave who simply awaited a sign to break her chains, a word to follow -him? Evidently heaven had made for Raymon this melancholy child of Ile -Bourbon, whom no one had ever loved, and who but for him must have died.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless a feeling of terror succeeded this all-pervading, feverish -joy in Madame Delmare's heart. She thought of her quick-tempered, -keen-eyed, vindictive husband, and she was afraid,—not for herself, -for she was inured to threats, but for the man who was about to undertake a -battle to the death with her tyrant. She knew so little of society that -she transformed her life into a tragic romance; a timid creature, who -dared not love for fear of endangering her lover's life, she gave no -thought to the danger of destroying herself.</p> - -<p>This then was the secret of her resistance, the motive of her virtue. -She made up her mind on the following day to avoid Monsieur de Ramière. -That very evening there was a ball at the house of one of the leading -bankers of Paris. Madame de Carvajal, who, being an old woman with no -ties of affection, was very fond of society, proposed to attend with -Indiana; but Raymon was to be there and Indiana determined not to go. To -avoid her aunt's persecution, Madame Delmare, who was never able to -resist except in action, pretended to assent to the plan; she allowed -herself to be dressed and waited until Madame de Carvajal was ready; -then she changed her ball dress for a robe de chambre, seated herself in -front of the fire and resolutely awaited the conflict. When the old -Spaniard, as rigid and gorgeous as a portrait by Van Dyck, came to call -her, Indiana declared that she was not well and did not feel that she -could go out. In vain did her aunt urge her to make an effort.</p> - -<p>"I would be only too glad to go," she said, "but you see that I can -hardly stand. I should be only a trouble to you to-night. Go to the ball -without me, dear aunt; I shall enjoy the thought of your pleasure."</p> - -<p>"Go without you!" said Madame de Carvajal, who was sorely distressed at -the idea of having made an elaborate toilet to no purpose, and who -shrank from the horrors of a solitary evening. "Why, what business have -I in society, an old woman whom no one speaks to except to be near you? -What will become of me without my niece's lovely eyes to give me value?"</p> - -<p>"Your wit will fill the gap, my dear aunt," said Indiana.</p> - -<p>The Marquise de Carvajal, who only wanted to be urged, set off at last. -Whereupon, Indiana hid her face in her hands and began to weep; for she -had made a great sacrifice and believed that she had already blasted the -attractive prospect of the day before.</p> - -<p>But Raymon would not have it so. The first thing that he saw at the ball -was the old marchioness's haughty aigrette. In vain did he look for -Indiana's white dress and black hair in her vicinity. He drew near and -heard her say in an undertone to another lady:</p> - -<p>"My niece is ill; or rather," she added, to justify her own presence at -the ball, "it's a mere girlish whim. She wanted to be left alone in the -salon with a book in her hand, like a sentimental beauty."</p> - -<p>"Can it be that she is avoiding me?" thought Raymon. He left the ball at -once. He hurried to the marchioness's house, entered without speaking to -the concierge, and asked the first servant that he saw, who was half -asleep in the antechamber, for Madame Delmare.</p> - -<p>"Madame Delmare is ill."</p> - -<p>"I know it. I have come at Madame de Carvajal's request to see how she -is."</p> - -<p>"I will tell madame."</p> - -<p>"It is not necessary. Madame Delmare will receive me."</p> - -<p>And Raymon entered the salon unannounced. All the other servants had -retired. A melancholy silence reigned in the deserted apartments. A -single lamp, covered with its green silk shade, lighted the main salon -dimly. Indiana's back was turned to the door; she was completely hidden -in the depths of a huge easy-chair, sadly watching the burning logs, as -on the evening when Raymon entered the park of Lagny over the wall; -sadder now, for her former undefined sufferings, aimless desires had -given place to a fleeting joy, a gleam of happiness that was not for -her.</p> - -<p>Raymon, his feet encased in dancing shoes, approached noiselessly over -the soft, heavy carpet. He saw that she was weeping, and, when she -turned her head, she found him at her feet, taking forcible possession -of her hands, which she struggled in vain to withdraw from his clasp. -Then, I agree, she was overjoyed beyond words to find that her scheme of -resistance had failed. She felt that she passionately loved this man who -paid no heed to obstacles and who had brought happiness to her in spite -of her efforts. She blessed heaven for rejecting her sacrifice, and, -instead of scolding Raymon, she was very near thanking him.</p> - -<p>As for him, he knew already that she loved him. He needed not to see the -joy that shone through her tears to realize that he was master, and that -he could venture. He gave her no time to question him, but, changing -rôles with her, vouchsafing no explanation of his unlooked-for -presence, and no apology intended to make him seem less guilty than he -was, he said:</p> - -<p>"You are weeping, Indiana. Why do you weep? I insist upon knowing."</p> - -<p>She started when he called her by her name; but there was additional joy -in the surprise which that audacity caused her.</p> - -<p>"Why do you ask?" she said. "I must not tell you."</p> - -<p>"Well, I know, Indiana. I know your whole history, your whole life. -Nothing that concerns you is unknown to me, because nothing that -concerns you is indifferent to me. I resolved to know everything about -you, and I have learned nothing that was not revealed to me during the -brief moment that I passed under your roof, when I was brought, all -crushed and bleeding, to your feet, and your husband was angry to see -you, so lovely and so kind, support me with your soft arms and pour balm -upon my wounds with your sweet breath. He was jealous? oh! I can readily -understand it; I should have been, in his place, Indiana; or rather, in -his place, I would kill myself; for to be your husband, madame, to -possess you, to hold you in his arms, and not to deserve you, not to win -your heart, is to be the most miserable or the most dastardly of men!"</p> - -<p>"O heaven! hush," she cried, putting her hand over his mouth; "hush! for -you make me guilty. Why do you speak to me of him? why seek to teach me -to curse him? If he should hear you! But I have said no evil of him; I -have not authorized you to commit this crime! I do not hate him; I -esteem him, I love him!"</p> - -<p>"Say rather that you are horribly afraid of him; for the despot has -broken your spirit, and fear has sat at your bedside ever since you -became that man's prey. You, Indiana, profaned by the touch of that -boor, whose iron hand has bowed your head and ruined your life! Poor -child! so young and so lovely, to have suffered so horribly! for you -cannot deceive me, Indiana, who look at you with other eyes than those -of the common herd; I know all the secrets of your destiny, and you -cannot hope to hide the truth from me. Let those who look at you because -you are lovely say, when they notice your pallor and your melancholy: 'She -is ill;'—well and good; but I, who follow you with my heart, whose -whole soul encompasses you with solicitude and love, I am well aware -what your disease is. I know that, if God had willed it so, if he had -given you to me, unlucky wretch that I am, who deserve to have my head -broken for having come so late, you would not be ill. On my life I -swear, Indiana, I would have loved you so that you would have loved me -the same and that you would have blessed the chain that bound us. I -would have carried you in my arms to prevent your feet from being -wounded; I would have warmed them with my breath. I would have held you -against my breast to save you from suffering. I would have given all my -blood to make up your lack of it, and if you had lost sleep with me, I -would have passed the night saying soft words to you, smiling on you to -restore your courage, weeping the while to see you suffer. When sleep -had breathed upon your silken eyelids, I would have brushed them with my -lips to close them more softly, and I would have watched over you, -kneeling by your bed. I would have forced the air to caress you gently, -golden dreams to throw flowers to you. I would have kissed noiselessly -your lovely tresses, I would have counted with ecstatic joy the -palpitations of your breast, and, at your awakening, Indiana, you would -have found me at your feet, guarding you like a jealous master, waiting -upon you as a slave, watching for your first smile, seizing upon your -first thought, your first glance, your first kiss."</p> - -<p>"Enough! enough!" said Indiana, agitated and quivering with emotion, -"you make me faint."</p> - -<p>And yet, if people died of happiness, Indiana would have died at that -moment.</p> - -<p>"Do not speak so to me," she said—"to me who am destined never to -be happy; do not depict heaven upon earth to me who am doomed to die."</p> - -<p>"To die!" cried Raymon vehemently, seizing her in his arms; "you, die! -Indiana! die before you have lived—before you have loved! No, you -shall not die; I will not let you die, for my life is bound to yours -henceforth. You are the woman of whom I dreamed, the purity that I -adored, the chimera that always fled from me, the bright star that shone -before me and said to me: 'Go forward in this life of wretchedness and -heaven will send one of its angels to bear you company.' You were always -destined for me; your soul was always betrothed to mine, Indiana! Men -and their iron laws have disposed of you; they have snatched from me the -mate God would have chosen for me, if God did not sometimes forget his -promises. But what do we care for men and laws if I love you still in -another's arms, if you can still love me, accursed and unhappy as I am -in having lost you! I tell you, Indiana, you belong to me; you are the -half of my heart, which has long been struggling to join the other half. -When you dreamed of a friend on Ile Bourbon, you dreamed of me; when, at -the word husband, a sweet thrill of fear and hope passed through your -heart, it was because I was destined to be your husband. Do you not -recognize me? Does not it seem to you that we must have met twenty years -ago? Did I not recognize you, my angel, when you stanched my blood with -your veil, when you placed your hand on my dying heart to bring back its -heat and its life? Ah! I remember distinctly enough. When I opened my -eyes I said to myself: 'There she is! she has been like that in all my -dreams—pale, melancholy and kind-hearted. She is my own; it is she -who is destined to fill my cup with unknown joys.' And the physical life -which returned to me then was your work. For we were brought together by -no commonplace circumstances, you see; it was neither chance nor -caprice, but fatality, death, which opened the gates of this new life to -me. It was your husband—your master—who, guided by his destiny, -brought me all bleeding in his arms and threw me at your feet, saying: -'Here is something for you!' And now nothing can part us."</p> - -<p>"Yes, he can part us!" hastily interposed Madame Delmare, who, carried -away by her lover's transports, had listened to him in ecstasy. "Alas! -alas! you do not know him; he is a man who knows nothing of pardon—a -man who cannot be deceived. He will kill you, Raymon!"</p> - -<p>She hid her face in his bosom, sobbing. Raymon embraced her -passionately.</p> - -<p>"Let him come!" he cried; "let him come and snatch this moment of -happiness from me! I defy him! Stay here, Indiana—here against my -heart; let it be your refuge and your protection. Love me and I shall be -invulnerable. You know that it is not in that man's power to kill me; I -have already been exposed defenceless to his blows. But you, my good -angel, were hovering over me, and your wings protected me. Have no fear, -I say, we shall find a way to turn aside his wrath; and now I am not -even afraid for you, for I shall be at hand. And when this master of -yours attempts to oppress you, I will protect you against him. I will -rescue you, if necessary, from his cruel laws. Would you like me to kill -him? Tell me that you love me, and I will be his executioner if you -sentence him to death."</p> - -<p>"Hush! hush! you make me shudder! If you wish to kill some one, kill me; -for I have lived one whole day and I ask nothing more."</p> - -<p>"Die, then, but let it be of happiness!" cried Raymon, pressing his lips -to Indiana's.</p> - -<p>But the storm was too severe for so fragile a plant; she turned pale, -put her hand to her heart and swooned.</p> - -<p>At first Raymon thought that his caresses would call her blood back into -her icy veins; but in vain did he cover her hand with kisses; in vain -did he call her by the sweetest names. It was not a premeditated swoon -of the sort we so often see. Madame Delmare had been seriously ill for a -long time, and was subject to nervous paroxysms which sometimes lasted -whole hours. Raymon, in desperation, was reduced to the necessity of -calling for help. He rang; a maid appeared; but the phial that she held -escaped from her hands, and a cry from her throat, when she recognized -Raymon. He, recovering instantly all his self-possession, put his mouth -to her ear.</p> - -<p>"Hush, Noun! I knew that you were here and I came to see you. I did not -expect to see your mistress, who was, as I supposed, at the ball. When I -came in I frightened her and she fainted. Be prudent; I am going away."</p> - -<p>Raymon fled, leaving each of the two women in possession of a secret -which was destined to carry despair to the heart of the other.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>VII</h4> - - -<p>The next morning Raymon, on waking, received a second letter from Noun. -He did not toss this one disdainfully aside; on the contrary, he opened -it eagerly: it might have something to say of Madame Delmare. So, in -fact, it did; but in what an embarrassing position this complication of -intrigues placed Raymon! It had become impossible to conceal the girl's -secret. Already suffering and terror had thinned her cheeks. Madame -Delmare observed her ailing condition, but was unable to discover its -cause. Noun dreaded the colonel's severity, but she dreaded her -mistress's gentleness even more. She was very sure that she would obtain -forgiveness, but she would die of shame and grief in being forced to -make the confession. What would become of her if Raymon were not careful -to protect her from the humiliations that were certain to overwhelm her! -He must give some thought to her, or she would throw herself at Madame -Delmare's feet and tell her the whole story.</p> - -<p>The fear of this result had a powerful effect upon Monsieur de Ramière. -His first thought was to separate Noun from her mistress.</p> - -<p>"Be very careful not to speak without my consent," he wrote in reply. -"Try and be in Lagny this evening. I will be there."</p> - -<p>On his way thither he reflected as to the course he had better pursue. -Noun had common sense enough not to expect a reparation—that was out -of the question. She had never dared to utter the word marriage, and -because she was discreet and generous, Raymon deemed himself less -guilty. He said to himself that he had not deceived her, and that Noun -must have foreseen what her fate must be. The cause of Raymon's -embarrassment was not any hesitation about offering the poor girl half -of his fortune; he was ready to enrich her, to take all the care of her -that the most sensitive delicacy could suggest. What made his position -so painful was the necessity of telling her that he no longer loved her; -for he did not know how to dissemble. Although his conduct at this -crisis seems two-faced and treacherous, his heart was sincere, and had -always been. He had loved Noun with his senses; he loved Madame Delmare -with all his heart. Thus far he had lied to neither. His aim now was to -avoid beginning to lie, and Raymon felt equally incapable of deceiving -Noun and of dealing her the fatal blow. He must make a choice between a -cowardly and a barbarous act. Raymon was very unhappy. He had come to no -decision when he reached the gate of Lagny park.</p> - -<p>Noun, for her part, had not expected so prompt a reply, and had -recovered a little hope.</p> - -<p>"He still loves me," she said to herself, "he doesn't mean to abandon -me. He had forgotten me a little, that's not to be wondered at; in -Paris, in the midst of merrymaking, with all the women in love with him, -as they are sure to be, he has allowed himself to be led away from the -poor creole for a few moments. Alas! who am I that he should sacrifice -to me all those great ladies who are much lovelier and richer than I am? -Who knows," she said to herself artlessly, "perhaps the Queen of France -is in love with him!"</p> - -<p>By dint of meditating upon the seductions which luxurious surroundings -probably exerted on her lover, Noun thought of a scheme for making -herself more agreeable to him. She arrayed herself in her mistress's -clothes, lighted a great fire in the room that Madame Delmare occupied -at Lagny, decorated the mantel with the loveliest flowers she could find -in the greenhouse, prepared a collation of fruit and choice wines, in a -word resorted to all the dainty devices of the boudoir, of which she had -never thought before; and when she looked at herself in a great mirror, -she did herself no more than justice in deciding that she was fairer -than the flowers with which she had sought to embellish her charms.</p> - -<p>"He has often told me," she said to herself, "that I needed no ornaments -to make me lovely, and that no woman at court, in all the splendor of -her diamonds, was worth one of my smiles. And yet those same women that -he used to despise fill his thoughts now. Come, I must be cheerful, I -must seem lively and happy; perhaps I shall reconquer to-night all the -love I once aroused in him."</p> - -<p>Raymon, having left his horse at a charcoal-burner's cabin in the -forest, entered the park, to which he had a key. This time he did not -run the risk of being taken for a thief; for almost all the servants had -gone with their masters, he had taken the gardener into his confidence, -and he knew all the approaches to Lagny as well as those to his own -estate.</p> - -<p>It was a cold night; the trees in the park were enveloped in a dense -mist, and Raymon could hardly distinguish their black trunks through the -white mist which swathed them in diaphanous robes. He wandered some time -through the winding paths before he found the door of the summer-house -where Noun awaited him. She was wrapped in a pelisse with the hood -thrown over her head.</p> - -<p>"We cannot stay here," she said, "it is too cold. Follow me and do not -speak."</p> - -<p>Raymon felt an extreme reluctance to enter Madame Delmare's house as the -lover of her maid. However, he could not but comply; Noun was walking -lightly away in front of him, and this interview was to be the last.</p> - -<p>She led him across the courtyard, quieted the dogs, opened the doors -noiselessly, and, taking his hand, guided him in silence through the -dark corridors; at last she ushered him into a circular room, furnished -simply but with refinement, where flowering orange-bushes exhaled their -sweet perfume; transparent wax candles were burning in the candelabra.</p> - -<p>Noun had strewn the floor with the petals of Bengal roses, the divan was -covered with violets, a subtle warmth entered at every pore, and the -glasses gleamed on the table amid the fruit, whose ruddy cheeks were -daintily blended with green moss.</p> - -<p>Dazzled by the sudden transition from darkness to brilliant light, -Raymon stood for a moment bewildered; but it was not long ere he -realized where he was. The exquisite taste and chaste simplicity which -characterized the furniture; the love stories and books of travel -scattered over the mahogany shelves; the embroidery frame covered with a -bright, pretty piece of work, the diversion of hours of patient -melancholy; the harp whose strings seemed still to quiver with strains -of love and longing; the engravings representing the pastoral attachment -of Paul and Virginie, the peaks of Ile Bourbon and the blue shores of -Saint-Paul; and, above all, the little bed half-hidden behind its muslin -curtains, as white and modest as a maiden's bed, and over the headboard, -by way of consecrated boxwood, a bit of palm, taken perhaps from some -tree in her native island, on the day of her departure;—all these -revealed the presence of Madame Delmare, and Raymon was seized with a -strange thrill as he thought that that cloak-enveloped woman who had led -him thither might be Indiana herself. This extravagant supposition -seemed to be confirmed when he saw, in the mirror opposite, a white -figure, the phantom of a woman entering a ball-room and laying aside her -cloak, to appear, radiant and half-nude, in the dazzling light. But it -was only a momentary error—Indiana would have concealed her charms -more carefully; her modest bosom would have been visible only through the -triple gauze veil of her corsage; she would perhaps have dressed her -hair with natural camellias, but they would not have frisked about on -her head in such seductive disorder; she might have encased her feet in -satin shoes, but her chaste gown would not have betrayed thus -shamelessly the mysteries of her shapely legs.</p> - -<p>Taller and more powerfully built than her mistress, Noun was dressed, -not clothed in her finery. She was graceful but lacked nobility of -bearing; she was lovely with the loveliness of women, not of fairies; -she invited pleasure and gave no promise of sublime bliss.</p> - -<p>Raymon, after scrutinizing her in the mirror without turning his head, -turned his eyes upon everything that was calculated to give forth a -purer reflection of Indiana—the musical instruments, the paintings, -the narrow, maidenly bed. He was intoxicated by the vague perfume her -presence had left behind in that sanctuary; he shuddered with desire as -he thought of the day when Indiana herself should throw open its -delights to him; and Noun, standing behind him with her arms folded, -gazed ecstatically at him, fancying that he was overwhelmed with delight -at the sight of all the pains she had taken to please him.</p> - -<p>But he broke the silence at last.</p> - -<p>"I thank you," he said, "for all the preparations you have made for me; -I thank you especially for bringing me here, but I have enjoyed this -pleasant surprise long enough. Let us leave this room; we are not in our -proper place here, and I must have some respect for Madame Delmare, even -in her absence."</p> - -<p>"That is very cruel," said Noun, who did not understand him, but -remarked his cold and displeased manner; "it is very hard to have had -such hopes of pleasing you and to see that you spurn me."</p> - -<p>"No, dear Noun, I shall never spurn you; I came here to have a serious -talk with you and to show you the deep affection that I owe you. I am -grateful for your desire to please me; but I loved you better adorned by -your youth and your natural charms than in this borrowed finery."</p> - -<p>Noun half understood and wept.</p> - -<p>"I am a miserable creature," she said; "I hate myself, for I no longer -please you. I should have foreseen that you would not love me long, -being, as I am, a poor, uneducated girl. I do not reproach you for -anything. I knew well enough that you would not marry me; but if you -would have kept on loving me, I would have sacrificed everything without -a regret, endured everything without complaining. Alas! I am ruined! I -am dishonored! perhaps I shall be turned out-of-doors. I am going to -give life to a creature who will be even more unfortunate than I am, and -no one will pity me. Everyone will feel that he has a right to trample -on me. But I would joyfully submit to all that, if you still loved me."</p> - -<p>Noun talked thus a long while. Perhaps she did not repeat the same -words, but she said the same things, and said them a hundred times more -eloquently than I can say them. Where are we to look for the secret of -the eloquence which suddenly reveals itself to an ignorant, -inexperienced mind in the crisis of a genuine passion and a profound -sorrow? At such times words have a greater value than in all the other -scenes of life; at such times trivial words become sublime by reason of -the sentiment that dictates them and the accent with which they are -spoken. At such times the woman of the lowest rank, abandoning herself -to the frenzy of her emotions, becomes more pathetic and more convincing -than her to whom education has taught moderation and reserve.</p> - -<p>Raymon was flattered to find that he had inspired so generous an -attachment, and gratitude, compassion, perhaps a little vanity, -rekindled love for a moment.</p> - -<p>Noun was suffocated by her tears; she had torn the flowers from her hair -which fell in disorder over her broad and dazzling shoulders. If Madame -Delmare had not had her slavery and her sufferings to heighten her -charms, Noun would have surpassed her immeasurably in beauty at that -moment; she was resplendent with grief and love. Raymon was vanquished; -he drew her into his arms, made her sit beside him on the sofa, moved -the little decanter-laden table nearer to them, and poured a few drops -of orange-flower water in a silver cup for her. Comforted by this mark -of interest far more than by the calming potion, Noun wiped away her -tears and threw herself at Raymon's feet.</p> - -<p>"Do love me," she said, passionately embracing his knees; "tell me that -you still love me and I shall be cured, I shall be saved. Kiss me as you -used to, and I will not regret having ruined myself to give you a few -days of pleasure."</p> - -<p>She threw her cool, brown arms about him, she covered him with her long -hair; her great black eyes emitted a burning languor and betrayed that -ardor of the blood, that purely oriental lust which is capable of -triumphing over all the efforts of the will, all the chaste delicacy of the -thought. Raymon forgot everything—his resolutions, his new love and -his surroundings. He returned Noun's delirious caresses. He moistened -his lips at the same cup, and the heady wines which were close at hand -completed the dethronement of their reason.</p> - -<p>Little by little a vague and shadowy memory of Indiana was blended with -Raymon's drunkenness. The two glass panels which repeated Noun's image -<i>ad infinitum</i> seemed to be peopled by a thousand phantoms. He gazed -into the depths of that multiple reflection, looking for a slenderer -figure there, and it seemed to him that he could distinguish, in the -last hazy and confused shadow of Noun's image the graceful and willowy -form of Madame Delmare.</p> - -<p>Noun, herself bewildered by the strong liquors which she knew not how to -use, no longer noticed her lover's strange remarks. If she had not been -as drunk as he, she would have understood that in his wildest flights -Raymon was thinking of another woman. She would have seen him kiss the -scarf and the ribbons Indiana had worn, inhale the perfume which -reminded him of her, crumple in his burning hands the tissue that had -covered her breast; but Noun appropriated all these transports to -herself, when Raymon saw naught of her but Indiana's dress. If he kissed -her black hair, he fancied that he was kissing Indiana's black hair. It -was Indiana whom he saw in the fumes of the punch which Noun's hand had -lighted; it was she who smiled upon him and beckoned him from behind -those white muslin curtains; and it was she of whom he dreamed upon that -chaste and spotless bed, when, yielding to the influence of love and -wine, he led thither his dishevelled creole.</p> - -<p>When Raymon woke, a sort of half light was shining through the cracks of -the shutters, and he lay a long while without moving, absorbed by a -vague feeling of surprise and gazing at the room in which he was and the -bed in which he had slept, as if they were a vision of his slumber. -Everything in Madame Delmare's chamber had been put in order. Noun, who -had fallen asleep the sovereign mistress of that place, had waked in the -morning a lady's-maid once more. She had taken away the flowers and put -the remains of the collation out of sight; the furniture was all in -place, nothing suggested the amorous debauch of the night, and Indiana's -chamber had resumed its innocent and virtuous aspect.</p> - -<p>Overwhelmed with shame, he rose and attempted to leave the room, but he -was locked in; the window was thirty feet from the ground, and he must -needs remain in that remorse-laden atmosphere, like Ixion on his wheel. -Thereupon he fell on his knees with his face toward that disarranged, -tumbled bed which made him blush.</p> - -<p>"O Indiana!" he cried, wringing his hands, "how I have outraged you! Can -you ever forgive me for such infamous conduct? Even if you should -forgive me, I can never forgive myself. Resist me now, my gentle, -trustful Indiana; for you do not know the baseness and brutality of the -man to whom you would surrender the treasures of your innocence! Repulse -me, trample on me, for I have not respected the sanctuary of your sacred -modesty; I have befuddled myself with your wine like a footman, sitting -beside your maid; I have sullied your spotless robe with my accursed -breath, and your chaste girdle with my infamous kisses on another's -breast; I have not shrunk from poisoning the repose of your lonely -nights, and from shedding, even upon this bed, which your husband -himself respected, the influences of seduction and adultery! What safety -will you find henceforth behind these curtains whose mysteries I have -not shrunk from profaning? What impure dreams, what bitter and consuming -thoughts will cling fast to your brain and wither it! What phantoms of -vice and shamelessness will crawl upon the virginal linen of your couch! -And your sleep, pure as a child's—what chaste divinity will care to -protect it now? Have I not put to flight the angel who guarded your -pillow? Have I not thrown your alcove open to the demon of lust? Have I -not sold him your soul? And will not the insane passion which consumes -the vitals of this lascivious creole cling to yours, like Dejanira's -robe and gnaw at them! Oh! miserable wretch! miserable, guilty wretch -that I am! if only I could wash away with my blood the stain I have left -on this couch!"</p> - -<p>And Raymon sprinkled it with his tears.</p> - -<p>At that moment Noun returned, in her neckerchief and apron; she fancied, -when she saw Raymon kneeling, that he was praying. She did not know that -society people do not pray. She stood waiting in silence, until he -should deign to notice her presence.</p> - -<p>Raymon, when he saw her, had a feeling of embarrassment and irritation, -but without the courage to scold her, without the strength to say a -friendly word to her.</p> - -<p>"Why did you lock me in this room?" he said at last. "Do you forget that -it is broad daylight and that I cannot go out without compromising you -openly?"</p> - -<p>"So you're not to go out," said Noun caressingly. "The house is deserted -and no one can see you; the gardener never comes to this part of the -building to which I alone have the keys. You must stay with me all day; -you are my prisoner."</p> - -<p>This arrangement drove Raymon to despair; he had no other feeling for -his mistress than a sort of aversion. However, he could do nothing but -submit, and it may be that, notwithstanding what he suffered in that -room, an invincible attraction detained him there.</p> - -<p>When Noun left him to go and find something for breakfast, he set about -examining by daylight all those dumb witnesses of Indiana's solitude. He -opened her books, turned the leaves of her albums, then closed them -precipitately; for he still shrank from committing a profanation and -violating some feminine mystery. At last he began to pace the room and -noticed, on the wooden panel opposite Madame Delmare's bed, a large -picture, richly framed and covered with a double thickness of gauze.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was Indiana's portrait. Raymon, in his eagerness to see it, -forgot his scruples, stepped on a chair, removed the pins, and was -amazed to see a full-length portrait of a handsome young man.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>VIII</h4> - - -<p>"It seems to me that I know that face," he said to Noun, struggling to -assume an indifferent attitude.</p> - -<p>"Fi! monsieur," said the girl, as she placed on a table the tray that -she brought containing the breakfast; "it is not right to try and find -out my mistress's secrets."</p> - -<p>This remark made Raymon turn pale.</p> - -<p>"Secrets!" he said. "If this is a secret, it has been confided to you, -Noun, and you were doubly guilty in bringing me to this room."</p> - -<p>"Oh! no, it's not a secret," said Noun with a smile; "for Monsieur -Delmare himself assisted in hanging Sir Ralph's portrait on that panel. -As if madame could have any secrets with a husband so jealous!"</p> - -<p>"Sir Ralph, you say? Who is Sir Ralph?"</p> - -<p>"Sir Rodolphe Brown, madame's cousin, her playmate in childhood, and my -own, too, I might say; he is such a good man!"</p> - -<p>Raymon scrutinized the picture with surprise and some uneasiness.</p> - -<p>We have said that Sir Ralph was an extremely comely person, physically; -with a red and white complexion and abundant hair, a tall figure, always -perfectly dressed, and capable, if not of turning a romantic brain, of -satisfying the vanity of an unromantic one. The peaceable baronet was -represented in hunting costume, about as we saw him in the first chapter -of this narrative, and surrounded by his dogs, the beautiful pointer -Ophelia in the foreground, because of the fine silver-gray tone of her -silky coat and the purity of her Scotch blood. Sir Ralph had a -hunting-horn in one hand and in the other the rein of a superb, -dapple-gray English hunter, who filled almost the whole background of -the picture. It was an admirably executed portrait, a genuine family -picture with all its perfection of detail, all its puerile niceties of -resemblance, all its bourgeois minutiæ; a picture to make a nurse weep, -dogs bark and a tailor faint with joy. There was but one thing on earth -more insignificant than the portrait, and that was the original.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless it kindled a violent flame of wrath in Raymon.</p> - -<p>"Upon my word!" he said to himself, "this dapper young Englishman enjoys -the privilege of being admitted to Madame Delmare's most secret -apartment! His vapid face is always here, looking coldly on at the most -private acts of her life! He watches her, guards her, follows her every -movement, possesses her every hour in the day! At night he watches her -asleep and surprises the secret of her dreams; in the morning, when she -comes forth, all white and quivering, from her bed, he sees the dainty -bare foot that steps lightly on the carpet; and when she dresses with -all precaution—when she draws the curtains at her window and forbids -even the daylight from entering her presence too boldly—when she -believes that she is quite alone, hidden from every eye—that insolent -face is there, feasting on her charms! That man, all booted and spurred, -presides over her toilet. Is this gauze usually spread over the -picture?" he asked the maid.</p> - -<p>"Always," she replied, "when madame is absent. But don't take the -trouble to replace it, for madame is coming in a few days."</p> - -<p>"In that case, Noun, you would do well to tell her that the expression -of the face is very impertinent. If I had been in Monsieur Delmare's -place I wouldn't have consented to leave it here unless I had cut out -the eyes. But that's just like the stupid jealousy of the ordinary -husband! They imagine everything and understand nothing."</p> - -<p>"For heaven's sake, what have you against good Monsieur Brown's face?" -said Noun, as she made her mistress's bed; "he is such an excellent -master! I used not to care much for him, because I always heard madame -say that he was selfish; but ever since the day that he took care of -you——"</p> - -<p>"True," Raymon interrupted her, "it was he who helped me that day; I -remember him perfectly now. But I owe his interest only to Madame -Delmare's prayers."</p> - -<p>"Because she is so kind-hearted," said poor Noun. "Who could help being -kind-hearted after living with her?"</p> - -<p>When Noun spoke of Madame Delmare, Raymon listened with an interest of -which she had no suspicion.</p> - -<p>The day passed quietly enough, but Noun dared not lead the conversation -to her real object. At last, toward evening, she made an effort and -compelled him to declare his intentions.</p> - -<p>Raymon had no other intention than to rid himself of a dangerous witness -and of a woman whom he no longer loved. But he proposed to assure her -future, and in fear and trembling he made her the most liberal offers.</p> - -<p>It was a bitter affront to the poor girl; she tore her hair, and would -have beaten her head against the wall if Raymon had not put forth all -his strength to hold her. Thereupon, employing all the resources of -language and intellect with which nature had endowed him, he made her -understand that it was not for her, but for the child she was to bring -into the world, that he desired to make provision.</p> - -<p>"It is my duty," he said; "I hand the funds over to you as the child's -heritage, and you would fail in your duty to him if a false sense of -delicacy should lead you to reject them."</p> - -<p>Noun became calmer and wiped her eyes.</p> - -<p>"Very well," she said, "I will accept the money if you will promise to -keep on loving me; for, just by doing your duty to the child, you will -not do it to the mother. Your gift will keep him alive, but your -indifference will kill me. Can't you take me into your service? I am not -exacting; I don't aspire to all that another woman in my place might -have had the skill to obtain. But let me be your servant. Obtain a place -for me in your mother's family. She will be satisfied with me, I give -you my word; and, even if you don't love me, I shall at least see you."</p> - -<p>"What you ask is impossible, my dear Noun. In your present condition -you cannot think of entering anyone's service; and to deceive my -mother—to play upon her confidence in me—would be a base act -to which I shall never consent. Go to Lyon or Bordeaux; I will undertake -to see to it that you want nothing until such time as you can show -yourself again. Then I will obtain a place for you with some one of my -acquaintances—at Paris, if you wish, if you insist upon being near -me—but as to living under the same roof, that is impossible."</p> - -<p>"Impossible!" echoed Noun, wringing her hands in a passion of grief. "I -see that you despise me—that you blush for me. But no, I will not go -away, alone and degraded, to die abandoned in some distant city where -you will forget me. What do I care for my reputation? Your love is what -I wanted to retain."</p> - -<p>"Noun, if you fear that I am deceiving you, come with me. The same -carriage shall take us to whatever place you choose. I will go with you -anywhere, except to Paris or to my mother's, and I will bestow upon you -all the care and attention that I owe you."</p> - -<p>"Yes, to abandon me on the day after you have put me down, a useless -burden, in some foreign land!" she rejoined, smiling bitterly. "No, -monsieur, no, I will stay here; I do not choose to lose everything at -once. I should sacrifice, by following you, the person whom I loved best -in the world before I knew you; but I am not anxious enough to conceal -my dishonor to sacrifice both my love and my friendship. I will go and -throw myself at Madame Delmare's feet; I will tell her all, and she will -forgive me, I know, for she is kind and she loves me. We were born on -almost the same day, and she is my foster-sister. We have never been -separated, and she will not want me to leave her. She will weep with me; -she will take care of me, and she will love my child—my poor child! -Who knows! she has not the good fortune to be a mother; perhaps she will -bring it up as her own! Ah! I was mad to think of leaving her, for she -is the only person on earth who will take pity on me!"</p> - -<p>This determination plunged Raymon in horrible perplexity; but suddenly -the rumbling of a carriage was heard in the courtyard. Noun, in dismay, -ran to the window.</p> - -<p>"It's Madame Delmare!" she cried; "go instantly!"</p> - -<p>In that moment of excitement the key to the secret staircase could not -be found. Noun took Raymon's arm and hurriedly pulled him into the hall; -but they were not half way to the stairs when they heard footsteps in -the same passage; they heard Madame Delmare's voice ten steps in front -of them, and a candle carried by a servant who attended her cast its -flickering light almost on their terrified faces. Noun had barely time -to retrace her steps, still pulling Raymon after her, and to return with -him to the bedroom.</p> - -<p>A dressing room, with a glass door, might afford a place of refuge for a -few moments; but there was no way of locking the door, and it was -possible that Madame Delmare might go to the dressing room at once. To -avoid being detected instantly, Raymon was obliged to rush into the -alcove and hide behind the curtains. It was not probable that Madame -Delmare would retire at once, and meanwhile Noun might find an -opportunity to help him to escape.</p> - -<p>Indiana bustled into the room, tossed her hat on the bed and kissed Noun -with the familiarity of a sister. There was so little light in the room -that she did not notice her companion's emotion.</p> - -<p>"You expected me, did you?" she said, going to the fire; "how did you -know I was coming?—Monsieur Delmare," she added, not waiting for a -reply, "will be here to-morrow. I started at once on receiving his -letter. I have certain reasons for receiving him here and not in Paris. -I will tell you what they are. But, in heaven's name, why don't you -speak to me? you don't seem so glad to see me as usual."</p> - -<p>"I am low-spirited," said Noun, kneeling by her mistress to remove her -shoes. "I have something to tell you, too, but later; come to the salon -now."</p> - -<p>"God forbid! what an idea! it's deathly cold there!"</p> - -<p>"No, there's a good fire."</p> - -<p>"You are dreaming! I just came through it."</p> - -<p>"But your supper is waiting for you."</p> - -<p>"I don't want any supper; besides, there is nothing ready. Go and get my -boa, I left it in the carriage."</p> - -<p>"In a moment."</p> - -<p>"Why not now? Go, I say, go!"</p> - -<p>As she spoke, she pushed Noun toward the door with a playful air; and -the maid, seeing that she must be bold and self-possessed, went out for -a few moments. But she had no sooner left the room than Madame Delmare -threw the bolt and removed her cloak, placing it on the bed beside her -hat. As she did it, she went so near to Raymon, that he instinctively -stepped back, and the bed, which apparently rested on well-oiled -castors, moved with a slight noise. Madame Delmare was surprised but not -frightened, for it was quite possible that she had herself moved the -bed; she stretched forth her neck, drew the curtain aside and revealed a -man's head outlined against the wall in the half-light cast by the fire -on the hearth.</p> - -<p>In her terror she uttered a shriek and rushed to the mantel to seize the -bell-cord and summon help. Raymon would have preferred to be taken for a -thief again than to be recognized in that situation. But if he did not -make himself known, Madame Delmare would call her servants and -compromise her own reputation. He placed his trust in the love he had -inspired in her, and, rushing to her, tried to stop her shrieks and to -keep her away from the bell-cord, saying to her in an undertone, for -fear of being heard by Noun, who was probably not far away:</p> - -<p>"It is I, Indiana; look at me and forgive me! Indiana! forgive an -unhappy wretch whose reason you have led astray, and who could not make -up his mind to give you back to your husband until he had seen you once -more."</p> - -<p>And while he held Indiana in his arms, no less in the hope of moving her -than to keep her from ringing, Noun was knocking at the door in an agony -of apprehension. Madame Delmare, extricating herself from Raymon's arms, -ran and opened the door, then sank into a chair.</p> - -<p>Pale as death and almost fainting, Noun threw herself against the door -to prevent the servants, who were running hither and thither, from -interrupting this strange scene; paler than her mistress, with trembling -knees and her back glued to the door, she awaited her fate.</p> - -<p>Raymon felt that with due address he might still deceive both women at -once.</p> - -<p>"Madame," he said, falling on his knees before Indiana, "my presence -here must seem to you an outrageous insult; here at your feet I implore -your forgiveness. Grant me an interview of a few moments and I will -explain——"</p> - -<p>"Hush, monsieur, and leave this house," cried Madame Delmare, recovering -all the dignity befitting her situation; "leave this house openly. Open -the door, Noun, and allow monsieur to go, so that all my servants may -see him and that the disgrace of such a proceeding may fall upon him."</p> - -<p>Noun, believing that she was detected, threw herself on her knees by -Raymon's side. Madame Delmare looked at her in amazement, but said -nothing.</p> - -<p>Raymon tried to take her hand; but she indignantly withdrew it. Flushed -with anger, she rose and pointed to the door.</p> - -<p>"Go, I tell you!" she said; "go, for your conduct is despicable. So -these are the means you chose to employ! you, monsieur, hiding in my -bedroom, like a thief! It seems that it is a habit of yours to introduce -yourself into families in this way! and this is the pure attachment that -you offered me the night before last! This is the way you were to -protect me, respect me and defend me! This is the way you worship me! -You see a woman who has nursed you with her hands, who, to restore you -to life, defied her husband's anger; you deceive her by a pretence of -gratitude, you promise her a love worthy of her, and as a reward for her -attentions, as the price of her credulity, you seek to surprise her in -her sleep and to hasten your triumph by indescribable infamy! You bribe -her maid, you almost creep into her bed, like a lover already favored; -you do not shrink from admitting her servants to the secret of an -intimacy that does not exist. Go, monsieur; you have taken pains to -undeceive me very quickly! Go, I say! do not remain another moment under -my roof! And you, wretched girl, who have so little regard for your -mistress's honor—you deserve to be dismissed. Stand away from that -door, I tell you!"</p> - -<p>Noun, half dead with surprise and despair, gazed fixedly at Raymon as if -to ask him for an explanation of this incredible mystery. Then, with a -wild gleam in her eyes, hardly able to stand, she dragged herself to -Indiana and seized her arm fiercely.</p> - -<p>"What was that you said?" she cried, her teeth clenched with rage; "this -man loved you?"</p> - -<p>"Eh! you must have known that he did!" said Madame Delmare, pushing her -away contemptuously and with all her strength; "you must have known what -reasons a man has for hiding behind a woman's curtains. Ah! Noun," she -added, noticing the girl's evident despair, "it was a dastardly thing, -and one of which I would never have believed you to be capable; you -consented to sell her honor who had such perfect faith in yours!"</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare was shedding tears, tears of indignation as well as of -grief. Raymon had never seen her so lovely; but he hardly dared look at -her, for her haughty air, the air of an insulted woman, forced him to -lower his eyes. He was terror-stricken, too, petrified by Noun's -presence. If he had been alone with Madame Delmare, he might perhaps -have been able to soften her. But Noun's expression was terrifying; her -features were distorted by rage and hatred.</p> - -<p>A knock at the door startled them all three. Noun rushed forward once -more to keep out intruders; but Madame Delmare, pushing her aside -imperatively, motioned to Raymon to withdraw to the corner of the room. -Then, with the self-possession which made her so remarkable at critical -moments, she wrapped herself in a shawl, partly opened the door herself, -and asked the servant who had knocked what he had to say to her.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Rodolphe Brown is here," was the reply; "he wishes to know if -madame will receive him."</p> - -<p>"Say to Monsieur Rodolphe Brown that I am delighted that he has come and -that I will join him at once. Make a fire in the salon and bid them -prepare some supper. One moment! Go and get the key to the small park."</p> - -<p>The servant retired. Madame Delmare remained at the door, holding it -open, not deigning to listen to Noun and imperiously enjoining silence -on Raymon.</p> - -<p>The servant returned in a few moments. Madame Delmare, still holding the -door open between him and Monsieur de Ramière, took the key from him, -bade him hurry up the supper, and, as soon as he had gone, turned to -Raymon.</p> - -<p>"The arrival of my cousin, Sir Rodolphe Brown," she said, "saves you -from the public scandal which I intended to inflict on you; he is a man -of honor, who would eagerly assume the duty of defending me; but as I -should be very sorry to expose a man like him to danger at the hands of -such a man as you, I will allow you to go without scandal. Noun, who -admitted you, will find a way to let you out. Go!"</p> - -<p>"We shall meet again, madame," replied Raymon with an attempt at -self-assurance; "and although I am culpable, you will perhaps regret the -harshness with which you treat me now."</p> - -<p>"I trust, monsieur, that we shall never meet again," she rejoined.</p> - -<p>And still standing at the door, not deigning to bow, she watched him -depart with his miserable and trembling accomplice.</p> - -<p>When he was alone with Noun in the obscurity of the park, Raymon -expected reproaches from her; but she did not speak to him. She led him -to the gate of the small park, and, when he tried to take her hand, she -had already vanished. He called her in a low voice, for he was anxious -to learn his fate; but she did not reply, and the gardener, suddenly -appearing, said to him:</p> - -<p>"Come, monsieur, you must be off; madame is here and you may be -discovered."</p> - -<p>Raymon took his departure with death in his heart; but in his despair at -having offended Madame Delmare he almost forgot Noun and thought of -nothing but possible methods of appeasing her mistress; for it was a -part of his nature to be irritated by obstacles and never to cling -passionately except to things that were well-nigh desperate.</p> - -<p>At night, when Madame Delmare, after supping silently with Sir Ralph, -withdrew to her own apartments, Noun did not come, as usual, to undress -her; she rang for her to no purpose, and when she had concluded that the -girl was resolved not to obey, she locked her door and went to bed. But -she passed a horrible night, and, as soon as the day broke, went down -into the park. She was feverish and agitated; she longed to feel the -cold enter her body and allay the fire that consumed her breast. The day -before, at that hour, she was happy, abandoning herself to the novel -sensations of that intoxicating love. What a ghastly disillusionment in -twenty-four hours! First of all, the news of her husband's return -several days earlier than she expected; those four or five days which -she had hoped to pass in Paris were to her a whole lifetime of -never-ending bliss, a dream of love never to be interrupted by an -awakening; but in the morning she had had to abandon the hope, to resume -the yoke, and to go to meet her master in order that he might not meet -Raymon at Madame de Carvajal's; for Indiana thought that it would be -impossible for her to deceive her husband if he should see her in -Raymon's presence. And then this Raymon, whom she loved as a god—it -was by him of all men that she was thus basely insulted! And lastly, her -life-long companion, the young creole whom she loved so dearly, suddenly -proved to be unworthy of her confidence and her esteem!</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare had wept all night long. She sank upon the turf, still -whitened by the morning rime, on the bank of the little stream that -flowed through the park. It was late in March and nature was beginning -to awake; the morning, although cold, was not devoid of beauty; patches -of mist still rested on the water like a floating scarf, and the birds -were trying their first songs of love and springtime.</p> - -<p>Indiana felt as if relieved of a heavy weight, and a wave of religious -feeling overflowed her soul.</p> - -<p>"God willed it so," she said to herself; "in His providence he has given -me a harsh lesson, but it is fortunate for me. That man would perhaps -have led me into vice, he would have ruined me; whereas now the vileness -of his sentiments is revealed to me, and I shall be on my guard against -the tempestuous and detestable passion that fermented in his breast. I -will love my husband! I will try to love him! At all events I will be -submissive to him, I will make him happy by never annoying him, I will -avoid whatever can possibly arouse his jealousy; for now I know what to -think of the false eloquence that men know how to lavish on us. I shall -be fortunate, perhaps, if God will take pity on my sorrows and send -death to me soon."</p> - -<p>The clatter of the mill-wheel that started the machinery in Monsieur -Delmare's factory made itself heard behind the willows on the other -bank. The river, rushing through the newly opened gates, began to boil -and bubble on the surface; and, as Madame Delmare followed with a -melancholy eye the swift rush of the stream, she saw floating among the -reeds something like a bundle of cloth which the current strove to hurry -along in its train. She rose, leaned over the bank and distinctly saw a -woman's clothes,—clothes that she knew too well. Terror nailed her to -the spot; but the stream flowed on, slowly drawing a body from the reeds -among which it had caught, and bringing it toward Madame Delmare.</p> - -<p>A piercing shriek attracted the workmen from the factory to the spot; -Madame Delmare had fainted on the bank, and Noun's body was floating in -the water at her feet.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="PART_SECOND">PART SECOND</a></h4> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4>IX</h4> - - -<p>Two months have passed. Nothing is changed at Lagny, in that house to -which I introduced you one winter evening, except that all about its red -brick walls with their frame of gray stone and its slated roofs yellowed -by venerable moss, the springtime is in its bloom. The family is -scattered here and there, enjoying the mild and fragrant evening air; -the setting sun gilds the window-panes and the roar of the factory -mingles with the various noises of the farm. Monsieur Delmare is seated -on the steps, gun in hand, practising at shooting swallows on the wing. -Indiana, at her embroidery frame near the window of the salon, leans -forward now and then to watch with a sad face the colonel's cruel -amusement in the courtyard. Ophelia leaps about and barks, indignant at -a style of hunting so contrary to her habits; and Sir Ralph, astride the -stone railing, is smoking a cigar and, as usual, looking on impassively -at other people's pleasure or vexation.</p> - -<p>"Indiana," cried the colonel, laying aside his gun, "do for heaven's -sake put your work away; you tire yourself out as if you were paid so -much an hour."</p> - -<p>"It is still broad daylight," Madame Delmare replied.</p> - -<p>"No matter; come to the window, I have something to tell you."</p> - -<p>Indiana obeyed, and the colonel, drawing near the window, which was -almost on a level with the ground, said to her with as near an approach -to playfulness of manner as an old and jealous husband can manage:</p> - -<p>"As you have worked hard to-day and as you are very good, I am going to -tell you something that will please you."</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare struggled hard to smile; her smile would have driven a -more sensitive man than the colonel to despair.</p> - -<p>"You will be pleased to know," he continued, "that I have invited one of -your humble adorers to breakfast with you to-morrow, to divert you. You -will ask me which one; for you have a very pretty collection of them, -you flirt!"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps it's our dear old curé?" said Madame Delmare, whose melancholy -was enhanced by her husband's gayety.</p> - -<p>"Oh! no, indeed!"</p> - -<p>"Then it must be the mayor of Chailly or the old notary from -Fontainebleau."</p> - -<p>"Oh! the craft of women! You know very well that it would be none of -those people. Come, Ralph, tell madame the name she has on the tip of -her tongue but doesn't choose to pronounce herself."</p> - -<p>"You need not go through so much preparation to announce a visit from -Monsieur de Ramière," said Sir Ralph, tranquilly, as he threw away his -cigar; "I suppose that it's a matter of perfect indifference to her."</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare felt the blood rush to her cheeks; she made a pretence of -looking for something in the salon, then returned to the window with as -calm a manner as she could command.</p> - -<p>"I fancy that this is a jest," she said, trembling in every limb.</p> - -<p>"On the contrary I am perfectly serious; you will see him here at eleven -o'clock to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"What! the man who stole into your premises to obtain unfair possession -of your invention, and whom you almost killed as a criminal! You must -both be very pacific to forget such grievances!"</p> - -<p>"You set me the example, dearest, by receiving him very graciously at -your aunt's, where he called on you."</p> - -<p>Indiana turned pale.</p> - -<p>"I do not by any means appropriate that call," she said earnestly, "and -I am so little flattered by it that, if I were in your place, I would -not receive him."</p> - -<p>"You women are all false and cunning just for the pleasure of being so. -You danced with him during one whole ball, I was told."</p> - -<p>"You were misinformed."</p> - -<p>"Why, it was your aunt herself who told me! However, you need not defend -yourself so warmly; I have no fault to find, as your aunt desired and -assisted to bring about this reconciliation between us. Monsieur de -Ramière has been seeking it for a long while. He has rendered me some -very valuable services with respect to my business, and he has done it -without ostentation and almost without my knowledge; so, as I am not so -savage as you say, and also as I do not choose to be under obligations -to a stranger, I determined to make myself square with him."</p> - -<p>"How so?"</p> - -<p>"By making a friend of him; by going to Cercy this morning with Sir -Ralph. We found his mother there, who seems a delightful woman; and the -house is furnished with refinement and comfort, but without ostentation -and without a trace of the pride that attaches to venerable names. After -all, this Ramière's a good fellow, and I have invited him to come and -breakfast with us and inspect the factory. I hear favorable accounts of -his brother, and I have made sure that he cannot injure me by adopting -the same methods that I use; so I prefer that that family should profit -by them rather than any other. You see no secrets are kept very long, -and mine will soon be like a stage secret if progress in manufacturing -continues at the present rate."</p> - -<p>"For my part," said Sir Ralph, "I have always disapproved of this -secrecy, as you know; a good citizen's discovery belongs to his country -as much as to himself, and if I——"</p> - -<p>"<i>Parbleu!</i> that is just like you, Sir Ralph, with your practical -philanthropy! You will make me think that your fortune doesn't belong to -you, and that, if the nation takes a fancy to it to-morrow, you are -ready to exchange your fifty thousand francs a year for a wallet and -staff! It looks well for a buck like you, who are as fond of the -comforts of life as a sultan, to preach contempt of wealth!"</p> - -<p>"What I say," rejoined Sir Ralph, "is not meant to be philanthropic at -all; my point is that selfishness properly understood leads us to do -good to others to prevent them injuring us. I am selfish myself, as -everybody knows. I have accustomed myself not to blush for it, and, -after analyzing all the virtues, I find personal interest at the -foundation of them all. Love and devotion, which are two apparently -generous passions, are perhaps the most selfish passions that exist; nor -is patriotism less so, my word for it. I care little for men; but not -for anything in the world would I undertake to prove it to them, my fear -of them is inversely proportional to my esteem for them. We are both -selfish therefore but I admit it, whereas you deny it."</p> - -<p>A discussion arose between them wherein each sought by all the arguments -of selfishness to demonstrate the selfishness of the others. Madame -Delmare took advantage of it to retire to her room and to abandon -herself to all the reflections to which news so entirely unexpected -naturally gave birth.</p> - -<p>It will be well not only to admit you to the secret of her thoughts, but -also to enlighten you as to the situation of the various persons whom -Noun's death had affected in greater or less degree.</p> - -<p>It is almost proven, so far as the reader and I myself are concerned, -that that unfortunate creature threw herself into the stream through -despair, in one of those moments of frenzy when extreme resolutions are -most easily formed. But, as she evidently did not return to the house -after leaving Raymon—as no one had met her and had an opportunity to -divine her purpose—there was no indication of suicide to throw light -upon the mystery of her death.</p> - -<p>Two persons were in a position to attribute it with moral certainty to -her own act—Monsieur de Ramière and the gardener of Lagny. The grief -of the former was concealed beneath a pretence of illness; the terror -and remorse of the other enjoined silence upon him. This man who, from -cupidity, had connived at the intercourse of the lovers throughout the -winter, was the only person who had been in a position to remark the -young creole's secret misery. Justly fearing the reproaches of his -employers and the criticisms of his equals, he held his peace in his own -interest; and when Monsieur Delmare, who had some suspicions after the -discovery of this intrigue, questioned him as to the lengths to which it -had been carried during his absence, he boldly denied that it had -continued at all. Some people in the neighborhood—a very lonely -neighborhood, by the way—had noticed Noun walking toward Crecy at -unreasonable hours; but apparently there had been no relations between -her and Monsieur de Ramière since the end of January, and her death -occurred on the 28th of March. So far as appeared, her death was -attributable to chance; as she was walking through the park at -nightfall, she might have been deceived by the dense fog that had -prevailed for several days, have lost her way and missed the English -bridge over the stream, which was quite narrow but had very steep banks -and was swollen by recent rains.</p> - -<p>Although Sir Ralph, who was more observant than his reflections -indicated, had found in his private thoughts grounds for strong -suspicion of Monsieur de Ramière, he communicated them to no one, -regarding as useless and cruel any reproachful words addressed to a man -who was so unfortunate as to have such a source of remorse in his life. -He even succeeded in convincing the colonel, who expressed in his -presence some suspicions in that regard, that it was most urgent, in -Madame Delmare's delicate condition, to continue to conceal from her the -possible causes of her old playmate's suicide. So it was with the poor -girl's death as with her love affair. There was a tacit agreement never -to mention it before Indiana, and ere long it ceased to be talked about -at all.</p> - -<p>But these precautions were of no avail, for Madame Delmare had her own -reasons for suspecting a part of the truth; the bitter reproaches she -had heaped on the unhappy girl on that fatal evening seemed to her a -sufficient explanation of her sudden resolution. So it was that, at the -ghastly moment when she discovered the dead body floating in the water, -Indiana's repose, already so disturbed, and her heart, already so sad, -had received the final blow; her lingering disease was progressing -actively; and this woman, young and perhaps strong, refusing to be -cured, concealing her sufferings from her husband's undiscerning and far -from delicate affection, sank voluntarily beneath the burden of sorrow -and discouragement.</p> - -<p>"Woe is me!" she cried as she entered her room, after learning of -Raymon's impending visit. "A curse on that man, who has entered this -house only to bring despair and death! O God! why dost Thou permit him -to come between Thee and me, to take command of my destiny at his -pleasure, so that he has only to put out his hand and say: 'She is mine! -I will derange her reason, I will bring desolation into her life; and if -she resists me I will spread mourning around her, I will encompass her -with remorse, regrets and alarms!' O God! it is not fair that a poor -woman should be so persecuted!"</p> - -<p>She wept bitterly; for the thought of Raymon revived the memory of Noun, -more vivid and heartrending than ever.</p> - -<p>"Poor Noun! my poor playmate! my countrywoman, my only friend!" she -exclaimed sorrowfully; "that man is your murderer. Unhappy child! his -influence was fatal to you as to me! You loved me so dearly, you were -the only one who could divine my sorrows and mitigate them by your -artless gayety! Woe to me who have lost you! Was it for this that I -brought you from so far away! By what wiles did that man surprise your -good faith and induce you to do such a despicable thing? Ah! he must -have deceived you shamefully, and you did not realize your error until -you saw my indignation! I was too harsh, Noun, I was so harsh that I was -downright cruel; I drove you to despair, I killed you! Poor girl! why -did you not wait a few hours until the wind had blown away my resentment -like a wisp of straw! Why did you not come and weep on my bosom and say: -'I was deceived; I acted without knowing what I was doing, but you know -well enough that I respect you and love you!'—I would have taken you -in my arms, we would have wept together, and you would not be dead. Dead! -dead so young and so lovely and so full of life! Dead at nineteen and -such a ghastly death!"</p> - -<p>While thus weeping for her companion, Indiana, unknown to herself, wept -also for her three days of illusion, the loveliest days of her life, the -only days when she had really lived; for during those three days she had -loved with a passion which Raymon, had he been the most presumptuous of -men, could never have imagined. But the blinder and more violent that -love had been, the more keenly had she felt the insult she had received; -the first love of a heart like hers contains so much modesty and -sensitive delicacy!</p> - -<p>And yet Indiana had yielded to a burst of shame and anger rather than to -a well-matured determination. I have no doubt that Raymon would have -obtained his pardon had he been allowed a few more minutes in which to -plead for it. But fate had defeated his love and his address, and Madame -Delmare honestly believed now that she hated him.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>X</h4> - - -<p>For his part, it was neither in a spirit of bravado nor because of the -injury to his self-esteem that he aspired more ardently than ever to -Madame Delmare's love and forgiveness. He believed that they were -unattainable, and no other woman's love, no other earthly joy seemed to -him their equivalent. Such was his nature. An insatiable craving for -action and excitement consumed his life. He loved society with its laws -and its fetters, because it offered him material for combat and -resistance; and if he had a horror of license and debauchery, it was -because they promised insipid and easily obtained pleasure.</p> - -<p>Do not believe, however, that he was insensible to Noun's ruin. In the -first impulse, he conceived a horror of himself and loaded his pistols -with a very real purpose of blowing out his brains; but a praiseworthy -feeling stayed his hand. What would become of his mother, his aged, -feeble mother, the poor woman whose life had been so agitated and so -sorrowful, who lived only for him, her only treasure, her only hope? -Must he break her heart, shorten the few years that still remained to -her? No, surely not. The best way to redeem his wrongdoing was to devote -himself thenceforth solely to his mother, and it was with that purpose -in mind that he returned to her at Paris, and put forth all his energies -to make her forget his desertion of her during a large part of the -winter.</p> - -<p>Raymon exerted an incredible influence over everybody about him; for, -take him for all in all, with his faults and his youthful escapades, he -was above the average of society men. We have not as yet told you upon -what his reputation for wit and talent was based, because it was aside -from the events we had to describe; but it is time to inform you that -this Raymon, whose weaknesses you have followed and whose frivolity you -have censured, is one of the men who have had the most control and -influence over your thoughts, whatever your opinions to-day may be. You -have devoured his political pamphlets, and, while reading the newspapers -of the period, you have often been captivated by the irresistible charm -of his style and the grace of his courteous and worldly logic.</p> - -<p>I am speaking of a time already far away, in these days when time is no -longer reckoned by centuries, nor even by reigns, but by ministries. I -am speaking of the Martignac year, of that epoch of repose and doubt, -interjected in the middle of a political era, not like a treaty of -peace, but like an armistice; of those fifteen months of the reign of -doctrines, which had such a strange influence on principles and on -morals, and which may perhaps have paved the way for the extraordinary -result of our latest revolution.</p> - -<p>It was in those days that men saw the blooming of certain youthful -talents, unfortunate in that they were born in a period of transition -and of compromise; for they paid their tribute to the conciliatory and -wavering tendencies of the time. Never, so far as I know, was knowledge -of mere words and ignorance, or pretended ignorance, of things carried -so far. It was the reign of restrictions, and it is beyond my power to -say who made the fullest use of them, short-gowned Jesuits or -long-gowned lawyers. Political moderation had become a part of the -national character, like courteous manners, and it was the same with the -first variety of courtesy as with the second: it served as a mask for -secret antipathies, and taught them how to fight without scandal and -publicity. We must say, however, in defence of the young men of that -period, that they were often towed like light skiffs in the wake of -great ships, with no very clear idea of where they were being taken, -proud and happy to be cleaving the waves and swelling out their new -sails.</p> - -<p>Placed by his birth and his wealth among the partisans of absolute -royalty, Raymon made a sacrifice to the <i>youthful</i> ideas of his time -by clinging religiously to the Charter; at all events that was what he -thought that he was doing and what he exerted himself to prove. But -conventions that have fallen into desuetude are subject to -interpretation, and the Charter of Louis XVIII was already in the same -plight as the Gospel of Jesus Christ; it was simply a text upon which -everybody practised his powers of eloquence, and a speech thereon -created a precedent no more than a sermon. A period of luxurious living -and indolence, when civilization lay sleeping on the brink of a -bottomless abyss, eager to enjoy its last pleasures.</p> - -<p>Raymon had taken his stand upon the line between abuse of power and -abuse of licence, a shifting ground upon which good men still sought, -but in vain, a shelter from the tempest that was brewing. To him, as to -many other experienced minds, the rôle of conscientious statesman still -seemed possible. A manifest error at a time when people pretended to -defer to the voice of reason only to stifle it the more surely on every -side. Being without political passions, Raymon fancied that he was -without interests to promote; but he was mistaken, for society, -constituted as it then was, was agreeable and advantageous to him; it -could not be disturbed without a diminution in the sum total of his -well-being, and that perfect contentment with one's social position, -which communicates itself to the thought, is a wonderful promoter of -moderation. Who is so ungrateful to Providence as to reproach it for the -misfortunes of other people, if it has only smiles and benefactions for -him? How was it possible to persuade those young supporters of the -constitutional monarchy that the constitution was already antiquated, -that it weighed heavily on the social body and fatigued it, while they -found its burdens light and reaped only its advantages?</p> - -<p>Nothing is so easy and so common as to deceive one's self when one does -not lack wit and is familiar with all the niceties of the language. -Language is a prostitute queen who descends and rises to all rôles, -disguises herself, arrays herself in fine apparel, hides her head and -effaces herself; an advocate who has an answer for everything, who has -always foreseen everything, and who assumes a thousand forms in order to -be right. The most honorable of men is he who thinks best and acts best, -but the most powerful is he who is best able to talk and write.</p> - -<p>As his wealth relieved him from the necessity of writing for money, -Raymon wrote from a liking for it, and—he said it with perfect good -faith—from a sense of duty. The rare faculty that he possessed, of -refuting positive truth by sheer talent, had made him an invaluable man -to the ministry, whom he served much better by his impartial criticism -than did its creatures by their blind devotion; and even more invaluable -to that fashionable young society which was quite willing to abjure the -absurdities of its former privileges, but wished at the same time to -retain the benefit of its present advantageous position.</p> - -<p>They were in very truth men of great talent who still supported society, -tottering on the brink of the precipice, and who, being themselves -suspended between two reefs, struggled calmly and with perfect -self-possession against the harsh reality that was on the point of -engulfing them. To succeed in such wise as to create a conviction -against every sort of probability and to keep that conviction alive for -some time among men of no convictions, is the art which most impresses -and surpasses the understanding of an uncultivated, vulgar mind which -has studied none but commonplace truths.</p> - -<p>Thus Raymon had no sooner returned to that society, which was his -element and his home, than he felt its vital and exciting influences. -The petty love affairs that had engrossed him vanished for a moment in -the face of broader and more brilliant interests. He carried into these -the same boldness of attack, the same ardor; and when he saw that he was -more eagerly sought than ever by all the most distinguished people in -Paris, he felt that he loved life more than ever. Was he to be blamed -for forgetting a secret remorse while reaping the reward he had merited -for services rendered his country? He felt life overflowing through -every pore of his young heart, his active brain, his whole vigorous and -buoyant being, he felt that destiny was making him happy in spite of -himself; and he would crave forgiveness of an indignant ghost that came -sometimes and bewailed her fate in his dreams, for having sought in the -affection of the living a protection against the terrors of the grave.</p> - -<p>But he had no sooner returned to life, as it were, than he felt, as in -the past, the need of mingling thoughts of love and plans of intrigue -with his political meditations, his dreams of ambition and philosophy. I -say ambition, not meaning ambition for honor and wealth, for which he -had no use, but for reputation and aristocratic popularity.</p> - -<p>He had at first despaired of ever seeing Madame Delmare again after the -tragic ending of his double intrigue. But, as he measured the extent of -his loss, as he brooded over the thought of the treasure that had -escaped him, he conceived the hope of grasping it once more, and, at the -same time he regained determination and confidence. He calculated the -obstacles he should encounter, and realized that the most difficult to -overcome at the outset would come from Indiana herself; therefore he -must use the husband to protect him from the attack. This was not a new -idea, but it was sure; jealous husbands are particularly well adapted to -this service.</p> - -<p>A fortnight after he had conceived this idea, Raymon was on the way to -Lagny, where he was expected to breakfast. You will not require me to -describe to you in detail the shrewdly proffered services by which he -had succeeded in making himself agreeable to Monsieur Delmare; I prefer, -as I am describing the features of the characters in this tale, to draw -a hasty sketch of the colonel for you.</p> - -<p>Do you know what they call an <i>honest</i> man in the provinces? He -is a man who does not encroach on his neighbor's field; who does not -demand from his debtors a sou more than they owe him; who raises his hat -to every person who bows to him; who does not ravish maidens in the -public roads; who sets fire to no other man's barn; who does not rob -wayfarers at the corner of his park. Provided that he religiously -respects the lives and purses of his fellow-citizens, nothing more is -demanded of him. He may beat his wife, maltreat his servants, ruin his -children, and it is nobody's business. Society punishes only those acts -which are injurious to it; private life is beyond its jurisdiction.</p> - -<p>Such was Monsieur Delmare's theory of morals. He had never studied any -other social contract than this: <i>Every man is master in his own house.</i> -He treated all affairs of the heart as feminine puerilities, sentimental -subtleties. Being a man devoid of wit, of tact and of education, he -enjoyed greater consideration than a man obtains by dint of talent and -amiability. He had broad shoulders and a strong wrist; he handled the -sword and the sabre perfectly, and was exceedingly quick to take -offence. As he did not always understand a joke, he was constantly -haunted by the idea that people were making fun of him. Being incapable -of suitable repartee, he had but one way of defending himself: to -enforce silence by threats. His favorite epigrams always turned upon -cowhidings to be administered and affairs of honor to be settled; -wherefore the province always prefixed to his name the epithet <i>brave</i> -because military valor apparently consists in having broad shoulders and -long moustaches, in swearing fiercely, and in putting one's hand to the -sword on the slightest pretext.</p> - -<p>God forbid that I should believe that camp life makes all men brutes! -but I may be permitted to believe that one must have a large stock of -tact and discretion to resist the habit of passive and brutal -domination. If you have served in the army, you are familiar with what -the troops call <i>skin-breeches</i>, and will agree that there are large -numbers of them among the remains of the old imperial cohorts. Those men -who, when brought together and urged forward by a powerful hand, -performed such magnificent exploits, towered like giants amid the smoke -of the battle-field; but, having returned to civil life, the heroes -became mere soldiers once more, bold, vulgar fellows who reasoned like -machines; and it was fortunate if they did not behave in society as in -conquered territory. It was the fault of the age rather than theirs. -Ingenuous minds, they had faith in the adulation of victory, and allowed -themselves to be persuaded that they were great patriots because they -defended their country—some against their will, others for money and -honors. But how did they defend it, those tens of thousands of men who -blindly embraced the error of a single man, and who, after saving their -country, basely destroyed it? And again, if a soldier's devotion to his -captain seems to you a great and noble thing, well and good, so it does -to me; but I call that fidelity, not patriotism. I congratulate the -conquerors of Spain, I do not thank them. As for the honor of the French -name, I by no means understand that method of safeguarding it among -neighbors, and I find it difficult to believe that the Emperor's -generals were very deeply engrossed by it at that deplorable stage of -our glory; but I know that we are forbidden to discuss these matters -impartially; I hold my peace, posterity will pass judgment on them.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Delmare had all the good qualities and all the failings of -these men. He was innocent to childishness concerning certain -refinements of the point of honor, yet he was very well able to conduct -his affairs to the best possible end without disturbing himself as to -the good or evil which might result therefrom to others. His whole -conscience was the law; his whole moral code was his rights under the -law. His was one of those rigid, unbending probities which never borrow -for fear of not returning, and never lend for fear of not recovering. He -was the honest man who neither takes nor gives aught; who would rather -die than steal a bundle of sticks in the king's forest, but would kill -you without ceremony for picking up a twig in his. He was useful to -himself alone, harmful to nobody. He took part in nothing that was going -on about him, lest he might be compelled to do somebody a favor. But, -when he deemed himself in honor bound to do it, no one could go about it -with more energy and zeal and a more chivalrous spirit. At once trustful -as a child and suspicious as a despot, he would believe a false oath and -distrust a sincere promise. As in the military profession, form was -everything with him. Public opinion governed him so exclusively that -common sense and argument counted for nothing in his decisions, and when -he said: "Such things are done," he thought that he had stated an -irrefutable argument.</p> - -<p>Thus it will be seen that his nature was most antipathetic to his -wife's, his heart entirely unfitted to understand her, his mind entirely -incapable of appreciating her. And yet it is certain that slavery had -engendered in her woman's heart a sort of virtuous and unspoken aversion -which was not always just. Madame Delmare doubted her husband's heart -overmuch; he was only harsh and she deemed him cruel. There was more -roughness than anger in his outbreaks, more vulgarity than impertinence -in his manners. Nature had not made him evil-minded: he had moments of -compassion which led him to repentance, and in his repentance he was -almost sensitive. It was camp life that had raised brutality to a -principle in him. With a less refined, less gentle wife he would have -been as gentle as a tame wolf; but this woman was disheartened with her -fate; she did not take the trouble to try to make it happier.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XI</h4> - - -<p>As he alighted from his tilbury in the courtyard at Lagny, Raymon's -heart failed him. So he was once more to enter that house which recalled -such awful memories! His arguments, being in accord with his passions, -might enable him to overcome the impulses of his heart, but not to -stifle them, and at that moment the sensation of remorse was as keen as -that of desire.</p> - -<p>The first person who came forward to meet him was Sir Ralph Brown, and -when he spied him in his everlasting hunting costume, flanked by his -hounds and sober as a Scotch laird, he fancied that the portrait he had -seen in Madame Delmare's chamber was walking before his eyes. A few -moments later the colonel appeared, and the breakfast was served without -Indiana. As he passed through the vestibule, by the door of the billiard -room, and recognized the places he had previously seen under such -different circumstances, Raymon was so distressed that he could hardly -remember why he had come there now.</p> - -<p>"Is Madame Delmare really not coming down?" the colonel asked his -factotum Lelièvre, with some asperity.</p> - -<p>"Madame slept badly," replied Lelièvre, "and Mademoiselle Noun—that -devil of a name keeps coming to my tongue!—Mademoiselle Fanny, I -mean, just told me that madame is lying down now."</p> - -<p>"How does it happen then that I just saw her at her window? Fanny is -mistaken. Go and tell madame that breakfast is served; or stay—Sir -Ralph, my dear kinsman, be pleased to go up and see for yourself if your -cousin is really ill."</p> - -<p>While the unfortunate name that the servant had mentioned from habit -caused Raymon's nerves a painful thrill, the colonel's expedient caused -him a strange sensation of jealous anger.</p> - -<p>"In her bedroom!" he thought. "He doesn't confine himself to hanging the -man's portrait there, but sends him there in person. This Englishman has -privileges here which the husband himself seems to be afraid to claim."</p> - -<p>"Don't let that surprise you," said Monsieur Delmare, as if he had -divined Raymon's reflections; "Monsieur Brown is the family physician; -and then he's our cousin too, a fine fellow whom we love with all our -hearts."</p> - -<p>Ralph remained absent ten minutes. Raymon was distraught, ill at ease. -He did not eat and kept looking at the door. At last the Englishman -reappeared.</p> - -<p>"Indiana is really ill," he said; "I told her to go back to bed."</p> - -<p>He took his seat tranquilly and ate with a robust appetite. The colonel -did likewise.</p> - -<p>"This is evidently a pretext to avoid seeing me," thought Raymon. "These -two men don't suspect it, and the husband is more displeased than -worried about his wife's condition. Good! my affairs are progressing -more favorably than I hoped."</p> - -<p>This resistance rearoused his determination and Noun's image vanished -from the dismal hangings, which, at the beginning, had congealed his -blood with terror. Soon he saw nothing but Madame Delmare's slender -form. In the salon he sat at her embroidery frame, examined -the flowers she was making—talking all the while and feigning deep -interest—handled all the silks, inhaled the perfume her tiny fingers -had left upon them. He had seen the same piece of work before, in -Indiana's bedroom; then it was hardly begun, now it was covered with -flowers that had bloomed beneath the breath of fever, watered by her -daily tears. Raymon felt the tears coming to his own eyes, and, by -virtue of some unexplained sympathy, sadly raising his eyes to the -horizon, at which Indiana was in the habit of gazing in melancholy mood, -he saw in the distance the white walls of Cercy standing out against a -background of dark hills.</p> - -<p>The colonel's voice roused him with a start.</p> - -<p>"Well, my excellent neighbor," he said, "it is time for me to pay my -debt to you and keep my promises. The factory is in full swing and the -hands are all at work. Here are paper and pencils, so that you can take -notes."</p> - -<p>Raymon followed the colonel, inspected the factory with an eager, -interested air, made comments which proved that chemistry and mechanics -were equally familiar to him, listened with incredible patience to -Monsieur Delmare's endless dissertations, coincided with some of his -ideas, combated some others, and in every respect so conducted himself -as to persuade his guide that he took an absorbing interest in these -things, whereas he was hardly thinking of them and all his thoughts were -directed toward Madame Delmare.</p> - -<p>It was a fact that he was familiar with every branch of knowledge, that -no invention was without interest for him; moreover he was forwarding -the interests of his brother, who had really embarked his whole fortune -in a similar enterprise, although of much greater extent. Monsieur -Delmare's technical knowledge, his only claim to superiority, pointed -out to him at that moment the best method of taking advantage of this -interview.</p> - -<p>Sir Ralph, who was a poor business man but a very shrewd politician, -suggested during the inspection of the factory some economical -considerations of considerable importance. The workmen, being anxious to -display their skill to an expert, surpassed themselves in deftness and -activity. Raymon looked at everything, heard everything, answered -everything, and thought of nothing but the love affair that brought him -to that place.</p> - -<p>When they had exhausted the subject of machinery the discussion fell -upon the volume and force of the stream. They went out and climbed upon -the dam, bidding the overseer raise the gates and mark the different -depths.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," said the man, addressing Monsieur Delmare, who fixed the -maximum at fifteen feet, "I beg pardon, but we had it seventeen once -this year."</p> - -<p>"When was that? You are mistaken," said the colonel.</p> - -<p>"Excuse me, monsieur, it was on the eve of your return from Belgium, the -very night Mademoiselle Noun was found drowned; what I say is proved by -the fact that the body passed over that dike yonder and did not stop -until it got here, just where monsieur is standing."</p> - -<p>Speaking thus, with much animation, the man pointed to where Raymon -stood. The unhappy young man turned pale as death; he cast a horrified -glance at the water flowing at his feet; it seemed to him that the livid -face was reflected in it, that the body was still floating there; he had -an attack of vertigo and would have fallen into the river had not -Monsieur Brown caught his arm and pulled him away.</p> - -<p>"Very good," said the colonel, who noticed nothing, and who gave so -little thought to Noun that he did not suspect Raymon's emotion; "but -that was an extraordinary instance, and the average depth of the water -is—But what the devil's the matter with you two?" he inquired, -suddenly interrupting himself.</p> - -<p>"Nothing," replied Sir Ralph; "as I turned I trod on monsieur's foot; I -am distressed, for I must have hurt him terribly."</p> - -<p>Sir Ralph made this reply in so calm and natural a tone that Raymon was -convinced that he thought he was telling the truth. A few courteous -words were exchanged and the conversation resumed its course.</p> - -<p>Raymon left Lagny a few hours later without seeing Madame Delmare. It -was better than he hoped; he had feared that he should find her calm and -indifferent.</p> - -<p>However he repeated his visit with no better success. That time the -colonel was alone; Raymon put forth all the resources of his wit to -captivate him, and shrewdly descended to innumerable little acts of -condescension—praised Napoléon, whom he did not like, deplored the -indifference of the government, which left the illustrious remnant of -the Grande Armée in oblivion and something like contempt, carried -opposition tenets as far as his opinions would permit him to go, and -selected from his various beliefs those which were likely to flatter -Monsieur Delmare's. He even provided himself with a character different -from his real one, in order to attract his confidence. He transformed -himself into a <i>bon vivant</i>, a "hail fellow well met," a careless -good-for-naught.</p> - -<p>"What if that fellow should ever make a conquest of my wife!" said the -colonel to himself as he watched him drive away.</p> - -<p>Then he began to chuckle inwardly and to think that Raymon was a -<i>charming fellow.</i></p> - -<p>Madame de Ramière was at Cercy at this time: Raymon extolled Madame -Delmare's charms and wit to her, and without urging her to call upon -her, had the art to suggest the thought.</p> - -<p>"I believe she is the only one of my neighbors whom I do not know," she -said; "and as I am a new arrival in the neighborhood it is my place to -begin. We will go to Lagny together next week."</p> - -<p>The appointed day arrived.</p> - -<p>"She cannot avoid me now," thought Raymon.</p> - -<p>In truth Madame Delmare could not escape the necessity of receiving him, -for when she saw an elderly woman she did not know step from the -carriage, she went out on the stoop herself to meet her. At the same -moment she recognized Raymon in the man who accompanied her; but she -realized that he must have deceived his mother to induce her to take -that step, and her displeasure on that account gave her strength to be -dignified and calm. She received Madame de Ramière with a mixture of -respect and affability; but her coldness to Raymon was so absolutely -glacial that he felt that he could not long endure it. He was not -accustomed to disdain and his pride took fire at being unable to conquer -with a glance those who were prepossessed against him. Thereupon, -deciding upon his course like a man who cared nothing for a woman's -whim, he asked permission to join Monsieur Delmare in the park and left -the two women together.</p> - -<p>Little by little, vanquished by the charm which a superior intellect, -combined with a noble and generous heart, is capable of exerting even in -its least intimate relations, Indiana became affable, affectionate and -almost playful with Madame de Ramière. She had never known her mother, -and Madame de Carvajal, despite her presents and her words of praise, -was far from being a mother to her; so she felt a sort of fascination of -the heart with Raymon's mother.</p> - -<p>When he joined her as she was stepping into her carriage he saw Indiana -put to her lips the hand that Madame de Ramière offered her. Poor -Indiana felt the need of having some one to cling to. Everything that -offered a prospect of interest and of companionship in her lonely and -unhappy life was welcomed by her with the keenest delight; and then she -said to herself that Madame de Ramière would preserve her from the -snare into which Raymon sought to lure her.</p> - -<p>"I will throw myself into this good woman's arms," she was thinking -already, "and, if necessary, I will tell her everything. I will implore -her to save me from her son, and her prudence will stand guard over him -and over me."</p> - -<p>Such was not Raymon's reasoning.</p> - -<p>"Dear mother!" he said to himself, as he drove back with her to Cercy, -"her charm and her goodness of heart perform miracles. What do I not owe -to them already! my education, my success in life, my standing in -society. I lacked nothing but the happiness of owing to her the heart of -such a woman as Indiana."</p> - -<p>Raymon, as we see, loved his mother because of his need of her and of -the well-being he owed to her; so do all children love their mothers.</p> - -<p>A few days later Raymon received an invitation to pass three days at -Bellerive, a beautiful country seat owned by Sir Ralph Brown, between -Cercy and Lagny, where it was proposed, in concert with the best hunters -of the neighborhood, to destroy a part of the game that was devouring -the owner's woods and gardens. Raymon liked neither Sir Ralph nor -hunting, but Madame Delmare did the honors of her cousin's house on -great occasions, and the hope of meeting her soon decided Raymon to -accept the invitation.</p> - -<p>The fact was that Sir Ralph did not expect Madame Delmare on this -occasion; she had excused herself on the ground of her wretched health. -But the colonel, who took umbrage when his wife sought diversion on her -own account, took still greater umbrage when she declined such -diversions as he chose to allow her.</p> - -<p>"Do you want to make the whole province think that I keep you under lock -and key?" he said to her. "You make me appear like a jealous husband; -it's an absurd rôle and one that I do not propose to play any longer. -Besides, what does this lack of courtesy to your cousin mean? Does it -become you, when we owe to his friendship the establishment and -prosperity of our business, to refuse him such a service? You are -necessary to him and you hesitate! I cannot understand your whims. All -the people whom I don't like are sure of a hearty welcome from you; but -those whom I esteem are unfortunate enough not to please you."</p> - -<p>"That reproach has very little application to the present case, I should -say," replied Madame Delmare. "I love my cousin like a brother, and my -affection for him was of long standing when yours began."</p> - -<p>"Oh! yes, yes, more of your fine words; but I know that you don't find -him sentimental enough, the poor devil! you call him selfish because he -doesn't like novels and doesn't cry over the death of a dog. However, -he's not the only one. How did you receive Monsieur de Ramière? a -charming young fellow, on my word! Madame de Carvajal introduces him to -you and you receive him with the greatest affability; but I have the -ill-luck to think well of him and you pronounce him unendurable, and -when he calls upon you, you go to bed! Are you trying to make me appear -a perfect boor? It is time for this to come to an end and for you to -begin to live like other people."</p> - -<p>Raymon deemed it inadvisable, in view of his plans, to show too much -eagerness; threats of indifference are successful with almost all women -who think that they are loved. But the hunting had been in progress -since morning when he reached Sir Ralph's, and Madame Delmare was not -expected until dinner time. He employed the interval in preparing a plan -of action.</p> - -<p>It occurred to him that he must find some method of justifying his -conduct, for the critical moment was at hand. He had two days before him -and he determined to apportion the time thus: the rest of the day that -was nearly ended to make an impression, the next day to persuade and the -following day to be happy. He even consulted his watch and calculated -almost to an hour the time when his enterprise would succeed or fail.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XII</h4> - - -<p>He had been two hours in the salon when he heard Madame Delmare's sweet -and slightly husky voice in the adjoining room. By dint of reflecting on -his scheme of seduction he had become as passionately interested as an -author in his subject or a lawyer in his cause, and the emotion that he -felt at the sight of Indiana may be compared to that of an actor -thoroughly imbued with the spirit of his rôle who finds himself in the -presence of the principal character of the drama and can no longer -distinguish artificial stage effects from reality.</p> - -<p>She was so changed that a feeling of sincere compassion found its way -into Raymon's being, amid the nervous tremors of his brain. Unhappiness -and illness had left such deep traces on her face that she was hardly -pretty, and that he felt that there was more glory than pleasure to be -gained by the conquest. But he owed it to himself to restore this woman -to life and happiness.</p> - -<p>Seeing how pale and sad she was, he judged that he had no very strong -will to contend against. Was it possible that such a frail envelope -could conceal great power of moral resistance?</p> - -<p>He reflected that it was necessary first of all to interest her in -herself, to frighten her concerning her depression and her failing -health, in order the more easily to open her mind to the desire and the -hope of a better destiny.</p> - -<p>"Indiana!" he began, with secret assurance perfectly concealed beneath -an air of profound melancholy, "to think that I should find you in such -a condition as this! I did not dream that this moment to which I have -looked forward so long, which I have sought so eagerly, would cause me -such horrible pain!"</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare hardly anticipated this language; she expected to -surprise Raymon in the attitude of a confused and shrinking culprit; and -lo! instead of accusing himself—of telling her of his grief and -repentance—his sorrow and pity were all for her! She must be sorely -cast down and broken in spirit to inspire compassion in a man who should -have implored hers!</p> - -<p>A French woman—a woman of the world—would not have lost her -head at such a delicate juncture; but Indiana had no tact; possessed -neither the skill nor the power of dissimulation necessary to preserve the -advantage of her position. His words brought before her eyes the whole -picture of her sufferings and tears glistened on the edge of her eyelids.</p> - -<p>"I am ill, in truth," she said, as she seated herself, feebly and -wearily, in the chair Raymon offered her; "I feel that I am very ill, -and, in your presence, monsieur, I have the right to complain."</p> - -<p>Raymon had not hoped to progress so fast. He seized the opportunity by -the hair, as the saying is, and, taking possession of a hand which felt -cold and dry in his, he replied:</p> - -<p>"Indiana! do not say that; do not say that I am the cause of your -illness, for you make me mad with grief and joy."</p> - -<p>"And joy!" she repeated, fixing upon him her great blue eyes overflowing -with melancholy and amazement.</p> - -<p>"I should have said hope; for, if I have caused you unhappiness, madame, -I can perhaps bring it to an end. Say a word," he added, kneeling beside -her on a cushion that had fallen from the divan, "ask me for my blood, -my life!"</p> - -<p>"Oh! hush!" said Indiana bitterly, withdrawing her hand; "you made a -shameful misuse of promises before; try to repair the evil you have -done!"</p> - -<p>"I intend to do it; I will do it!" he cried, trying to take her hand -again.</p> - -<p>"It is too late," she said. "Give me back my companion, my sister; give -me back Noun, my only friend!"</p> - -<p>A cold shiver ran through Raymon's veins. This time he had no need to -encourage her emotion; there are emotions which awake unbidden, mighty -and terrible, without the aid of art.</p> - -<p>"She knows all," he thought, "and she has judged me."</p> - -<p>Nothing could be more humiliating to him than to be reproached for his -crime by the woman who had been his innocent accomplice; nothing more -bitter than to see Noun's rival lamenting her death.</p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur," said Indiana, raising her face, down which the tears -were streaming, "you were the cause—"</p> - -<p>But she paused when she observed Raymon's pallor. It must have been most -alarming, for he had never suffered so keenly.</p> - -<p>Thereupon all the kindness of her heart and all the involuntary emotion -which he aroused in her resumed their sway over Madame Delmare.</p> - -<p>"Forgive me!" she said in dismay; "I hurt you terribly; I have suffered -so myself! Sit down and let us talk of something else."</p> - -<p>This sudden manifestation of her sweet and generous nature rendered -Raymon's emotion deeper than ever. He sobbed aloud; he put Indiana's -hand to his lips and covered it with tears and kisses. It was the first -time that he had been able to weep since Noun's death, and it was -Indiana who relieved his breast of that terrible weight.</p> - -<p>"Oh! since you, who never knew her, weep for her so freely," she said; -"since you regret so bitterly the injury you have done me, I dare not -reproach you any more. Let us weep for her together, monsieur, so that, -from her place in heaven, she may see us and forgive us."</p> - -<p>Raymon's forehead was wet with cold perspiration. If the words <i>you -who never knew her</i> had delivered him from painful anxiety, this appeal -to his victim's memory, in Indiana's innocent mouth, terrified him with a -superstitious terror. Sorely distressed, he rose and walked feverishly -to a window and leaned on the sill to breathe the fresh air. Indiana -remained in her chair, silent and deeply moved. She felt a sort of -secret joy on seeing Raymon weep like a child and display the weakness -of a woman.</p> - -<p>"He is naturally kind," she murmured to herself; "he is fond of me; his -heart is warm and generous. He did wrong, but his repentance expiates -his fault, and I ought to have forgiven him sooner."</p> - -<p>She gazed at him with a softened expression; her confidence in him had -returned. She mistook the remorse of the guilty man for the repentance -of love.</p> - -<p>"Do not weep any more," she said, rising and walking up to him; "it was -I who killed her; I alone am guilty. This remorse will sadden my whole -life. I gave way to an impulse of suspicion and anger; I humiliated her, -wounded her to the heart. I vented upon her all my spleen against you; -it was you alone who had offended me, and I punished my poor friend for -it. I was very hard to her!"</p> - -<p>"And to me," said Raymon, suddenly forgetting the past to think only of -the present.</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare blushed.</p> - -<p>"I should not perhaps have reproached you for the cruel loss I sustained -on that awful night," she said; "but I cannot forget the imprudence of -your conduct toward me. The lack of delicacy in your romantic and -culpable project wounded me very deeply. I believed then that you loved -me!—and you did not even respect me!"</p> - -<p>Raymon recovered his strength, his determination, his love, his hopes; -the sinister presentiment, which had made his blood run cold, vanished -like a nightmare. He awoke once more, young, ardent, overflowing with -desire, with passion, and with hopes for the future.</p> - -<p>"I am guilty if you hate me," he said, vehemently, throwing himself at -her feet; "but, if you love me, I am not guilty—I never have been. -Tell me, Indiana, do you love me?"</p> - -<p>"Do you deserve it?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"If, in order to deserve it," said Raymon, "I must love you to -adoration—"</p> - -<p>"Listen to me," she said, abandoning her hands to him and fastening upon -him her great eyes, swimming in tears, wherein a sombre flame gleamed at -intervals. "Do you know what it is to love a woman like me? No, you do -not know. You thought that it was merely a matter of gratifying the -caprice of a day. You judged my heart by all the surfeited hearts over -which you have hitherto exerted your ephemeral domination. You do not -know that I have never loved as yet and that I will not give my -untouched virgin heart in exchange for a ruined, withered heart, my -enthusiastic love for a lukewarm love, my whole life for one brief day!"</p> - -<p>"Madame, I love you passionately; my heart too is young and ardent, and, -if it is not worthy of yours, no man's heart will ever be. I know how -you must be loved; I have not waited until this day to find out. Do I -not know your life? did I not describe it to you at the ball, the first -time that I ever had the privilege of speaking to you? Did I not read -the whole history of your heart in the first one of your glances that -ever fell upon me? And with what did I fall in love, think you? with -your beauty alone? Ah! that is surely enough to drive an older and less -passionate man to frenzy; but for my part, if I adore that gracious and -charming envelope, it is because it encloses a pure and divine soul, it -is because a celestial fire quickens it, and because I see in you not a -woman simply, but an angel."</p> - -<p>"I know that you possess the art of praising; but do not hope to move my -vanity. I have no need of homage, but of affection. I must be loved -without a rival, without reserve and forever; you must be ready to -sacrifice everything to me, fortune, reputation, duty, business, -principles, family—everything, monsieur, because I shall place the -same absolute devotion in my scale, and I wish them to balance. You see -that you cannot love me like that!"</p> - -<p>It was not the first time that Raymon had seen a woman take love -seriously, although such cases are rare, luckily for society; but he -knew that promises of love do not bind the honor, again luckily for -society. Sometimes too the women who had demanded from him these solemn -pledges had been the first to break them. He did not take fright -therefore at Madame Delmare's demands, or rather he gave no thought -either to the past or the future. He was borne along by the irresistible -fascination of that frail, passionate woman, so weak in body, so -resolute in heart and mind. She was so beautiful, so animated, so -imposing as she dictated her laws to him, that he remained as if -fascinated at her knees.</p> - -<p>"I swear," he said, "that I will be yours body and soul; I devote my -life, I consecrate my blood to you, I place my will at your service; -take everything, do as you will with my fortune, my honor, my -conscience, my thoughts, my whole being."</p> - -<p>"Hush!" said Indiana hastily, "here is my cousin."</p> - -<p>As she spoke the phlegmatic Sir Ralph Brown entered the room with his -usual tranquil air, expressing great surprise and pleasure to see his -cousin, whom he had not hoped to see. Then he asked permission to kiss -her by way of manifesting his gratitude, and, leaning over her with -methodical moderation, he kissed her on the lips, according to the -custom among children in his country.</p> - -<p>Raymon turned pale with anger and Ralph had no sooner left the room to -give some order, than he went to Indiana and tried to remove all trace -of that impertinent kiss. But Madame Delmare calmly pushed him away.</p> - -<p>"Remember," she said, "that you owe much reparation if you wish me to -believe in you."</p> - -<p>Raymon did not understand the delicacy of this rebuff; he saw in it -nothing but a rebuff and he was angry with Sir Ralph. Shortly after he -noticed that, when Sir Ralph spoke to Indiana in an undertone, he used -the more familiar form of address, and he was on the verge of mistaking -the reserve which custom imposed upon Sir Ralph at other times, for the -precaution of a favored lover. But he blushed for his insulting -suspicions as soon as he met the young woman's pure glance.</p> - -<p>That evening Raymon displayed his intellectual powers. There was a large -company and people listened to him; he could not escape the prominence -which his talents gave him. He talked, and if Indiana had been vain she -would have had her first taste of happiness in listening to him. But on -the contrary her simple, straightforward mind took fright at Raymon's -superiority; she struggled against the magic power which he exerted over -all about him, a sort of magnetic influence which heaven, or hell, -accords to certain men—a partial and ephemeral royalty, so real that -no mediocre mind can escape its ascendancy, so fleeting that no trace of it -remains after them, and that when they die we are amazed at the -sensation they made during their lives.</p> - -<p>There were many times when Indiana was fascinated by such a brilliant -display; but she at once said to herself sadly that she was eager for -happiness, not for glory. She asked herself in dismay if this man, for -whom life had so many different aspects, so many absorbing interests, -could devote his whole mind to her, sacrifice all his ambitions to her. -And while he defended step by step, with such courage and skill, such -ardor and self-possession, doctrines purely speculative and interests -entirely foreign to their love, she was terrified to see that she was of -so little account in his life while he was everything in hers. She said -to herself in terror that she was to him a three days' fancy and that he -had been to her the dream of a whole life.</p> - -<p>When he offered her his arm as they were leaving the salon, he whispered -a few words of love in her ear; but she answered sadly:</p> - -<p>"You have a great mind!"</p> - -<p>Raymon understood the reproof and passed the whole of the following day -at Madame Delmare's feet. The other guests, being engrossed by their -hunting, left them entirely to themselves.</p> - -<p>Raymon was eloquent; Indiana had such a craving to believe, that half of -his eloquence was wasted. Women of France, you do not know what a creole -is; you would undoubtedly have yielded less readily to conviction, for -you are not the ones to be deceived or betrayed!</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XIII</h4> - - -<p>When Sir Ralph returned from hunting and as usual felt Madame Delmare's -pulse, Raymon, who was watching him closely, detected an almost -imperceptible expression of surprise and pleasure on his placid -features. And then, in obedience to some mysterious secret impulse, the -two men looked at each other, and Sir Ralph's light eyes, fastened like -an owl's upon Raymon's black ones, forced them to look down. During the -rest of the day the baronet's manner toward Madame Delmare, beneath his -apparent imperturbability, was keenly observant, indicative of something -which might be called interest or solicitude if his face had been -capable of reflecting a decided sentiment. But Raymon exerted himself in -vain to discover if fear or hope were uppermost in his thoughts; Ralph -was impenetrable.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, as he stood a few steps behind Madame Delmare's chair, he -heard her cousin say to her in an undertone:</p> - -<p>"You would do well, cousin, to go out in the saddle to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"Why, I have no horse just now, as you know," she said.</p> - -<p>"We will find one for you. Will you hunt with us?"</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare resorted to various pretexts to escape. Raymon understood -that she preferred to remain with him, but he thought at the same time -that her cousin seemed to display extraordinary persistence in -preventing her from doing so. So he left the persons with whom he was -talking, walked up to her and joined Sir Ralph in urging her to go. He -had a feeling of bitter resentment against this importunate chaperon, -and determined to tire out his watchfulness.</p> - -<p>"If you will agree to follow the hunt," he said to Indiana, "you will -embolden me to follow your example, madame. I care little for hunting; -but to have the privilege of being your esquire——"</p> - -<p>"In that case I will go," replied Indiana, heedlessly.</p> - -<p>She exchanged a meaning glance with Raymon; but, swift as it was, Sir -Ralph caught it on the wing, and Raymon was unable, during the rest of -the evening, to glance at her or address her without encountering -Monsieur Brown's eyes or ears. A feeling of aversion, almost of -jealousy, arose in his heart. By what right did this cousin, this friend -of the family, assume to act as a school-master with the woman whom he -loved! He swore that Sir Ralph should repent, and he sought an -opportunity to insult him without compromising Madame Delmare; but that -was impossible. Sir Ralph did the honors of his establishment with a -cold and dignified courtesy which offered no handle for an epigram or a -contradiction.</p> - -<p>The next morning, before the rising-bell had rung, Raymon was surprised -to see his host's solemn face enter his room. There was something even -stiffer than usual in his manner, and Raymon felt his heart beat fast -with longing and impatience at the prospect of a challenge. But he came -simply to talk about a horse which Raymon had brought to Bellerive and -had expressed a desire to sell. The bargain was concluded in five -minutes; Sir Ralph made no objection to the price but produced a -<i>rouleau</i> of gold from his pocket and counted down the amount on the -mantel with a coolness of manner that was altogether extraordinary, not -deigning to pay any heed to Raymon's remonstrances concerning such -scrupulous promptness. As he was leaving the room, he turned back to -say:</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, the horse belongs to me from this morning!"</p> - -<p>At that Raymon fancied that he could detect a purpose to prevent him -from hunting, and he observed dryly that he did not propose to follow -the hunt on foot.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," replied Sir Ralph, with a slight trace of affectation, "I am -too well versed in the laws of hospitality."</p> - -<p>And he withdrew.</p> - -<p>On going down into the courtyard Raymon saw Madame Delmare in her -riding-habit, playing merrily with Ophelia, who was tearing her -handkerchief. Her cheeks had taken on a faint rosy tinge, her eyes shone -with a brilliancy that had long been absent from them. She had already -recovered her beauty; her curly black hair escaped from beneath her -little hat, in which she was charming; and the cloth habit buttoned to -the chin outlined her slender, graceful figure. The principal charm of -the creoles, to my mind, consists in the fact that the excessive -delicacy of their features and their proportions enables them to retain -for a long while the daintiness of childhood. Indiana, in her gay and -laughing mood, seemed to be no more than fourteen.</p> - -<p>Raymon, impressed by her charms, felt a thrill of triumph and paid her -the least insipid compliment he could invent upon her beauty.</p> - -<p>"You were anxious about my health," she said to him in an undertone; "do -you not see that I long to live?" He could not reply otherwise than by a -happy, grateful glance. Sir Ralph himself brought his cousin her horse; -Raymon recognized the one he had just sold.</p> - -<p>"What!" said Madame Delmare in amazement, for she had seen him trying -the animal the day before in the courtyard, "is Monsieur de Ramière so -polite as to lend me his horse?"</p> - -<p>"Did you not admire the creature's beauty and docility yesterday?" said -Sir Ralph; "he is yours from this moment. I am sorry, my dear, that I -couldn't have given him to you sooner."</p> - -<p>"You are growing facetious, cousin," said Madame Delmare; "I do not -understand this joke at all. Whom am I to thank—Monsieur de Ramière, -who consents to lend me his horse, or you, who perhaps asked him for -it?"</p> - -<p>"You must thank your cousin," said Monsieur Delmare, "who bought this -horse for you and makes you a present of him."</p> - -<p>"Is it really true, my dear Ralph?" said Madame Delmare, patting the -pretty creature with the delight of a girl at receiving her first -jewels.</p> - -<p>"Didn't we agree that I should give you a horse in exchange for the -piece of embroidery you are doing for me? Come, mount him, have no fear. -I have studied his disposition, and I tried him only this morning."</p> - -<p>Indiana threw her arms around Sir Ralph's neck, then leaped upon -Raymon's horse and fearlessly made him prance.</p> - -<p>This whole domestic scene took place in a corner of the courtyard before -Raymon's eyes. He was conscious of a paroxysm of violent anger when the -simple and trustful affection of those two displayed itself before him; -passionately in love as he was and with less than a whole day in which -to have Indiana to himself.</p> - -<p>"How happy I am!" she said, calling him to her side on the avenue. "It -seems my dear Ralph divined what gift would be most precious to me. And -aren't you happy too, Raymon, to see the horse you have ridden pass into -my hands? Oh! how I will love him and care for him! What do you call -him? Tell me; for I prefer not to take away the name you gave him."</p> - -<p>"If there is a happy man here," rejoined Raymon, "it should be your -cousin, who gives you presents and whom you kiss so heartily."</p> - -<p>"Are you really jealous of our friendship and of those loud smacks?" she -said with a laugh.</p> - -<p>"Jealous? perhaps so, Indiana; I am not sure. But when that -red-cheeked young cousin puts his lips to yours, when he takes you in -his arms to seat you on the horse that he <i>gives</i> you and I -<i>sell</i> you, I confess that I suffer. No, madame, I am not happy to -see you the mistress of the horse I loved. I can understand that one -might be happy in giving him to you; but to play the tradesman in order -to provide another with the means of making himself agreeable to you, is -a very cleverly managed humiliation on Sir Ralph's part. If I did not -believe that all this cunning was quite involuntary, I would like to be -revenged on him."</p> - -<p>"Oh! fie! this jealousy is not becoming to you! How can our commonplace -intimacy arouse any feeling in you, in you who should be, so far as I am -concerned, outside of the common life of mankind and should create for -me a world of enchantment—in you of all men! I am displeased with you -already, Raymon; I perceive that there is something like wounded -self-esteem in this angry feeling displayed toward this poor cousin. It -seems to me that you are more jealous of the lukewarm preference which I -display for him in public than of the exclusive affection which I might -secretly entertain for another."</p> - -<p>"Forgive me, forgive me, Indiana, I am wrong! I am not worthy of you, -angel of goodness and gentleness! but I confess that I have suffered -cruelly because of the right that man has seemed to assume."</p> - -<p>"He assume rights, Raymon! Do you not know what sacred gratitude binds -us to him? do you not know that his mother was my mother's sister? that -we were born in the same valley; that in our early years he was my -protector; that he was my mainstay, my only teacher, my only companion -at Ile Bourbon; that he has followed me everywhere; that he left the -country which I left, to come and live where I lived; in a word, that he -is the only being who loves me and who takes any interest in my life?"</p> - -<p>"Curse him! all that you tell me, Indiana, inflames the wound. So he -loves you very dearly, does this Englishman, eh? Do you know how I love -you?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! let us not compare the two. If an attachment of the same nature -made you rivals, I should owe the preference to the one of longer -standing. But have no fear, Raymon, that I shall ever ask you to love me -as Ralph loves me."</p> - -<p>"Tell me about the man, I beg you; for who can penetrate his stone -mask?"</p> - -<p>"Must I do the honors for my cousin?" she said with a smile. "I confess -that I do not altogether like the idea of describing him; I love him so -dearly that I would like to flatter him; as he is, I am afraid that you -will not find him a very noble figure. Do try to help me; come, how does -he seem to you?"</p> - -<p>"His face—forgive me if I wound you—indicates absolute -nonentity; but there are signs of good sense and education in his -conversation when he deigns to speak; but he speaks so hesitatingly, so -coldly, that no one profits by his knowledge, his delivery is so -depressing and tiresome. And then there is something commonplace and -dull in his thoughts which is not redeemed by measured purity of -expression. I think that his is a mind imbued with all the ideas that -have been suggested to him, but too apathetic and too mediocre to have -any of his own. He is just the sort of man that one must be to be looked -upon in society as a serious-minded person. His gravity forms -three-fourths of his merit, his indifference the rest."</p> - -<p>"There is some truth in your portrait," said Indiana, "but there is -prejudice too. You boldly solve doubts which I should not dare to solve, -although I have known Ralph ever since I was born. It is true that his -great defect consists in looking frequently through the eyes of others; -but that is not the fault of his mind but of his education. You think -that, without education, he would have been an absolute nonentity; I -think that he would have been less so than he is. I must tell you one -fact in his life which will help to explain his character. He was -unfortunate to have a brother whom his parents openly preferred to him; -this brother had all the brilliant qualities that he lacks. He learned -easily, he had a taste for all the arts, he fairly sparkled with wit; -his face, while less regular than Ralph's, was more expressive. He was -affectionate, zealous, active, in a word, he was lovable. Ralph, on the -contrary, was awkward, melancholy, undemonstrative; he loved solitude, -learned slowly and did not make a display of what little knowledge he -possessed. When his parents saw how different he was from his older -brother, they maltreated him; they did worse than that: they humiliated -him. Thereupon, child as he was, his character became gloomy and pensive -and an unconquerable timidity paralyzed all his faculties. They had -succeeded in inspiring in him self-aversion and self-contempt; he became -discouraged with life, and, at the age of fifteen, he was attacked by -the spleen, a malady that is wholly physical under the foggy sky of -England, wholly mental under the revivifying sky of Ile Bourbon. He has -often told me that one day he left the house with a determination to -throw himself into the sea; but as he sat on the shore collecting his -thoughts, as he was on the point of carrying out his plan, he saw me -coming toward him in the arms of the negress who had been my nurse. I -was then five years old. I was pretty, they say, and I manifested a -predilection for my taciturn cousin which nobody shared. To be sure, he -was attentive and kind to me in a way I was not accustomed to in my -father's house. As we were both unhappy, we understood each other even -then. He taught me his father's language, and I lisped mine to him. This -blending of Spanish and English may be said to express Ralph's -character. When I threw my arms around his neck, I saw that he was -weeping, and, without knowing why, I began to weep too. Thereupon he -pressed me to his heart and, so he told me afterward, made a vow to live -for me, a neglected if not hated child, to whom his friendship would at -all events be a kindness and his life of some benefit. Thus I was the -first and only tie in his sad life. After that day we were hardly ever -apart; we passed our days leading a free and healthy life in the -solitude of the mountains. But perhaps these tales of our childhood bore -you, and you would prefer to join the hunt and have a gallop."</p> - -<p>"Foolish girl," said Raymon, seizing the bridle of Madame Delmare's -horse.</p> - -<p>"Very well, I will go on," said she. "Edmond Brown, Ralph's older -brother, died at the age of twenty; his mother also died of grief, and -his father was inconsolable. Ralph would have been glad to mitigate his -sorrow, but the coldness with which Monsieur Brown greeted his first -attempts increased his natural timidity. He passed whole hours in -melancholy silence beside that heartbroken old man, not daring to -proffer a word or a caress, he was so afraid that his consolation would -seem misplaced or trivial. His father accused him of lack of feeling, -and Edmond's death left Ralph more wretched and more misunderstood than -ever. I was his only consolation."</p> - -<p>"I cannot pity him, whatever you may do," Raymon interrupted; "but there -is one thing in his life and yours that I cannot understand: it is that -you never married."</p> - -<p>"I can give you a very good reason for that," she replied. "When I -reached a marriageable age, Ralph, who was ten years older than I—an -enormous difference in our climate, where the childhood of girls is so -brief—Ralph, I say, was already married."</p> - -<p>"Is Sir Ralph a widower? I never heard anyone mention his wife."</p> - -<p>"Never mention her to him. She was young and rich and lovely, but she -had been in love with Edmond—she had been betrothed to him; and when, -in order to serve family interests and family sentiment, she was made to -marry Ralph, she did not so much as try to conceal her aversion for him. -He was obliged to go to England with her, and when he returned to Ile -Bourbon after his wife's death, I was married to Monsieur Delmare and -just about to start for Europe. Ralph tried to live alone, but solitude -aggravated his misery. Although he has never mentioned Mistress Ralph -Brown to me, I have every reason to believe that he was even more -unhappy in his married life than he had been in his father's house, and -that his natural melancholy was increased by recent and painful -memories. He was attacked with the spleen again; whereupon he sold his -coffee plantation and came to France to settle down. His manner of -introducing himself to my husband was original, and would have made me -laugh if my good Ralph's attachment had not touched me deeply. -'Monsieur,' he said, 'I love your wife; it was I who brought her up; I -look upon her as my sister and even more as my daughter. She is my only -remaining relative and the only person to whom I am attached. Allow me -to establish myself near you and let us three pass our lives together. -They say that you are a little jealous of your wife, but they say also -that you are a man of honor and uprightness. When I tell you that I have -never had any other than brotherly love for her, and that I shall never -have, you can regard me with as little anxiety as if I were really your -brother-in-law. Isn't it so, monsieur?' Monsieur Delmare, who is very -proud of his reputation for soldierly frankness, greeted this outspoken -declaration with a sort of ostentatious confidence. But several months -of careful watching were necessary before that confidence became as -genuine as he boasted that it was. Now it is as impregnable as Ralph's -steadfast and pacific heart."</p> - -<p>"Are you perfectly sure, Indiana," said Raymon, "that Sir Ralph is not -deceiving himself the least bit in the world when he swears that he -never loved you?"</p> - -<p>"I was twelve years old when he left Ile Bourbon to go with his wife to -England; I was sixteen when he returned to find me married, and he -manifested more joy than sorrow. Now, Ralph is really an old man."</p> - -<p>"At twenty-nine?"</p> - -<p>"Don't laugh at what I say. His face is young, but his heart is worn out -by suffering, and he no longer loves anybody, in order to avoid -suffering."</p> - -<p>"Not even you?"</p> - -<p>"Not even me. His friendship is simply a matter of habit; it was -generous in the old days when he took upon himself to protect and -educate my childhood, and then I loved him as he loves me to-day because -of the need I had of him. To-day my whole heart is bent upon paying my -debt to him, and my life is passed in trying to beautify and enliven -his. But, when I was a child, I loved him with the instinct rather than -with the heart, and he, now that he is a man, loves me less with the -heart than with the instinct. I am necessary to him because I am almost -alone in loving him; and to-day, as Monsieur Delmare manifests some -attachment to him, he is almost as fond of him as of me. His protection, -formerly so fearless in face of my father's despotism, has become -lukewarm and cautious in face of my husband's. He never reproaches -himself because I suffer, provided that I am near him. He does not ask -himself if I am unhappy; it is enough for him to see that I am alive. He -does not choose to lend me a support, which, while it would make my lot -less cruel, would disturb his serenity by making trouble between him and -Monsieur Delmare. By dint of hearing himself say again and again that -his heart is dry, he has persuaded himself that it is true, and his -heart has withered in the inaction in which he has allowed it to fall -asleep from distrust. He is a man whom the affection of another person -might have developed; but it was withdrawn from him and he shrivelled -up. Now he asserts that happiness consists in repose, pleasure, in the -comforts of life. He asks no questions about cares that he has not. I -must say the word: Ralph is selfish."</p> - -<p>"Very good, so much the better," said Raymon; "I am no longer afraid of -him; indeed I will love him if you wish."</p> - -<p>"Yes, love him, Raymon," she replied; "he will appreciate it; and, so -far as we are concerned, let us never trouble ourselves to explain why -people love us, but how they love us. Happy the man who can be loved, no -matter for what reason!"</p> - -<p>"What you say, Indiana," replied Raymon, grasping her slender, willowy -form, "is the lament of a sad and solitary heart; but, in my case, I -want you to know both why and how, especially why."</p> - -<p>"To give me happiness, is it not?" she said, with a sad but passionate -glance.</p> - -<p>"To give you my life," said Raymon, brushing Indiana's floating hair -with his lips.</p> - -<p>A blast upon the horn near by warned them to be on their guard; it was -Sir Ralph, who saw them or did not see them.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XIV</h4> - - -<p>Raymon was amazed at what seemed to take place in Indiana's being as -soon as the hounds were away. Her eyes gleamed, her cheeks flushed, the -dilation of her nostrils betrayed an indefinable thrill of fear or -pleasure, and suddenly, driving her spurs into her horse's side, she -left him and galloped after Ralph. Raymon did not know that hunting was -the only passion that Ralph and Indiana had in common. Nor did he -suspect that in that frail and apparently timid woman there abode a more -than masculine courage, that sort of delirious intrepidity which -sometimes manifests itself like a nervous paroxysm in the feeblest -creatures. Women rarely have the physical courage which consists in -offering the resistance of inertia to pain or danger; but they often -have the moral courage which attains its climax in peril or suffering. -Indiana's delicate fibres delighted above all things in the tumult, the -rapid movement and the excitement of the chase, that miniature image of -war with its fatigues, its stratagems, its calculations, its hazards and -its battles. Her dull, ennui-laden life needed this excitement; at such -times she seemed to wake from a lethargy and to expend in one day all -the energy that she had left to ferment uselessly in her blood for a -whole year.</p> - -<p>Raymon was terrified to see her ride away so fast, abandoning herself -fearlessly to the impetuous spirit of a horse that she hardly knew, -rushing him through the thickets, avoiding with amazing skill the -branches that lashed at her face as they sprang back, leaping ditches -without hesitation, venturing confidently on clayey, slippery ground, -heedless of the risk of breaking her slender limbs, but eager to be -first on the smoking scent of the boar. So much determination alarmed -him and nearly disgusted him with Madame Delmare. Men, especially -lovers, are addicted to the innocent fatuity of preferring to protect -weakness rather than to admire courage in womankind. Shall I confess it? -Raymon was terrified at the promise of high spirit and tenacity in love -which such intrepidity seemed to afford. It was not like the resignation -of poor Noun, who preferred to drown herself rather than to contend -against her misfortunes.</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="figure03"></a> -<img src="images/figure03.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="center"><i>THE BOAR HUNT</i></p> -<p><i>Raymon was terrified to see her ride away so -fast, abandoning herself fearlessly to the impetuous -spirit of a horse that she hardly knew, rushing him -through the thickets, avoiding with amazing skill -the branches that lashed at her face as they sprang -back, leaping ditches without hesitation, venturing -confidently on clayey, slippery ground, heedless of the -risk of breaking her slender limbs, but eager to be -first on the smoking scent of the boar.</i></p></div> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p>"If there's as much vigor and excitement in her tenderness as there is -in her diversions," he thought; "if her will clings to me, fierce and -palpitating, as her caprice clings to that boar's quarters, why society -will impose no fetters on her, the law will have no force; my destiny -will have to succumb and I shall have to sacrifice my future to her -present."</p> - -<p>Cries of terror and distress, among which he could distinguish Madame -Delmare's voice, roused Raymon from these reflections. He anxiously -urged his horse forward and was soon overtaken by Ralph, who asked him -if he had heard the outcries.</p> - -<p>At that moment several terrified whippers-in rode up to them, crying out -confusedly that the boar had charged and overthrown Madame Delmare. -Other huntsmen, in still greater dismay, appeared, calling for Sir -Ralph, whose surgical skill was required by the injured person.</p> - -<p>"It's of no use," said a late arrival. "There is no hope, your help will -be too late."</p> - -<p>In that moment of horror, Raymon's eyes fell upon the pale, gloomy -features of Monsieur Brown. He did not cry out, he did not foam at the -mouth, he did not wring his hands; he simply took out his hunting-knife -and with a <i>sang-froid</i> truly English was preparing to cut his own -throat, when Raymon snatched the weapon from him and hurried him in the -direction from which the cries came.</p> - -<p>Ralph felt as if he were waking from a dream when he saw Madame Delmare -rush to meet him and urge him forward to the assistance of her husband, -who lay on the ground, apparently lifeless. Sir Ralph made haste to -bleed him; for he had speedily satisfied himself that he was not dead; -but his leg was broken and he was taken to the château.</p> - -<p>As for Madame Delmare, in the confusion her name had been substituted by -accident for that of her husband, or perhaps Ralph and Raymon had -erroneously thought that they heard the name in which they were most -interested.</p> - -<p>Indiana was uninjured, but her fright and consternation had almost taken -away her power of locomotion. Raymon supported her in his arms and was -reconciled to her womanly heart when he saw how deeply affected she was -by the misfortune of a husband whom she had much to forgive before -pitying him.</p> - -<p>Sir Ralph had already recovered his accustomed tranquillity; but an -extraordinary pallor revealed the violent shock he had experienced; he -had nearly lost one of the two human beings whom he loved.</p> - -<p>Raymon, who alone, in that moment of confusion and excitement, had -retained sufficient presence of mind to understand what he saw, had been -able to judge of Ralph's affection for his cousin, and how little it was -balanced by his feeling for the colonel. This observation, which -positively contradicted Indiana's opinion, did not depart from Raymon's -memory as it did from that of the other witnesses of the scene.</p> - -<p>However Raymon never mentioned to Madame Delmare the attempted suicide -of which he had been a witness. In this ungenerous reserve there was a -suggestion of selfishness and bad temper which you will forgive perhaps -in view of the amorous jealousy which was responsible for it.</p> - -<p>After six weeks the colonel was with much difficulty removed to Lagny; -but it was more than six months thereafter before he could walk; for -before the fractured femur was fairly reduced he had an acute attack of -rheumatism in the injured leg, which condemned him to excruciating pain -and absolute immobility. His wife lavished the most loving attentions -upon him; she never left his bedside and endured without a complaint his -bitter fault-finding humor, his soldier-like testiness and his invalid's -injustice.</p> - -<p>Despite the ennui of such a depressing life, her health became robust -and flourishing once more and happiness took up its abode in her heart. -Raymon loved her, he really loved her. He came every day; he was -discouraged by no difficulty in the way of seeing her, he bore with the -infirmities of her husband, her cousin's coldness, the constraint of -their interviews. A glance from him filled Indiana's heart with joy for -a whole day. She no longer thought of complaining of life; her heart was -full, her youthful nature had ample employment, her moral force had -something to feed upon.</p> - -<p>The colonel gradually came to feel very friendly to Raymon. He was -simple enough to believe that his neighbor's assiduity in calling upon -him was a proof of the interest he took in his health. Madame de -Ramière also came occasionally, to sanction the liaison by her -presence, and Indiana became warmly and passionately attached to -Raymon's mother. At last the wife's lover became the husband's friend.</p> - -<p>As a result of being thus constantly thrown together, Raymon and Ralph -perforce became intimate in a certain sense; they called each other "my -dear fellow," they shook hands morning and night. If either of them -desired to ask a slight favor of the other, the regular form was this: -"I count upon your friendship," etc. And when they spoke of each other -they said: "He is a friend of mine."</p> - -<p>But, although they were both as frank and outspoken as a man can be in -the world, they were not at all fond of each other. They differed -essentially in their opinions on every subject; they had no likes or -dislikes in common; and, although they both loved Madame Delmare, they -loved her in such a different way that that sentiment divided them -instead of bringing them together. They found a singular pleasure in -contradicting each other and in disturbing each other's equanimity as -much as possible by reproaches which were none the less sharp and bitter -because they took the form of generalities.</p> - -<p>Their principal and most frequent controversies began with politics and -ended with morals. It was in the evening, when they were all assembled -around Monsieur Delmare's easy-chair, that discussions arose on the most -trivial pretexts. They always maintained the external courtesy which -philosophy imposed on the one and social custom on the other: but they -sometimes said to each other, under the thin veil of allusions, some -very harsh things, which amused the colonel; for he was naturally -bellicose and quarrelsome and loved disputes in default of battles.</p> - -<p>For my part, I believe that a man's political opinion is the whole man. -Tell me what your heart and your head are and I will tell you your -political opinions. In whatever rank or political party chance may have -placed us at our birth, our character prevails sooner or later over the -prejudice or artificial beliefs of education. You will call that a very -sweeping statement perhaps; but how could I persuade myself to augur -well of a mind that clings to certain theories which a generous spirit -rejects? Show me a man who maintains the usefulness of capital -punishment, and, however conscientious and enlightened he may be, I defy -you ever to establish any sympathetic connection between him and me. If -such a man attempts to instruct me as to facts which I do not know, he -will never succeed; for it will not be in my power to give him my -confidence.</p> - -<p>Ralph and Raymon differed on all points, and, yet, before they knew each -other, they had no clearly defined opinions. But, as soon as they were -at odds, each of them maintained the contrary of what the other -advanced, and in that way they would form for themselves an absolute, -unassailable conviction. Raymon was on all occasions the champion of -existing society, Ralph attacked its structure at every point.</p> - -<p>The explanation was simple: Raymon was happy and treated with the utmost -consideration, Ralph had known nothing of life but its evils and its -bitterness; one found everything very satisfactory, the other was -dissatisfied with everything. Men and things had maltreated Ralph and -heaped benefits upon Raymon; and, like two children, they referred -everything to themselves, setting themselves up as a court of last -resort in regard to the great questions of social order, although they -were equally incompetent.</p> - -<p>Thus Ralph always upheld his visionary scheme of a republic from which -he proposed to exclude all abuses, all prejudices, all injustice; a -scheme founded entirely upon the hope of a new race of men. Raymon -upheld his doctrine of an hereditary monarchy, preferring, he said, to -endure abuses, prejudice and injustice, to seeing scaffolds erected and -innocent blood shed.</p> - -<p>The colonel was almost always on Ralph's side at the beginning of the -discussion. He hated the Bourbons and imparted to all his opinions all -the animosity of his sentiments. But soon Raymon would adroitly bring -him over to his side by proving to him that the monarchy was in -principle much nearer the Empire than the Republic. Ralph was so lacking -in the power of persuasion, he was so sincere, so bungling, the poor -baronet! his frankness was so unpolished, his logic so dull, his -principles so rigid! He spared no one, he softened no harsh truth.</p> - -<p>"<i>Parbleu!</i>" he would say to the colonel, when that worthy cursed -England's intervention, "what in heaven's name have you, a man of some -common sense and reasoning power, I suppose, to complain of because a -whole nation fought fairly against you?"</p> - -<p>"Fairly?" Delmare would repeat the word, grinding his teeth together and -brandishing his crutch.</p> - -<p>"Let us leave political questions to be decided by the powers -concerned," Sir Ralph would say, "as we have adopted a form of -government which forbids us to discuss our interests ourselves. If a -nation is responsible for the faults of its legislature, what one can -you find that is guiltier than yours?"</p> - -<p>"And so I say, monsieur, shame upon France, which abandoned Napoléon -and submitted to a king proclaimed by the bayonets of foreigners!" the -colonel would exclaim.</p> - -<p>"For my part, I do not say shame upon France," Sir Ralph would rejoin, -"but woe to her! I pity her because she was so weak and so diseased, on -the day she was purged of her tyrant, that she was compelled to accept -your rag of a constitutional Charter, a mere shred of liberty which you -are beginning to respect now that you must throw it aside and conquer -your liberty over again."</p> - -<p>Thereupon Raymon would pick up the gauntlet that Sir Ralph threw down. A -knight of the Charter, he chose to be a knight of liberty as well, and -he proved to Ralph with marvelous skill that one was the expression of -the other; that, if he shattered the Charter he overturned his own idol. -In vain would the baronet struggle in the unsound arguments in which -Monsieur de Ramière entangled him; with admirable force he would argue -that a greater extension of the suffrage would infallibly lead to the -excesses of '93, and that the nation was not yet ripe for liberty, which -is not the same as license. And when Sir Ralph declared that it was -absurd to attempt to confine a constitution within a certain number of -articles, that what was sufficient at first would eventually become -insufficient, supporting his argument by the example of the -convalescent, whose needs increased every day, Raymon would reply to all -these commonplaces expressed with difficulty by Monsieur Brown that the -Charter was not an immovable circle, that it would stretch with the -necessities of France, attributing to it an elasticity which, he said, -would afford later a means of satisfying the demands of the nation, but -which in fact satisfied only those of the crown.</p> - -<p>As to Delmare, he had not advanced a step since 1815. He was a -stationary mortal, as full of prejudices and as obstinate as the -émigrés at Coblentz, the never-failing subjects of his implacable -irony. He was like an old child and had failed utterly to comprehend the -great drama of the downfall of Napoléon. He had seen naught but the -fortune of war in that crisis when the power of public opinion -triumphed. He was forever talking of treason and of selling the country, -as if a whole nation could betray a single man, as if France would have -allowed herself to be sold by a few generals! He accused the Bourbons of -tyranny and sighed for the glorious days of the Empire, when arms were -lacking to till the soil and families were without bread. He declaimed -against Franchet's police and extolled Fouché's. He was still at the -day after Waterloo.</p> - -<p>It was really a curious thing to listen to the sentimental idiocies of -Delmare and Monsieur de Ramière, philanthropic dreamers both, one under -the sword of Napoléon, the other under the sceptre of Saint-Louis; -Monsieur Delmare planted at the foot of the Pyramids, Raymon seated -under the monarchic shadow of the oak of Vincennes. Their Utopias, which -clashed at first, became reconciled in due time: Raymon limed the -colonel with his chivalrous sentiments; for one concession he exacted -ten, and he accustomed him little by little to the spectacle of -twenty-five years of victory ascending in a spiral column under the -folds of the white flag. If Ralph had not constantly cast his abrupt, -rough observations into the centre of Monsieur de Ramière's flowery -rhetoric, he would infallibly have won Delmare over to the throne of -1815; but Ralph irritated his self-esteem, and the bungling -outspokenness with which the Englishman strove to shake his convictions -served only to anchor him more firmly in his imperialism. Thus all -Monsieur de Ramière's efforts were wasted; Ralph trod heavily upon the -flowers of his eloquence and the colonel returned with renewed -enthusiasm to his tri-color. He swore that he would shake off the dust -from it some fine day, that he would spit on the lilies and restore the -Duc de Reichstadt to the throne of <i>his fathers</i>; he would begin anew -the conquest of the world; and he always concluded by lamenting the -disgrace that rested upon France, the rheumatism that glued him to his -chair and the ingratitude of the Bourbons to the old moustaches whom the -sun of the desert had burned and who had swarmed over the ice-floes of -the Moskowa.</p> - -<p>"My poor fellow!" Ralph would say, "for heaven's sake be fair; you -complain because the Restoration did not pay for services rendered the -Empire and because it did reimburse its <i>émigrés.</i> Tell me, if -Napoléon could come to life again to-morrow in all his power, would you -like it if he should withdraw his favor from you and bestow it on the -partisans of legitimacy? Every one for himself and his own; these are -business discussions, disputes concerning private interests, which have -little interest for France, now that you are almost all as incapacitated -as the <i>voltigeurs</i> of the emigration, and that, whether gouty, -married or sulking, you are all equally useless to her. However, she must -support you all, and you see who can complain the loudest of her. When -the day of the Republic dawns, she will clear her skirts of all your -demands, and it will be no more than justice."</p> - -<p>These trivial but self-evident observations offended the colonel like so -many personal affronts; and Ralph who, with all his good sense, did not -realize that the pettiness of spirit of a man whom he esteemed could go -so far, fell into the habit of irritating him without mercy.</p> - -<p>Before Raymon's arrival there had been a tacit agreement between the two -to avoid every subject of controversy in which there might be some -clashing and wounding of delicate sensibilities. But Raymon brought into -their conversation all the subtleties of the language, all the petty -artifices of civilization. He taught them that people can say anything -to one another, indulge in all sorts of reproaches and shield themselves -behind the pretext of legitimate discussion. He introduced among them -the habit of disputation, then tolerated in the salons, because the -vindictive passions of the Hundred Days had finally become appeased, had -assumed divers milder shades. But the colonel had retained all the -vehemence of his passions, and Ralph made a sad mistake in thinking that -it was possible for him to listen to reason. Monsieur Delmare became -daily more sour toward him and drew nearer to Raymon, who, without -making too extensive concessions, knew how to assume an appearance of -graciousness in order to spare the other's self-esteem.</p> - -<p>It is a great imprudence to introduce politics as a pastime in the -domestic circle. If there exist to-day any peaceful and happy families, -I advise them to subscribe to no newspaper; not to read a single line of -the budget, to bury themselves in the depth of their country estates as -in an oasis, and to draw between themselves and the rest of society a -line that none may pass; for, if they allow the echoes of our disputes -to meet their ears, it is all over with their union and their repose. It -is hard to imagine how much gall and bitterness political differences -cause between near kindred. Most of the time they simply afford them an -opportunity for reproaching one another for defects of character, mental -obliquities and vices of the heart.</p> - -<p>They would not dare to call one another knave, imbecile, ambitious -villain or poltroon. They express the same idea by such names as <i>jesuit, -royalist, revolutionist</i> and <i>trimmer.</i> These are different -words, but the insult is the same, and all the more stinging because -they may pursue and attack one another in this fashion without -restraint, without mercy. There is an end to all mutual toleration of -failings, all charitable spirit, all generous and delicate reserve; -nothing is overlooked, everything is attributed to political feeling, -and beneath that mask hatred and vengeance are freely exhaled. O ye -blessed dwellers in the country, if there still be any country in -France, shun, shun politics, and read the <i>Peau d'Ane</i> by your -firesides! But the contagion is so great that there is no retreat -obscure enough, no solitude profound enough to hide and shelter the man -who would find a refuge for his amiable heart from the tempests of our -civil dissensions.</p> - -<p>In vain had the little château in Brie defended itself for years -against this ill-omened invasion; it lost in time its heedlessness, its -active domestic life, its long evenings of silence and meditation. Noisy -disputes awoke its slumbering echoes; bitter and threatening words -terrified the faded cherubs who had smiled amid the dust of the hangings -for a hundred years past. The excitements of present-day life found -their way into that ancient dwelling, and all those old-fashioned -splendors, all those relics of a period of pleasure and frivolity saw -with dismay the advent of an epoch of doubt and declamation, represented -by three men who shut themselves up together every day to quarrel from -morning till night.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XV</h4> - - -<p>Despite these never-ending dissensions, Madame Delmare clung with the -confidence of her years to the hope of a happy future. It was her first -happiness; and her ardent imagination, her rich young heart, were able -to supply it with all that it lacked. She was ingenious in creating keen -and pure joys for herself—in bestowing upon herself the complement of -the precarious favors of her destiny. Raymon loved her. In truth he did -not lie when he told her that she was the only love of his life; he had -never loved so innocently nor so long. With her he forgot everything but -her. The world and politics were blotted out by the thought of her; he -enjoyed the domestic life, the being treated like one of the family, as -she treated him. He admired her patience and her strength of will; he -wondered at the contrast between her mind and her character; he wondered -especially that, after importing so much solemnity into their first -compact, she was so unexacting, satisfied with such furtive and -infrequent joys, and that she trusted him so blindly and so absolutely. -But love was a novel and generous passion in her heart, and a thousand -noble and delicate sentiments were included in it and gave it a force -which Raymon could not understand.</p> - -<p>For his own part, he was annoyed at first by the constant presence of -the husband or the cousin. He had intended that this love should be like -all his previous loves, but Indiana soon compelled him to rise to her -level. The resignation with which she endured the constant surveillance, -the happy air with which she glanced at him by stealth, her eyes which -spoke to him in eloquent though silent language, her sublime smile when -a sudden allusion in conversation brought their hearts nearer -together—these soon became keen pleasures which Raymon craved and -appreciated, thanks to the refinement of his mind and the culture of -education.</p> - -<p>What a difference between that chaste creature who seemed not to -contemplate the possibility of a <i>dénoûment</i> to her love and all those -other women who were intent only upon hastening it while pretending to -shun it! When Raymon happened to be alone with her, Indiana's cheeks did -not turn a deeper red, nor did she avert her eyes in confusion. No, her -tranquil, limpid eyes were always fixed upon him in ecstasy; an angelic -smile played always about her lips, as ruddy as a little girl's who has -known no kisses but her mother's. When he saw her so trustful, so -passionate, so pure, living solely with the heart and not realizing that -her lover's heart was in torment when he was at her feet, Raymon dared -not be a man, lest he should seem to her inferior to her dreams of him, -and, through self-love, he became as virtuous as she.</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare, ignorant as a genuine creole, had never dreamed hitherto -of considering the momentous questions that were now discussed before -her every day. She had been brought up by Sir Ralph, who had a poor -opinion of the intelligence and reasoning power of womankind, and who -had confined himself to imparting some positive information likely to be -of immediate use. Thus she had a very shadowy idea of the world's -history, and any serious discussion bored her to death. But when she -heard Raymon apply to those dry subjects all the charm of his wit, all -the poesy of his language, she listened and tried to understand; then -she ventured timidly to ask ingenuous questions which a girl of ten -brought up according to worldly ideas would readily have answered. -Raymon took pleasure in enlightening that virgin mind which seemed -destined to open to receive his principles; but, despite the power he -exerted over her untrained, artless mind, his sophisms sometimes -encountered resistance from her.</p> - -<p>Indiana opposed to the interests of civilization, when raised to the -dignity of principles of action, the straight-forward ideas and simple -laws of good sense and humanity; her arguments were characterized by an -unpolished freedom which sometimes embarrassed Raymon and always charmed -him by its childlike originality. He applied himself as to a task of -serious importance to the attempt to bring her around gradually to his -principles, to his beliefs. He would have been proud to dominate her -conscientious and naturally enlightened convictions; but he had some -difficulty in attaining his end. Ralph's generous theories, his -unbending hatred of the vices of society, his keen impatience for the -reign of other laws and other morals were sentiments to which Indiana's -unhappy memories responded. But Raymon suddenly unhorsed his adversary -by demonstrating that this aversion for the present was the work of -selfishness; he described with much warmth his own attachments, his -devotion to the royal family, which he had the art to clothe with all -the heroism of a perilous loyalty, his respect for the persecuted faith -of his fathers, his religious sentiments, which were not the fruit of -reasoning, he said, but to which he clung by instinct and from -necessity. And the joy of loving one's fellow-creatures, of being bound -to the present generation by all the ties of honor and philanthropy; the -pleasure of serving one's country by repelling dangerous innovations, by -maintaining domestic peace, by giving, if need be, all one's blood to -save the shedding of one drop of that of the lowest of one's countrymen! -he depicted all these attractive Utopian visions with so much art and -charm that Indiana submitted to be led on to the feeling that she must -love and respect all that Raymon loved and respected. It was fairly -proved that Ralph was an egotist; when he maintained a generous idea, -they smiled; it was clear that at such times his heart and his mind were -in contradiction. Was it not better to believe Raymon, who had such a -big, warm, expansive heart?</p> - -<p>There were moments, however, when Raymon almost forgot his love to think -only of his antipathy. When he was with Madame Delmare, he could see -nobody but Sir Ralph, who presumed, with his rough, cool common sense, -to attack him, a man of superior talents, who had overthrown such -doughty adversaries! He was humiliated to find himself engaged with so -paltry an adversary, and thereupon would overwhelm him with the weight -of his eloquence; he would bring into play all the resources of his -talent, and Ralph, bewildered, slow in collecting his ideas, slower -still in expressing them, would be made painfully conscious of his -weakness.</p> - -<p>At such moments it seemed to Indiana that Raymon's thoughts were -altogether diverted from her; she had spasms of anxiety and terror as -she reflected that perhaps all those noble and high-sounding sentiments -so eloquently declaimed were simply the pompous scaffolding of words, -the ironical harangue of the lawyer, listening to himself and practising -the comedy which is to take by surprise the good-nature of the tribunal. -She was especially fearful when, as her eyes met his, she fancied that -she saw gleaming in them, not the pleasure of having been understood by -her, but the triumphant self-satisfaction of having made a fine -argument. She was afraid at such times, and her thoughts turned to -Ralph, the egotist, to whom they had perhaps been unjust; but Ralph was -not tactful enough to say anything to prolong this uncertainty, and -Raymon was very skilful in removing it.</p> - -<p>Thus there was but one really perturbed existence, but one really ruined -happiness in that domestic circle: the existence and happiness of Sir -Ralph Brown, a man born to misfortune, for whom life had displayed no -brilliant aspects, no intense, heart-filling joys; a victim of great but -secret unhappiness, who complained to no one and whom no one pitied; a -truly accursed destiny, in the poetic sense without thrilling -adventures; a commonplace, bourgeois, melancholy destiny, which no -friendship had sweetened, no love charmed, which was endured in silence, -with the heroism which the love of life and the need of hoping give; a -lonely mortal who had had a father and mother like everybody else, a -brother, a wife, a son, a friend, and who had reaped no benefit, -retained nothing of all those ties; a stranger in life who went his way -melancholy and indifferent, having not even that exalted consciousness -of his misfortune which enables one to find some fascination in sorrow.</p> - -<p>Despite his strength of character, he sometimes felt discouraged with -virtue. He hated Raymon, and it was in his power to drive him from Lagny -with a word; but he did not say it, because he had one belief, a single -one, which was stronger than Raymon's countless beliefs. It was neither -the church, nor the monarchy, nor society, nor reputation, nor the law, -which dictated his sacrifices and his courage—it was his -conscience.</p> - -<p>He had lived so alone that he had not accustomed himself to rely upon -others; but he had learned, in his isolation, to know himself. He had -made a friend of his own heart; by dint of self-communion, of asking -himself the cause of the unjust acts of others, he had assured himself -that he had not earned them by any vice; he had ceased to be irritated -by them, because he set little store by his own personality, which he -knew to be insipid and commonplace. He understood the indifference of -which he was the object, and he had chosen his course with regard to it; -but his heart told him that he was capable of feeling all that he did -not inspire, and, while he was disposed to forgive everything in others, -he had decided to tolerate nothing in himself. This wholly inward life, -these wholly private sensations gave him all the outward appearance of a -selfish man; indeed nothing resembles selfishness more closely than -self-respect.</p> - -<p>However, as it often happens that, because we attempt to do too much -good, we do much less than enough, it happened that Sir Ralph made a -great mistake from over-scrupulousness and caused Madame Delmare an -irreparable injury from dread of burdening his own conscience with a -cause of reproach. That mistake was his failure to enlighten her as to -the real reasons of Noun's death. Had he done so she would doubtless -have reflected on the perils of her love for Raymon; but we shall see -later why Monsieur Brown dared not inform his cousin and what painful -scruples led him to keep silence on so momentous a question. When he -decided to break his silence it was too late; Raymon had had time to -establish his empire.</p> - -<p>An unforeseen event occurred to cloud the future prospects of the -colonel and his wife; a business house in Belgium, upon which all the -prosperity of the Delmare establishment depended, had suddenly failed, -and the colonel, who had hardly recovered his health, started in hot -haste for Antwerp.</p> - -<p>He was still so weak and ill that his wife wished to accompany him; but -Monsieur Delmare, being threatened with complete ruin and resolved to -honor all his obligations, feared that his journey would then seem too -much like a flight; so he determined to leave his wife at Lagny as a -pledge of his return. He even declined the company of Sir Ralph and -begged him to remain and stand by Madame Delmare in case of any trouble -on the part of anxious or over-eager creditors.</p> - -<p>At this painful crisis Indiana was alarmed at nothing save the -possibility of having to leave Lagny and be separated from Raymon; but -he comforted her by convincing her that the colonel would surely go to -Paris. Moreover he gave her his word that he would follow her, on some -pretext or other, wherever she might go, and the credulous creature -deemed herself almost happy in a misfortune which enabled her to put -Raymon's love to the test. As for him, a vague hope, a persistent, -importunate thought had absorbed his mind ever since he had heard of -this event: he was to be alone with Indiana at last, the first time for -six months. She had never seemed to attempt to avoid a tête-à-tête, -and although he was in no haste to triumph over a love whose ingenuous -chastity had for him the attraction of novelty, he was beginning to feel -that his honor was involved in bringing it to some conclusion. He -honorably repelled any malicious insinuation concerning his relations -with Madame Delmare; he declared very modestly that there was nothing -more than a placid and pleasant friendship between them; but not for -anything in the world would he have admitted, even to his best friend, -that he had been passionately in love for six months and had as yet -obtained no fruit of that love.</p> - -<p>He was somewhat disappointed in his anticipations when he saw that Sir -Ralph seemed determined to replace Monsieur Delmare so far as -surveillance was concerned, that he appeared at Lagny in the morning and -did not return to Bellerive until night; indeed, as their road was the -same for some distance, Ralph, with an intolerable affectation of -courtesy, insisted upon timing his departure by Raymon's. This -constraint soon became intensely disagreeable to Monsieur de Ramière, -and Madame Delmare fancied that she could detect in it not only a -suspicion insulting to herself, but a purpose to assume despotic control -over her conduct.</p> - -<p>Raymon dared not request a secret interview; whenever he had made the -attempt, Madame Delmare had reminded him of certain conditions agreed -upon between them. Meanwhile a week had passed since the colonel's -departure; he might return very soon; the present opportunity must be -turned to advantage. To allow Sir Ralph the victory would be a disgrace -to Raymon. One morning he slipped this letter into Madame Delmare's -hand:</p> - -<p>"Indiana! do you not love me as I love you? My angel! I am unhappy and -you do not see it. I am sad, anxious concerning your future, not my own; -for, wherever you may be, there I shall live and die. But the thought of -poverty alarms me on your account; ill and frail as you are, my poor -child, how will you endure privation? You have a rich and generous -cousin: your husband will perhaps accept at his hands what he will -refuse at mine. Ralph will ameliorate your lot, and I shall be able to -do nothing for you!</p> - -<p>"Be sure, be sure, my dear love, that I have reason to be depressed and -disappointed. You are heroic, you laugh at everything, you insist that I -must not grieve. Ah! how I crave your gentle words, your sweet glances, -to sustain my courage! But, by a monstrous fatality, these days that I -hoped to pass freely at your feet, have brought me nothing but a -constraint that grows ever more galling.</p> - -<p>"Say a word, Indiana, so that we may be alone at least an hour, that I -may weep upon your white hands and tell you all that I suffer, and that -a word from you may console and comfort me.</p> - -<p>"And then, Indiana, I have a childish caprice, a genuine lover's -caprice. I would like to enter your room. Oh! don't be frightened, my -gentle creole! It is my bounden duty not only to respect you, but to -fear you; that is the very reason why I would like to enter your room, -to kneel in that place where you were so angry with me, and where, bold -as I am, I dared not look at you. I would like to prostrate myself -there, to pass a meditative, happy hour there; I would crave no other -favor, Indiana, than that you should place your hand on my heart and -cleanse it of its crime, pacify it if it beats too rapidly, and give it -your confidence once more if you find me worthy of you at last. Yes! I -would like to prove to you that now I am worthy, that I know you through -and through, that I worship you with an adoration as pure and holy as -ever maiden conceived for her Madonna! I would like to be sure that you -no longer fear me, that you esteem me as much as I revere you; I would -like to live an hour as angels live, with my head upon your heart. Tell -me, Indiana, may I? One hour—the first, perhaps the last!</p> - -<p>"It is time to forgive me, Indiana, to give me back your confidence, so -cruelly snatched from me, so dearly redeemed. Are you not satisfied with -me? Have I not passed six months behind your chair, confining my desires -to a glance at your snow-white neck through the curls of your black -hair, as you leaned over your work, to a breath of the perfume which -emanates from you and which the air from the window at which you sit -brings faintly to my nostrils? Does not such submission deserve the -reward of a kiss? a sister's kiss, if you will, a kiss on the forehead? -I will remain true to our agreements, I swear it. I will ask for -nothing. But, cruel one, will you grant me nothing? Are you afraid of -yourself?"</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare went to her room to read this letter; she replied to it -instantly, and handed him the reply with a key to the park-gate, which -he knew too well.</p> - -<p>"I afraid of you, Raymon? Oh! no, not now. I know too well that you love -me, I am too blissfully happy in the belief that you love me. Come then, -for I am not afraid of myself either; if I loved you less, perhaps I -should be less calm; but I love you with a love of which you yourself -have no idea. Go away early, so that Ralph may suspect nothing. Return -at midnight; you are familiar with the park and the house; here is the -key of the small gate; lock it after you."</p> - -<p>This ingenuous, generous confidence made Raymon blush. He had tried to -inspire it, with the purpose of abusing it; he had counted on the -darkness, the opportunity, the danger. If Indiana had shown any fear, -she was lost; but she was perfectly calm; she placed her trust in his -good faith; he swore that he would give her no cause to repent. But the -important point was to pass a night in her bedroom, in order not to be a -fool in his own eyes, in order to defeat Ralph's prudence, and to be -able to laugh at him in his sleeve. That was a personal gratification -which he craved.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XVI</h4> - - -<p>But Ralph was really intolerable on this particular evening; he had -never been more stupid and dull and tiresome. He could say nothing -apropos, and, to cap the climax of his loutishness, he gave no sign of -taking his leave even when the evening was far advanced. Madame Delmare -began to be ill at ease; she glanced alternately at the clock, which had -struck eleven—at the door, which had creaked in the wind—and at -the expressionless face of her cousin, who sat opposite her in front of the -fire, placidly watching the blaze without seeming to suspect that his -presence was distasteful.</p> - -<p>But Sir Ralph's tranquil mask, his petrified features, concealed at that -moment a profound and painful mental agitation. He was a man whom -nothing escaped because he observed everything with perfect -self-possession. He had not been deceived by Raymon's pretended -departure; he perceived very plainly Madame Delmare's anxiety at that -moment. He suffered more than she did herself, and he moved irresolutely -between the impulse to give her a salutary warning and the fear of -giving way to feelings which he disavowed; at last his cousin's interest -carried the day, and he summoned all his moral courage in order to break -the silence.</p> - -<p>"That reminds me," he said abruptly, following out the line of thought -with which his mind was busy, "that it was just a year ago to-day that -you and I sat in this chimney-corner as we are sitting now. The clock -marked almost the same hour; the weather was cold and threatening as it -is to-night. You were ill, and were disturbed by melancholy ideas; a -fact that almost makes me believe in the truth of presentiments."</p> - -<p>"What can he be coming to?" thought Madame Delmare, gazing at her cousin -with mingled surprise and uneasiness.</p> - -<p>"Do you remember, Indiana," he continued, "that you felt even less well -than usual that night? Why, I can remember your words as if I had just -heard them. 'You will call me insane,' you said, 'but some danger is -hovering about us and threatening some one of us—threatening me, I -have no doubt,' you added; 'I feel intensely agitated, as if some great -crisis in my destiny were at hand—I am afraid!' Those are your very -words."</p> - -<p>"I am no longer ill," said Indiana, who had suddenly turned as pale as -at the time of which Sir Ralph spoke; "I no longer believe in such -foolish terrors."</p> - -<p>"But I believe in them," he rejoined, "for you were a true prophet that -night, Indiana; a great danger did threaten us—a disastrous influence -surrounded this peaceful abode."</p> - -<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i> I do not understand you!"</p> - -<p>"You soon will understand me, my poor girl. That was the evening that -Raymon de Ramière was brought here. Do you remember in what condition?"</p> - -<p>Ralph paused a few seconds, but dared not look at his cousin. As she -made no reply, he continued:</p> - -<p>"I was told to bring him back to life and I did so, as much to satisfy -you as to obey the instincts of humanity; but, in truth, Indiana, it was -a great misfortune that I saved that man's life! It was I who did all -the harm."</p> - -<p>"I don't know what you mean by harm!" rejoined Indiana, dryly.</p> - -<p>She was deeply moved in advance by the explanation which she -foresaw.</p> - -<p>"I mean that unfortunate creature's death," said Ralph. "But for him she -would still be alive; but for his fatal love the lovely, honest girl who -loved you so dearly would still be at your side."</p> - -<p>Thus far Madame Delmare did not understand. She was exasperated beyond -measure by the strange and cruel method which her cousin adopted to -reproach her for her attachment to Monsieur de Ramière.</p> - -<p>"Enough of this," she said, rising.</p> - -<p>But Ralph apparently took no notice of her remark.</p> - -<p>"What always astonished me," he continued, "was that you never guessed -the real motive that led Monsieur de Ramière to scale the walls."</p> - -<p>A suspicion darted through Indiana's mind; her legs trembled under her, -and she resumed her seat.</p> - -<p>Ralph had buried the knife in her breast and made a ghastly wound. He no -sooner saw the effect of his work than he hated himself for it; he -thought only of the injury he had inflicted on the person whom he loved -best in all the world; he felt that his heart was breaking. He would -have wept bitterly if he could have wept; but the poor fellow had not -the gift of tears; he had naught of that which eloquently translates the -language of the heart. The external coolness with which he performed the -cruel operation gave him the air of an executioner in Indiana's eyes.</p> - -<p>"This is the first time," she said bitterly, "that I have known your -antipathy for Monsieur de Ramière to lead you to employ weapons that -are unworthy of you; but I do not see how it assists your vengeance to -stain the memory of a person who was dear to me, and whom her melancholy -end should have made sacred to us. I have asked you no questions, Sir -Ralph; I do not know what you refer to. With your permission I will -listen to no more."</p> - -<p>She rose and left Monsieur Brown bewildered and crushed.</p> - -<p>He had foreseen that he could not enlighten Madame Delmare except at his -own expense. His conscience had told him that he must speak, whatever -the result might be, and he had done it with all the abruptness of -method, all the awkwardness of execution of which he was capable. What -he had not fully appreciated was the violence of a remedy so long -delayed.</p> - -<p>He left Lagny in despair and wandered through the forest in a sort of -frenzy.</p> - -<p>It was midnight; Raymon was at the park gate. He opened it, but as he -opened it he felt his brow grow chill. For what purpose had he come to -this rendezvous? He had made divers virtuous resolutions, but would he -be amply rewarded by a chaste interview, by a sisterly kiss, for the -torture he was undergoing at that moment? For, if you remember under -what circumstances he had previously passed through those garden paths, -stealthily, at night, you will understand that it required a certain -degree of moral courage to go in search of pleasure along such a road -and amid such memories.</p> - -<p>Late in October the climate of the suburbs of Paris becomes damp and -foggy, especially at night and in the neighborhood of streams. Chance -decreed that the fog should be as dense on this night as on certain -other nights in the preceding spring. Raymon felt his way along the -mist-enveloped trees. He passed a summer-house which contained a fine -collection of geraniums in winter. He glanced at the door, and his heart -beat fast at the extravagant idea that it might open and give egress to -a woman wrapped in a pelisse. Raymon smiled at this superstitious -weakness and went his way. Nevertheless the cold seized him, and he felt -an unpleasant tightness at his throat as he approached the stream.</p> - -<p>He had to cross it to reach the flower-garden, and the only means of -crossing in that vicinity was a narrow wooden bridge. The fog became -more dismal than ever over the river-bed, and Raymon clung to the -railing of the bridge in order not to go astray among the reeds that -grew along the banks. The moon was just rising, and, as it strove to -pierce the vapors, cast an uncertain light on the plants which the wind -and the current moved to and fro. In the breeze which rustled the leaves -and ruffled the surface of the water there was a sort of wailing sound -like human words half-spoken. There was a faint sob close beside Raymon -and a sudden movement among the reeds; it was a curlew flying away at -his approach. The cry of that shore-bird closely resembles the moaning -of an abandoned child; and when it comes up from among the reeds you -would say that it was the last effort of a drowning man. Perhaps you -will consider that Raymon was very weak and cowardly; his teeth -chattered and he nearly fell; but he soon realized the absurdity of his -terror and crossed the bridge.</p> - -<p>He was half-way across when a human figure appeared in front of him, at -the end of the rail, as if waiting for him to approach. Raymon's ideas -became confused; his bewildered brain had not the strength to reason. He -retraced his steps and hid among the trees, gazing with a fixed, -terrified stare at that ill-defined apparition which remained in the -same place, as vague and uncertain as the river mist and the trembling -rays of the moon. He was beginning to believe that in his mental -preoccupation he had been deceived, and that what he took for a human -form was only a tree-trunk or the stalk of a shrub, when he distinctly -saw it move and walk toward him.</p> - -<p>At that moment, had not his legs absolutely refused to act, he would -have fled in as great a panic as the child who passes a cemetery at -night and fancies that he hears mysterious steps running after him on -the tips of the blades of grass. But he felt as if he were paralyzed, -and, to support himself, threw his arms around the trunk of the willow -behind which he was hidden. The next moment Sir Ralph, wrapped in a -light cloak which gave him the aspect of a phantom at three yards, -passed very close to him and took the path by which he had just come.</p> - -<p>"Bungling spy!" thought Raymon, as he saw him looking for his -footprints. "I will escape your cowardly surveillance, and while you are -mounting guard here I will be enjoying myself yonder."</p> - -<p>He crossed the bridge as lightly as a bird, and with the confidence of a -lover. His terrors were at an end; Noun had never existed; real life was -awakening all about him; Indiana awaited him yonder; and Ralph was on -sentry-go to keep him from entering.</p> - -<p>"Watch closely," said Raymon, gayly, as he saw him in the distance going -in the opposite direction. "Watch for me, dear Sir Rodolphe Brown; -protect my good fortune, O my officious friend; and, if the dogs are -restless, if the servants wake, pacify them, keep them quiet by saying: -'It is I who am watching, sleep in peace.'"</p> - -<p>Scruples, remorse, virtue were at an end for Raymon; he had paid dearly -enough for the hour that was striking. His blood that had frozen in his -veins flowed now toward his brain with maddening violence. A moment ago -the pallid terrors of death, dismal visions of the tomb; now the -impetuous realities of love, the keen joys of life. Raymon felt as bold -and full of animation as in the morning, when an ugly dream has -enveloped us in its shroud and suddenly a merry sunbeam awakens and -revivifies us.</p> - -<p>"Poor Ralph!" he thought as he ascended the secret staircase with a -bold, light step, "you would have it so!"</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="PART_THIRD">PART THIRD</a></h4> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4>XVII</h4> - - -<p>On leaving Sir Ralph, Madame Delmare had locked herself into her room, -and a thousand tempestuous thoughts had invaded her mind. It was not the -first time that a vague suspicion had cast its ominous light upon the -fragile edifice of her happiness. Monsieur Delmare had previously let -slip in conversation some of those indelicate jests which pass for -compliments. He had complimented Raymon on his knightly triumphs in a -way to give the cue to ears that knew naught of the incident. Every time -that Madame Delmare had spoken to the gardener, Noun's name had been -injected, as if by an unavoidable necessity, into the most trivial -details, and then Monsieur de Ramière's had always glided in by virtue -of some mysterious junction of ideas which seemed to have taken -possession of the man's brain and to beset him in spite of himself. -Madame Delmare had been struck by his strange and bungling questions. He -became confused in his speech on the slightest pretext; he seemed to be -oppressed by a burden of remorse which he betrayed while struggling to -conceal it. At other times Indiana had found in Raymon's own confusion -those indications which she did not seek, but which forced themselves -upon her. One circumstance in particular would have enlightened her -further, if she had not closed her mind to all distrust. They had found -on Noun's finger a very handsome ring which Madame Delmare had noticed -some time before her death and which the girl claimed to have found. -Since her death Madame Delmare had always worn that pledge of sorrow, -and she had often noticed that Raymon changed color when he took her -hand to put it to his lips. Once he had begged her never to mention Noun -to him because he looked upon himself as the cause of her death; and -when she sought to banish that painful thought by taking all the blame -to herself, he had replied:</p> - -<p>"No, my poor Indiana, do not accuse yourself; you have no idea how -guilty I am."</p> - -<p>Those words, uttered in a bitter, gloomy tone, had alarmed Madame -Delmare. She had not dared to insist, and, now that she was beginning to -understand all these fragments of discoveries, she had not the courage -to fix her thoughts upon them and put them together.</p> - -<p>She opened her window, and, as she looked out upon the calm night, upon -the moon so pale and lovely behind the silvery vapors on the horizon, as -she remembered that Raymon was coming, that he was perhaps in the park -even now, and thought of all the joy she had anticipated in that hour of -love and mystery, she cursed Ralph who with a word had poisoned her hope -and destroyed her repose forever. She even felt that she hated him, the -unhappy man who had been a father to her and who had sacrificed his -future for her; for his future was Indiana's friendship; that was his -only treasure, and he resigned himself to the certainty of forfeiting it -in order to save her.</p> - -<p>Indiana could not read in the depths of his heart, nor had she been able -to fathom Raymon's. She was unjust, not from ingratitude, but from -ignorance. Being under the influence of a strong passion she could not -but feel strongly the blow that had been dealt her. For an instant she -laid the whole crime upon Ralph, preferring to accuse him rather than to -suspect Raymon.</p> - -<p>And then she had so little time to collect her thoughts, and make up her -mind: Raymon was coming. Perhaps it was he whom she had seen for some -minutes wandering about the little bridge. How much more intense would -her aversion for Ralph have been at that moment, if she could have -recognized him in that vague figure, which constantly appeared and -disappeared in the mist, and which, like a spirit stationed at the gate -of the Elysian Fields, sought to keep the guilty man from entering!</p> - -<p>Suddenly there came to her mind one of those strange, half-formed ideas, -which only restless and unhappy persons are capable of conceiving. She -risked her whole destiny upon a strange and delicate test against which -Raymon could not be on his guard. She had hardly completed her -mysterious preparations when she heard Raymon's footsteps on the secret -stairway. She ran and unlocked the door, then returned to her chair, so -agitated that she felt that she was on the point of falling; but, as in -all the great crises of her life, she retained a remarkable clearness of -perception and great strength of mind.</p> - -<p>Raymon was still pale and breathless when he opened the door; impatient -to see the light, to grasp reality once more. Indiana's back was turned -to him, she was wrapped in a fur-lined pelisse. By a strange chance it -was the same that Noun wore when she went to meet him in the park at -their last rendezvous. I do not know if you remember that at that time -Raymon had had for an instant the untenable idea that that woman -shrouded in her cloak was Madame Delmare. Now, when he saw once more the -same apparition sitting inert in a chair, with her head on her breast, -by the light of a pale, flickering lamp, on the same spot where so many -memories awaited him, in that room which he had not entered since the -darkest night in his life and which was full to overflowing of his -remorse, he involuntarily recoiled and remained in the doorway, his -terrified gaze fixed upon that motionless figure, and trembling like a -coward, lest, when it turned, it should display the livid features of a -drowned woman.</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare had no suspicion of the effect she produced upon Raymon. -She had wound about her head a handkerchief of India silk, tied -carelessly in true creole style; it was Noun's usual head-dress. Raymon, -fairly overcome by terror, nearly fell backward, thinking that his -superstitious fancies were realized. But, recognizing the woman he had -come to seduce, he forgot the one whom he had seduced and walked toward -her. Her face wore a grave, meditative expression: she gazed earnestly -at him, but with close attention rather than affection, and did not make -a motion to draw him to her side more quickly.</p> - -<p>Raymon, surprised by this reception, attributed it to some scruple of -chastity, to some girlish impulse of delicacy or constraint. He knelt at -her feet, saying:</p> - -<p>"Are you afraid of me, my beloved?" But at that moment he noticed that -Madame Delmare held something in her hands to which she seemed to direct -his attention with a playful affectation of gravity. He looked more -closely and saw a mass of black hair, of varying lengths, which seemed -to have been cut in haste, and which Indiana was smoothing with her -hand.</p> - -<p>"Do you recognize it?" she asked, fastening upon him her limpid eyes, in -which there was a peculiar, penetrating gleam.</p> - -<p>Raymon hesitated, looked again at the handkerchief about her head, and -thought that he understood.</p> - -<p>"Naughty girl!" he said, taking the hair in his hand, "why did you cut -it off? It was so beautiful, and I loved it so dearly!"</p> - -<p>"You asked me yesterday," she said with the shadow of a smile, "if I -would sacrifice it to you."</p> - -<p>"O Indiana!" cried Raymon, "you know well that you will be lovelier than -ever to me henceforth. Give it to me. I do not choose to regret the -absence from your head of that glorious hair which I admired every day, -and which now I can kiss every day without restraint. Give it to me, so -that it may never leave me."</p> - -<p>But as he gathered up in his hand that luxuriant mass of which some -locks reached to the floor, Raymon fancied that it had a dry, rough -feeling which his fingers had never noticed in the silken tresses over -Indiana's forehead. He was conscious, also, of an indefinable nervous -thrill, it felt so cold and dead, as if it had been cut a long time, and -seemed to have lost its perfumed moisture and vital warmth. Then he -looked at it again, and sought in vain the blue gleam which made -Indiana's hair resemble the blue-black wing of the crow; this was of an -Ethiopian black, of an Indian texture, of a lifeless heaviness.</p> - -<p>Indiana's bright piercing eyes followed Raymon's. He turned them -involuntarily upon an open ebony casket from which several locks of the -same hair protruded.</p> - -<p>"This is not yours," he said, untying the kerchief which concealed -Madame Delmare's hair.</p> - -<p>It was untouched, and fell over her shoulders in all its splendor. But -she made a gesture as if to push him away and said, still pointing to -the hair:</p> - -<p>"Don't you recognize this? Did you never admire, never caress it? Has -the damp night air robbed it of all its fragrance? Have you not a -thought, a tear for her who wore this ring?"</p> - -<p>Raymon sank upon a chair; Noun's locks fell from his trembling hand. So -much painful excitement had exhausted him. He was a man of choleric -temper, whose blood flowed rapidly, whose nerves were easily and deeply -irritated. He shivered from head to foot and fell in a swoon on the -floor.</p> - -<p>When he came to himself, Madame Delmare was on her knees beside him, -weeping copiously and asking his forgiveness; but Raymon no longer loved -her.</p> - -<p>"You have inflicted a horrible wound on me," he said; "a wound which -it is not in your power to cure. You will never restore the confidence I -had in your heart; that is evident to me. You have shown me how -vindictive and cruel your heart can be. Poor Noun! poor unhappy girl! It -was she whom I treated badly, not you; it was she who had the right to -avenge herself, and she did not. She took her own life in order to leave -me the future. She sacrificed herself to my repose. You are not the -woman to have done as much, madame! Give me her hair; it is -mine—it belongs to me; it is all that remains to me of the only -woman who ever loved me truly. Unhappy Noun! you were worthy of a better -love! And you, madame, dare to reproach me with her death; you, whom I -loved so well that I forgot her—that I defied the ghastly torture -of remorse; you who, on the faith of a kiss, have led me across -that river—across that bridge—alone, with terror at my side, -pursued by the infernal illusions of my crime! And when you discover -with what a frantic passion I love you, you bury your woman's nails in -my heart, seeking there another drop of blood which may still be made to -flow for you! Ah! when I spurned so devoted a love to take up with so -savage a passion as yours, I was no less mad than guilty."</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare did not reply. Pale and motionless, with dishevelled hair -and staring eyes, she moved Raymon to pity. He took her hand.</p> - -<p>"And yet," he said, "this love I feel for you is so blind that, in spite -of myself, I can still forget the past and the present—the sin that -blasted my life and the crime you have just committed. So love me, and I -will forgive you."</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare's despair rekindled desire and pride in her lover's -heart. When he saw how dismayed she was at the thought of losing his -love—how humble before him, how resigned to accept his decrees for -the future by way of atonement for the past—he remembered what his -intentions had been when he eluded Ralph's vigilance, and he realized -all the advantages of his position. He pretended to be absorbed in a -melancholy, sombre reverie for some moments; he hardly responded to -Indiana's tears and caresses. He waited until her heart should break and -overflow in sobs, until she should realize all the horrors of -desertion—until she should have exhausted all her strength in -heart-rending emotion; and then, when he saw her at his feet, fainting, -utterly worn out, awaiting death at a word from him, he seized her in -his arms with convulsive passion and strained her to his heart. She -yielded like a weak child; she abandoned her lips to him unresistingly. -She was almost dead.</p> - -<p>But suddenly, as if waking from a dream, she snatched herself away from -his burning caresses, rushed to the end of the room where Sir Ralph's -portrait hung on the panel; and, as if she would place herself under the -protection of that grave personage with the unruffled brow and tranquil -lips, she shrank back against the portrait, wild-eyed, quivering from -head to foot, in the clutches of a strange fear. It was this that made -Raymon think that she had been deeply moved in his arms—that she was -afraid of herself—that she was his. He ran to her; drew her by force -from her retreat, and told her that he had come with the purpose of -keeping his promises, but that her cruel treatment of him had absolved -him from his oath.</p> - -<p>"I am no longer either your slave or your ally," he said. "I am simply -the man who loves you madly and who has you in his arms, a wicked, -capricious, cruel, mad creature, but lovely and adored. With sweet, -confiding words you might have cooled my blood. Had you been as calm and -generous as yesterday, you would have made me mild and submissive as -usual. But you have kindled all my passions, overturned all my ideas. -You have made me unhappy, cowardly, ill, frantic, desperate, one after -another. You must make me happy now, or I feel that I can no longer -believe in you—that I can no longer love you or bless you. Forgive -me, Indiana, forgive me! If I frighten you it is your own fault; you have -made me suffer so that I have lost my reason!"</p> - -<p>Indiana trembled in every limb. She knew so little of life that she -believed resistance to be impossible; she was ready to concede from fear -what she would refuse from love; but, as she struggled feebly in -Raymon's arms, she said, in desperation:</p> - -<p>"So you are capable of using force with me?"</p> - -<p>Raymon paused, impressed with this moral resistance, which survived -physical resistance. He hastily pushed her away.</p> - -<p>"Never!" he cried: "I would rather die than possess you except by your -own will!"</p> - -<p>He threw himself on his knees, and all that the mind can supply in place -of the heart, all the poesy that the imagination can impart to the ardor -of the blood, he expressed in a fervent and dangerous entreaty. And when -he saw that she did not surrender, he yielded to necessity and -reproached her with not loving him; a commonplace expedient which he -despised and which made him smile, with a feeling of something like -shame at having to do with a woman so innocent as not to smile at it -herself.</p> - -<p>That reproach went to Indiana's heart more swiftly than all the -exclamations with which Raymon had embellished his discourse.</p> - -<p>But suddenly she remembered.</p> - -<p>"Raymon," she said, "the other, who loved you so dearly—of whom we -were speaking just now—she refused you nothing, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing!" exclaimed Raymon, annoyed by this inopportune reminder. -"Instead of reminding me of her so continually, you would do well to -make me forget how dearly she loved me!"</p> - -<p>"Listen!" rejoined Indiana, thoughtfully and gravely; "have a little -courage, for I must say something more. Perhaps you have not been as -guilty towards me as I thought. It would be sweet to me to be able to -forgive you for what I considered a mortal insult. Tell me then—when -I surprised you here—for whom did you come? for her or for me?"</p> - -<p>Raymon hesitated; then, as he thought that the truth would soon be known -to Madame Delmare, that perhaps she knew it already, he answered:</p> - -<p>"For her."</p> - -<p>"Well, I prefer it so," she said sadly; "I prefer an infidelity to an -insult. Be frank to the end, Raymon. How long had you been in my room -when I came? Remember that Ralph knows all, and that, if I chose to -question him——"</p> - -<p>"There is no need of Sir Ralph's testimony, madame. I had been here -since the night before."</p> - -<p>"And you had passed the night in this room. Your silence is a sufficient -answer."</p> - -<p>They both remained silent for some moments; then Indiana rose and was -about to continue, when a sharp knock at the door checked the flow of -the blood in her veins. Neither she nor Raymon dared to breathe.</p> - -<p>A paper was slipped under the door. It was a leaf from a note-book on -which these words were scrawled in pencil, almost illegibly:</p> - -<p>"Your husband is here.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">"RALPH."</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XVIII</h4> - - -<p>"This is a wretchedly devised falsehood," said Raymon, as soon as the -sound of Ralph's footsteps had died away. "Sir Ralph needs a lesson, and -I will administer it in such shape——"</p> - -<p>"I forbid it," said Indiana, in a cold, determined tone: "my husband is -here: Ralph never lied. You and I are lost. There was a time when the -thought would have frozen me with horror; to-day it matters little to -me!"</p> - -<p>"Very well!" said Raymon, seizing her in his arms excitedly, "since -death encompasses us, be mine! Forgive everything, and let your last -word in this supreme moment be a word of love, my last breath a breath -of joy."</p> - -<p>"This moment of terror and courage might have been the sweetest moment -in my life," she said, "but you have spoiled it for me."</p> - -<p>There was a rumbling of wheels in the farmyard, and the bell at the gate -of the château was rung by a strong and impatient hand.</p> - -<p>"I know that ring," said Indiana, watchful and cool. "Ralph did not lie; -but you have time to escape; go!"</p> - -<p>"I will not," cried Raymon; "I suspect some despicable treachery and you -shall not be the only victim. I will remain and my breast shall protect -you——"</p> - -<p>"There is no treachery—listen—the servants are stirring and -the gate will be opened directly. Go: the trees in the garden will conceal -you, and the moon is not fairly out yet. Not a word more, but go!"</p> - -<p>Raymon was compelled to obey; but she accompanied him to the foot of the -stairs and cast a searching glance about the flower-garden. All was -silent and calm. She stood a long while on the last stair, listening -with terror to the grinding of his footsteps on the gravel, entirely -oblivious of her husband's arrival. What cared she for his suspicions -and his anger, provided that Raymon was out of danger?</p> - -<p>As for him he crossed the stream and hurried swiftly through the park. -He reached the small gate and, in his excitement, had some difficulty in -opening it. He was no sooner in the road than Sir Ralph appeared in front -of him and said with as much <i>sang-froid</i> as if he were accosting -him at a party:</p> - -<p>"Be good enough to let me have that key. If there should be a search for -it, it would be less inconvenient for it to be found in my hands."</p> - -<p>Raymon would have preferred the most deadly insult to this satirical -generosity.</p> - -<p>"I am not the man to forget a well-meant service," said he; "I am the -man to avenge an insult and to punish treachery."</p> - -<p>Sir Ralph changed neither his tone nor his expression.</p> - -<p>"I want none of your gratitude," he rejoined, "and I await your -vengeance tranquilly; but this is no time to talk. There is your -path—think of Madame Delmare's good name."</p> - -<p>And he disappeared.</p> - -<p>This night of agitation had overturned Raymon's brain so completely that -he would readily have believed in witchcraft at that moment. He reached -Cercy at daybreak and went to bed with a raging fever.</p> - -<p>As for Madame Delmare, she did the honors of the breakfast table for her -husband and cousin with much calmness and dignity. She had not as yet -reflected upon her situation; she was absolutely under the influence of -instinct, which enjoined <i>sang-froid</i> and presence of mind upon her. -The colonel was gloomy and thoughtful, but it was his business alone that -preoccupied him, and no jealous suspicion found a place in his thoughts.</p> - -<p>Toward evening Raymon mustered courage to think about his love; but that -love had diminished materially. He loved obstacles; but he hated to be -bored and he foresaw that he should be bored times without number now -that Indiana had the right to reproach him. However, he remembered at -last that his honor demanded that he should inquire for her, and he sent -his servant to prowl around Lagny and find out what was going on there. -The servant brought him the following letter which Madame Delmare -herself had handed him:</p> - -<p>"I hoped last night that I should lose either my reason or my life. -Unhappily for me I have retained both; but I will not complain, I have -deserved the suffering that I am undergoing; I chose to live this -tempestuous life; it would be cowardly to recoil to-day. I do not know -whether you are guilty, I do not want to know. We will never return to -that subject, will we? It causes us both too much suffering: so let this -be the last time it is mentioned between us.</p> - -<p>"You said one thing at which I felt a cruel joy. Poor Noun! from your -place in heaven forgive me! you no longer suffer, you no longer love, -perhaps you pity me! You told me, Raymon, that you sacrificed that -unhappy girl to me, that you loved me better than her. Oh! do not take -it back; you said it, and I feel so strongly the need to believe it that -I do believe it. And yet your conduct last night, your entreaties, your -wild outbreaks, might well have made me doubt it. I forgave you on -account of the mental disturbance under which you were laboring; but now -you have had time to reflect, to become yourself once more; tell me, -will you renounce loving me in that way? I, who love you with my heart, -have believed hitherto that I could arouse in you a love as pure as my -own. And then I had not thought very much about the future; I had not -looked ahead very far, and I had not taken alarm at the thought that the -day might come when, conquered by your devotion, I should sacrifice to -you my scruples and my repugnance. But to-day, it can no longer be the -same; I can see in the future only a ghastly parallel between myself and -Noun! Oh! the thought of being loved no more than she was! If I believed -it! And yet she was lovelier than I, far lovelier! Why did you prefer -me? You must have loved me differently and better.—That is what I -wanted you to say. Will you give up being my lover in the way that you -have been? In that case I can still esteem you, believe in your remorse, -your sincerity, your love; if not, think of me no more, you will never -see me again. I shall die of it perhaps, but I would rather die than -descend so low as to be your mistress."</p> - -<p>Raymon was sorely embarrassed as to how he should reply. This pride -offended him; he had never supposed hitherto that a woman who had thrown -herself into his arms could resist him thus outspokenly and give reasons -for her resistance.</p> - -<p>"She does not love me," he said to himself; "her heart is dry, she is -naturally overbearing."</p> - -<p>From that moment he loved her no longer. She had ruffled his -self-esteem; she had disappointed his hope of triumph, defeated his -anticipations of pleasure. In his eyes she was no more than Noun had -been. Poor Indiana! who longed to be so much more! Her passionate love -was misunderstood, her blind confidence was spurned. Raymon had never -understood her; how could he have continued to love her?</p> - -<p>Thereupon he swore, in his irritation, that he would triumph over her; -he swore it not from a feeling of pride but in a revengeful spirit. It -was no longer a matter of snatching a new pleasure, but of punishing an -insult; of possessing a woman, but of subduing her. He swore that he -would be her master, were it for but a single day, and that then he -would abandon her, to have the satisfaction of seeing her at his feet.</p> - -<p>On the spur of the moment he wrote this letter:</p> - -<p>"You want me to promise. Foolish girl, can you think of such a thing? I -will promise whatever you choose, because I can do nothing but obey you; -but, if I break my promises I shall be guilty neither to God nor to you. -If you loved me, Indiana, you would not inflict these cruel torments on -me, you would not expose me to the risk of perjuring myself, you would -not blush at the thought of being my mistress. But you think that in my -arms you would be degraded——"</p> - -<p>He felt that his bitterness was making itself manifest, despite his -efforts; he tore up this sheet, and, after taking time to reflect, began -anew:</p> - -<p>"You admit that you nearly lost your reason last night; for my part, -I lost mine altogether. I was culpable—but no, I was mad! Forget -those hours of suffering and excitement. I am calm now; I have -reflected; I am still worthy of you. Bless you, my angel from heaven, -for saving me from myself, for reminding me how I ought to love you. -Now, Indiana, command me! I am your slave, as you well know. I would -give my life for an hour in your arms; but I can suffer a whole lifetime -to obtain a smile from you. I will be your friend, your brother, nothing -more. If I suffer, you shall not know it. If my blood boils when I am -near you, if my breast takes fire, if a cloud passes before my eyes when -I touch your hand, if a sweet kiss from your lips, a sisterly kiss, -scorches my forehead, I will order my blood to be calm, my brain to grow -cool, my mouth to respect you. I will be gentle, I will be submissive, I -will be unhappy,—if you will be the happier therefor and enjoy my -agony,—if only I may hear you tell me again that you love me! Oh! -tell me so! give me back your confidence and my joy! tell me when we -shall meet again. I know not what result the events of last night may -have had; how does it happen that you do not refer to the subject, that -you leave me in an agony of suspense? Carle saw you all three walking -together in the park. The colonel seemed ill or depressed, but not -angry. In that case that Ralph did not betray us! What a strange man! -But to what extent can we rely on his discretion; and how shall I dare -show myself at Lagny now that our fate is in his hands? But I will dare. -If it is necessary to stoop so low as to implore him, I will silence my -pride, I will overcome my aversion, I will do anything rather than lose -you. A word from you and I will burden my life with as much remorse as I -am able to carry; for you I would abandon my mother herself; for you I -would commit any crime. Ah! if you realized the depth of my love, -Indiana!"</p> - -<p>The pen fell from Raymon's hands; he was terribly fatigued, he was -falling asleep. But he read over his letter to make sure that his ideas -had not suffered from the influence of drowsiness; but it was impossible -for him to understand his own meaning, his brain was so affected by his -physical exhaustion. He rang for his servant, bade him go to Lagny -before daybreak; then slept that deep, refreshing sleep whose tranquil -delights only those who are thoroughly satisfied with themselves really -know. Madame Delmare had not retired; she was unconscious of fatigue and -passed the night writing. When she received Raymon's letter she answered -it in haste:</p> - -<p>"Thanks, Raymon, thanks! you restore my strength and my life. Now I can -dare anything, endure anything; for you love me, and the most severe -tests do not alarm you. Yes, we will meet again—we will defy -everybody. Ralph may do what he will with our secret. I am no longer -disturbed about anything since you love me; I am not even afraid of my -husband.</p> - -<p>"You want to know about our affairs? I forgot to mention them yesterday, -and yet they have taken a turn which has an important bearing on my -fortunes. We are ruined. There is some talk of selling Lagny, and even -of going to live in the colonies. But of what consequence is all that? I -cannot make up my mind to think about it. I know that we shall never be -parted. You have sworn it, Raymon; I rely on your promise, do you rely -on my courage. Nothing will frighten me, nothing will turn me back. My -place is established at your side, and death alone can tear me from it."</p> - -<p>"Mere woman's effervescence!" said Raymon, crumpling the letter. -"Romantic projects, perilous undertakings, appeal to their feeble -imaginations as bitter substances arouse a sick man's appetite. I have -succeeded; I have recovered my influence; and, as for all this imprudent -folly with which she threatens me, we will see! It is all characteristic -of the light-headed, false creatures, always ready to undertake the -impossible and making of generosity a show virtue which must be attended -with scandal! Who would think, to read this letter, that she counts her -kisses and doles out her caresses like a miser!"</p> - -<p>That same day he went to Lagny. Ralph was not there, and the colonel -received him amicably and talked to him confidentially. He took him into -the park, where they were less likely to be disturbed, and told him that -he was utterly ruined and that the factory would be offered for sale on -the following day. Raymon made generous offers of assistance, but -Delmare declined them.</p> - -<p>"No, my friend," he said, "I have suffered too much from the thought -that I owed my fate to Ralph's kindness; I was in too much of a hurry to -repay him. The sale of this property will enable me to pay all my debts -at once. To be sure, I shall have nothing left, but I have courage, -energy and business experience; the future is before us. I have built up -my little fortune once, and I can begin it again. I must do it for my -wife's sake, for she is young, and I don't wish to leave her in poverty. -She still owns an estate of some little value at Ile Bourbon, and I -propose to go into retirement there and start in business afresh. -In a few years—in ten years at most—I hope that we shall meet -again."</p> - -<p>Raymon pressed the colonel's hand, smiling inwardly at his confidence, -at his speaking of ten years as of a single day, when his bald head and -enfeebled body indicated a feeble hold upon existence, a life near its -close. Nevertheless he pretended to share his hopes.</p> - -<p>"I am delighted to see," he said, "that you do not allow yourself to be -cast down by these reverses. I recognize your manly heart, your -undaunted courage. But does Madame Delmare display the same courage? Do -you not anticipate some resistance on her part to your project of -expatriation?"</p> - -<p>"I shall be very sorry," the colonel replied, "but wives are made to -obey, not to advise. I have not yet definitely made my purpose known to -Indiana. With the exception of yourself, my friend, I do not know what -there is here that she should feel any regret at leaving; and yet I -anticipate tears and nervous attacks, from a spirit of contradiction, if -nothing else. The devil take the women! However, my dear Raymon, I rely -upon you all the same to make my wife listen to reason. She has -confidence in you; use your influence to prevent her from crying. I -detest tears."</p> - -<p>Raymon promised to come again the next day and inform Madame Delmare of -her husband's decision.</p> - -<p>"You will do me a very great favor," said the colonel. "I will take -Ralph to the farm, so that you may have a good chance to talk with her."</p> - -<p>"Well, luck is on my side!" thought Ralph, as he took his leave.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XIX</h4> - - -<p>Monsieur Delmare's plans fell in perfectly with Raymon's wishes. He -foresaw that this love affair which, so far as he was concerned, was -drawing near its close, would soon bring him nothing but annoyance and -importunity, so that he was very glad to see events arranging themselves -in such a way as to save him from the wearisome but inevitable results -of a played-out intrigue. It only remained for him to take advantage of -Madame Delmare's last moments of excitement, and then to leave to his -complaisant destiny the task of ridding him of her tears and reproaches.</p> - -<p>So he returned to Lagny the next day, intending to exalt the unhappy -woman's enthusiasm to its apogee.</p> - -<p>"Do you know, Indiana," he said, when they met, "the part that your -husband has requested me to play with respect to you? A strange -commission, upon my word! I am to entreat you to go with him to Ile -Bourbon; to urge you to leave me; to tear out my heart and my life. Do -you think that he made a good choice of an advocate?"</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare's sombre gravity imposed a sort of respect on Raymon's -cunning.</p> - -<p>"Why do you come and tell me all this?" she said. "Are you afraid that I -shall allow myself to be moved? Are you afraid that I shall obey? Never -fear, Raymon, my mind is made up; I have passed two nights looking at it -on every side; I know to what I expose myself; I know what I must defy, -what I must sacrifice, what I must disdain to notice; I am ready to pass -through this stormy period of my destiny. Will not you be my support and -my guide?"</p> - -<p>Raymon was tempted to take fright at this cool determination and to take -these insane threats seriously; but in a moment he recurred to his -former opinion that Indiana did not really love him, and that she was -applying now to her situation the exaggerated sentiments she had learned -from books. He strove to be eloquent with passion, he devoted his -energies to dramatic improvisation, in order to maintain himself on his -romantic mistress's level, and he succeeded in prolonging her error. -But, to a calm and impartial auditor, this love scene would have seemed -a contest between stage illusion and reality. The grandiloquence of -Raymon's sentiments, the poesy of his ideas would have seemed a cold and -cruel parody of the real sentiments which Indiana expressed so simply: -in the one case mind, in the other heart.</p> - -<p>Raymon, who however had some little fear that she might carry out her -promises if he did not shrewdly undermine the plan of resistance she had -formed, persuaded her to counterfeit submission or indifference until -such time as she could come forth in open rebellion. It was essential, -he said, that they should have left Lagny before she declared herself, -in order to avoid a scandal in presence of the servants, and Ralph's -dangerous intervention in the affair.</p> - -<p>But Ralph did not leave his unfortunate friends. In vain did he offer -his whole fortune, his Bellerive estate, his English consols, and -whatever his plantations in the colonies would bring; the colonel was -inflexible. His affection for Ralph had diminished; he was no longer -willing to owe anything to him. Ralph might perhaps have been able to -move him had he possessed Raymon's wit and address; but when he had -plainly set forth his ideas and declared his sentiments, the poor -baronet believed that he had said everything, and he never attempted to -secure the retraction of a refusal. So he let Bellerive and followed -Monsieur and Madame Delmare to Paris, pending their departure for Ile -Bourbon.</p> - -<p>Lagny was offered for sale with the factory and the appurtenances. The -winter was a melancholy and depressing one to Madame Delmare. To be -sure, Raymon was in Paris, he saw her every day, he was attentive and -affectionate; but he remained barely an hour with her. He arrived just -after dinner, and when the colonel went out on business, he also took -his leave to attend some social function or other. Society, you know, -was Raymon's element, his life; he must have the noise, the bustle, the -crowd, to breathe freely, to display all his intellectual power, all his -ease of manner, all his superiority. In the privacy of the boudoir he -could make himself attractive, in society he became brilliant; and then -he was no longer the man of a small coterie, the friend of this one or -that one; he was the man of intellect who belongs to all alike, and to -whom society is a sort of fatherland.</p> - -<p>And then, as we have said, Raymon had some principle. When the colonel -manifested such confidence in him and esteem for him, when he saw that -he regarded him as the very type of honor and sincerity and desired him -to act as mediator between his wife and himself, he determined to -justify that confidence, to deserve that esteem, to reconcile that -husband and wife, to repel any attachment on the part of the latter -which might endanger the repose of the other. He became once more a -moral, virtuous, philosophical person. You will see for how long.</p> - -<p>Indiana, who did not understand this conversion, suffered horribly to be -so neglected; and yet she still had the satisfaction of feeling that her -hopes were not entirely destroyed. She was easily deceived; she asked -nothing better than to be deceived, her real life was so bitter and -desolate! Her husband had become almost impossible to live with. In -public he affected the heroic courage and indifference of a brave man; -but when he returned to the privacy of his own home he was simply an -irritable, severe, absurd child. Indiana was the victim of his disgust -with life, and, we must confess, she was largely to blame. If she had -raised her voice, if she had complained, affectionately but forcibly, -Delmare, who was only rough, would have blushed at the idea of being -considered unkind. Nothing was easier than to touch his heart and govern -him absolutely, if one chose to descend to his level and enter into the -circle of ideas that were within the scope of his mind. But Indiana was -stiff and haughty in her submissiveness; she always obeyed in silence; -but it was the silence and submissiveness of the slave who has made of -hatred a virtue and of unhappiness a merit. Her resignation was the -dignity of a king who accepts fetters and a dungeon rather than -voluntarily abdicate his throne and lay aside a vain title. A woman of a -commoner mould would have mastered that commonplace man; she would have -said what he said and reserved the right to think differently; she would -have pretended to respect his prejudices and secretly have trampled them -under foot; she would have caressed him and deceived him. Indiana saw -many women who acted thus; but she felt so far above them that she would -have blushed to imitate them. Being virtuous and chaste, she thought -that she was not called upon to flatter her master by her words so long -as she respected him in his actions. She did not care for his affection -because she could not respond to it. She would have considered it far -more blameworthy to make a show of love for the husband whom she did not -love, than to give her heart to the lover who inspired love in her. To -deceive was the crime in her eyes, and twenty times a day she felt that -she must declare her love for Raymon; naught detained her but the fear -of ruining him. Her impassive obedience irritated the colonel much more -than a cleverly managed rebellion would have done. Although his -self-esteem would have suffered if he had ceased to be master in his own -house, it suffered much more from the consciousness that he was master -in a hateful and absurd fashion. He would have liked to convince and he -simply commanded; to reign, and he governed. Sometimes he gave an order -that was awkwardly expressed, or, without reflection, issued orders that -were injurious to his own interests. Madame Delmare saw that they were -carried out without scrutiny, without question, with the indifference of -the horse that draws the plough in one direction or another. Delmare, -when he saw the result of the failure to understand his ideas, of the -misconstruction of his wishes, would fly into a rage; but when she had -proved to him with a few tranquil, icy words that she had simply caused -his orders to be obeyed, he was reduced to the necessity of turning his -wrath against himself. It was a cruel pang, a bitter affront to that man -of petty self-esteem and of violent passions.</p> - -<p>Several times he would have killed his wife, if he had been at Smyrna or -at Cairo. And yet he loved with all his heart that weak woman who lived -in subjection to him and kept the secret of his ill-treatment with -religious prudence. He loved her or pitied her—I do not know which. -He would have liked to win her love, for he was proud of her education and -of her superiority. He would have risen in his own eyes if she would -have stooped so far as to parley with his ideas and his principles. When -he went to her apartments in the morning with the purpose of picking a -quarrel with her, he sometimes found her asleep and dared not wake her. -He would gaze at her in silence; he would take fright at the delicacy of -her constitution, the pallor of her cheeks, at the air of calm -melancholy, of resignation to misfortune expressed by that motionless -and silent face. He would find in her features innumerable subjects of -self-reproach, remorse, anger and dread. He would blush at the thought -of the influence which so frail a creature had exerted over his -destiny—he, a man of iron, accustomed to command others, to see whole -battalions, spirited horses and frightened men march at a word from his -lips.</p> - -<p>And a wife who was still but a child had made him unhappy! She forced -him to look within himself—to scrutinize his own decisions, to -modify many of them, to retract some of them—and all this without -saying: "You are wrong; I beg that you will do thus or thus." She had -never implored, she had never deigned to show herself his equal and to -avow herself his companion. That woman, whom he could have crushed in -his hand if he had chosen, lay there, an insignificant creature, -dreaming of another before his eyes, perhaps, and defying him even in -her sleep. He was tempted to strangle her—to drag her out of bed -by the hair, to trample on her and force her to shriek for mercy and to -implore his forgiveness; but she was so pretty, so dainty and so fair, -that he would suddenly take pity on her, as a child is moved to pity as -he gazes at the bird he intended to kill. And he would weep like a -woman, man of bronze as he was, and would steal away so that she might -not enjoy the triumph of seeing him weep. In truth I know not which was -the unhappier, he or she. She was cruel from virtue, as he was kind from -weakness; she had too much patience, of which he had not enough; she had -the failings of her good qualities and he the good qualities of his -failings.</p> - -<p>Around these two ill-assorted beings swarmed a multitude of friends who -strove to bring them nearer together, some in order to have something to -occupy their minds, others to give themselves importance, others as the -result of ill-advised affection. Some took the wife's part, others the -husband's. They quarrelled among themselves on the subject of Monsieur -and Madame Delmare, who, on the other hand, did not quarrel at all; for, -with Indiana's systematic submission, the colonel could never succeed in -picking a quarrel, whatever he might do. And then there were those who -knew nothing, but wanted to make themselves necessary. They counselled -submission to Madame Delmare and did not see that she was only too -submissive; others advised the husband to be inflexible and not to allow -his authority to pass into his wife's hands. These last, stupid mortals -who have so little feeling that they are always afraid that some one is -treading on them and who mistake cause and effect for each other, belong -to a species which you will find everywhere, which is constantly getting -entangled in other people's legs and makes a deal of noise in order to -attract attention.</p> - -<p>Monsieur and Madame Delmare had made a particularly large number of -acquaintances at Melun and at Fontainebleau. They met these people again -at Paris, and they were the keenest in the game of evil-speaking that -was being played about them. The wit of small towns is, as you doubtless -know, the most ill-natured in the world. Good people are always -misunderstood there, superior minds are sworn foes of the public. If a -battle is to be fought for a fool or a boor you will see them running -from all directions. If you have a dispute with any one, they come to -look on as at the theatre; they make bets; they crowd upon your heels, -so eager are they to see and hear. The one who falls they will cover -with mud and maledictions; the weakest is always in the wrong. If you -make war on prejudices, petty foibles, vices, you insult them -personally, you attack them in what they hold most dear, you are a -treacherous and dangerous man. You will be summoned before the courts to -make reparation by people whose names you do not know, but whom you will -be convicted of having referred to in your slurring allusions. What -advice shall I give you? If you meet one of these people, avoid stepping -in his shadow, even at sunset, when a man's shadow is thirty feet long; -all that ground belongs to the inhabitant of the small town, and you -have no right to set foot upon it. If you breathe the air that he -breathes, you injure him, you destroy his health; if you drink at his -fountain, you cause it to run dry; if you lend a hand to business in his -province, you increase the price of the articles he purchases; if you -offer him snuff, you poison it; if you think his daughter pretty, you -intend to seduce her; if you extol his wife's domestic virtues, it is -insulting irony, and in your heart you despise her for her ignorance; if -you are so ill-advised as to pay him a compliment in his own house, he -will not understand it, and he will go about everywhere saying that you -have insulted him. Take your penates and carry them into the woods or to -the desolate moors. There only will the man of the small town leave you -in peace.</p> - -<p>Even behind the manifold girdle of the walls of Paris the small town -pursued that ill-starred couple. Well-to-do families from Melun and -Fontainebleau took up their abode in the capital for the winter and -brought thither the blessing of their provincial manners. Cliques were -formed around Delmare and his wife, and all that was humanly possible -was attempted in order to make their position with respect to each other -more uncomfortable. Their unhappiness was increased thereby and their -mutual obstinacy did not diminish.</p> - -<p>Ralph had the good sense not to meddle in their dissensions. Madame -Delmare had suspected him of embittering her husband against her, or at -least of seeking to put an end to Raymon's intimacy with her; but she -soon realized the injustice of her suspicions. The colonel's perfect -tranquillity with respect to Monsieur de Ramière was irrefutable -evidence of her cousin's silence. Thereupon she felt that she must thank -him; but he sedulously avoided any conversation on that subject; -whenever she was alone with him, he eluded her hints and pretended not -to understand them. It was such a delicate subject that Madame Delmare -had not the courage to force Ralph to discuss it; she simply endeavored, -by her loving attentions, by her delicate and affectionate deference to -him, to make him understand her gratitude; but Ralph seemed to pay no -heed, and Indiana's pride was wounded by this display of supercilious -generosity. She was afraid that she should seem to play the rôle of the -guilty wife imploring the indulgence of a stern witness; she became cold -and constrained once more with poor Ralph. It seemed to her that his -conduct in this matter was the natural consequence of his selfishness; -that he loved her still, although he no longer esteemed her; that he -simply desired her society for his own diversion, that he disliked to -abandon habits which she had formed for him in her home and to deprive -himself of the attentions that she was never weary of bestowing upon -him. She fancied that he was by no means anxious to invent grievances -against her husband or herself.</p> - -<p>"That is just like his contempt for women," she thought; "in his eyes -they are simply domestic animals, useful to keep a house in order, -prepare meals and serve tea. He doesn't do them the honor of entering -into a discussion with them; their faults have no effect on him provided -that they do not interfere with his comfort or with his mode of life. -Ralph has no need of my heart; so long as my hands retain the knack of -preparing his pudding and of touching the strings of the harp for him, -what does he care for my love for another man, my secret suffering, my -deathly impatience under the yoke which is crushing me? I am his -servant, he asks nothing more of me than that."</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XX</h4> - - -<p>Indiana had ceased to reproach Raymon; he defended himself so badly that -she was afraid of finding him too worthy of blame. There was one thing -which she dreaded much more than being deceived, and that was being -abandoned. She could not live without her belief in him, without her -hope of the future he had promised her; for her life with Monsieur -Delmare and Ralph had become hateful to her, and if she had not expected -soon to escape from the power of those two men, she would have drowned -herself at once. She often thought of it; she said to herself that if -Raymon treated her as he had treated Noun there would be no other way -for her to avoid an unendurable future than to join Noun. That sombre -thought followed her everywhere and she took pleasure in it.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the time fixed for their departure from France drew near. The -colonel seemed to have no suspicion of the resistance which his wife was -meditating; every day he made some progress in the settlement of his -affairs, every day he paid off one more creditor; and Madame Delmare -looked on with a tranquil eye at all these preparations, sure as she was -of her own courage. She was preparing, too, for her struggle with the -difficulties she anticipated. She sought to procure an ally in her aunt, -Madame de Carvajal, and dilated to her upon her repugnance to the -journey; and the old marchioness who—to give her no more than her -due—built great hopes of attracting <i>custom</i> to her salon upon -her niece's beauty, declared that it was the colonel's duty to leave his -wife in France; that it would be downright barbarity to expose her to -the fatigues and dangers of an ocean voyage when her health had just -begun to show some slight improvement; in a word, that it was his place -to go to work at rebuilding his fortune, Indiana's to remain with her -old aunt and take care of her. At first Monsieur Delmare looked upon -these insinuations as the doting talk of an old woman; but he was forced -to pay more attention to them when Madame de Carvajal gave him clearly -to understand that her inheritance was to be had only at that price. -Although Delmare loved money like a man who had worked hard all his life -to amass it, he had some pride in his composition; he pronounced his -ultimatum with decision, and declared that his wife should go with him -at any risk. The marchioness, who could not believe that money was not -the absolute sovereign of every man of good sense, did not look upon -this as Monsieur Delmare's last word; she continued to encourage her -niece in her resistance, proposing to assume the responsibility for her -action in the eyes of the world. It needed all the indelicacy of a mind -corrupted by intrigue and ambition, all the shuffling of a heart -distorted by constant devotion to mere external show, to close her eyes -thus to the real causes of Indiana's rebellion. Her passion for Monsieur -de Ramière was a secret to no one but her husband; but as Indiana had -as yet given scandal nothing to seize upon, the secret was mentioned -only in undertones, and Madame de Carvajal had been confidentially -informed of it by more than a score of persons. The foolish old woman -was flattered by it; all that she desired was to have her niece <i>à la -mode</i> in society, and an intrigue with Raymon was a fine beginning. And -yet Madame de Carvajal's moral character was not of the Regency type; -the Restoration had given a virtuous impulse to minds of that stamp; and -as <i>conduct</i> was demanded at court, the marchioness detested nothing -so much as the scandal that ruins and destroys. Under Madame du Barry she -would have been less rigid in her principles; under the Dauphiness she -became one of the <i>high-necked.</i> But all this was for show, for the -sake of appearances; she kept her disapprobation and her scorn for -notorious misconduct, and she always awaited the result of an intrigue -before condemning it. Those infidelities which did not cross the threshold -were venial in her eyes. She became a Spaniard once more to pass judgment -on passions inside the blinds; in her eyes there was no guilt save that -which was placarded in the streets for passers-by to see. So that -Indiana, passionate but chaste, enamored but reserved, was a precious -subject to exhibit and exploit; such a woman as she was might fascinate -the strongest brains in that hypocritical society and withstand the -perils of the most delicate missions. There was an excellent chance to -speculate on the responsibility of so pure a mind and so passionate a -heart. Poor Indiana! luckily her fatal destiny surpassed all her hopes -and led her into an abyss of misery where her aunt's pernicious -protection did not seek her out.</p> - -<p>Raymon was not disturbed as to what was to become of her. This intrigue -had already reached the last stage of distaste, deathly ennui, so far as -he was concerned. To cause ennui is to descend as low as possible in the -regard of the person whom one loves. Luckily for the last days of her -illusion, Indiana had no suspicion of it.</p> - -<p>One morning, on returning from a ball, he found Madame Delmare in his -room. She had come at midnight; for five mortal hours she had been -waiting! It was in the coldest part of the year; she had no fire, but -sat with her head resting on her hand, enduring cold and anxiety with -the gloomy patience which the whole course of her life had taught her. -She raised her head when he entered, and Raymon, speechless with -amazement, could detect on her pale face no indication of anger or -reproach.</p> - -<p>"I was waiting for you," she said gently; "as you had not come to see me -for three days, and as things have happened which it is important that -you should know without delay, I came here last night in order to tell -you of them."</p> - -<p>"It is imprudent beyond belief!" said Raymon, cautiously locking the -door behind him; "and my people know that you are here! They just told -me so."</p> - -<p>"I made no attempt at concealment," she replied coldly; "and as for the -word you use, I consider it ill-chosen."</p> - -<p>"I said imprudent, I should have said insane."</p> - -<p>"And I should say <i>courageous.</i> But no matter; listen to me. -Monsieur Delmare starts for Bordeaux in three days, and sails thence for -the colony. You and I agreed that you should protect me from violence if -he employed it; there is no question that he will, for I made known my -determination last evening and he locked me into my room. I escaped -through a window; see, my hands are bleeding. They may be looking for me -at this moment, but Ralph is at Bellerive so that he will not be able to -tell where I am. I have decided to remain in hiding until Monsieur -Delmare has made up his mind to leave me behind. Have you thought about -making ready for my flight, of preparing a hiding-place for me? It is so -long since I have been able to see you alone, that I do not know what -your present inclinations are; but one day, when I expressed some doubt -concerning your resolution, you told me that you could not imagine love -without confidence; you reminded me that you had never doubted me, you -proved to me that I was unjust, and thereupon I was afraid of remaining -below your level if I did not cast aside such puerile suspicions and the -innumerable little exactions by which women degrade ordinary -love-affairs. I have endured with resignation the brevity of your calls, -the embarrassment of our interviews, the eagerness with which you seemed -to avoid any free exchange of sentiments with me; I have retained my -confidence in you. Heaven is my witness that when anxiety and fear were -gnawing at my heart I spurned them as criminal thoughts. I have come now -to seek the reward of my faith; the time has come; tell me, do you -accept my sacrifices?"</p> - -<p>The crisis was so urgent that Raymon did not feel bold enough to pretend -any longer. Desperate, frantic to find himself caught in his own trap, -he lost his head and vented his temper in coarse and brutal -maledictions.</p> - -<p>"You are a mad woman!" he cried, throwing himself into a chair. "Where -have you dreamed of love? in what romance written for the entertainment -of lady's-maids, have you studied society, I pray to know?"</p> - -<p>He paused, realizing that he had been far too rough, and cudgelling his -brains to find a way of saying the same things in other terms and of -sending her away without insulting her.</p> - -<p>But she was calm, like one prepared to listen to anything.</p> - -<p>"Go on," she said, folding her arms over her heart, whose throbbing -gradually grew less violent; "I am listening; I presume that you have -something more than that to say to me?"</p> - -<p>"Still another effort of the imagination, another love scene," thought -Raymon.—"Never," he cried, springing excitedly to his feet, "never -will I accept such sacrifices! When I told you that I should have the -strength to do it, Indiana, I boasted too much, or rather I slandered -myself; for the man is no better than a dastard who will consent to -dishonor the woman he loves. In your ignorance of life, you failed to -realize the importance of such a plan, and I, in my despair at the -thought of losing you, did not choose to reflect——"</p> - -<p>"Your power of reflection has returned very suddenly!" she said, -withdrawing her hand, which he tried to take.</p> - -<p>"Indiana," he rejoined, "do you not see that you impose the dishonorable -part on me, while you reserve the heroic part for yourself, and that you -condemn me because I desire to remain worthy of your love? Could you -continue to love me, ignorant and simple-hearted woman that you are, if -I sacrificed your life to my pleasure, your reputation to my selfish -interests?"</p> - -<p>"You say things that are very contradictory," said Indiana; "if I made -you happy by remaining with you, what do you care for public opinion? Do -you care more for it than for me?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! I do not care for it on my account, Indiana!"</p> - -<p>"Is it on my account then? I anticipated your scruples and to spare you -anything like remorse I have taken the initiative; I did not wait for -you to come and carry me away from my home, I did not even consult you -with regard to crossing my husband's threshold forever. That decisive -step is taken, and your conscience cannot reproach you for it. At this -moment, Raymon, I am dishonored. In your absence I counted on yonder -clock the hours that consummated my disgrace; and now, although the dawn -finds my brow as pure as it was yesterday, I am a lost creature in -public opinion. Yesterday there was still some compassion for me in the -hearts of other women; to-day there will be no feeling left but -contempt. I considered all these things before acting."</p> - -<p>"Infernal female foresight!" thought Raymon.</p> - -<p>And then, struggling against her as he would have done against a bailiff -who had come to levy on his furniture, he said in a caressing fatherly -tone:</p> - -<p>"You exaggerate the importance of what you have done. No, my love, all -is not lost because of one rash step. I will enjoin silence on my -servants."</p> - -<p>"Will you enjoin silence on mine who, I doubt not, are anxiously looking -for me at this moment. And my husband, do you think he will quietly keep -the secret? do you think he will consent to receive me to-morrow, when I -have passed a whole night under your roof? Will you advise me to go back -and throw myself at his feet, and ask him, as a proof of his -forgiveness, to be kind enough to replace on my neck the chain which has -crushed my life and withered my youth? You would consent, without -regret, to see the woman whom you loved so dearly go back and resume -another man's yoke, when you have her fate in your hands, when you can -keep her in your arms all your life, when she is in your power, offering -to remain there forever! You would not feel the least repugnance, the -least alarm in surrendering her at once to the implacable master, who -perhaps awaits her coming only to kill her!"</p> - -<p>A thought flashed through Raymon's brain. The moment had come to subdue -that womanly pride, or it would never come. She had offered him all the -sacrifices that he did not want, and she stood before him in overweening -confidence that she ran no other risks than those she had foreseen. -Raymon conceived a scheme for ridding himself of her embarrassing -devotion or of deriving some profit from it. He was too good a friend of -Delmare, he owed too much consideration to the man's unbounded -confidence to steal his wife from him; he must content himself with -seducing her.</p> - -<p>"You are right, my Indiana," he cried with animation, "you bring me back -to myself, you rekindle my transports which the thought of your danger -and the dread of injuring you had cooled. Forgive my childish solicitude -and let me prove to you how much of tenderness and genuine love it -denotes. Your sweet voice makes my blood quiver, your burning words pour -fire into my veins; forgive, oh! forgive me for having thought of -anything else than this ineffable moment when I at last possess you. Let -me forget all the dangers that threaten us and thank you on my knees for -the happiness you bring me; let me live entirely in this hour of bliss -which I pass at your feet and for which all my blood would not pay. Let -him come, that dolt of a husband who locks you up and goes to sleep upon -his vulgar brutality, let him come and snatch you from my transports! -let him come and snatch you from my arms, my treasure, my life! -Henceforth you do not belong to him; you are my sweetheart, my -companion, my mistress——"</p> - -<p>As he pleaded thus, Raymon gradually worked himself up, as he was -accustomed to do when <i>arguing</i> his passions. It was a powerful, a -romantic situation; it offered some risks. Raymon loved danger, like a -genuine descendant of a race of valiant knights. Every sound that he -heard in the street seemed to denote the coming of the husband to claim -his wife and his rival's blood. To seek the joys of love in the stirring -emotions of such a situation was a diversion worthy of Raymon. For a -quarter of an hour he loved Madame Delmare passionately, he lavished -upon her the seductions of burning eloquence. He was truly powerful in -his language and sincere in his behavior—this man whose ardent brain -considered love-making a polite accomplishment. He played at passion so -well that he deceived himself. Shame upon that foolish woman! She -abandoned herself in ecstasy to those treacherous demonstrations; she -was happy, she was radiant with hope and joy; she forgave everything, -she almost accorded everything.</p> - -<p>But Raymon ruined himself by over-precipitation. If he had carried his -art so far as to prolong for twenty-four hours the situation in which -Indiana had risked herself, she would perhaps have been his. But the day -was breaking, bright and rosy; the sun poured floods of light into the -room, and the noise in the street increased with every moment. Raymon -cast a glance at the clock; it was nearly seven.</p> - -<p>"It is time to have done with it," he thought; "Delmare may appear at -any moment, and before that happens I must induce her to return home -voluntarily."</p> - -<p>He became more urgent and less tender; the pallor of his lips betrayed -the working of an impatience more imperious than delicate. There was in -his kisses a sort of abruptness, almost anger. Indiana was afraid. A -good angel spread its wings over that wavering and bewildered soul; she -came to herself and repelled the attacks of cold and selfish vice.</p> - -<p>"Leave me," she said; "I do not propose to yield through weakness what I -am willing to accord for love or gratitude. You cannot need proofs of my -affection; my presence here is a sufficiently decisive one, and I bring -the future with me. But allow me to keep all the strength of my -conscience to contend against the powerful obstacles that still separate -us; I need stoicism and tranquillity."</p> - -<p>"What are you talking about?" angrily demanded Raymon, who was furious -at her resistance and had not listened to her.</p> - -<p>And, losing his head altogether in that moment of torture and wrath, he -pushed her roughly away and strode up and down the room, with heaving -bosom and head on fire; then he took a carafe and drank a large glass of -water which suddenly calmed his excitement and cooled his love. -Whereupon he looked at her ironically and said:</p> - -<p>"Come, madame, it is time for you to retire."</p> - -<p>A ray of light at last enlightened Indiana and laid Raymon's heart bare -before her.</p> - -<p>"You are right," she said.</p> - -<p>And she walked toward the door.</p> - -<p>"Pray take your cloak and boa," he said, detaining her.</p> - -<p>"To be sure," she retorted, "those traces of my presence might -compromise you."</p> - -<p>"You are a child," he said, in a coaxing tone, as he adjusted her cloak -with ostentatious care; "you know very well that I love you; but really -you take pleasure in torturing me, and you drive me mad. Wait until I go -and call a cab. If I could, I would escort you home; but that would ruin -you."</p> - -<p>"Pray, do you not think that I am ruined already?" she asked bitterly.</p> - -<p>"No, my darling," replied Raymon, who asked nothing better than to -persuade her to leave him in peace. "Nobody has noticed your absence, as -they have not come here yet in search of you. Although I should be the -last one to be suspected, it would be natural to inquire at the houses -of all of your acquaintances. And then you can go and place yourself -under your aunt's protection; indeed, that is the course I advise you to -take; she will arrange everything. You will be supposed to have passed -the night at her house."</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare was not listening; she was gazing stupidly at the sun, as -it rose, huge and red, over an expanse of gleaming roofs. Raymon tried -to rouse her from her preoccupation. She turned her eyes on him but -seemed not to recognize him. Her cheeks had a greenish tinge and her -parched lips seemed paralyzed.</p> - -<p>Raymon was terrified. He remembered the other's suicide, and, in his -alarm, not knowing which way to turn, dreading lest he should become -twice a criminal in his own eyes, but feeling too exhausted mentally to -be able to deceive her again, he pushed her gently into an easy-chair, -locked the door, and went up to his mother's room.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XXI</h4> - - -<p>He found her awake; she was accustomed to rise early, the result of -habits of hard-working activity which she had formed during the -emigration, and which she had not abandoned when she recovered her -wealth.</p> - -<p>Seeing Raymon enter her room so late, pale and excited, and in full -dress, she realized that he was struggling in one of the frequent crises -of his stormy life. She had always been his refuge and salvation in -these periods of agitation, of which no trace remained save a deep and -sorrowful one in her mother-heart. Her life had been withered and used -up by all that Raymon had acquired and reacquired. Her son's character, -impetuous yet cold, reflective yet passionate, was a consequence of her -inexhaustible love and generous indulgence. He would have been a better -man with a mother less kind; but she had accustomed him to make the most -of all the sacrifices that she consented to make for him; she had taught -him to seek and to advance his own well-being as zealously and as -powerfully as she sought it. Because she deemed herself created to -preserve him from all sorrows and to sacrifice all her own interests to -him, he had accustomed himself to believe that the whole world was -created for him and would place itself in his hand at a word from his -mother. By an abundance of generosity she had succeeded only in forming -a selfish heart.</p> - -<p>She turned pale, did the poor mother, and, sitting up in bed, gazed -anxiously at him. Her glance said at once: "What can I do for you? Where -must I go?"</p> - -<p>"Mother," he said, grasping the dry, transparent hand that she held out -to him, "I am horribly unhappy, I need your help. Save me from the -troubles by which I am surrounded. I love Madame Delmare, as you -know——"</p> - -<p>"I did not know it," said Madame de Ramière, in a tone of affectionate -reproof.</p> - -<p>"Don't try to deny it, dear mother," said Raymon, who had no time to -waste; "you did know it, and your admirable delicacy prevented you -speaking of it first. Well, that woman is driving me to despair, and my -brain is going."</p> - -<p>"Tell me what you mean!" said Madame de Ramière, with the youthful -vivacity born of ardent maternal love.</p> - -<p>"I do not mean to conceal anything from you, especially as I am not -guilty this time. For several months I have been trying to calm her -romantic brain and bring her back to a sense of her duties; but all my -efforts serve only to intensify this thirst for danger, this craving for -adventure that ferments in the brains of all the women of her country. -At this moment she is here, in my room, against my will, and I cannot -induce her to go away."</p> - -<p>"Unhappy child!" said Madame de Ramière, dressing herself in haste. -"Such a timid, gentle creature! I will go and see her, talk to her! that -is what you came to ask me to do, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes," said Raymon, moved involuntarily by his mother's goodness of -heart; "go and make her understand the language of reason and kindness. -She will love virtue from your lips, I doubt not; perhaps she will give -way to your caresses; she will recover her self-control, poor creature! -she suffers so keenly!"</p> - -<p>Raymon threw himself into a chair and began to weep, the divers emotions -of the morning had so shaken his nerves. His mother wept with him and -could not make up her mind to go down until she had forced him to take -a few drops of ether.</p> - -<p>Indiana was not weeping and rose with a calm and dignified air when she -recognized her. Madame de Ramière was so little prepared for such a -dignified and noble bearing, that she felt embarrassed before the -younger woman, as if she had shown lack of consideration for her by -taking her by surprise in her son's bedroom. She yielded to the deep and -true emotion of her heart and opened her arms impulsively. Madame -Delmare threw herself into them; her despair found vent in bitter sobs -and the two women wept a long while on each other's bosom.</p> - -<p>But when Madame de Ramière would have spoken, Indiana checked her.</p> - -<p>"Do not say anything to me, madame," she said, wiping away her tears; -"you could find no words to say that would not cause me pain. Your -interest and your kisses are enough to prove your generous affection; my -heart is as much relieved as it can be. I will go now; I do not need -your urging to realize what I have to do."</p> - -<p>"But I did not come to send you away, but to comfort you," said Madame -de Ramière.</p> - -<p>"I cannot be comforted," she replied, kissing her once more; "love me, -that will help me a little; but do not speak to me. Adieu, madame; you -believe in God—pray for me."</p> - -<p>"You shall not go alone!" cried Madame de Ramière; "I will myself go -with you to your husband, to justify you, defend you and protect you."</p> - -<p>"Generous woman!" said Indiana, embracing her warmly, "you cannot do it. -You alone are ignorant of Raymon's secret; all Paris will be talking -about it to-night, and you would play an incongruous part in such a -story. Let me bear the scandal of it alone; I shall not suffer long."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean? would you commit the crime of taking your own life? -Dear child! you too believe in God, do you not?"</p> - -<p>"And so, madame, I start for Ile Bourbon in three days."</p> - -<p>"Come to my arms, my darling child! come and let me bless you! God will -reward your courage."</p> - -<p>"I trust so," said Indiana, looking up at the sky.</p> - -<p>Madame de Ramière insisted on sending for a carriage; but Indiana -resisted. She was resolved to return alone and without causing a -sensation. In vain did Raymon's mother express her alarm at the idea of -her undertaking so long a journey on foot in her exhausted, agitated -condition.</p> - -<p>"I have strength enough," she said; "a word from Raymon sufficed to give -me all I need."</p> - -<p>She wrapped herself in her cloak, lowered her black lace veil and left -the house by a secret door to which Madame de Ramière showed her the -way. As soon as she stepped into the street she felt as if her trembling -legs would refuse to carry her; it seemed to her every moment that she -could feel her furious husband's brutal hand seize her, throw her down -and drag her in the gutter. Soon the noise in the street, the -indifference of the faces that passed her on every side and the -penetrating chill of the morning air restored her strength and -tranquillity, but it was a pitiable sort of strength and a tranquillity -as depressing as that which sometimes prevails on the ocean and alarms -the far-sighted sailor more than the howling of the tempest. She walked -along the quays from the Institute to the Corps Législatif; but she -forgot to cross the bridge and continued to wander by the river, -absorbed in a bewildered reverie, in meditation without ideas, and -walking aimlessly on and on.</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="figure04"></a> -<img src="images/figure04.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="center"><i>SIR RALPH SAVES INDIANA</i></p> -<p><i>In that moment of vertigo she leaned against a -wall and bent forward, fascinated, over what seemed -to her a solid mass. But the bark of a dog that was -capering about her distracted her thoughts and delayed -for some seconds the accomplishment of her -design. Meanwhile a man ran to the spot, guided -by the dog's voice, seized her around the waist, -dragged her back and laid her on the ruins of an -abandoned boat on the shore.</i></p></div> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p>She gradually drew nearer to the river, which washed pieces of ice -ashore at her feet and shattered them on the stones along the shore with -a dry sound that suggested cold. The greenish water exerted an -attractive force on Indiana's senses. One becomes accustomed to horrible -ideas; by dint of dwelling on them one takes pleasure in them. The -thought of Noun's suicide had soothed her hours of despair for so many -months, that suicide had assumed in her mind the form of a tempting -pleasure. A single thought, a religious thought, had prevented her from -deciding definitely upon it; but at this moment no well-defined thought -controlled her exhausted brain. She hardly remembered that God existed, -that Raymon ever existed, and she walked on, still drawing nearer the -bank, obeying the instinct of unhappiness and the magnetic force of -suffering.</p> - -<p>When she felt the stinging cold of the water on her feet, she woke as if -from a fit of somnambulism, and on looking about to discover where she -was, saw Paris behind her and the Seine rushing by at her feet, bearing -in its oily depths the white reflection of the houses and the grayish -blue of the sky. This constant movement of the water and the immobility -of the ground became confused in her bewildered mind, and it seemed to -her that the water was sleeping and the ground moving. In that moment of -vertigo she leaned against a wall and bent forward, fascinated, over -what seemed to her a solid mass. But the bark of a dog that was capering -about her distracted her thoughts and delayed for some seconds the -accomplishment of her design. Meanwhile a man ran to the spot, guided by -the dog's voice, seized her around the waist, dragged her back and laid -her on the ruins of an abandoned boat on the shore. She looked in his -face and did not recognize him. He knelt at her foot, unfastened his -cloak and wrapped it about her, took her hands in his to warm them and -called her by name. But her brain was too weak to make an effort; for -forty-eight hours she had forgotten to eat.</p> - -<p>However, when the blood began to circulate in her benumbed limbs, she -saw Ralph kneeling beside her, holding her hands and watching for the -return of consciousness.</p> - -<p>"Did you meet Noun?" she asked him. "I saw her pass along there," she -added, pointing to the river, distracted by her fixed idea. "I tried to -follow her, but she walked too fast, and I am not strong enough to walk. -It was like a nightmare."</p> - -<p>Ralph looked at her in sore distress. He too felt as if his head were -bursting and his brain running wild.</p> - -<p>"Let us go," she continued; "but first see if you can find my feet; I -lost them on the stones."</p> - -<p>Ralph saw that her feet were wet and paralyzed by cold. He carried her -in his arms to a house near by, where the kindly care of a hospitable -woman restored her to consciousness. Meanwhile Ralph sent word to -Monsieur Delmare that his wife was found; but the colonel had not -returned home when the news arrived. He was continuing his search in a -frenzy of anxiety and wrath. Ralph, being more perspicacious, had gone -to Monsieur de Ramière's, but he had found Raymon, who had just gone to -bed and who was very cool and ironical in his reception of him. Then he -had thought of Noun and had followed the river in one direction, while -his servant did the same in the other direction. Ophelia had speedily -found her mistress's scent and had led Ralph to the place where he found -her.</p> - -<p>When Indiana was able to recall what had taken place during that -wretched night, she tried in vain to remember the occurrences of her -moments of delirium. She was unable therefore to explain to her cousin -what thoughts had guided her action during the last hour; but he divined -them and understood the state of her heart without questioning her. He -simply took her hand and said to her in a gentle but grave tone:</p> - -<p>"Cousin, I require one promise from you; it is the last proof of -friendship which I shall ever ask at your hands."</p> - -<p>"Tell me what it is," she replied; "to oblige you is the only pleasure -that is left to me."</p> - -<p>"Well then," rejoined Ralph, "swear to me that you will not resort to -suicide without notifying me. I swear to you on my honor that I will not -oppose your design in any way. I simply insist on being notified: as for -life, I care about it as little as you do, and you know that I have -often had the same idea."</p> - -<p>"Why do you talk of suicide?" said Madame Delmare. "I have never -intended to take my own life. I am afraid of God; if it weren't for -that!——"</p> - -<p>"Just now, Indiana, when I seized you in my arms, when this -poor beast"—and he patted Ophelia—"caught your dress, you had -forgotten God and the whole universe, poor Ralph with the rest."</p> - -<p>A tear stood in Indiana's eye. She pressed Sir Ralph's hand.</p> - -<p>"Why did you stop me?" she said sadly; "I should be on God's bosom now, -for I was not guilty, I did not know what I was doing."</p> - -<p>"I saw that, and I thought that it was better to commit suicide after -due reflection. We will talk about it again if you choose."</p> - -<p>Indiana shuddered. The cab stopped in front of the house where she was -to confront her husband. She had not the strength to mount the steps and -Ralph carried her to her room. Their whole retinue was reduced to a -single maid servant, who had gone to discuss Madame Delmare's flight -with the neighbors, and Lelièvre, who, in despair, had gone to the -morgue to inspect the bodies brought in that morning. So Ralph remained -with Madame Delmare to nurse her. She was suffering intensely when a -loud peal of the bell announced the colonel's return. A shudder of -terror and hatred ran through her every vein. She seized her cousin's -arm.</p> - -<p>"Listen, Ralph," she said; "if you have the slightest affection for me, -you will spare me the sight of that man in my present condition. I do -not want to arouse his pity, I prefer his anger to that. Do not open the -door, or else send him away; tell him that I haven't been found."</p> - -<p>Her lips quivered, her arms clung to Ralph with convulsive strength, to -detain him. Torn by two conflicting feelings, the poor baronet could not -make up his mind what to do. Delmare was jangling the bell as if he -would break it, and his wife was almost dying in his chair.</p> - -<p>"You think only of his anger," said Ralph at last; "you do not think of -his misery, his anxiety; you still believe that he hates you. If you had -seen his grief this morning!"</p> - -<p>Indiana dropped her arms, thoroughly exhausted, and Ralph went and -opened the door.</p> - -<p>"Is she here?" cried the colonel, rushing in. "Ten thousand devils! I -have run about enough after her; I am deeply obliged to her for putting -such a pleasant duty on me! Deuce take her! I don't want to see her, for -I should kill her!"</p> - -<p>"You forget that she can hear you," replied Ralph in an undertone. "She -is in no condition to bear any painful excitement. Be calm."</p> - -<p>"Twenty-five thousand maledictions!" roared the colonel. "I have endured -enough myself since this morning. It's a good thing for me that my -nerves are like cables. Which of us is the more injured, the more -exhausted, which of us has the better right to be sick, I pray to -know,—she or I? And where did you find her? what was she doing? She -is responsible for my having outrageously insulted that foolish old woman, -Carvajal, who gave me ambiguous answers and blamed me for this charming -freak! Damnation! I am dead beat!"</p> - -<p>As he spoke thus in his harsh, hoarse voice, Delmare had thrown himself -on a chair in the ante-room; he wiped his brow from which the -perspiration was streaming despite the intense cold; he described with -many oaths his fatigues, his anxieties, his sufferings; he asked a -thousand questions, and, luckily, did not listen to the answers, for -poor Ralph could not lie, and he could think of nothing in what he had -to tell that was likely to appease the colonel. So he sat on a table, as -silent and unmoved as if he were absolutely without interest in the -sufferings of those two, and yet he was really more unhappy in their -unhappiness than they themselves were.</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare, when she heard her husband's imprecations, felt stronger -than she expected. She preferred this fierce wrath, which reconciled her -with herself, to a generous forbearance which would have aroused her -remorse. She wiped away the last trace of her tears and summoned what -remained of her strength, which she was well content to expend in a day, -so heavy a burden had life become to her. Her husband accosted her in a -harsh and imperious tone, but suddenly changed his expression and his -manner and seemed sorely embarrassed, overmatched by the superiority of -her character. He tried to be as cool and dignified as she was; but he -could not succeed.</p> - -<p>"Will you condescend to inform me, madame," he said, "where you passed -the morning and perhaps the night?"</p> - -<p>That <i>perhaps</i> indicated to Madame Delmare that her absence had not -been discovered until late. Her courage increased with that knowledge.</p> - -<p>"No, monsieur," she replied, "I do not propose to tell you."</p> - -<p>Delmare turned green with anger and amazement.</p> - -<p>"Do you really hope to conceal the truth from me?" he said, in a -trembling voice.</p> - -<p>"I care very little about it," she replied in an icy tone. "I refuse to -tell you solely for form's sake. I propose to convince you that you have -no right to ask me that question?"</p> - -<p>"I have no right, ten thousand devils. Who is master here, pray tell, -you or I? Which of us wears a petticoat and ought to be running a -distaff? Do you propose to take the beard off my chin? It would look -well on you, hussy!"</p> - -<p>"I know that I am the slave and you the master. The laws of this country -make you my master. You can bind my body, tie my hands, govern my acts. -You have the right of the stronger, and society confirms you in it; but -you cannot command my will, monsieur; God alone can bend it and subdue -it. Try to find a law, a dungeon, an instrument of torture that gives -you any hold on it! you might as well try to handle the air and grasp -space."</p> - -<p>"Hold your tongue, you foolish, impertinent creature; your high-flown -novelist's phrases weary me."</p> - -<p>"You can impose silence on me, but not prevent me from thinking."</p> - -<p>"Silly pride! pride of a poor worm! you abuse the compassion I have had -for you! But you will soon see that this mighty will can be subdued -without too much difficulty."</p> - -<p>"I don't advise you to try it; your repose would suffer, and you would -gain nothing in dignity."</p> - -<p>"Do you think so?" he said, crushing her hand between his thumb and -forefinger.</p> - -<p>"I do think so," she said, without wincing.</p> - -<p>Ralph stepped forward, grasped the colonel's arm in his iron hand and -bent it like a reed, saying in a pacific tone:</p> - -<p>"I beg that you will not touch a hair of that woman's head."</p> - -<p>Delmare longed to fly at him; but he felt that he was in the wrong and -he dreaded nothing in the world so much as having to blush for himself. -So he simply pushed him away, saying:</p> - -<p>"Attend to your own business."</p> - -<p>Then he returned to his wife.</p> - -<p>"So, madame," he said, holding his arms tightly against his sides to -resist the temptation to strike her, "you rebel against me, you refuse -to go to Ile Bourbon with me, you desire a separation? Very well! -<i>Mordieu!</i> I too——"</p> - -<p>"I desire it no longer," she replied. "I did desire it yesterday, it was -my will; it is not so this morning. You resorted to violence and locked -me in my room; I went out through the window to show you that there is a -difference between exerting an absurd control over a woman's actions and -reigning over her will. I passed several hours away from your -domination; I breathed the air of liberty in order to show you that you -are not morally my master, and that I look to no one on earth but myself -for orders. As I walked along I reflected that I owed it to my duty and -my conscience to return and place myself under your control once more. I -did it of my own free will. My cousin <i>accompanied</i> me here, he did -not <i>bring me back</i>. If I had not chosen to come with him, he could -not have forced me to do it, as you can imagine. So, monsieur, do not waste -your time fighting against my determination; you will never control it, you -lost all right to change it as soon as you undertook to assert your -right by force. Make your preparations for departure; I am ready to -assist you and to accompany you, not because it is your will, but -because it is my pleasure. You may condemn me, but I will never obey -anyone but myself."</p> - -<p>"I am sorry for the derangement of your mind," said the colonel, -shrugging his shoulders.</p> - -<p>And he went to his room to put his papers in order, well satisfied in -his heart with Madame Delmare's resolution and anticipating no further -obstacles; for he respected her word as much as he despised her ideas.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XXII</h4> - - -<p>Raymon, yielding to fatigue, slept soundly after his curt reception of -Sir Ralph, who came to his house to make inquiries. When he awoke, his -heart was full of a feeling of intense relief; he believed that the -worst crisis of his intrigue had finally come and gone. For a long time -he had foreseen that there would come a time when he would be brought -face to face with that woman's love and would have to defend his liberty -against the exacting demands of a romantic passion; and he encouraged -himself in advance by arguing against such pretensions. He had at last -reached and crossed that dangerous spot: he had said no, he would have -no occasion to go there again, for everything had happened for the best. -Indiana had not wept overmuch, had not been too insistent. She had been -quite reasonable; she had understood at the first word and had made up -her mind quickly and proudly.</p> - -<p>Raymon was very well pleased with his providence; for he had one of his -own, in whom he believed like a good son, and upon whom he relied to -arrange everything to other people's detriment rather than his own. That -providence had treated him so well thus far that he did not choose to -doubt it. To anticipate the result of his wrong-doing and to be anxious -concerning it would have been in his eyes a crime against the good Lord -who watched over him.</p> - -<p>He rose, still very much fatigued by the efforts of the imagination -which the circumstances of that painful scene had compelled him to make. -His mother returned; she had been to Madame de Carvajal to inquire as to -Madame Delmare's health and frame of mind. The marchioness was not -disturbed about her; she was, however, very much disgusted when Madame -de Ramière shrewdly questioned her. But the only thing that impressed -her in Madame Delmare's disappearance was the scandal that would result -from it. She complained very bitterly of her niece, whom, only the day -before, she had extolled to the skies; and Madame de Ramière understood -that the unfortunate Indiana had, by this performance, alienated her -kinswoman and lost the only natural prop that she still possessed.</p> - -<p>To one who could read in the depths of the marchioness's soul, this -would have seemed no great loss; but Madame de Carvajal was esteemed -virtuous beyond reproach, even by Madame de Ramière. Her youth had been -enveloped in the mysteries of prudence, or lost in the whirlwind of -revolutions.</p> - -<p>Raymon's mother wept over Indiana's lot and tried to excuse her; Madame -de Carvajal tartly reminded her that she was not sufficiently -disinterested in the matter to judge.</p> - -<p>"But what will become of the unhappy creature?" said Madame de Ramière. -"If her husband maltreats her, who will protect her?"</p> - -<p>"That will be as God wills," replied the marchioness; "for my part, I'll -have nothing more to do with her and I never wish to see her again."</p> - -<p>Madame de Ramière, kind-hearted and anxious, determined to obtain news -of Madame Delmare at any price. She bade her coachman drive to the end -of the street on which she lived and sent a footman to question the -concierge, instructing him to try to see Sir Ralph if he were in the -house. She awaited in her carriage the result of this manœuvre, and -Ralph himself soon joined her there.</p> - -<p>The only person, perhaps, who judged Ralph accurately was Madame de -Ramière; a few words sufficed to make each of them understand the -other's sincere and unselfish interest in the matter. Ralph narrated -what had passed during the morning; and, as he had nothing more than -suspicions concerning the events of the night, he did not seek -confirmation of them. But Madame de Ramière deemed it her duty to -inform him of what she knew, imparting to him her desire to break off -this ill-omened and impossible liaison. Ralph, who felt more at ease -with her than with anybody else, allowed the profound emotion which her -information caused him to appear on his face.</p> - -<p>"You say, madame," he murmured, repressing a sort of nervous shudder -that ran through his veins, "that she passed the night in your house?"</p> - -<p>"A solitary and sorrowful night, no doubt. Raymon, who certainly was not -guilty of complicity, did not come home until six o'clock, and at seven -he came up to me to ask me to go down and soothe the poor child's mind."</p> - -<p>"She meant to leave her husband! she meant to destroy her good name!" -rejoined Ralph, his eyes fixed on vacancy and a strange oppression at -his heart. "Then she must love this man, who is so unworthy of her, very -dearly!"</p> - -<p>Ralph forgot that he was talking to Raymon's mother.</p> - -<p>"I have suspected this a long while," he continued; "why could I not -have foretold the day on which she would consummate her ruin! I would -have killed her first!"</p> - -<p>Such language in Ralph's mouth surprised Madame de Ramière beyond -measure; she supposed that she was speaking to a calm, indulgent man, -and she regretted that she had trusted to appearances.</p> - -<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" she said in dismay, "do you judge her without mercy? -will you abandon her as her aunt has? Are you incapable of pity or -forgiveness? Will she not have a single friend left after a fault which -has already caused her such bitter suffering?"</p> - -<p>"Have no fear of anything of the sort on my part, madame," Ralph -replied; "I have known all for six months and I have said nothing. I -surprised their first kiss and I did not hurl Monsieur de Ramière from -his horse; I often intercepted their love messages in the woods and did -not tear them in pieces with my whip. I met Monsieur de Ramière on the -bridge he must cross to go to join her; it was night, we were alone and -I am four times as strong as he; and yet I did not throw the man into -the river; and when, after allowing him to escape, I discovered that he -had eluded my vigilance and had stolen into her house, instead of -bursting in the doors and throwing him out of the window, I quietly -warned them of the husband's approach and saved the life of one in order -to save the other's honor. You see, madame, that I am indulgent and -merciful. This morning I had that man under my hand; I was well aware -that he was the cause of all our misery, and, if I had not the right to -accuse him without proofs, I certainly should have been justified in -quarreling with him for his arrogant and mocking manner. But I bore with -his insulting contempt because I knew that his death would kill Indiana; -I allowed him to turn over and fall asleep again on the other side, -while Indiana, insane and almost dead, was on the shore of the Seine, -preparing to join his other victim. You see, madame, that I practise -patience with those whom I hate and indulgence with those I love."</p> - -<p>Madame de Ramière, sitting in her carriage opposite Ralph, gazed at him -in surprise mingled with alarm. He was so different from what she had -always seen him that she almost believed that he had suddenly become -deranged. The allusion he had just made to Noun's death confirmed her in -that idea; for she knew absolutely nothing of that story and took the -words that Ralph had let fall in his indignation for a fragment of -thought unconnected with his subject. He was, in very truth, passing -through one of those periods of intense excitement which occur at least -once in the lives of the most placid men, and which border so closely on -madness that one step farther would carry them across the line. His -wrath was restrained and concentrated like that of all cold -temperaments; but it was deep, like the wrath of all noble souls; and -the novelty of this frame of mind, which was truly portentous in him, -made him terrible to look upon.</p> - -<p>Madame de Ramière took his hand and said gently:</p> - -<p>"You must suffer terribly, my dear Monsieur Ralph, for you wound me -without mercy: you forget that the man of whom you speak is my son and -that his wrong-doing, if he has been guilty of any, must be infinitely -more painful to me than to you."</p> - -<p>Ralph at once came to himself, and said, kissing Madame de Ramière's -hand with an effusive warmth of regard, which was almost as unusual a -manifestation on his part as that of his wrath:</p> - -<p>"Forgive me, madame; you are right, I do suffer terribly, and I forget -those things which I should respect. Pray, forget yourself the -bitterness I have allowed to appear! my heart will not fail to lock -itself up again."</p> - -<p>Madame de Ramière, although somewhat reassured by this reply, could not -rid herself of all anxiety when she saw with what profound hatred Ralph -regarded her son. She tried to excuse him in his enemy's eyes, but he -checked her.</p> - -<p>"I divine your thoughts, madame," he said; "but have no fear, Monsieur -de Ramière and I are not likely to meet again at present. As for my -cousin, do not regret having enlightened me. If the whole world abandons -her, I swear that she will always have at least one friend."</p> - -<p>When Madame de Ramière returned home, toward evening, she found Raymon -luxuriously ensconced in front of the fire, warming his slippered feet -and drinking tea to banish the last vestiges of the nervous excitement -of the morning. He was still cast down by that artificial emotion; but -pleasant thoughts of the future revivified his faculties; he felt that -he had become free once more, and he abandoned himself unreservedly to -blissful meditations upon that priceless condition, which he had -hitherto been so unsuccessful in maintaining.</p> - -<p>"Why am I destined," he said to himself, "to weary so quickly of this -priceless freedom of the heart which I always have to buy so dearly? -When I feel that I am caught in a woman's net, I cannot break it quickly -enough, in order to recover my repose and mental tranquillity. May I be -cursed if I sacrifice them in such a hurry again! The trouble these two -creoles have caused me will serve as a warning, and hereafter I do not -propose to meddle with any but easy-going, laughing Parisian -women—genuine women of the world. Perhaps I should do well to marry -and have done with it, as they say——"</p> - -<p>He was absorbed by such comforting, commonplace thoughts as these, when -his mother entered, tired and deeply moved.</p> - -<p>"She is better," she said; "everything has gone off as well as possible; -I hope that she will grow calmer and——"</p> - -<p>"Who?" inquired Raymon, waking with a start among his castles in -Spain.</p> - -<p>However, he concluded on the following day that he still had a duty to -perform, namely, to regain that woman's esteem, if not her love. He did -not choose that she should boast of having left him; he proposed that -she should be persuaded that she had yielded to the influence of his -good sense and his generosity. He desired to govern her even after he -had spurned her; and he wrote to her as follows:</p> - -<p>"I do not write to ask your pardon, my dear, for a few cruel or -audacious words that escaped me in the delirium of my passion. In the -derangement of fever no man can form perfectly coherent ideas or express -himself in a proper manner. It is not my fault that I am not a god, that -I cannot control in your presence the turbulent ardor of my blood, that -my brain whirls, that I go mad. Perhaps I may have a right to complain -of the merciless <i>sang-froid</i> with which you condemned me to frightful -torture and never took pity on me; but that was not your fault. You are -too perfect to play the same rôle in this world that we common mortals -play, subject as we are to human passions, slaves of our less-refined -organization. As I have often told you, Indiana, you are not a woman, -and, when I think of you tranquilly and without excitement, you are an -angel. I adore you in my heart as a divinity. But alas! in your presence -the <i>old Adam</i> has often reasserted his rights. Often, under the -perfumed breath from your lips, a scorching flame has consumed mine; -often when, as I leaned toward you, my hair has brushed against yours, a -thrill of indescribable bliss has run through my veins, and thereupon I -have forgotten that you were an emanation from Heaven, a dream of -everlasting felicity, an angel sent from God's bosom to guide my steps -in this life and to describe to me the joys of another existence. Why, O -chaste spirit, did you assume the alluring form of a woman? Why, O angel -of light, did you clothe yourself in the seductions of hell? Often have -I thought that I held happiness in my arms, and it was only virtue.</p> - -<p>"Forgive me these reprehensible regrets, my love; I was not worthy of -you, but perhaps we should both have been happier if you would have -consented to stoop to my level. But my inferiority has constantly caused -you pain and you have imputed your own virtues to me as crimes.</p> - -<p>"Now that you absolve me—as I am sure that you do, for perfection -implies mercy—let me still raise my voice to thank you and bless you. -Thank you, do I say? Ah! no, my life, that is not the word; for my heart -is more torn than yours by the courage that snatches you from my arms. -But I admire you; and, through my tears, I congratulate you. Yes, my -Indiana, you have mustered strength to accomplish this heroic sacrifice. -It tears out my heart and my life; it renders my future desolate, it -ruins my existence. But I love you well enough to endure it without a -complaint; for my honor is nothing, yours is all in all. I would -sacrifice my honor to you a thousand times; but yours is dearer to me -than all the joys you have given me. No, no! I could not have enjoyed -such a sacrifice. In vain should I have tried to blunt my conscience by -delirious transports; in vain would you have opened your arms to -intoxicate me with celestial joys—remorse would have found me out; it -would have poisoned every hour of my life, and I should have been more -humiliated than you by the contempt of men. O God! to see you degraded -and brought to shame by me! to see you deprived of the veneration which -encompassed you! to see you insulted in my arms and to be unable to wipe -out the insult! for, though I should have shed all my blood for you, it -would not have availed you. I might have avenged you, perhaps, but could -never have justified you. My zeal in your defence would have been an -additional accusation against you; my death an unquestionable proof of -your crime. Poor Indiana! I should have ruined you! Ah! how miserably -unhappy I should be!</p> - -<p>"Go, therefore, my beloved; go and reap under another sky the fruits of -virtue and religion. God will reward us for such an effort, for God is -good. He will reunite us in a happier life, and perhaps—but the mere -thought is a crime; and yet I cannot refrain from hoping! Adieu, -Indiana, adieu! You see that our love is a sin! Alas! my heart is -broken. Where could I find strength to say adieu to you!"</p> - -<p>Raymon himself carried this letter to Madame Delmare's; but she shut -herself up in her room and refused to see him. So he left the house -after handing the letter secretly to the servant and cordially embracing -the husband. As he left the last step behind him, he felt much -better-hearted than usual; the weather was finer, the women fairer, the -shops more brilliant. It was a red-letter day in Raymon's life.</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare placed the letter, with the seal unbroken, in a box which -she did not propose to open until she reached her destination. She -wished to go to take leave of her aunt, but Sir Ralph with downright -obstinacy opposed her doing so. He had seen Madame de Carvajal; he knew -that she would overwhelm Indiana with reproaches and scorn; he was -indignant at this hypocritical severity, and could not endure the -thought of Madame Delmare exposing herself to it.</p> - -<p>On the following day, as Delmare and his wife were about entering the -diligence, Sir Ralph said to them with his accustomed <i>sang-froid</i>:</p> - -<p>"I have often given you to understand, my friends, that it was my wish -to accompany you; but you have refused to understand, or, at all events, -to give me an answer. Will you allow me to go with you?"</p> - -<p>"To Bordeaux?" queried Monsieur Delmare.</p> - -<p>"To Bourbon," replied Sir Ralph.</p> - -<p>"You cannot think of it," rejoined Monsieur Delmare; "you cannot shift -your establishment about from place to place at the caprice of a couple -whose situation is precarious and whose future is uncertain. It would be -abusing your friendship shamefully to accept the sacrifice of your whole -life and of your position in society. You are rich and young and free; -you ought to marry again, found a family—"</p> - -<p>"That is not the question," said Sir Ralph, coldly. "As I have not the -art of enveloping my ideas in words which change their meaning, I will -tell you frankly what I think. It has seemed to me that in the last six -months our friendship has fallen off perceptibly. Perhaps I have made -mistakes which my dulness of perception has prevented me from detecting. -If I am wrong, a word from you will suffice to set my mind at rest; -allow me to go with you. If I have deserved severe treatment at your -hands, it is time to tell me so; you ought not, by abandoning me thus, -to leave me to suffer remorse for having failed to make reparation for -my faults."</p> - -<p>The colonel was so touched by this artless and generous appeal that he -forgot all the wounds to his self-esteem which had alienated him from -his friend. He offered him his hand, swore that his friendship was more -sincere than ever, and that he refused his offers only from delicacy.</p> - -<p>Madame Delmare held her peace. Ralph made an effort to obtain a word -from her.</p> - -<p>"And you, Indiana," he said in a stifled voice, "have you still a -friendly feeling for me?"</p> - -<p>That question reawoke all the filial affection, all the memories of -childhood, of years of intimacy, which bound their hearts together. They -threw themselves weeping into each other's arms, and Ralph nearly -swooned; for strong emotions were constantly fermenting in that robust -body, beneath that calm and reserved exterior. He sat down to avoid -falling and remained for a few moments without speaking, pale as death; -then he seized the colonel's hand in one of his and his wife's in the -other.</p> - -<p>"At this moment, when we are about to part, perhaps forever, be frank -with me. You refuse my proposal to accompany you on my account and not -on your own?"</p> - -<p>"I give you my word of honor," said Delmare, "that in refusing you I -sacrifice my happiness to yours."</p> - -<p>"For my part," said Indiana, "you know that I would like never to leave -you."</p> - -<p>"God forbid that I should doubt your sincerity at such a moment!" -rejoined Ralph; "your word is enough for me; I am content with you -both."</p> - -<p>And he disappeared.</p> - -<p>Six weeks later the brig <i>Coraly</i> sailed from the port of Bordeaux. -Ralph had written to his friends that he would be in that city just -prior to their sailing; but, as his custom was, in such a laconic style -that it was impossible to determine whether he intended to bid them -adieu for the last time or to accompany them. They waited in vain for -him until the last moment, and when the captain gave the signal to weigh -anchor he had not appeared. Gloomy presentiments added their bitterness -to the dull pain that gnawed at Indiana's heart, when the last houses of -the town vanished amid the trees on the shore. She shuddered at the -thought that she was thenceforth alone in the world with the husband -whom she hated! that she must live and die with him, without a friend to -comfort her, without a kinsman to protect her against his brutal -domination.</p> - -<p>But, as she turned, she saw on the deck behind her Ralph's placid and -kindly face smiling into hers.</p> - -<p>"So you have not abandoned me after all?" she said, as she threw her -arms about his neck, her face bathed in tears.</p> - -<p>"Never!" replied Ralph, straining her to his heart.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XXIII</h4> - - -<h5>LETTER FROM MADAME DELMARE TO MONSIEUR -DE RAMIÈRE</h5> - -<p style="margin-left: 50%;">"Ile Bourbon, June 3d, 18—</p> - - -<p>"I had determined to weary you no more with reminders of me; but, after -reading on my arrival here the letter you sent me just before I left -Paris, I feel that I owe you a reply because, in the agitation caused by -horrible suffering, I went too far. I was mistaken with regard to you, -and I owe you an apology, not as a <i>lover</i> but as a <i>man.</i></p> - -<p>"Forgive me, Raymon, for in the most ghastly moment of my life I took -you for a monster. A single word, a single glance from you banished all -confidence and all hope from my heart forever. I know that I can never -be happy again; but I still hope that I may not be driven to despise -you; that would be the last blow.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I took you for a dastard, for the worst of all human creatures, an -<i>egotist.</i> I conceived a horror of you. I regretted that Bourbon was -not so far away as I longed to fly from you, and indignation gave me -strength to drain the cup to the dregs.</p> - -<p>"But since I have read your letter I feel better. I do not regret you, -but I no longer hate you, and I do not wish to leave your life a prey to -remorse for having ruined mine. Be happy, be free from care; forget me. -I am still alive and I may live a long while.</p> - -<p>It is a fact that you are not to blame; I was the one who was mad. Your -heart was not dry, but it was closed to me. You did not lie to me, but I -deceived myself. You were neither perjured nor cold; you simply did not -love me.</p> - -<p>"Oh! <i>mon Dieu!</i> you did not love me! In heaven's name how must you -be loved? But I will not stoop to complaints; I am not writing to you for -the purpose of poisoning with hateful memories the repose of your -present life; nor do I propose to implore your compassion for sorrows -which I am strong enough to bear alone. On the contrary, knowing better -the rôle for which you are suited, I absolve you and forgive you.</p> - -<p>"I will not amuse myself by refuting the charges in your letter; it -would be too easy a matter; I will not reply to your observations with -regard to my duties. Never fear, Raymon; I am familiar with them and I -did not love you little enough to disregard them without due reflection. -It is not necessary to tell me that the scorn of mankind would have been -the reward of my downfall; I was well aware of it. I knew too that the -stain would be deep, indelible and painful beyond words; that I should -be spurned on all sides, cursed, covered with shame, and that I should -not find a single friend to pity me and comfort me. The only mistake I -had made was the feeling confident that you would open your arms to me, -and that you would assist me to forget the scorn, the misery and the -desertion of my friends. The only thing I had not anticipated was that -you might refuse to accept my sacrifice after I had consummated it. I -had imagined that that was impossible. I went to your house with the -expectation that you would repel me at first from principle and a sense -of duty, but firmly convinced that when you learned the inevitable -consequences of what I had done, you would feel bound to assist me to -endure them. No, upon my word I would never have believed that you would -abandon me undefended to the consequences of such a dangerous -resolution, and that you would leave me to gather its bitter fruits -instead of taking me to your bosom and making a rampart of your love.</p> - -<p>"In that case how gladly I would have defied the distant mutterings of a -world that was powerless to injure me! how I would have defied hatred, -being strong in your love! how feeble my remorse would have been, and -how easily the passion you would have inspired would have stifled its -voice! Engrossed by you alone, I would have forgotten myself; proud in -the possession of your heart, I should have had no time to blush for my -own. A word from you, a glance, a kiss would have sufficed to absolve -me, and the memory of men and laws could have found no place in such a -life. You see I was mad; according to your cynical expression I had -acquired my knowledge of life from novels written for lady's-maids, from -those gay, childish works of fiction in which the heart is interested in -the success of wild enterprises and in impossible felicities. What you -said, Raymon, was horribly true! The thing that terrifies and crushes me -is that you are right.</p> - -<p>"One thing that I cannot understand so well is that the impossibility -was not the same for both of us; that I, a weak woman, derived from the -exaltation of my feelings sufficient strength to place myself alone in a -romantic, improbable situation, and that you, a brave man, could not -find in your will-power, sufficient courage to follow me. And yet you -had shared my dreams of the future, you had assented to my illusions, -you had nourished in me that hope impossible of realization. For a long -while you had listened to my childish plans, my pygmy-like aspirations, -with a smile on your lips and joy in your eyes, and your words were all -love and gratitude. You too were blind, short-sighted, boastful. How did -it happen that your reason did not return until the danger was in sight? -Why, I thought that danger charmed the eyes, strengthened the -resolution, put fear to flight; and yet you trembled like a leaf when -the crisis came! Have you men no courage except the physical courage -that defies death? are you not capable of the moral courage that -welcomes misfortune? Do you, who explain everything so admirably, -explain that to me, I beg.</p> - -<p>"It may be that your dream was not like mine; in my case, you see, -courage was love. You had fancied that you loved me, and you had -awakened, surprised to find that you had made such a mistake, on the day -that I went forward trusting in the shelter of my mistake. Great God! -what an extraordinary delusion it was of yours, since you did not then -foresee all the obstacles that struck you when the time for action came! -since you did not mention them to me until it was too late!</p> - -<p>"But why should I reproach you now? Are we responsible for the impulses -of our hearts? was it in your power to say that you would always love -me? No, of course not. My misfortune consists in my inability to make -myself agreeable to you longer and more really. I look about for the -cause of it and find none in my heart; but it apparently exists, none -the less. Perhaps I loved you too well, perhaps my affection was -annoying and tiresome. You were a man, you loved liberty and pleasure. I -was a burden to you. Sometimes I tried to put fetters on your life. -Alas! those were very paltry offences to plead in justification of such -a cruel desertion!</p> - -<p>"Enjoy, therefore, the liberty you have purchased at the expense of my -whole life; I will interfere with it no more. Why did you not give me -this lesson sooner? My wound would have been less deep, and yours also, -perhaps.</p> - -<p>"Be happy! that is the last wish my broken heart will ever form! Do not -exhort me to think of God, leave that for the priests, who have to -soften the hard hearts of the guilty. For my part, I have more faith -than you; I do not serve the same God, but I serve Him more loyally and -with a purer heart. Yours is the God of men, the king, the founder and -the upholder of your race; mine is the God of the universe, the creator, -the preserver and the hope of all creatures. Yours made everything for -you alone; mine made all created things for one another. You deem -yourselves the masters of the world; I deem you only its tyrants. You -think that God protects you and authorizes you to possess the empire of -the earth; I think that He permits that for a little time, and that the -day will come when His breath will scatter you like grains of sand. No, -Raymon, you do not know God; or rather let me repeat what Ralph said to -you one day at Lagny: you believe in nothing. Your education and your -craving for an irresistible power to oppose to the brute force of the -people, have led you to adopt without scrutiny the beliefs of your -fathers; but the conviction of God's existence has never reached your -heart—I doubt if you have ever prayed to Him. For my part, I have but -one belief, the only one probably that you have not: I believe in Him; -but the religion you have devised I will have nothing to do with; all -your morality, all your principles, are simply the interests of your -social order which you have raised to the dignity of laws and which you -claim to trace back to God himself, just as your priests instituted the -rites and ceremonies of the church to establish their power over the -nations and amass wealth. But it is all falsehood and impiety. I, who -invoke God and understand Him, know that there is nothing in common -between Him and you, and that by clinging to Him with all my strength I -separate myself from you, whose constant aim it is to overthrow His -works and sully His gifts. I tell you, it ill becomes you to invoke His -name to crush the resistance of a poor, weak woman, to stifle the -lamentations of a broken heart. God does not choose that the creations -of His hands shall be oppressed and trodden under foot. If He vouchsafed -to descend so far as to intervene in our paltry quarrels, He would crush -the strong and raise the weak; He would pass His mighty hand over our -uneven heads and level them like the surface of the sea; He would say to -the slave: 'Cast off thy chains and fly to the mountains where I have -placed water and flowers and sunshine for thee.' He would say to the -kings: 'Throw your purple robes to the beggars to sit upon, and go to -sleep in the valleys where I have spread for you carpets of moss and -heather.' To the powerful He would say: 'Bend your knees and bear the -burdens of your weaker brethren; for henceforth you will need them and I -will give them strength and courage.' Yes, those are my dreams; they are -all of another life, of another world, where the laws of the brutal will -not have passed over the heads of the peaceably inclined; where -resistance and flight will not be crimes; where man can escape man as -the gazelle escapes the panther; where the chain of the law will not be -stretched about him to force him to throw himself under his enemy's -feet; and where the voice of prejudice will not be raised in his -distress to insult his sufferings and to say to him: 'You shall be -deemed cowardly and base because you did not bend the knee and crawl.'</p> - -<p>"No, do not talk to me about God, you of all men, Raymon; do not invoke -His name to send me into exile and reduce me to silence. In submitting -as I do I yield to the power of men. If I listened to the voice which -God has placed in the depths of my heart, and to the noble instinct of a -bold and strong nature, which perhaps is the genuine conscience, I -should fly to the desert, I should learn to do without help, protection -and love: I should go and live for myself in the heart of our beautiful -mountains: I should forget the tyrants, the unjust and the ungrateful. -But alas! man cannot do without his fellowman, and even Ralph cannot -live alone.</p> - -<p>"Adieu, Raymon! may you be happy without me! I forgive you for the harm -you have done me. Talk of me sometimes to your mother, the best woman I -have ever known. Understand that there is neither anger nor vengeance in -my heart against you; my grief is worthy of the love I had for you.</p> - - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">"INDIANA."</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p>The unfortunate creature was over-boastful. This profound and calm -sorrow was due simply to a sense of what her own dignity demanded when -she addressed Raymon; but, when she was alone, she gave way freely to -its consuming violence. Sometimes, however, a vague gleam of hope shone -in her troubled eyes. Perhaps she never lost the last vestige of -confidence in Raymon's love, despite the cruel lessons of experience, -despite the distressing thoughts which placed before her mind every day -his indifference and indolence when his interests or his pleasures were -not concerned. It is my belief that, if Indiana could have persuaded -herself to face the bald truth, she would not have dragged out her -hopeless, ruined life so long.</p> - -<p>Woman is naturally foolish; it is as if Heaven, to counterbalance the -eminent superiority over us men which she owes to her delicacy of -perception, had implanted a blind vanity, an idiotic credulity in her -heart. It may be that one need only be an adept in the art of bestowing -praise and flattering the self-esteem, to obtain dominion over that -subtle, supple and perspicacious being. Sometimes the men who are most -incapable of obtaining any sort of ascendancy over other men, obtain an -unbounded ascendancy over the minds of women. Flattery is the yoke that -bends those ardent but frivolous heads so low. Woe to him who undertakes -to be frank and outspoken in love! he will have Ralph's fate.</p> - -<p>This is what I should reply if you should tell me that Indiana is an -exceptional character, and that the ordinary woman displays neither her -stoical coolness nor her exasperating patience in resistance to conjugal -despotism. I should tell you to look at the reverse of the medal, and -see the miserable weakness, the stupid blindness she displays in her -relations with Raymon. I should ask you where you ever found a woman who -was not as ready to deceive as to be deceived; who had not the art to -confine for ten years in the depths of her heart the secret of a hope -sacrificed so thoughtlessly in a day of frenzied excitement, and who -would not become, in one man's arms, as pitiably weak as she could be -strong and invincible in another man's.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XXIV</h4> - - -<p>Madame Delmare's home had become more peaceable, however. With their -false friends had disappeared many of the difficulties which, under the -fostering hand of those officious meddlers, had been envenomed with all -the warmth of their zeal. Sir Ralph, with his silence and his apparent -non-interference, was more skilful than all of them in letting drop -those airy trifles of intimate companionship which float about in the -favoring breeze of pleasant gossip. But Indiana lived almost alone. Her -house was in the mountains above the town, and Monsieur Delmare, who had -a warehouse in the port, went down every morning for the whole day, to -superintend his business with the Indies and with France. Sir Ralph, who -had no other home than theirs, but who found ways to add to their -comfort without their suspecting his gifts, devoted himself to the study -of natural history or to superintending the plantation; Indiana, -resuming the easy-going habits of creole life, passed the scorching -hours of the day in her straw chair, and the long evenings in the -solitude of the mountains.</p> - -<p>Bourbon is in truth, simply a huge cone, the base of which is about -forty leagues in circumference, while its gigantic mountain peaks rise -to the height of ten thousand feet. From almost every part of that -imposing mass, the eye can see in the distance, beyond the beetling -rocks, beyond the narrow valleys and stately forests, the unbroken -horizon surrounding the azure-hued sea like a girdle. From her window, -Indiana could see between the twin peaks of a wooded mountain opposite -that on which their house was built, the white sails on the Indian -Ocean. During the silent hours of the day, that spectacle attracted her -eyes and gave to her melancholy a fixed and uniform tinge of despair. -That splendid sight made her musings bitter and gloomy, instead of -casting its poetical influence upon them; and she would lower the -curtain that hung at her window and shun the very daylight, in order to -shed bitter, scalding tears in the secrecy of her heart.</p> - -<p>But when the land breeze began to blow, toward evening, and to bring to -her nostrils the fragrance of the flowering rice-fields, she would go -forth into the wilderness, leaving Delmare and Ralph on the veranda, to -enjoy the aromatic infusion of the <i>faham</i> and to loiter over their -cigars. She would climb to the top of some accessible peak, the extinct -crater of a former volcano, and gaze at the setting sun as it kindled -the red vapors of the atmosphere into flame and spread a sort of dust of -gold and rubies over the murmuring stalks of the sugar cane and the -glistening walls of the cliff. She rarely went down into the gorges of -the St. Gilles River, because the sight of the sea, although it -distressed her, fascinated her with its magnetic mirage. It seemed to -her that beyond those waves and that distant haze the magic apparition -of another land would burst upon her gaze. Sometimes the clouds on the -shore assumed strange forms in her eyes: at one time she would see a -white wave rise upon the ocean and describe a gigantic line which she -took for the façade of the Louvre; again two square sails would emerge -suddenly from the mist and recall to her mind the towers of Notre-Dame -at Paris, when the Seine sends up a dense mist which surrounds their -foundations and leaves them as if suspended in the sky; at other times -there were patches of pink clouds which, in their changing shapes, -imitated all the caprices of architecture in a great city. That woman's -mind slumbered in the illusions of the past, and she would quiver with -joy at sight of that magnificent Paris, whose realities were connected -with the most unhappy period of her life. A curious sort of vertigo -would take possession of her brain. Standing at a great height above the -shore, and watching the gorges that separated her from the ocean recede -before her eyes, it seemed as if she were flying swiftly through space -toward the fascinating city of her imagination. Dreaming thus, she would -cling to the rock against which she was leaning, and to one who had at -such times seen her eager eyes, her bosom heaving with impatient longing -and the horrifying expression of joy on her face, she would have seemed -to manifest all the symptoms of madness. And yet those were her hours of -pleasure, the only moments of well-being to which she looked forward -hopefully during the day. If her husband had taken it into his head to -forbid these solitary walks, I do not know what thought she would have -lived upon; for in her everything centred in a certain faculty of -inventing allusions, in an eager striving toward a point which was -neither memory, nor anticipation, nor hope, nor regret, but longing in -all its devouring intensity. Thus she lived for weeks and months beneath -the tropical sky, recognizing, loving, caressing but one shade, -cherishing but one chimera.</p> - -<p>Ralph, for his part, was attracted to gloomy, secluded spots in his -walks, where the wind from the sea could not reach him; for the sight of -the ocean had become as antipathetic to him as the thought of crossing -it again. France held only an accursed place in his heart's memory. -There it was that he had been unhappy to the point of losing courage, -accustomed as he was to unhappiness and patient with his misery. He -strove with all his might to forget it; for, although he was intensely -disgusted with life, he wished to live as long as he should feel that he -was necessary. He was very careful therefore never to utter a word -relating to the time he had passed in that country. What would he not -have given to tear that ghastly memory from Madame Delmare's mind! But -he had so little confidence of his ability, he felt that he was so -awkward, so lacking in eloquence, that he avoided her instead of trying -to divert her thoughts. In the excess of his delicate reserve, he -continued to maintain the outward appearance of indifference and -selfishness. He went off and suffered alone, and, to see him scouring -woods and mountains in pursuit of birds and insects, one would have -taken him for a naturalist sportsman engrossed by his innocent passion -and utterly indifferent to the passions of the heart that were stirring -in his neighborhood. And yet hunting and study were merely the pretext -behind which he concealed his long and bitter reveries.</p> - -<p>This conical island is split at the base on all sides and conceals in -its embrasures deep gorges through which flow pure and turbulent -streams. One of these gorges is called Bernica. It is a picturesque -spot, a sort of deep and narrow valley, hidden between two perpendicular -walls of rock, the surface of which is studded with clumps of saxatile -shrubs and tufts of ferns.</p> - -<p>A stream flows in the narrow trough formed by the meeting of the two -sides. At the point where they meet it plunges down into frightful -depths, and, where it falls, forms a basin surrounded by reeds and -covered with a damp mist. Around its banks and along the edges of the -tiny stream fed by the overflow of the basin grow bananas and oranges, -whose dark and healthy green clothe the inner walls of the gorge. -Thither Ralph fled to avoid the heat and companionship. All his walks -led to that favorite goal; the cool, monotonous plash of the waterfall -lulled his melancholy to sleep. When his heart was torn by the secret -agony so long concealed, so cruelly misunderstood, it was there that he -expended in unknown tears, in silent lamentations, the useless energy of -his heart and the concentrated activity of his youth.</p> - -<p>In order that you may understand Ralph's character, it will be well to -tell you that at least half of his life had been passed in the depths of -that ravine. Thither he had gone, in his early childhood, to steel his -courage against the injustice with which he had been treated in his -family. It was there that he had put forth all the energies of his soul -to endure the destiny arbitrarily imposed upon him, and that he had -acquired the habit of stoicism which he had carried to such a point that -it had become a second nature to him. There too, in his youth, he had -carried little Indiana on his shoulders; he had laid her on the grass by -the stream while he fished in the clear water or tried to scale the -cliff in search of birds' nests.</p> - -<p>The only dwellers in that solitude were the gulls, petrels, coots and -sea-swallows. Those birds were incessantly flying up and down, hovering -overhead or circling about, having chosen the holes and clefts in those -inaccessible walls to rear their wild broods. Toward night they would -assemble in restless groups and fill the echoing gorge with their -hoarse, savage cries. Ralph liked to follow their majestic flight, to -listen to their melancholy voices. He taught his little pupil their -names and their habits; he showed her the lovely Madagascar teal, with -its orange breast and emerald back; he bade her admire the flight of the -red-winged tropic-bird, which sometimes strays to those regions and -flies in a few hours from Mauritius to Rodrigues, whither, after a -journey of two hundred leagues, it returns to sleep under the -<i>veloutier</i> in which its nest is hidden. The petrel, harbinger of the -tempest, also spread its tapering wings over those cliffs; and the queen -of the sea, the frigate-bird, with its forked tail, its slate-colored -coat and its jagged beak, which lights so rarely that it would seem that -the air is its country, and constant movement its nature, raised its cry -of distress above all the rest. These wild inhabitants were apparently -accustomed to seeing the two children playing about the dwellings, for -they hardly condescended to take fright at their approach; and when -Ralph reached the shelf on which they had installed their families, they -would rise in black clouds and light, as if in derision, a few feet -above him. Indiana would laugh at their evolutions, and would carry -home, carefully, in her hat of rice-straw, the eggs Ralph had succeeded -in stealing for her, and for which he had often to fight stoutly against -powerful blows from the wings of the great amphibious creatures.</p> - -<p>These memories rushed tumultuously to Ralph's mind, but they were -extremely bitter to him; for times had changed greatly, and the little -girl who had always been his companion had ceased to be his friend, or -at all events was no longer his friend, as formerly, in absolute -simpleness of heart. Although she returned his affection, his devotion, -his regard, there was one thing which prevented any confidence between -them, one memory upon which all the emotions of their lives turned as -upon a pivot. Ralph felt that he could not refer to it; he had ventured -to do it once, on a day of danger, and his bold act had availed nothing. -To recur to it now would be nothing more than cold-blooded barbarity, -and Ralph had made up his mind to forgive Raymon, the man for whom he -had less esteem than for any man on earth, rather than add to Indiana's -sorrow by condemning him according to his own ideas of what justice -demanded.</p> - -<p>So he held his peace and even avoided her. Although living under the -same roof, he had managed so that he hardly saw her except at meals; and -yet he watched over her like a mysterious providence. He left the house -only when the heat confined her to her hammock; but at night, when she -had gone out, he would invent an excuse for leaving Delmare on the -veranda and would go and wait for her at the foot of the cliffs where he -knew she was in the habit of sitting. He would remain there whole hours, -sometimes gazing at her through the branches upon which the moon cast -its white light, but respecting the narrow space which separated them, -and never venturing to shorten her sad reverie by an instant. When she -came down into the valley she always found him on the edge of a little -stream along which ran the path to the house. Several broad flat stones, -around which the water rippled in silver threads, served him as a seat. -When Indiana's white dress appeared on the bank, Ralph would rise -silently, offer her his arm and take her back to the house without -speaking to her, unless Indiana, being more discouraged and depressed -than usual, herself opened the conversation. Then, when he had left her, -he would go to his own room and wait until the whole house was asleep -before going to bed. If he heard Delmare scolding, Ralph would grasp the -first pretext that came to his mind to go to him, and would succeed in -pacifying him or diverting his thoughts without ever allowing him to -suspect that such was his purpose.</p> - -<p>The construction of the house, which was transparent, so to speak, -compared with the houses in our climate, and the consequent necessity of -being always under the eyes of everybody else, compelled the colonel to -put more restraint upon his temper. Ralph's inevitable appearance, at -the slightest sound, to stand between him and his wife, forced him to -keep a check upon himself; for Delmare had sufficient self-esteem to -retain control of himself before that acute but stern censor. And so he -waited until the hour for retiring had delivered him from his judge -before venting the ill-humor which business vexations had heaped up -during the day. But it was of no avail; the secret influence kept vigil -with him, and, at the first harsh word, at the first loud tone that was -audible through the thin partitions, the sound of moving furniture or of -somebody walking about, as if by accident, in Ralph's room, seemed to -impose silence on him and to warn him that the silent and patient -solicitude of Indiana's protector was not asleep.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="PART_FOURTH">PART FOURTH</a></h4> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4>XXV</h4> - - -<p>Now it happened that the ministry of the 8th of August, which overturned -so many things in France, dealt a serious blow at Raymon's security. -Monsieur de Ramière was not one of those blindly vain mortals who -triumph on a day of victory. He had made politics the mainspring of all -his ideas, the basis of all his dreams of the future. He had flattered -himself that the king, by adopting a policy of shrewd concessions, would -maintain for a long time to come the equilibrium which assured the -existence of the noble families. But the rise to power of the Prince de -Polignac destroyed that hope. Raymon saw too far ahead, he was too well -acquainted with the new society not to stand on his guard against -momentary triumphs. He understood that his whole future trembled in the -balance with that of the monarchy, and that his fortune, perhaps his -life, hung by a thread.</p> - -<p>Thereupon he found himself in a delicate and embarrassing position. -Honor made it his duty to devote himself, despite all the risks of such -devotion, to the family whose interests had been thus far closely -connected with his own. In that respect he could hardly disregard his -conscience and the memory of his forefathers. But this new order of -things, this tendency toward an absolute despotism, offended his -prudence, his common-sense, and, so he said, his convictions. It -compromised his whole existence, it did worse than that, it made him -ridiculous, him, a renowned publicist who had ventured so many times to -promise, in the name of the crown, justice for all and fidelity to the -sworn compact. But now all the acts of the government gave a formal -contradiction to the young eclectic politician's imprudent assertions; -all the calm and slothful minds who, two days earlier, asked nothing -better than to cling to the constitutional throne, began to throw -themselves into the opposition and to denounce as rascality the efforts -of Raymon and his fellows. The most courteous accused him of lack of -foresight and incapacity. Raymon felt that it was humiliating to be -considered a dupe after playing such a brilliant rôle in the game. He -began secretly to curse and despise this royalty which thus degraded -itself and involved him in its downfall; he would have liked to be able -to cut loose from it without disgrace before the hour of battle. For -some time he made incredible efforts to gain the confidence of both -camps. The opposition ranks of that period were not squeamish concerning -the admission of new recruits. They needed them, and the credentials -they required were so trivial, that they enlisted considerable numbers. -Nor did they disdain the support of great names, and day after day -adroitly flattering allusions in their newspapers tended to detach the -brightest gems from that worn-out crown. Raymon was not deceived by -these demonstrations of esteem; but he did not reject them, for he was -certain of their utility. On the other hand, the champions of the throne -became more intolerant as their situation became more desperate. They -drove from their ranks, without prudence and without regard for -propriety, their strongest defenders. They soon began to manifest their -dissatisfaction and distrust to Raymon. He, in his embarrassment, -attached to his reputation as the principal ornament of his existence, -was very opportunely taken down with an acute attack of rheumatism, -which compelled him to abandon work of every sort for the moment and to -go into the country with his mother.</p> - -<p>In his isolation Raymon really suffered to feel that he was like a -corpse amid the devouring activity of a society on the brink of -dissolution, to feel that he was prevented, by his embarrassment as to -the color he should assume no less than by illness, from enlisting under -the warlike banners that waved on all sides, summoning the most obscure -and the least experienced to the great conflict. The intense pains of -his malady, solitude, ennui and fever insensibly turned his ideas into -another channel. He asked himself, for the first time, perhaps, if -society had deserved all the pains he had taken to make himself -agreeable to it, and he judged society justly when he saw that it was so -indifferent with regard to him, so forgetful of his talents and his -glory. Then he took comfort for having been its dupe by assuring himself -that he had never sought anything but his personal gratification; and -that he had found it there, thanks to himself. Nothing so confirms us in -egotism as reflection. Raymon drew this conclusion from it: that man, in -the social state, requires two sorts of happiness, happiness in public -life and in private life, social triumphs and domestic joys.</p> - -<p>His mother, who nursed him assiduously, fell dangerously ill; it was his -turn to forget his own sufferings and to take care of her; but his -strength was not sufficient. Ardent, passionate souls display miraculous -stores of health in times of danger; but lukewarm, indolent souls do not -arouse such supernatural outbursts of bodily strength. Although Raymon -was a good son, as the phrase is understood in society, he succumbed -physically under the weight of fatigue. Lying on his bed of pain, with -no one at his pillow save hirelings and now and then a friend who was in -haste to return to the excitements of social life, he began to think of -Indiana, and he sincerely regretted her, for at that time she would have -been most useful to him. He remembered the dutiful attentions she had -lavished on her crabbed old husband and he imagined the gentle and -beneficent care with which she would have encompassed her lover.</p> - -<p>"If I had accepted her sacrifice," he thought, "she would be dishonored; -but what would it matter to me now? Abandoned as I am by a frivolous, -selfish world, I should not be alone; she whom everybody spurned with -contumely would be at my feet, impelled by love; she would weep over my -sufferings and would find a way to allay them. Why did I discard that -woman? She loved me so dearly that she would have found consolation for -the insults of her fellows by bringing a little happiness into my -domestic life."</p> - -<p>He determined to marry when he recovered, and he mentally reviewed the -names and faces that had impressed him in the salons of the two -divisions of society. Fascinating apparitions flitted through his -dreams; head-dresses laden with flowers, snowy shoulders enveloped in -swansdown capes, supple forms imprisoned in muslin or satin: such -alluring phantoms fluttered their gauze wings before Raymon's heavy, -burning eyes; but he had seen these peris only in the perfumed whirl of -the ballroom. On waking, he asked himself whether their rosy lips knew -any other smiles than those of coquetry; whether their white hands could -dress the wounds of sorrow; whether their refined and brilliant wit -could stoop to the painful task of consoling and diverting a horribly -bored invalid. Raymon was a man of keen intelligence and he was more -distrustful than other men of the coquetry of women; he had a more -intense hatred of selfishness because he knew that from a selfish person -he could obtain nothing to advance his own happiness. And then Raymon -was no less embarrassed concerning the choice of a wife than concerning -the choice of his political colors. The same reasons imposed moderation -and prudence on him. He belonged to a family of high rank and unbending -pride which would brook no mésalliance, and yet wealth could no longer -be considered secure except in plebeian hands. According to all -appearance that class was destined to rise over the ruins of the other, -and in order to maintain oneself on the surface of the movement one must -be the son-in-law of a manufacturer or a stock-broker. Raymon concluded -therefore that it would be wise to wait and see which way the wind blew -before entering upon a course of action which would decide his whole -future.</p> - -<p>These positive reflections made plain to him the utter lack of affection -which characterizes marriages of convenience, so-called, and the hope of -having some day a companion worthy of his love entered only incidentally -into his prospects of happiness. Meanwhile his illness might be -prolonged, and the hope of better days to come does not efface the keen -consciousness of present pains. He recurred to the unpleasant thought of -his blindness on the day he had declined to kidnap Madame Delmare, and -he cursed himself for having comprehended so imperfectly his real -interests.</p> - -<p>At this juncture he received the letter Indiana wrote him from Ile -Bourbon. The sombre and inflexible energy which she retained, amid -shocks which might well have crushed her spirit, made a profound -impression on Raymon.</p> - -<p>"I judged her ill," he thought; "she really loved me, she still loves -me; for my sake she would have been capable of those heroic efforts -which I considered to be beyond a woman's strength; and now I probably -need say but a word to draw her, like an irresistible magnet, from one -end of the world to the other. If six months, eight months, perhaps, -were not necessary to obtain that result, I would like to make the -trial!"</p> - -<p>He fell asleep meditating that idea: but he was soon awakened by a great -commotion in the next room. He rose with difficulty, put on a -dressing-gown, and dragged himself to his mother's apartment. She was -very ill.</p> - -<p>Toward morning she found strength to talk with him; she was under no -illusion as to the brief time she had yet to live and her mind was busy -with her son's future.</p> - -<p>"You are about to lose your best friend," she said; "may Heaven replace -her by a companion worthy of you! But be prudent, Raymon, and do not -risk the repose of your whole life for a mere chimera of your ambition. -I have known but one woman, alas! whom I should have cared to call my -daughter; but Heaven has disposed of her. But listen, my son. Monsieur -Delmare is old and broken; who knows if that long voyage did not exhaust -the rest of his vitality? Respect his wife as long as he lives; but if, -as I believe will be the case, he is summoned soon to follow me to the -grave, remember there is still one woman in the world who loves you -almost as dearly as your mother loved you."</p> - -<p>That evening Madame de Ramière died in her son's arms. Raymon's grief -was deep and bitter; in the face of such a loss there could be neither -false emotion nor selfish scheming. His mother was really necessary to -him; with her he lost all the moral comfort of his life. He shed -despairing tears upon her pallid forehead, her lifeless eyes. He -maligned Heaven, he cursed his destiny, he wept for Indiana. He called -God to account for the happiness He owed him. He reproached Him for -treating him like other men and tearing everything from him at once. -Then he doubted the existence of this God who chastised him; he chose to -deny Him rather than submit to His decrees. He lost all the illusions -with all the realities of life; and he returned to his bed of fever and -suffering, as crushed and hopeless as a deposed king, as a fallen angel.</p> - -<p>When he was nearly restored to health, he cast a glance at the condition -of France. Matters were going from bad to worse; on all sides there were -threats of refusal to pay taxes. Raymon was amazed at the foolish -confidence of his party, and deeming it wise not to plunge into the -mêlée as yet, he shut himself up at Cercy with the melancholy memory -of his mother and Madame Delmare.</p> - -<p>By dint of pondering the idea to which he had attached little importance -at its first conception, he accustomed himself to the thought that -Indiana was not lost to him, if he chose to take the trouble to beckon -her back. He detected many inconveniences in the scheme but many more -advantages. It was not in accord with his interest to wait until she was -a widow before marrying her, as Madame de Ramière had suggested. -Delmare might live twenty years longer, and Raymon did not choose to -renounce forever the chance of a brilliant marriage. He conceived a -better plan than that in his cheerful and fertile imagination. He could, -by taking a little trouble, exert an unbounded influence over his -Indiana; he felt that he possessed sufficient mental cunning and knavery -to make of that enthusiastic and sublime creature a devoted and -submissive mistress. He could shield her from the ferocity of public -opinion, conceal her behind the impenetrable wall of his private life, -keep her as a precious treasure in the depths of his retreat, and employ -her to sweeten his moments of solitude and meditation with the joys of a -pure and generous affection. He would not have to exert himself overmuch -to escape the husband's wrath; he would not come three thousand leagues -in pursuit of his wife when his business interests made his presence -absolutely necessary in the other hemisphere. Indiana would demand -little in the way of pleasure and liberty after the bitter trials which -had bent her neck to the yoke. She was ambitious only for love, and -Raymon felt that he would love her from gratitude as soon as she made -herself useful to him. He remembered also the constancy and gentleness -she had shown during the long days of his coldness and neglect. He -promised himself that he would cleverly retain his liberty, so that she -would not dare to complain. He flattered himself that he could acquire -sufficient control over her convictions to make her consent to anything, -even to his marriage; and he based that hope upon numerous examples of -secret liaisons which he had known to continue despite the laws of -society, by virtue of the prudence and skill with which the parties had -succeeded in avoiding the judgment of public opinion.</p> - -<p>"Besides," he said to himself, "that woman will have made an -irrevocable, boundless sacrifice for me. She will have travelled the -world over for me and have left behind her all means of existence—all -possibility of pardon. Society is stern and unforgiving only to paltry, -commonplace faults. Uncommon audacity takes it by surprise, notorious -misfortune disarms it; it will pity, perhaps admire this woman who will -have done for me what no other woman would have dared to try. It will -blame her, but it will not laugh at her, and I shall not be blamed for -taking her in and protecting her after such a signal proof of her love. -Perhaps, on the contrary, my courage will be extolled, at all events I -shall have defenders, and my reputation will undergo a glorious and -indecisive trial. Society likes to be defied sometimes; it does not -accord its admiration to those who crawl along the beaten paths. In -these days public opinion must be driven with a whip."</p> - -<p>Under the influence of these thoughts he wrote to Madame Delmare. His -letter was what it was sure to be from the pen of so adroit and -experienced a man. It breathed love, grief, and, above all, truth. Alas! -what a slender reed the truth is, to bend thus with every breath!</p> - -<p>However, Raymon was wise enough not to express the object of his letter -in so many words. He pretended to look upon Indiana's return as a joy of -which he had no hope; but he had but little to say of her duty. He -repeated his mother's last words; he described with much warmth the -state of despair to which his loss had reduced him, the ennui of -solitude and the danger of his position politically. He drew a dismal -and terrifying picture of the revolution that was rising above the -horizon, and, while feigning to rejoice that he was to meet its coming -alone, he gave Indiana to understand that the moment had come for her to -manifest that enthusiastic loyalty, that perilous devotion of which she -had boasted so confidently. He cursed his destiny and said that virtue -had cost him very dear, that his yoke was very heavy: that he had held -happiness in his hand and had had the strength of will to doom himself -to eternal solitude.</p> - -<p>"Do not tell me again that you once loved me," he added; "I am so weak -and discouraged that I curse my courage and hate my duties. Tell me that -you are happy, that you have forgotten me, so that I may have strength -not to come and tear you away from the bonds that keep you from me."</p> - -<p>In a word, he said that he was unhappy; that was equivalent to telling -Indiana that he expected her.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XXVI</h4> - - -<p>During the three months that elapsed between the despatch of this letter -and its arrival at Ile Bourbon, Madame Delmare's situation had become -almost intolerable, as the result of a domestic incident of the greatest -importance to her. She had adopted the depressing habit of writing down -every evening a narrative of the sorrowful thoughts of the day. This -journal of her sufferings was addressed to Raymon, and, although she had -no intention of sending it to him, she talked with him, sometimes -passionately, sometimes bitterly, of the misery of her life and of the -sentiments which she could not overcome. These papers fell into -Delmare's hands, that is to say, he broke open the box which contained -them as well as Raymon's letters, and devoured them with a jealous, -frenzied eye. In the first outbreak of his wrath he lost the power to -restrain himself and went outside, with fast-beating heart and clenched -fists, to await her return from her walk. Perhaps, if she had been a few -minutes later, the unhappy man would have had time to recover himself; -but their evil star decreed that she should appear before him almost -immediately. Thereupon, unable to utter a word, he seized her by the -hair, threw her down and stamped on her forehead with his heel.</p> - -<p>He had no sooner made that bloody mark of his brutal nature upon a poor, -weak creature, than he was horrified at what he had done. He fled in -dire dismay, and locked himself in his room, where he cocked his pistol -preparatory to blowing out his brains; but as he was about to pull the -trigger he looked out on the veranda and saw that Indiana had risen and, -with a calm, self-possessed air, was wiping away the blood that covered -her face. As he thought that he had killed her, his first feeling was of -joy when he saw her on her feet; then his wrath blazed up anew.</p> - -<p>"It is only a scratch," he cried, "and you deserve a thousand deaths! -No, I will not kill myself; for then you would go and rejoice over it in -your lover's arms. I do not propose to assure the happiness of both of -you; I propose to live to make you suffer, to see you die by inches of -deathly ennui, to dishonor the infamous creature who has made a fool of -me!"</p> - -<p>He was battling with the tortures of jealous rage, when Ralph entered -the veranda by another door and found Indiana in the dishevelled -condition in which that horrible scene had left her. But she had not -manifested the slightest alarm, she had not uttered a cry, she had not -raised her hand to ask for mercy. Weary of life as she was, it seemed -that she had been desirous to give Delmare time to commit murder by -refraining from calling for help. It is certain that when the assault -took place Ralph was within twenty yards, and that he had not heard the -slightest sound.</p> - -<p>"Indiana!" he cried, recoiling in horror and surprise; "who has wounded -you thus?"</p> - -<p>"Do you ask?" she replied with a bitter smile; "what other than <i>your -friend</i> has the <i>right</i> and the inclination?"</p> - -<p>Ralph dropped the cane he held; he needed no other weapons than his -great hands to strangle Delmare. He reached his door in two leaps and -burst it open with his fist. But he found Delmare lying on the floor, -with purple cheeks and swollen throat, struggling in the noiseless -convulsions of apoplexy.</p> - -<p>He seized the papers that were scattered over the floor. When he -recognized Raymon's handwriting and saw the ruins of the letter-box, he -understood what had happened; and, carefully collecting the accusing -documents, he hastened to hand them to Madame Delmare and urged her to -burn them at once. Delmare had probably not taken time to read them -all.</p> - -<p>Then he begged her to go to her room while he summoned the slaves to -look after the colonel; but she would neither burn the papers nor hide -the wound.</p> - -<p>"No," she said haughtily, "I will not do it! That man did not scruple to -tell Madame de Carvajal of my flight long ago; he made haste to publish -what he called my dishonor. I propose to show to everybody this token of -his own dishonor which he has taken pains to stamp on my face. It is a -strange sort of justice that requires one to keep secret another's -crimes, when that other assumes the right to brand one without mercy!"</p> - -<p>When Ralph found the colonel was in a condition to listen to him, he -heaped reproaches upon him with more energy and severity than one would -have thought him capable of exhibiting. Thereupon Delmare, who certainly -was not an evil-minded man, wept like a child over what he had done; but -he wept without dignity, as a man can do when he abandons himself to the -sensation of the moment, without reasoning as to its causes and effects. -Prompt to jump to the opposite extreme, he would have called his wife -and solicited her pardon; but Ralph objected and tried to make him -understand that such a puerile reconciliation would impair the authority -of one without wiping out the injury done to the other. He was well -aware that there are injuries which are never forgiven and miseries -which one can never forget.</p> - -<p>From that moment, the husband's personality became hateful in the wife's -eyes. All that he did to atone for his treatment of her deprived him of -the slight consideration he had retained thus far. He had in very truth -made a tremendous mistake; the man who does not feel strong enough to be -cold and implacable in his vengeance should abjure all thought of -impatience or resentment. There is no possible rôle between that of the -Christian who forgives and that of the man of the world who spurns. But -Delmare had his share of selfishness too; he felt that he was growing -old, that his wife's care was becoming more necessary to him every day. -He was terribly afraid of solitude, and if, in the paroxysm of his -wounded pride, he recurred to his habits as a soldier and maltreated -her, reflection soon led him back to the characteristic weakness of old -men, whom the thought of desertion terrifies. Too enfeebled by age and -hardships to aspire to become a father, he had remained an old bachelor -in his home, and had taken a wife as he would have taken a housekeeper. -It was not from affection for her, therefore, that he forgave her for -not loving him, but from regard for his own comfort: and if he grieved -at his failure to command her affections, it was because he was afraid -that he should be less carefully tended in his old age.</p> - -<p>When Madame Delmare, for her part, being deeply aggrieved by the -operation of the laws of society, summoned all her strength of mind to -hate and despise them, there was a wholly personal feeling at the bottom -of her thoughts. But it may be that this craving for happiness which -consumes us, this hatred of injustice, this thirst for liberty which -ends only with life, are the constituent elements of <i>egotism</i>, a name -by which the English designate love of self, considered as one of the -privileges of mankind and not as a vice. It seems to me that the -individual who is selected out of all the rest to suffer from the -working of institutions that are advantageous to his fellowmen ought, if -he has the least energy in his soul, to struggle against this arbitrary -yoke. I also think that the greater and more noble his soul is, the more -it should rankle and fester under the blows of injustice. If he has ever -dreamed that happiness was to be the reward of virtue, into what ghastly -doubts, what desperate perplexity must he be cast by the disappointments -which experience brings!</p> - -<p>Thus all Indiana's reflections, all her acts, all her sorrows were a -part of this great and terrible struggle between nature and -civilization. If the desert mountains of the island could have concealed -her long, she would assuredly have taken refuge among them on the day of -the assault upon her; but Bourbon was not of sufficient extent to afford -her a secure hiding-place, and she determined to place the sea and -uncertainty as to her place of refuge between her tyrant and herself. -When she had formed this resolution, she felt more at ease and was -almost gay and unconcerned at home. Delmare was so surprised and -delighted that he indulged apart in this brutal reasoning: that it was a -good thing to make women feel the law of the strongest now and then.</p> - -<p>Thereafter she thought of nothing but flight, solitude and independence; -she considered in her tortured, grief-stricken brain innumerable plans -of a romantic establishment in the deserts of India or Africa. At night -she followed the flight of the birds to their resting-place at Ile -Rodrigue. That deserted island promised her all the pleasures of -solitude, the first craving of a broken heart. But the same reasons that -prevented her from flying to the interior of Bourbon caused her to -abandon the idea of seeking refuge in the small islands near by. She -often met at the house tradesmen from Madagascar, who had business -relations with her husband; dull, vulgar, copper-colored fellows who had -no tact or shrewdness except in forwarding their business interests. -Their stories attracted Madame Delmare's attention, none the less; she -enjoyed questioning them concerning the marvelous products of that -island, and what they told her of the prodigies performed by nature -there intensified more and more the desire that she felt to go and hide -herself away there. The size of the island and the fact that Europeans -occupied so small a portion of it led her to hope that she would never -be discovered. She decided upon that place, therefore, and fed her idle -mind upon dreams of a future which she proposed to create for herself, -unassisted. She was already building her solitary cabin under the shade -of a primeval forest, on the bank of a nameless river; she fancied -herself taking refuge under the protection of those savage tribes whom -the yoke of our laws and our prejudices has not debased. Ignorant -creature that she was, she hoped to find there the virtues that are -banished from our hemisphere, and to live in peace, unvexed by any -social constitution; she imagined that she could avoid the dangers of -isolation, escape the malignant diseases of the climate. A weak woman, -who could not endure the anger of one man, but flattered herself that -she could defy the hardships of uncivilized life!</p> - -<p>Amid these romantic thoughts and extravagant plans she forgot her -present ills; she made for herself a world apart, which consoled her for -that in which she was compelled to live; she accustomed herself to think -less of Raymon, who was soon to cease to be a part of her solitary and -philosophical existence. She was so busily occupied in constructing for -herself a future according to her fancy that she let the past rest a -little; and already, as she felt that her heart was freer and braver, -she imagined that she was reaping in advance the fruits of her solitary -life. But Raymon's letter arrived, and that edifice of chimeras vanished -like a breath. She felt, or fancied that she felt, that she loved him -more than before. For my part, I like to think that she never loved him -with all the strength of her soul. It seems to me that misplaced -affection is as different from requited affection as an error from the -truth. It seems to me that, although the excitement and ardor of our -sentiments abuse us to the point of believing that that is love in all -its power, we learn later, when we taste the delights of a true love, -how entirely we deceived ourselves.</p> - -<p>But Raymon's situation, as he described it, rekindled in Indiana's heart -that generous flame which was a necessity of her nature. Fancying him -alone and unhappy, she considered it her duty to forget the past and not -to anticipate the future. A few hours earlier, she intended to leave her -husband under the spur of hatred and resentment; now, she regretted that -she did not esteem him so that she might make a real sacrifice for -Raymon's sake. So great was her enthusiasm that she feared that she was -doing too little for him in fleeing from an irascible master at the -peril of her life, and subjecting herself to the miseries of a four -months' voyage. She would have given her life, with the idea that it was -too small a price to pay for a smile from Raymon. Women are made that -way.</p> - -<p>Thus it was simply a question of leaving the island. It was very -difficult to elude Delmare's distrust and Ralph's clear-sightedness. But -those were not the principal obstacles; it was necessary to avoid giving -the notice of her proposed departure, which, according to law, every -passenger is compelled to give through the newspapers.</p> - -<p>Among the few vessels lying in the dangerous roadstead of Bourbon was -the ship <i>Eugène</i>, soon to sail for Europe. For a long while Indiana -sought an opportunity to speak with the captain without her husband's -knowledge, but whenever she expressed a wish to walk down to the port, -he ostentatiously placed her in Ralph's charge, and followed them with -his own eyes with maddening persistence. However, by dint of picking up -with the greatest care every scrap of information favorable to her plan, -Indiana learned that the captain of the vessel bound for France had a -kinswoman at the village of Saline in the interior of the island, and -that he often returned from her house on foot, to sleep on board. From -that moment she hardly left the cliff that served as her post of -observation. To avert suspicion, she went thither by roundabout paths, -and returned in the same way at night when she had failed to discover -the person in whom she was interested on the road to the mountains.</p> - -<p>She had but two days of hope remaining, for the land-wind had already -begun to blow. The anchorage threatened to become untenable, and Captain -Random was impatient to be at sea.</p> - -<p>However, she prayed earnestly to the God of the weak and oppressed, and -went and stationed herself on the very road to Saline, disregarding the -danger of being seen, and risking her last hope. She had not been -waiting an hour when Captain Random came down the path. He was a genuine -sailor, always rough-spoken and cynical, whether he was in good or bad -humor; his expression froze Indiana's blood with terror. Nevertheless, -she mustered all her courage and walked to meet him with a dignified and -resolute air.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," she said, "I place my honor and my life in your hands. I -wish to leave the colony and return to France. If, instead of granting -me your protection, you betray the secret I confide to you, there is -nothing left for me to do but throw myself into the sea."</p> - -<p>The captain replied with an oath that the sea would refuse to sink such -a pretty lugger, and that, as she had come of her own accord and hove to -under his lee, he would promise to tow her to the end of the world.</p> - -<p>"You consent then, monsieur?" said Madame Delmare anxiously. "In that -case here is the pay for my passage in advance."</p> - -<p>And she handed him a casket containing the jewels Madame de Carvajal had -given her long before; they were the only fortune that she still -possessed. But the sailor had different ideas, and he returned the -casket with words that brought the blood to her cheeks.</p> - -<p>"I am very unfortunate, monsieur," she replied, restraining the tears of -wrath that glistened behind her long lashes; "the proposition I am -making to you justifies you in insulting me; and yet, if you knew how -odious my life in this country is to me, you would have more pity than -contempt for me."</p> - -<p>Indiana's noble and touching countenance imposed respect on Captain -Random. Those who do not wear out their natural delicacy by over-use -sometimes find it healthy and unimpaired in an emergency. He recalled -Colonel Delmare's unattractive features and the sensation that his -attack on his wife had caused in the colonies. While ogling with a -lustful eye that fragile, pretty creature, he was struck by her air of -innocence and sincerity. He was especially moved when he noticed on her -forehead a white mark which the deep flush on her face brought out in -bold relief. He had had some business relations with Delmare which had -left him ill-disposed toward him; he was so close-fisted and unyielding -in business matters.</p> - -<p>"Damnation!" he cried, "I have nothing but contempt for a man who is -capable of kicking such a pretty woman in the face! Delmare's a pirate, -and I am not sorry to play this trick on him; but be prudent, madame, -and remember that I am compromising my good name. You must make your -escape quietly when the moon has set, and fly like a poor petrel from -the foot of some sombre reef."</p> - -<p>"I know, monsieur," she replied, "that you cannot do me this very great -favor without transgressing the law; you may perhaps have to pay a fine; -that is why I offer you this casket, the contents of which are worth at -least twice the price of a passage."</p> - -<p>The captain took the casket with a smile.</p> - -<p>"This is not the time to settle our account," he said; "I am willing to -take charge of your little fortune. Under the circumstances I suppose -you won't have very much luggage; on the night we are to sail, hide among -the rocks at the <i>Anse aux Lataniers</i>; between one and two o'clock -in the morning a boat will come ashore pulled by two stout rowers, and -bring you aboard."</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XXVII</h4> - - -<p>The day preceding her departure passed away like a dream. Indiana was -afraid that it would be long and painful; it seemed to last but a -moment. The silence of the neighborhood, the peaceful tranquillity -within the house were in striking contrast to the internal agitation by -which Madame Delmare was consumed. She locked herself into her room to -prepare the few clothes she intended to carry; then she concealed them -under her dress and carried them one by one to the rocks at the <i>Anse -aux Lataniers</i>, where she placed them in a bark basket and buried them -in the sand. The sea was rough and the wind increased from hour to hour. -As a precautionary measure the <i>Eugène</i> had left the roadstead, and -Madame Delmare could see in the distance her white sails bellied out by -the breeze, as she stood on and off, making short tacks, in order to -hold the land. Her heart went out eagerly toward the vessel, which -seemed to be pawing the air impatiently, like a race-horse, full of fire -and ardor, as the word is about to be given. But when she returned to -the interior of the island she found in the mountain gorges a calm, soft -atmosphere, bright sunlight, the song of birds and humming of insects, -and everything going on as on the day before, heedless of the intense -emotions by which she was tortured. Then she could not believe in the -reality of her situation, and wondered if her approaching departure were -not the illusion of a dream.</p> - -<p>Toward night the wind fell. The <i>Eugène</i> approached the shore, and -at sunset Madame Delmare on her rocky perch heard the report of a cannon -echoing among the cliffs. It was the signal of departure on the -following day, on the return of the orb then sinking below the horizon.</p> - -<p>After dinner Monsieur Delmare complained of not feeling well. His wife -thought that her opportunity had gone, that he would keep the whole -house awake all night, and that her plan would be defeated; and then he -was suffering, he needed her; that was not the moment to leave him. -Thereupon remorse entered her soul and she wondered who would have pity -on that old man when she had abandoned him. She shuddered at the thought -that she was about to commit what was a crime in her own eyes, and that -the voice of conscience would rise even louder than the voice of -society, to condemn her. If Delmare, as usual, had harshly demanded her -services, if he had displayed an imperious and capricious spirit in his -sufferings, resistance would have seemed natural and lawful to the -down-trodden slave; but, for the first time in his life, he submitted to -the pain with gentleness, and seemed grateful and affectionate to his -wife. At ten o'clock he declared that he felt entirely well, insisted -that she should go to her own room, and that no one should pay any -further attention to him. Ralph, too, assured her that every symptom of -illness had disappeared and that a quiet night's sleep was the only -remedy that he needed.</p> - -<p>When the clock struck eleven all was silent and peaceful in the house. -Madame Delmare fell on her knees and prayed, weeping bitterly; for she -was about to burden her heart with a grievous sin, and from God alone -could come such forgiveness as she could hope to receive. She stole -softly into her husband's room. He was sleeping soundly; his features -were composed, his breathing regular. As she was about to withdraw, she -noticed in the shadows another person asleep in a chair. It was Ralph, -who had risen noiselessly and come to watch over her husband in his -sleep, to guard against accident.</p> - -<p>"Poor Ralph!" thought Indiana; "what an eloquent and cruel reproach to -me!"</p> - -<p>She longed to wake him, to confess everything to him, to implore him to -save her from herself; and then she thought of Raymon.</p> - -<p>"One more sacrifice," she said to herself, "and the most cruel of -all—the sacrifice of my duty."</p> - -<p>Love is woman's virtue; it is for love that she glories in her sins, it -is from love that she acquires the heroism to defy her remorse. The more -dearly it costs her to commit the crime, the more she will have deserved -at the hands of the man she loves. It is like the fanaticism that places -the dagger in the hand of the religious enthusiast.</p> - -<p>She took from her neck a gold chain which came to her from her mother -and which she had always worn; she gently placed it around Ralph's neck, -as the last pledge of an everlasting friendship, then lowered the lamp -so that she could see her old husband's face once more, and make sure -that he was no longer ill. He was dreaming at that moment and said in a -faint, sad voice:</p> - -<p>"Beware of that man, he will ruin you."</p> - -<p>Indiana shuddered from head to foot and fled to her room. She wrung her -hands in pitiable uncertainty; then suddenly seized upon the thought -that she was no longer acting in her own interest but in Raymon's; that -she was going to him, not in search of happiness, but to make him happy, -and that, even though she were to be accursed for all eternity, she -would be sufficiently recompensed if she embellished her lover's life. -She rushed from the house and walked swiftly to the <i>Anse aux -Lataniers</i>, not daring to turn and look at what she left behind her.</p> - -<p>She at once set about disinterring her bark basket and sat upon it, -trembling and silent, listening to the whistling of the wind, to the -plashing of the waves as they died at her feet, and to the shrill -groaning of the <i>satanite</i> among the great bunches of seaweed that -clung to the steep sides of the cliffs; but all these noises were drowned -by the throbbing of her heart, which rang in her ears like a funeral -knell.</p> - -<p>She waited a long while; she looked at her watch and found that the -appointed time had passed. The sea was so high, and navigation about the -shores of the island is so difficult in the best of weather, that she -was beginning, to despair of the courage of the men who were to take her -aboard, when she spied on the gleaming waves the black shadow of a -<i>pirogue</i>, trying to make the land. But the swell was so strong and -the sea so rough that the frail craft constantly disappeared, burying -itself as it were in the dark folds of a shroud studded with silver stars. -She rose and answered their signal several times with cries which the wind -whisked away before carrying them to the ears of the oarsmen. At last, -when they were near enough to hear her, they pulled toward her with much -difficulty; then paused to wait for a wave. As soon as they felt it -raise the skiff they redoubled their efforts, and the wave broke and -threw them up on the beach.</p> - -<p>The ground on which Saint-Paul is built is composed of sea sand and -gravel from the mountains, which the Des Galets river brings from a long -distance from its mouth by the strength of its current. These heaps of -rounded pebbles form submarine mountains near the shore which the waves -overthrow and rebuild at their pleasure. Their constant shifting makes -it impossible to avoid them, and the skill of the pilot is useless among -these constantly appearing and disappearing obstacles. Large vessels -lying in the harbor of Saint-Denis often drag their anchors and are cast -on shore by the force of the currents; they have no other resource when -this off-shore wind begins to blow, and to make the turbulent receding -waves perilous, than to put to sea as quickly as possible, and that is -what the <i>Eugène</i> had done.</p> - -<p>The skiff bore Indiana and her fortunes amid the wild waves, the howling -of the storm and the oaths of the two rowers, who had no hesitation in -cursing loudly the danger to which they exposed themselves for her sake. -Two hours ago, they said, the ship should have been under way, and on -her account the captain had obstinately refused to give the order. They -added divers insulting and cruel reflections, but the unhappy fugitive -consumed her shame in silence; and when one of them suggested to the -other that they might be punished if they were lacking in the respect -they had been ordered to pay the <i>captain's mistress</i>:</p> - -<p>"Never you fear!" was the reply; "the sharks are the lads we've got to -settle accounts with this night. If we ever see the captain again, I -don't believe he'll be any uglier than them."</p> - -<p>"Talking of sharks," said the first, "I don't know whether one of 'em -has got scent of us already, but I can see a face in our wake that don't -belong to a Christian."</p> - -<p>"You fool! to take a dog's face for a sea-wolf's! Hold! my four-legged -passenger, we forgot you and left you on shore; but, blast my eyes, if -you shall eat up the ship's biscuit! Our orders only mentioned a young -woman, nothing was said about a cur——"</p> - -<p>As he spoke he raised his oar to hit the beast on the head; but Madame -Delmare, casting her tearful, distraught eyes upon the sea, recognized -her beautiful Ophelia, who had found her scent on the rocks and was -swimming after her. As the sailor was about to strike her, the waves, -against which she was struggling painfully, carried her away from the -skiff, and her mistress heard her moaning with impatience and -exhaustion. She begged the oarsmen to take her into the boat and they -pretended to comply; but, as the faithful beast approached, they dashed -out her brains with loud shouts of laughter, and Indiana saw before her -the dead body of the creature who had loved her better than Raymon. At -the same time a huge wave drew the skiff down as it were into the depths -of an abyss, and the laughter of the sailors changed to imprecations and -yells of terror. However, thanks to its buoyancy and lightness the -<i>pirogue</i> righted itself like a duck and climbed to the summit of the -wave, to plunge into another ravine and mount again to another foaming -crest. As they left the shore behind, the sea became less rough, and -soon the skiff flew along swiftly and without danger toward the ship. -Thereupon, the oarsmen recovered their good humor and with it the power -of reflection. They strove to atone for their brutal treatment of -Indiana; but their cajolery was more insulting than their anger.</p> - -<p>"Come, come, my young lady," said one of them, "take courage, you're -safe now; of course the captain will give us a glass of the best wine in -the locker for the pretty parcel we've fished up for him."</p> - -<p>The other affected to sympathize with the young lady because her clothes -were wet; but, he said, the captain was waiting for her and would take -good care of her. Indiana listened to their remarks in deadly terror, -without speaking or moving; she realized the horror of her situation, -and could see no other way of escaping the outrages which awaited her -than to throw herself into the sea. Two or three times she was on the -point of jumping out of the boat; but she recovered courage, a sublime -courage, with the thought:</p> - -<p>"It is for him, Raymon, that I suffer all these indignities. I must live -though I were crushed with shame!"</p> - -<p>She put her hand to her oppressed heart and touched the hilt of a dagger -which she had concealed there in the morning, with a sort of instinctive -prevision of danger. The possession of that weapon restored all her -confidence; it was a short, pointed stiletto, which her father used to -carry; an old Spanish weapon which had belonged to a Medina-Sidonia, -whose name was cut on the blade, with the date 1300. Doubtless it had -rusted in noble blood, had washed out more than one affront, punished -more than one insolent knave. With it in her possession, Indiana felt -that she became a Spaniard once more, and she went aboard the ship with -a resolute heart, saying to herself that a woman incurred no risk so -long as she had a sure means of taking her own life before submitting to -dishonor. She avenged herself for the harsh treatment of her guides only -by rewarding them handsomely for their fatigue; then she went to her -cabin and anxiously awaited the hour of departure.</p> - -<p>At last the day broke, and the sea was covered with small boats bringing -the passengers aboard. Indiana looked with terror through the port-hole -at the faces of those who came aboard the <i>Eugène</i>; she dreaded lest -she should see her husband, coming to claim her. At last the echoes of -the last gun died away on the island which had been her prison. The ship -began to cut her way through the waves, and the sun, rising from the -ocean, cast its cheerful, rosy light on the white peaks of the Salazes -as they sank lower and lower on the horizon.</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="figure05"></a> -<img src="images/figure05.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="center"><i>MADAME DELMARE'S FLIGHT</i></p> -<p><i>She waited a long while; she looked at her watch -and found that the appointed time had passed. The -sea was so high, and navigation about the shores of -the island is so difficult in the best of weather, that -she was beginning, to despair of the courage of the -men who were to take her aboard, when she spied on -the gleaming waves the black shadow of a</i> pirogue, -<i>trying to make the land.</i></p></div> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p>When they were a few leagues from port, a sort of comedy was played on -board to avoid a confession of trickery. Captain Random pretended to -discover Madame Delmare on his vessel; he feigned surprise, questioned -the sailors, went through the form of losing his temper and of quieting -down again, and ended by drawing up a report of the finding of a -<i>stowaway</i> on board; that is the technical term used on such -occasions.</p> - -<p>Allow me to go no farther with the story of this voyage. It will be -enough for me to tell you, for Captain Random's justification, that, -despite his rough training, he had enough natural good sense to -understand Madame Delmare's character very quickly; he ventured upon -very few attempts to abuse her unprotected condition and eventually was -touched by it and acted as her friend and protector. But that worthy -man's loyal behavior and Indiana's dignity did not restrain the comments -of the crew, the mocking glances, the insulting suspicions and the broad -and stinging jests. These were the real torments of the unhappy woman -during that journey, for I say nothing of the fatigue, the discomforts, -the dangers, the tedium and the sea-sickness; she paid no heed to them.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XXVIII</h4> - - -<p>Three days after the despatch of his letter to Ile Bourbon, Raymon had -entirely forgotten both the letter and its purpose. He had felt -decidedly better and had ventured to make a visit in the neighborhood. -The estate of Lagny, which Monsieur Delmare had left to be sold for the -benefit of his creditors, had been purchased by a wealthy manufacturer, -Monsieur Hubert, a shrewd and estimable man, not like all wealthy -manufacturers, but like a small number of the newly-rich. Raymon found -the new owner comfortably settled in that house which recalled so many -memories. He took pleasure in giving a free rein to his emotion as he -wandered through the garden where Noun's light footprints seemed to be -still visible on the gravel, and through those great rooms which seemed -still to retain the echoes of Indiana's soft words; but soon the -presence of a new hostess changed the current of his thoughts.</p> - -<p>In the main salon, on the spot where Madame Delmare was accustomed to -sit and work, a tall, slender young woman, with a glance that was at -once pleasant and mischievous, caressing and mocking, sat before an -easel, amusing herself by copying in water-colors the odd hangings on -the walls. The copy was a fascinating thing, a delicate satire instinct -with the bantering yet refined nature of the artist. She had amused -herself by exaggerating the pretentious finicalness of the old frescoes; -she had grasped the false and shifting character of the age of Louis -XIV. on those stilted figures. While refreshing the colors that time had -faded, she had restored their affected graces, their perfume of -courtiership, their costumes of the boudoir and the shepherd's hut, so -curiously identical. Beside that work of historical raillery she had -written the word <i>copy.</i></p> - -<p>She raised her long eyes, instinct with merriment of a caustic, -treacherous, yet attractive sort, slowly to Raymon's face. For some -reason she reminded him of Shakespeare's Anne Page. There was in her -manner neither timidity nor boldness, nor affectation, nor -self-distrust. Their conversation turned upon the influence of fashion -in the arts.</p> - -<p>"Is it not true, monsieur, that the moral coloring of the period was in -that brush?" she said, pointing to the wainscoting, covered with rustic -cupids after the style of Boucher. "Isn't it true that those sheep do -not walk or sleep or browse like sheep of to-day? And that pretty -landscape, so false and so orderly, those clumps of many-petalled roses -in the middle of the forest where naught but a bit of eglantine grows in -our days, those tame birds of a species that has apparently disappeared, -and those pink satin gowns which the sun never faded—is there not in -all these a deal of poesy, ideas of luxury and pleasure, of a whole -useless, harmless, joyous life? Doubtless these absurd fictions were -quite as valuable as our gloomy political deliverances! If only I had -been born in those days!" she added with a smile; "frivolous and -narrow-minded creature that I am, I should have been much better fitted -to paint fans and produce masterpieces of thread-work than to read the -newspapers and understand the debates in the Chambers!"</p> - -<p>Monsieur Hubert left the young people together; and their conversation -drifted from one subject to another, until it fell at last upon Madame -Delmare.</p> - -<p>"You were very intimate with our predecessors in this house," said the -young woman, "and it is generous on your part to come and see new faces -here. Madame Delmare," she added, with a penetrating glance at him, "was -a remarkable woman, so they say; she must have left memories here which -place us at a disadvantage, so far as you are concerned."</p> - -<p>"She was an excellent woman," Raymon replied, unconcernedly, "and her -husband was a worthy man."</p> - -<p>"But," rejoined the reckless girl, "she was something more than an -excellent woman, I should judge. If I remember rightly there was a charm -about her personality which calls for a more enthusiastic and more -poetic description. I saw her two years ago, at a ball at the Spanish -ambassador's. She was fascinating that night; do you remember?"</p> - -<p>Raymon started at this reminder of the evening that he spoke to Indiana -for the first time. He remembered at the same moment that he had noticed -at that ball the distingué features and clever eyes of the young woman -with whom he was now talking; but he did not then ask who she was.</p> - -<p>Not until he had taken his leave of her and was congratulating Monsieur -Hubert on his daughter's charms, did he learn her name.</p> - -<p>"I have not the good fortune to be her father," said the manufacturer; -"but I did the best I could by adopting her. Do you not know my story?"</p> - -<p>"I have been ill for several months," Raymon replied, "and have heard -nothing of you beyond the good you have already done in the province."</p> - -<p>"There are people," said Monsieur Hubert with a smile, "who consider -that I did a most meritorious thing in adopting Mademoiselle de Nangy; -but you, monsieur, who have elevated ideas, will judge whether I did -anything more than true delicacy required. Ten years ago, a widower and -childless, I found myself possessed of funds to a considerable amount, -the results of my labors, which I was anxious to invest. I found that -the estate and château of Nangy in Bourgogne, national property, were -for sale and suited me perfectly. I had been in possession some time -when I learned that the former lord of the manor and his seven-year-old -granddaughter were living in a hovel, in extreme destitution. The old -man had received some indemnity, but he had religiously devoted it to -the payment of debts incurred during the emigration. I tried to better -his condition and to give him a home in my house; but he had retained in -his poverty all the pride of his rank. He refused to return to the house -of his ancestors as an object of charity, and died shortly after my -arrival, having steadfastly refused to accept any favors at my hands. -Then I took his child there. The little patrician was proud already and -accepted my assistance most unwillingly; but at that age prejudices are -not deeply rooted and resolutions do not last long. She soon accustomed -herself to look upon me as her father and I brought her up as my own -daughter. She has rewarded me handsomely by the happiness she has -showered on my old age. And so, to make sure of my happiness, I have -adopted Mademoiselle de Nangy, and my only hope now is to find her a -husband worthy of her and able to manage prudently the property I shall -leave her."</p> - -<p>Encouraged by the interest with which Raymon listened to his -confidences, the excellent man, in true bourgeois fashion, gradually -confided all his business affairs to him. His attentive auditor found -that he had a fine, large fortune administered with the most minute -care, and which simply awaited a younger proprietor, of more fashionable -tastes than the worthy Hubert, to shine forth in all its splendor. He -felt that he might be the man destined to perform that agreeable task, -and he gave thanks to the ingenious fate which reconciled all his -interests by offering him, by favor of divers romantic incidents, a -woman of his own rank possessed of a fine plebeian fortune. It was a -chance not to be let slip, and he put forth all his skill in the effort -to grasp it. Moreover, the heiress was charming; Raymon became more -kindly disposed toward his providence.</p> - -<p>As for Madame Delmare, he would not think of her. He drove away the -fears which the thought of his letter aroused from time to time; he -tried to persuade himself that poor Indiana would not grasp his meaning -or would not have the courage to respond to it; and he finally succeeded -in deceiving himself and believing that he was not blameworthy, for -Raymon would have been horrified to find that he was selfish. He was not -one of those artless villains who come on the stage to make a naïve -confession of their vices to their own hearts. Vice is not reflected in -its own ugliness, or it would frighten itself; and Shakespeare's Iago, -who is so true to life in his acts, is false in his words, being forced -by our stage conventions to lay bare himself the secret recesses of his -deep and tortuous heart. Man rarely tramples his conscience under foot -thus coolly. He turns it over, squeezes it, pinches it, disfigures it; -and when he has distorted it and exhausted it and worn it out, he -carries it about with him as an indulgent and obliging mentor which -accommodates itself to his passions and his interests, but which he -pretends always to consult and to fear.</p> - -<p>He went often to Lagny, therefore, and his visits were agreeable to -Monsieur Hubert; for, as you know, Raymon had the art of winning -affection, and soon the rich bourgeois's one desire was to call him his -son-in-law. But he wished that his adopted daughter should choose him -freely and that they should be allowed every opportunity to know and -judge each other.</p> - -<p>Laure de Nangy was in no haste to assure Raymon's happiness; she kept -him perfectly balanced between fear and hope. Being less generous than -Madame Delmare, but more adroit, distant yet flattering, haughty yet -cajoling, she was the very woman to subjugate Raymon; for she was as -superior to him in cunning as he was to Indiana. She soon realized that -her admirer craved her fortune much more than herself. Her placid -imagination anticipated nothing better in the way of homage; she had too -much sense, too much knowledge of the world to dream of love when two -millions were at stake. She had chosen her course calmly and -philosophically, and she was not inclined to blame Raymon; she did not -hate him because he was of a calculating, unsentimental temper like the -age in which he lived; but she knew him too well to love him. She made -it a matter of pride not to fall below the standard of that cold and -scheming epoch; her self-esteem would have suffered had she been swayed -by the foolish illusions of an ignorant boarding-school miss; she would -have blushed at being deceived as at being detected in a foolish act; in -a word, she made her heroism consist in steering clear of love, as -Madame Delmare's consisted in sacrificing everything to it.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle de Nangy was fully resolved, therefore, to submit to -marriage as a social necessity; but she took a malicious pleasure in -making use of the liberty which still belonged to her, and in imposing -her authority for some time on the man who aspired to deprive her of it. -No youth, no sweet dreams, no brilliant and deceptive future for that -girl, who was doomed to undergo all the miseries of wealth. For her, -life was a matter of stoical calculation, happiness a childish delusion -against which she must defend herself as a weakness and an absurdity.</p> - -<p>While Raymon was at work building up his fortune, Indiana was drawing -near the shores of France. But imagine her surprise and alarm, when she -landed, to see the tri-colored flag floating on the walls of Bordeaux! -The city was in a state of violent agitation; the prefect had been -almost murdered the night before; the populace were rising on all sides; -the garrison seemed to be preparing for a bloody conflict, and the -result of the revolution was still unknown.</p> - -<p>"I have come too late!" was the thought that fell upon Madame Delmare -like a stroke of lightning.</p> - -<p>In her alarm she left on board the little money and the few clothes that -she possessed, and ran about through the city in a state of frenzy. She -tried to find a diligence for Paris, but the public conveyances were -crowded with people who were either escaping or going to claim a share -in the spoils of the vanquished. Not until evening did she succeed in -finding a place. As she was stepping into the coach an improvised patrol -of National Guards objected to the departure of the passengers and -demanded to see their papers. Indiana had none. While she argued against -the absurd suspicions of the triumphant party, she heard it stated all -about her that the monarchy had fallen, that the king was a fugitive, -and that the ministers had been massacred with all their adherents. This -news, proclaimed with laughter and stamping and shouts of joy, dealt -Madame Delmare a deadly blow. In the whole revolution she was personally -interested in but one fact; in all France she knew but one man. She fell -on the ground in a swoon, and came to herself in a hospital—several -days later.</p> - -<p>After two months she was discharged, without money or linen or effects, -weak and trembling, exhausted by an inflammatory brain fever which had -caused her life to be despaired of several times. When she found herself -in the street, alone, hardly able to walk, without friends, resources or -strength, when she made an effort to recall the particulars of her -situation and realized that she was hopelessly lost in that great city, -she had an indescribable thrill of terror and despair as she thought -that Raymon's fate had long since been decided and that there was not a -solitary person about her who could put an end to her horrible -uncertainty. The horror of desertion bore down with all its might upon -her crushed spirit, and the apathetic despair born of hopeless misery -gradually deadened all her faculties. In the mental numbness which she -felt stealing over her, she dragged herself to the harbor, and, -shivering with fever, sat down on a stone to warm herself in the -sunshine, gazing listlessly at the water plashing at her feet. She sat -there several hours, devoid of energy, of hope, of purpose; but suddenly -she remembered her clothes and her money, which she had left on the -<i>Eugène</i>, and which she might possibly recover; but it was nightfall, -and she dared not go among the sailors who were just leaving their work -with much rough merriment and question them concerning the ship. -Desiring, on the other hand, to avoid the attention she was beginning to -attract, she left the quay and concealed herself in the ruins of a house -recently demolished behind the great esplanade of Les Quinconces. There, -cowering in a corner, she passed that cold October night, a night laden -with bitter thoughts and alarms. At last the day broke; hunger made -itself felt insistent and implacable. She decided to ask alms. Her -clothes, although in wretched condition, still indicated more -comfortable circumstances than a beggar is supposed to enjoy. People -looked at her curiously, suspiciously, ironically, and gave her nothing. -Again she dragged herself to the quays, inquired about the <i>Eugène</i> -and learned from the first waterman she addressed that she was still in the -roadstead. She hired him to put her aboard and found Random at -breakfast.</p> - -<p>"Well, well, my fair passenger," he cried, "so you have returned from -Paris already! You have come in good time, for I sail to-morrow. Shall I -take you back to Bourbon?"</p> - -<p>He informed Madame Delmare that he had caused search to be made for her -everywhere, that he might return what belonged to her. But Indiana had -not a scrap of paper upon her from which her name could be learned when -she was taken to the hospital. She had been entered on the books there -and also on the police books under the designation <i>unknown</i>; so the -captain had been unable to learn anything about her.</p> - -<p>The next day, despite her weakness and exhaustion, Indiana started for -Paris. Her anxiety should have diminished when she saw the turn -political affairs had taken; but anxiety does not reason, and love is -fertile in childish fears.</p> - -<p>On the very evening of her arrival at Paris she hurried to Raymon's -house and questioned the concierge in an agony of apprehension.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur is quite well," was the reply; "he is at Lagny."</p> - -<p>"At Lagny! you mean at Cercy, do you not?"</p> - -<p>"No, madame, at Lagny, which he owns now."</p> - -<p>"Dear Raymon!" thought Indiana, "he has bought that estate to afford me -a refuge where public malice cannot reach me. He knew that I would -come!"</p> - -<p>Drunk with joy, she hastened, light of heart and instinct with new life, -to take apartments in a furnished house, and devoted the night and part -of the next day to rest. It was so long since the unfortunate creature -had enjoyed a peaceful sleep! Her dreams were sweet and deceptive, and -when she woke she did not regret them, for she found hope at her pillow. -She dressed with care; she knew that Raymon was particular about all the -minutiæ of the toilet, and she had ordered the night before a pretty -new dress which was brought to her just as she rose. But, when she was -ready to arrange her hair, she sought in vain the long and magnificent -tresses she had once had; during her illness they had fallen under the -nurse's shears. She noticed it then for the first time, her -all-engrossing thoughts had diverted her mind so completely from small -things.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, when she had curled her short black locks about her pale -and melancholy brow, when she had placed upon her shapely head a little -English hat, called then, by way of allusion to the recent blow to great -fortunes, a <i>three per cent.</i>; when she had fastened at her girdle a -bunch of the flowers whose perfume Raymon loved, she hoped that she -would still find favor in his sight; for she was as pale and fragile as -in the first days of their acquaintance, and the effect of her illness -had effaced the traces of the tropical sunshine.</p> - -<p>She hired a cab in the afternoon and arrived about nine at night at a -village on the outskirts of Fontainebleau. There she ordered the driver -to put up his horse and wait for her until the next day, and started off -alone, on foot, by a path which led to Lagny park by a walk of less than -quarter of an hour through the woods. She tried to open the small gate -but found it locked on the inside. It was her wish to enter by stealth, -to avoid the eyes of the servants and take Raymon by surprise. She -skirted the park wall. It was quite old; she remembered that there were -frequent breaches, and, by good luck, she found one and passed over -without much difficulty.</p> - -<p>When she stood upon ground which belonged to Raymon and was to be -thenceforth her refuge, her sanctuary, her fortress and her home, her -heart leaped for joy. With light, triumphant foot she hastened along the -winding paths she knew so well. She reached the English garden, which -was dark and deserted on that side. Nothing was changed in the -flower-beds; but the bridge, the painful sight of which she dreaded, had -disappeared, and the course of the stream had been altered; the spots -which might have recalled Noun's death had been changed, and no others.</p> - -<p>"He wished to banish that cruel memory," thought Indiana. "He was wrong, -I could have endured it. Was it not for my sake that he planted the -seeds of remorse in his life? Henceforth we are quits, for I too have -committed a crime. I may have caused my husband's death. Raymon can open -his arms to me, we will take the place of innocence and virtue to each -other."</p> - -<p>She crossed the stream on boards laid across where a bridge was to be -built and passed through the flower-garden. She was forced to stop, for -her heart was beating as if it would burst; she looked up at the windows -of her old bedroom. O bliss! a light was shining through the blue -curtains, Raymon was there. As if he could occupy any other room! The -door to the secret stairway was open.</p> - -<p>"He expects me at any time," she thought; "he will be happy but not -surprised."</p> - -<p>At the top of the staircase she paused again to take breath; she felt -less strong to endure joy than sorrow. She stooped and looked through -the keyhole. Raymon was alone, reading. It was really he, it was Raymon -overflowing with life and vigor; his trials had not aged him, the -tempests of politics had not taken a single hair from his head; there he -sat, placid and handsome, his head resting on his white hand which was -buried in his black hair.</p> - -<p>Indiana impulsively tried the door, which opened without resistance.</p> - -<p>"You expected me!" she cried, falling on her knees and resting her -feeble head upon Raymon's bosom; "you counted the months and days, you -knew that the time had passed, but you knew too that I could not fail to -come at your call. You called me and I am here, I am here! I am dying!"</p> - -<p>Her ideas became tangled in her brain; for some time she knelt there, -silent, gasping for breath, incapable of speech or thought. Then she -opened her eyes, recognized Raymon as if just waking from a dream, -uttered a cry of frantic joy, and pressed her lips to his, wild, ardent -and happy. He was pale, dumb, motionless, as if struck by lightning.</p> - -<p>"Speak to me, in Heaven's name," she cried; "it is I, your Indiana, your -slave whom you recalled from exile and who has travelled three thousand -leagues to love you and serve you; it is your chosen companion, who has -left everything, risked everything, defied everything, to bring you this -moment of joy! You are happy, you are content with her, are you not? I -am waiting for my reward; with a word, a kiss I shall be paid a hundred -fold."</p> - -<p>But Raymon did not reply; his admirable presence of mind had abandoned -him. He was crushed with surprise, remorse and terror when he saw that -woman at his feet; he hid his face in his hands and longed for death.</p> - -<p>"My God! my God! you don't speak to me, you don't kiss me, you have -nothing to say to me!" cried Madame Delmare, pressing Raymon's knees to -her breast; "is it because you cannot? Joy makes people ill, it kills -sometimes, I know! Ah! you are not well, you are suffocating, I -surprised you too suddenly! Try to look at me; see how pale I am, how -old I have grown, how I have suffered! But it was for you, and you will -love me all the better for it! Say one word to me, Raymon, just one."</p> - -<p>"I would like to weep," said Raymon in a stifled tone.</p> - -<p>"And so would I," said she, covering his hands with kisses. "Ah! yes, -that would do you good. Weep, weep on my bosom, and I will wipe your -tears away with my kisses. I have come to bring you happiness, to be -whatever you choose—your companion, your servant or your mistress. -Formerly I was very cruel, very foolish, very selfish. I made you suffer -terribly, and I refused to understand that I demanded what was beyond -your strength. But since then I have reflected, and as you are not -afraid to defy public opinion with me, I have no right to refuse to make -any sacrifice. Dispose of me, of my blood, of my life, as you will; I am -yours body and soul. I have travelled three thousand leagues to tell you -this, to give myself to you. Take me, I am your property, you are my -master."</p> - -<p>I cannot say what infernal project passed rapidly through Raymon's -brain. He removed his clenched hands from his face and looked at Indiana -with diabolical <i>sang-froid</i>; then a wicked smile played about his -lips and made his eyes gleam, for Indiana was still lovely.</p> - -<p>"First of all, we must conceal you," he said, rising.</p> - -<p>"Why conceal me here?" she said; "aren't you at liberty to take me in -and protect me, who have no one but you on earth, and who, without you, -shall be compelled to beg on the public highway? Why, even society can -no longer call it a crime for you to love me; I have taken everything on -my own shoulders! But where are you going?" she cried, as she saw him -walking toward the door.</p> - -<p>She clung to him with the terror of a child who does not wish to be left -alone a single instant, and dragged herself along on her knees behind -him.</p> - -<p>His purpose was to lock the door; but he was too late. The door opened -before he could reach it, and Laure de Nangy entered. She seemed less -surprised than exasperated, and did not utter an exclamation, but -stooped a little to look with snapping eyes at the half-fainting woman -on the floor; then, with a cold, bitter, scornful smile, she said:</p> - -<p>"Madame Delmare, you seem to enjoy placing three persons in a very -strange situation; but I thank you for assigning me the least ridiculous -rôle of the three, and this is how I discharge it. Be good enough to -retire."</p> - -<p>Indignation renewed Indiana's strength; she rose and drew herself up to -her full height.</p> - -<p>"Who is this woman, pray?" she said to Raymon, "and by what right does -she give me orders in your house?"</p> - -<p>"You are in my house, madame," retorted Laure.</p> - -<p>"Speak, in heaven's name, monsieur," cried Indiana fiercely, shaking the -wretched man's arm; "tell me whether she is your mistress or your wife!"</p> - -<p>"She is my wife," Raymon replied with a dazed air.</p> - -<p>"I forgive your uncertainty," said Madame de Ramière with a cruel -smile. "If you had remained where your duty required you to remain, you -would have received cards to monsieur's marriage. Come, Raymon," she -added in a tone of sarcastic amiability, "I am moved to pity by your -embarrassment. You are rather young; you will realize now, I trust, that -more prudence is advisable. I leave it for you to put an end to this -absurd scene. I would laugh at it if you didn't look so utterly -wretched."</p> - -<p>With that she withdrew, well satisfied with the dignity she had -displayed, and secretly triumphant because the incident had placed her -husband in a position of inferiority and dependence with regard to her.</p> - -<p>When Indiana recovered the use of her faculties she was alone in a close -carriage, being driven rapidly toward Paris.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XXIX</h4> - - -<p>The carriage stopped at the barrier. A servant whom Madame Delmare -recognized as a man who had formerly been in Raymon's service came to -the door and asked where he should leave <i>madame</i>. Indiana -instinctively gave the name and street number of the lodging-house at which -she had slept the night before. On arriving there, she fell into a chair -and remained there until morning, without a thought of going to bed, -without moving, longing for death but too crushed, too inert to summon -strength to kill herself. She believed that it was impossible to live after -such terrible blows, and that death would of its own motion come in search -of her. She remained there all the following day, taking no sustenance, -making no reply to the offers of service that were made her.</p> - -<p>I do not know that there is anything more horrible on earth than life in -a furnished lodging-house in Paris, especially when it is situated, as -this one was, in a dark, narrow street, and only a dull, hazy light -crawls regretfully, as it were, over the smoky ceilings and soiled -windows. And then there is something chilly and repellent in the sight -of the furniture to which you are unaccustomed and to which your idle -glance turns in vain for a memory, a touch of sympathy. All those -objects which belong, so to speak, to no one, because they belong to all -comers; that room where no one has left any trace of his passage save -now and then a strange name, found on a card in the mirror-frame; that -mercenary roof, which has sheltered so many poor travellers, so many -lonely strangers, with hospitality for none; which looks with -indifference upon so many human agitations and can describe none of -them: the discordant, never-ending noise from the street, which does not -even allow you to sleep and thus escape grief or ennui: all these are -causes of disgust and irritation even to one who does not bring to the -horrible place such a frame of mind as Madame Delmare's. You ill-starred -provincial, who have left your fields, your blue sky, your verdure, your -house and your family, to come and shut yourself up in this dungeon of -the mind and the heart—see Paris, lovely Paris, which in your dreams -has seemed to you such a marvel of beauty! see it stretch away yonder, -black with mud and rainy, as noisy and pestilent and rapid as a torrent -of slime! There is the perpetual revel, always brilliant and perfumed, -which was promised you; there are the intoxicating pleasures, the -wonderful surprises, the treasures of sight and taste and hearing which -were to contend for the possession of your passions and faculties, which -are of limited capacity and powerless to enjoy them all at once! See, -yonder, the affable, winning, hospitable Parisian, as he was described -to you, always in a hurry, always careworn! Tired out before you have -seen the whole of this ever-moving population, this inextricable -labyrinth, you take refuge, overwhelmed with dismay, in the cheerful -precincts of a furnished lodging-house, where, after hastily installing -you, the only servant of a house that is often of immense size leaves -you to die in peace, if fatigue or sorrow deprive you of the strength to -attend to the thousand necessities of life.</p> - -<p>But to be a woman and to find oneself in such a place, spurned by -everybody, three thousand leagues from all human affection; to be -without money, which is much worse than being abandoned in a vast desert -without water; to have in all one's past not a single happy memory that -is not poisoned or withered, in the whole future not a single hope to -divert one's thoughts from the emptiness of the present, is the last -degree of misery and hopelessness. And so Madame Delmare, making no -attempt to contend against a destiny that was fulfilled, against a -broken, ruined life, submitted to the gnawings of hunger, fever and -sorrow without uttering a complaint, without shedding a tear, without -making an effort to die an hour earlier, to suffer an hour less.</p> - -<p>They found her on the morning of the second day, lying on the floor, -stiff with cold, with clenched teeth, blue lips and lustreless eyes; but -she was not dead. The landlady examined her secretary and, seeing how -poorly supplied it was, considered whether the hospital was not the -proper place for this stranger, who certainly had not the means to pay -the expenses of a long and costly illness. However, as she was a woman -<i>overflowing with humanity</i>, she caused her to be put to bed and sent -for a doctor to ascertain if the illness would last more than a day or -two.</p> - -<p>A doctor appeared who had not been sent for. Indiana, on opening her -eyes, found him beside her bed. I need not tell you his name.</p> - -<p>"Oh! you here! you here!" she cried, throwing herself, almost fainting, -on his breast. "You are my good angel! But you come too late, and I can -do nothing for you except to die blessing you."</p> - -<p>"You will not die, my dear," replied Ralph with deep emotion; "life may -still smile upon you. The laws which interfered with your happiness no -longer fetter your affection. I would have preferred to destroy the -invincible spell which a man whom I neither like nor esteem has cast -upon you; but that is not in my power, and I am tired of seeing you -suffer. Hitherto your life has been perfectly frightful; it cannot be -more so. Besides, even if my gloomy forebodings are realized and the -happiness of which you have dreamed is destined to be of short duration, -you will at least have enjoyed it for some little time, you will not die -without a taste of it. So I sacrifice all my repugnance and dislike. The -destiny which casts you, all alone as you are, into my arms, imposes -upon me the duties of a father and a guardian toward you. I come to tell -you that you are free and that you may unite your lot to Monsieur de -Ramière's. Delmare is no more."</p> - -<p>Tears rolled slowly down Ralph's cheeks while he was speaking. Indiana -suddenly sat up in bed and cried, wringing her hands in despair:</p> - -<p>"My husband is dead! and it was I who killed him! And you talk to me of -the future and happiness, as if such a thing were possible for the heart -that detests and despises itself! But be sure that God is just and that -I am cursed. Monsieur de Ramière is married."</p> - -<p>She fell back, utterly exhausted, into her cousin's arms. They were -unable to resume conversation until several hours later.</p> - -<p>"Your justly disturbed conscience may be set at rest," said Ralph, in a -solemn, but sad and gentle tone. "Delmare was at death's door when you -deserted him: he did not wake from the sleep in which you left him, he -never knew of your flight, he died without cursing you or weeping for -you. Toward morning, when I woke from the heavy sleep into which I had -fallen beside his bed, I found his face purple and he was burning hot -and breathing stertorously in his sleep; he was already stricken with -apoplexy. I ran to your room and was surprised not to find you there; -but I had no time to try to discover the explanation of your absence; I -was not seriously alarmed about it until after Delmare's death. -Everything that skill could do was of no avail, the disease progressed -with startling rapidity, and he died an hour later, in my arms, without -recovering the use of his senses. At the last moment, however, his -benumbed, clouded mind seemed to make an effort to come to life; he felt -for my hand which he took for yours—his were already stiff and -numb—he tried to press it, and died, stammering your name."</p> - -<p>"I heard his last words," said Indiana gloomily; "at the moment that I -left him forever, he spoke to me in his sleep. 'That man will ruin you,' -he said. Those words are here," she added, putting one hand to her heart -and the other to her head.</p> - -<p>"When I succeeded in taking my eyes and my thoughts from that dead -body," continued Ralph, "I thought of you; of you, Indiana, who were -free thenceforth, and who could not weep for your master unless from -kindness of heart or religious feeling. I was the only one whom his -death deprived of something, for I was his friend, and, even if he was -not always very sociable, at all events I had no rival in his heart. I -feared the effect of breaking the news to you too suddenly, and I went -to the door to wait for you, thinking that you would soon return from -your morning walk. I waited a long while. I will not attempt to describe -my anxiety, my search, and my alarm when I found Ophelia's body, all -bleeding and bruised by the rocks; the waves had washed it upon the -beach. I looked a long while, alas! expecting to discover yours; for I -thought that you had taken your own life, and for three days I believed -that there was nothing left on earth for me to love. It is useless to -speak of my grief; you must have foreseen it when you abandoned me.</p> - -<p>"Meanwhile, a rumor that you had fled spread swiftly through the colony. -A vessel came into port that had passed the <i>Eugène</i> in Mozambique -Channel; some of the ship's company had been aboard your ship. A -passenger had recognized you, and in less than three days the whole -island knew of your departure.</p> - -<p>"I spare you the absurd and insulting reports that resulted from the -coincidence of those two events on the same night, your flight and your -husband's death. I was not spared in the charitable conclusions that -people amused themselves by drawing; but I paid no attention to them. I -had still one duty to perform on earth, to make sure of your welfare and -to lend you a helping hand if necessary. I sailed soon after you; but I -had a horrible voyage and have been in France only a week. My first -thought was to go to Monsieur de Ramière to inquire about you; but by -good luck I met his servant Carle, who had just brought you here. I -asked him no questions except where you were living, and I came here -with the conviction that I should not find you alone."</p> - -<p>"Alone, alone! shamefully abandoned!" cried Madame Delmare. "But let us -not speak of that man, let us never speak of him. I can never love him -again, for I despise him; but you must not tell me that I once loved -him, for that reminds me of my shame and my crime; it casts a terrible -reproach upon my last moments. Ah! be my angel of consolation; you who -never fail to come and offer me a friendly hand in all the crises of my -miserable life. Fulfil with pity your last mission; say to me words of -affection and forgiveness, so that I may die at peace, and hope for -pardon from the Judge who awaits me on high."</p> - -<p>She hoped to die; but grief rivets the chain of life instead of breaking -it. She was not even dangerously ill; she simply had no strength, and -lapsed into a state of languor and apathy which resembled imbecility.</p> - -<p>Ralph tried to distract her; he took her away from everything that could -remind her of Raymon. He took her to Touraine, he surrounded her with -all the comforts of life; he devoted all his time to making a portion of -hers endurable; and when he failed, when he had exhausted all the -resources of his art and his affection without bringing a feeble gleam -of pleasure to that gloomy, careworn face, he deplored the powerlessness -of his words and blamed himself bitterly for the ineptitude of his -affection.</p> - -<p>One day he found her more crushed and hopeless than ever. He dared not -speak to her, but sat down beside her with a melancholy air. Thereupon, -Indiana turned to him and said, pressing his hand tenderly:</p> - -<p>"I cause you a vast deal of pain, poor Ralph! and you must be patient -beyond words to endure the spectacle of such egotistical, cowardly -misery as mine! Your unpleasant task was finished long ago. The most -insanely exacting woman could not ask of friendship more than you have -done for me. Now leave me to the misery that is gnawing at my heart; do -not spoil your pure and holy life by contact with an accursed life; try -to find elsewhere the happiness which cannot exist near me."</p> - -<p>"I do in fact give up all hope of curing you, Indiana," he replied; "but -I will never abandon you even if you should tell me that I annoy you; -for you still require bodily care, and if you are not willing that I -should be your friend, I will at all events be your servant. But listen -to me; I have an expedient to propose to you which I have kept in -reserve for the last stage of the disease, but which certainly is -infallible."</p> - -<p>"I know but one remedy for sorrow," she replied, "and that is -forgetting; for I have had time to convince myself that argument is -unavailing. Let us hope everything from time, therefore. If my will -could obey the gratitude which you inspire in me, I should be now as -cheerful and calm as in the days of our childhood; believe me, my -friend, I take no pleasure in nourishing my trouble and inflaming my -wound; do I not know that all my sufferings rebound on your heart? Alas! -I would like to forget, to be cured! but I am only a weak woman. Ralph, -be patient and do not think me ungrateful."</p> - -<p>She burst into tears. Sir Ralph took her hand.</p> - -<p>"Listen, dear Indiana," he said; "to forget is not in our power; I do -not accuse you! I can suffer patiently; but to see you suffer is beyond -my strength. Indeed, why should we struggle thus, weak creatures that we -are, against a destiny of iron? It is quite enough to drag this -cannon-ball; the God whom you and I adore did not condemn man to undergo -so much misery without giving him the instinct to escape from it; and -what constitutes, in my opinion, man's most marked superiority over the -brute is his ability to understand what the remedy is for all his ills. -The remedy is suicide; that is what I propose, what I advise."</p> - -<p>"I have often thought of it," Indiana replied after a short silence. -"Long ago I was violently tempted to resort to it, but religious -scruples arrested me. Since then my ideas have reached a higher level, -in solitude. Misfortune clung to me and gradually taught me a different -religion from that taught by men. When you came to my assistance I had -determined to allow myself to die of hunger; but you begged me to live, -and I had not the right to refuse you that sacrifice. Now, what holds me -back is your existence, your future. What will you do all alone, poor -Ralph, without family, without passions, without affections? Since I -have received these horrible wounds in my heart I am no longer good for -anything to you; but perhaps I shall recover. Yes, Ralph, I will do my -utmost, I swear. Have patience a little longer; soon, perhaps, I shall -be able to smile. I long to become tranquil and light-hearted once more -in order to devote to you this life for which you have fought so stoutly -with misfortune."</p> - -<p>"No, my dear, no; I do not desire such a sacrifice; I will never accept -it," said Ralph. "Wherein is my life more precious than yours, pray? Why -must you inflict a hateful future upon yourself in order that mine may -be pleasant? Do you think that it will be possible for me to enjoy it -while feeling that your heart has no share in it? No, I am not so -selfish as that. Let us not attempt, I beg you, an impossible heroism; -it is overweening pride and presumption to hope to renounce all -self-love thus. Let us view our situation calmly and dispose of our -remaining days as common property which neither of us has the right to -appropriate at the other's expense. For a long time, ever since my -birth, I may say, life has been a bore and a burden to me; now I no -longer feel the courage to endure it without bitterness of heart and -impiety. Let us go together; let us return to God, who exiled us in this -world of trials, in this vale of tears, but who will surely not refuse -to open His arms to us when, bruised and weary, we go to Him and implore -His indulgence and His mercy. I believe in God, Indiana, and it was I -who first taught you to believe in Him. So have confidence in me; an -upright heart cannot deceive one who questions it with sincerity. I feel -that we have both suffered enough here on earth to be cleansed of our -sins. The baptism of unhappiness has surely purified our souls -sufficiently; let us give them back to Him who gave them."</p> - -<p>This idea engrossed Ralph and Indiana for several days, at the end of -which it was decided that they should commit suicide together. It only -remained to choose what sort of death they would die.</p> - -<p>"It is a matter of some importance," said Ralph; "but I have already -considered it, and this is what I have to suggest. The act that we are -about to undertake not being the result of a momentary mental -aberration, but of a deliberate determination formed after calm and -pious reflection, it is important that we should bring to it the -meditative seriousness of a Catholic receiving the sacraments of his -Church. For us the universe is the temple in which we adore God. In the -bosom of majestic, virgin nature we are impressed by the consciousness -of His power, pure of all human profanation. Let us go back to the -desert, therefore, so that we may be able to pray. Here, in this country -swarming with men and vices, in the bosom of this civilization which -denies God or disfigures Him, I feel that I should be ill at ease, -distraught and depressed. I would like to die cheerfully, with a serene -brow and with my eyes gazing heavenward. But where can we find heaven -here? I will tell you, therefore, the spot where suicide appeared to me -in its noblest and most solemn aspect. It is in Ile Bourbon, on the -verge of a precipice, on the summit of the cliff from which the -transparent cascade, surmounted by a gorgeous rainbow, plunges into the -lonely ravine of Bernica. That is where we passed the sweetest hours of -our childhood; that is where I bewailed the bitterest sorrows of my -life; that is where I learned to pray, to hope; that is where I would -like, during one of the lovely nights of that latitude, to bury myself -in those pure waters and go down into the cool, flower-decked grave -formed by the depths of the verdure-lined abyss. If you have no -predilection for any other spot, give me the satisfaction of offering up -our twofold sacrifice on the spot which witnessed the games of our -childhood and the sorrows of our youth."</p> - -<p>"I agree," said Madame Delmare, placing her hand in Ralph's to seal the -compact. "I have always been drawn to the banks of the stream by an -invincible attraction, by the memory of my poor Noun. To die as she died -will be sweet to me; it will be an atonement for her death, which I -caused."</p> - -<p>"Moreover," said Ralph, "another sea voyage, made under the influence of -other feelings than those which have agitated us hitherto, is the best -preparation we could imagine for communing with ourselves, for detaching -ourselves from earthly affections, for raising ourselves in unalloyed -purity to the feet of the Supreme Being. Isolated from the whole world, -always ready to leave this life with glad hearts, we shall watch with -enchanted eyes the tempest arouse the elements and unfold its -magnificent spectacles before us. Come, Indiana, let us go; let us shake -the dust of this ungrateful land from our feet. To die here, under -Raymon's eyes, would be to all appearance a mere commonplace, cowardly -revenge. Let us leave that man's punishment to God; and let us go and -beseech Him to open the treasures of His mercy to that barren and -ungrateful heart."</p> - -<p>They left France. The schooner <i>Nahandove</i>, as fleet and nimble as -a bird, bore them to their twice-abandoned country. Never was there so -pleasant and fast a passage. It seemed as if a favorable wind had -undertaken to guide safely into port those two ill-fated beings who had -been tossed about so long among the reefs and shoals of life. During -those three months Indiana reaped the fruit of her docile compliance -with Ralph's advice. The sea air, so bracing and so penetrating, -restored her impaired health; a wave of peace overflowed her wearied -heart. The certainty that she would soon have done with her sufferings -produced upon her the effect of a doctor's assurances upon a credulous -patient. Forgetting her past life, she opened her heart to the profound -emotions of religious hope. Her thoughts were all impregnated with a -mysterious charm, a celestial perfume. Never had the sea and sky seemed -to her so beautiful. It seemed to her that she saw them for the first -time, she discovered so many new splendors and glories in them. Her brow -became serene once more, and one would have said that a ray of the -Divine essence had passed into her sweetly melancholy eyes.</p> - -<p>A change no less extraordinary took place in Ralph's soul and in his -outward aspect; the same causes produced almost the same results. His -heart, so long hardened against sorrow, softened in the revivifying -warmth of hope. Heaven descended also into that bitter, wounded heart. -His words took on the stamp of his feelings and for the first time -Indiana became acquainted with his real character. The reverent, filial -intimacy that bound them together took from the one his painful shyness, -from the other her unjust prejudices. Every day cured Ralph of some -<i>gaucherie</i> of his nature, Indiana of some error of her judgment. At -the same time the painful memory of Raymon faded away and gradually -vanished in face of Ralph's unsuspected virtues, his sublime sincerity. As -the one grew greater in her estimation, the other fell away. At last, by -dint of comparing the two men, every vestige of her blind and fatal love -was effaced from her heart.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>XXX</h4> - - -<p>It was last year, one evening during the never-ending summer that reigns -in those latitudes, that two passengers from the schooner <i>Nahandove</i> -journeyed into the mountains of Ile Bourbon three days after landing. -These two persons had devoted the interval to repose, a precaution quite -inconsistent with the plan which had brought them to the colony. But such -was evidently not their opinion; for, after taking <i>faham</i> together -on the veranda, they dressed with especial care as if they intended to -pass the evening in society, and, taking the road to the mountain, they -reached the ravine of Bernica after about an hour's walk.</p> - -<p>Chance willed that it should be one of the loveliest evenings for which -the moon ever furnished light in the tropics. That luminary had just -risen from the dark waves and was beginning to cast a long band of -quick-silver on the sea; but its rays did not shine into the gorge, and -the edges of the basin reflected only the trembling gleam of a few -stars. Even the lemon-trees on the higher slopes of the mountain were -not covered with the pale diamonds with which the moon sprinkles their -polished, brittle leaves. The ebony trees and the tamarinds murmured -softly in the darkness; only the bushy tufts at the summit of the huge -palm-trees, whose slender trunks rose a hundred feet from the ground, -shone with a greenish tinge in the silvery beams.</p> - -<p>The sea-birds were resting quietly in the crevices of the cliffs, and -only a few blue pigeons, concealed behind the projections of the -mountain, raised their melancholy, passionate note in the distance. -Lovely beetles, living jewels, rustled gently in the branches of the -coffee-trees, or skimmed the surface of the lake with a buzzing noise, -and the regular plashing of the cascade seemed to exchange mysterious -words with the echoes on its shores.</p> - -<p>The two solitary promenaders ascended by a steep and winding path to the -top of the gorge, to the spot where the torrent plunges down in a white -column of vapor to the foot of the precipice. They found themselves on a -small platform admirably adapted to their purpose. A number of -convolvuli hanging from the trunks of trees formed a natural cradle -suspended over the waterfall. Sir Ralph, with wonderful self-possession, -cut away several branches which might impede their spring, then took his -companion's hand and drew her to a seat beside him on a moss-covered -rock from which in the daytime the beautiful view from that spot could -be seen in all its wild and charming grandeur. But at that moment the -darkness and the dense vapor from the cascade enveloped everything and -made the height of the precipice seem immeasurable and awe-inspiring.</p> - -<p>"Let me remind you, my dear Indiana," said Ralph, "that the success of -our undertaking requires the greatest self-possession on our part. If -you jump hastily in a direction where, because of the darkness, you see -no obstacles, you will inevitably bruise yourself on the rocks and your -death will be slow and painful; but, if you take care to throw yourself -in the direction of the white line which marks the course of the -waterfall you will fall into the lake with it, and the water itself will -see to it that you do not miss your aim. But, if you prefer to wait an -hour, the moon will rise high enough to give us light."</p> - -<p>"I am willing," Indiana replied, "especially as we ought to devote these -last moments to religious thoughts."</p> - -<p>"You are right, my dear," said Ralph. "This last hour should be one of -meditation and prayer. I do not say that we ought to make our peace with -the Eternal, that would be to forget the distance that separates us from -His sublime power; but we ought, I think, to make our peace with the men -who have caused our suffering, and to confide to the wind which blows -toward the northeast words of pity for those from whom three thousand -leagues of ocean separate us."</p> - -<p>Indiana received this suggestion without surprise or emotion. For -several months past her thoughts had become more and more elevated in -direct proportion to the change that had taken place in Ralph. She no -longer listened to him simply as a phlegmatic adviser; she followed him -in silence as a good spirit whose mission it was to take her from the -earth and deliver her from her torments.</p> - -<p>"I agree," she said; "I am overjoyed to feel that I can forgive without -an effort, that I have neither hatred nor regret nor love nor resentment -in my heart; indeed, at this moment, I hardly remember the sorrows of my -sad life and the ingratitude of those who surrounded me. Almighty God! -Thou seest the deepest recesses of my heart; Thou knowest that it is -pure and calm, and that all my thoughts of love and hope have turned to -Thee."</p> - -<p>Thereupon, Ralph seated himself at Indiana's feet and began to pray in a -loud voice that rose above the roar of the cascade. It was the first -time perhaps since he was born that his whole thought came to his lips. -The hour of his death had struck; his heart was no longer held in check -by fetters or mysteries; it belonged to God alone; the chains of society -no longer weighed it down. Its ardor was no longer a crime, it was free -to soar upward to God who awaited it; the veil that concealed so much -virtue, grandeur and power fell away, and the man's mind rose at its -first leap to the level of his heart.</p> - -<p>As a bright flame burns amid dense clouds of smoke and scatters them, so -did the sacred fire that glowed in the depths of his being send forth -its brilliant light. The first time that that inflexible conscience -found itself delivered from its trammels and its fears, words came of -themselves to the assistance of his thoughts, and the man of mediocre -talents, who had never said any but commonplace things in his life, -became, in his last hour, eloquent and convincing as Raymon had never -been. Do not expect me to repeat to you the strange harangue that he -confided to the echoes of the vast solitude; not even he himself, if he -were here, could repeat it. There are moments of mental exaltation and -ecstasy when our thoughts are purified, subtilized, etherealized as it -were. These infrequent moments raise us so high, carry us so far out of -ourselves, that when we fall back upon the earth we lose all -consciousness and memory of that intellectual debauch. Who can -understand the anchorite's mysterious visions? Who can tell the dreams -of the poet before his exaltation cooled so that he could write them -down for us? Who can say what marvellous things are revealed to the soul -of the just man when Heaven opens to receive him? Ralph, a man so -utterly commonplace to all outward appearance—and yet an exceptional -man, for he firmly believed in God and consulted the book of his -conscience day by day—Ralph at that moment was adjusting his accounts -with eternity. It was the time to be himself, to lay bare his whole -moral being, to lay aside, before the Judge, the disguise that men had -forced upon him. Casting away the haircloth in which sorrow had -enveloped his bones, he stood forth sublime and radiant as if he had -already entered into the abode of divine rewards.</p> - -<p>As she listened to him, it did not occur to Indiana to be surprised; she -did not ask herself if it were really Ralph who talked like that. The -Ralph she had known had ceased to exist, and he to whom she was -listening now seemed to be a friend whom she had formerly seen in her -dreams and who finally became incarnate for her on the brink of the -grave. She felt her own pure soul soar upward in the same flight. A -profound religious sympathy aroused in her the same emotions, and tears -of enthusiasm fell from her eyes upon Ralph's hair.</p> - -<p>Thereupon, the moon rose over the tops of the great palms, and its -beams, shining between the branches of the convolvuli, enveloped Indiana -in a pale, misty light which made her resemble, in her white dress and -with her long hair falling over her shoulders, the wraith of some maiden -lost in the desert.</p> - -<p>Sir Ralph knelt before her and said:</p> - -<p>"Now, Indiana, you must forgive me for all the injury I have done you, -so that I may forgive myself for it."</p> - -<p>"Alas!" she replied, "what can I possibly have to forgive you, my poor -Ralph? Ought I not, on the contrary, to bless you to the last moment of -my life, as you have forced me to do in all the days of misery that have -fallen to my lot?"</p> - -<p>"I do not know how far I have been blameworthy," rejoined Ralph; "but it -is impossible that, in the course of such a long and terrible battle -with my destiny, I should not have been many times without my own -volition."</p> - -<p>"Of what battle are you speaking?" queried Indiana.</p> - -<p>"That is what I must explain to you before we die; that is the secret of -my life. You asked me to tell it to you on the ship that brought us -here, and I promised to do so on the shore of Bernica Lake, when the -moon should rise upon us for the last time."</p> - -<p>"That moment has come," she said, "and I am listening."</p> - -<p>"Summon all your patience then, for I have a long story to tell you, -Indiana, and that story is my own."</p> - -<p>"I thought that I knew it, inasmuch as I have hardly ever been separated -from you."</p> - -<p>"You do not know it; you do not know it for a single day, a single -hour," said Ralph sadly. "When could I have told it to you, pray? It is -Heaven's will that the only suitable moment for me to do so, should be -the last moment of your life and my own. But it is as innocent and -proper to-day as it would formerly have been insane and criminal. It is -a personal gratification for which no one has the right to blame me at -this hour, which you accord to me in order to complete the task of -patience and gentleness which you have taken upon yourself with regard -to me. Endure to the end, therefore, the burden of my unhappiness; and -if my words tire you and annoy you, listen to the waterfall as it sings -the hymn of the dead over me.</p> - -<p>"I was born to love; none of you chose to believe it, and your error in -that regard had a decisive influence on my character. It is true that -nature, while giving me an ardent heart, was guilty of a strange -inconsistency; she placed on my face a stone mask and on my tongue a -weight that it could not raise; she refused me what she grants to the -most ordinary mortals, the power to express my feelings by the glance or -by speech. That made me selfish. People judged the mental being by the -outer envelope and, like an imperfect fruit I was compelled to dry up -under the rough husk which I could not cast off. I was hardly born when -I was cast out of the heart which I most needed. My mother put me away -from her breast with disgust, because my baby face could not return her -smile. At an age when one can hardly distinguish a thought from a -desire, I was already branded with the hateful designation of egotist.</p> - -<p>"Thereupon it was decided that no one would love me, because I was -unable to put in words my affection for anyone. They made me unhappy, -they declared that I did not feel my unhappiness; I was almost banished -from my father's house; they sent me to live among the rocks like a -lonely shore-bird. You know what my childhood was, Indiana. I passed the -long days in the desert, with no anxious mother to come there in search -of me, with no friendly voice amid the silence of the ravines to remind -me that the approach of night called me back to the cradle. I grew up -alone, I lived alone; but God would not permit me to be unhappy to the -end, for I shall not die alone.</p> - -<p>"Heaven however sent me a gift, a consolation, a hope. You came into my -life as if Heaven had created you for me. Poor child! abandoned like me, -like me set adrift in life without love and without protectors, you -seemed to be destined for me—at least I flattered myself that it was -so. Was I too presumptuous? For ten years you were mine, absolutely -mine; I had no rivals, no misgivings. At that time I had had no -experience of what jealousy is.</p> - -<p>"That time, Indiana, was the least dismal period of my life. I made of -you my sister, my daughter, my companion, my pupil, my whole society. -Your need of me made my life something more than that of a wild beast; -for your sake I threw off the gloom into which the contempt of my own -family had cast me. I began to esteem myself by becoming useful to you. -I must tell you everything, Indiana; after accepting the burden of life -for you, my imagination suggested the hope of a reward. I accustomed -myself—forgive the words I am about to use; even to-day I cannot -utter them without fear and trembling—I accustomed myself to think -that you would be my wife; child that you were, I looked upon you as my -betrothed; my imagination arrayed you in the charms of young womanhood; -I was impatient to see you in your maturity. My brother, who had usurped -my share of the family affection and who took pleasure in peaceful -avocations, had a garden on the hillside which we can see from here by -daylight, and which subsequent owners have transformed into a -rice-field. The care of his flowers occupied his pleasantest moments, -and every morning he went out to watch their progress with an impatient -eye, and to wonder, child that he was, because they had not grown so -much as he expected in a single night. You, Indiana, were my whole -vocation, my only joy, my only treasure; you were the young plant that I -cultivated, the bud that I was impatient to see bloom. I, too, looked -eagerly every morning for the effect of another day that had passed over -your head; for I was already a young man and you were but a child. -Already passions of which you did not know the name were stirring my -bosom; my fifteen years played havoc with my imagination, and you were -surprised to see me so often in a melancholy mood, sharing your games, -but taking no pleasure in them. You could not imagine that a fruit or a -bird was no longer a priceless treasure to me as it was to you, and I -already seemed cold and odd to you. And yet you loved me such as I was; -for, despite my melancholy, there was not a moment of my life that was -not devoted to you; my sufferings made you dearer to my heart; I -cherished the insane hope that it would be your mission to change them -to joys some day.</p> - -<p>"Alas! forgive me for the sacrilegious thought which kept me alive for -ten years; if it were a crime in the accursed child to hope for you, -lovely, simple-hearted child of the mountains, God alone is guilty of -giving him, for his only sustenance, that audacious thought. Upon what -could that wounded, misunderstood heart subsist, who encountered new -necessities at every turn and found a refuge nowhere? from whom could he -expect a glance, a smile of love, if not from you, whose lover and -father he was at the same time?</p> - -<p>"Do not be shocked to find that you grew up under the wing of a poor -bird consumed by love; never did any impure homage, any blameworthy -thought endanger the virginity of your soul; never did my mouth brush -from your cheeks that bloom of innocence which covered them as the fruit -is covered with a moist vapor in the morning. My kisses were the kisses -of a father, and when your innocent and playful lips met mine they did -not find there the stinging flame of virile desire. No, it was not with -you, a tiny blue-eyed child, that I was in love. As I held you in my -arms, with your innocent smile and your dainty caresses, you were simply -my child, or at most my little sister; but I was in love with your -fifteen years, when, yielding to the ardor of my own youth, I devoured -the future with a greedy eye.</p> - -<p>"When I read you the story of Paul and Virginie, you only half -understood it. You wept, however; you saw only the story of a brother -and sister where I had quivered with sympathy, realizing the torments of -two lovers. That book made me miserable, whereas it was your joy. You -enjoyed hearing me read of the attachment of a faithful dog, of the -beauty of the cocoa-palms and the songs of Dominique the negro. But I, -when I was alone, read over and over the conversations between Paul and -his sweetheart, the impulsive suspicions of the one, the secret -sufferings of the other. Oh! how well I understood those first anxieties -of youth, seeking in his own heart an explanation of the mysteries of -life, and seizing enthusiastically on the first object of love that -presents itself to him! But do me justice, Indiana—I did not commit -the crime of hastening by a single day the placid development of your -childhood; I did not let a word escape me which could suggest to you -that there were such things as tears and misery in life. I left you, at -the age of ten, in all the ignorance, all the security that were yours -when your nurse placed you in my arms, one day when I had determined to -die.</p> - -<p>"Often as I sat alone on this cliff I wrung my hands frantically as I -listened to all the sounds of spring time and of love which the mountain -gives forth, as I saw the creepers chase each other to and fro, the -insects sleeping in a voluptuous embrace in the calyx of a flower, -as I inhaled the burning dust which the palm-trees sent to one -another—ethereal transports, subtle joys to which the gentle summer -breeze serves as a couch. At such times I was frantic, I was mad. I -appealed for love to the flowers, to the birds, to the voice of the -torrent. I called wildly upon that unknown bliss, the mere thought of -which made my brain whirl. But I would see you running toward me, along -yonder path, merry and laughing, so tiny in the distance and so awkward -about climbing the rocks that one might have taken you for a penguin, -with your white dress and your brown hair. Then my blood would grow -calm, my lips cease to burn. In presence of the little Indiana of seven -I would forget the Indiana of fifteen of whom I had just been dreaming. -I would open my arms to you with pure delight; your kisses would cool my -forehead. At those times I was happy; I was a father.</p> - -<p>"How many free, peaceful days we have passed in this ravine! How many -times I have bathed your feet in the pure water of yonder basin! How -many times I have watched you sleeping among the reeds, shaded by the -leaf of a palm for an umbrella! It was at those times that my tortures -would occasionally begin anew. It was a sore affliction to me that you -were so small. I would ask myself whether, suffering as I did, I could -live until the day when you could understand me and respond to my love. -I would gently lift your silken locks and kiss them with passion. I -would compare them with curls I had cut from your head in preceding -years and which I kept in my wallet. I would joyously make sure of the -darker shade that each recurring spring gave to them. Then I would -examine the marks on the trunk of a date-tree nearby, that I had made to -show the progressive increase in your height for four or five years. The -tree still bears those scars, Indiana; I found them on it the last time -I came here to suffer. Alas! in vain did you grow taller and taller; in -vain did your beauty keep all its promises; in vain did your hair become -black as ebony. You did not grow for me; not for me did your charms -develop. The first time that your heart beat faster it was for another -than me.</p> - -<p>"Do you remember how we ran, as light of foot as two turtle-doves, among -the thickets of wild rose bushes? Do you remember, too, that we -sometimes went astray in the forests over our heads? Once we tried to -reach the mist-enveloped peaks of the Salazes; but we had not foreseen -that the higher we went the scarcer the fruit became, the less -accessible the streams, the more terrible and more penetrating the cold.</p> - -<p>"When we saw the vegetation receding behind us you would have returned; -but when we had crossed the fern belt we found a quantity of wild -strawberries, and you were so busy filling your basket with them that -you thought no more about leaving the place. But we had to abandon the -idea of going on. We were walking on volcanic rocks covered with little -brown spots, and with woolly plants growing among them. Those wretched -wind-beaten weeds made us think of the goodness of God, who has given -them a warm garment to withstand the violence of the storm. Then the -mist became so dense that we could not tell where we were going, and we -had to go down again. I carried you in my arms. I crept carefully down -the deep slopes of the mountain. Darkness surprised us as we entered the -first woods, in the third belt of vegetation. I picked some pomegranates -for you and made shift to quench my own thirst with the convolvuli, the -stalks of which contain an abundant supply of cool, pure water. -Thereupon we recalled the adventure of our favorite heroes, when they -lost themselves in the forests of the Rivière-Rouge. But we had no -loving mothers, nor zealous servants, nor faithful dog to search for us. -But I was content; I was proud. I shared with no one the duty of -watching over you, and I considered myself more fortunate than Paul.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it was a profound and pure and true passion that you inspired in -me even then. Noun, at ten years, was a head taller than you; a creole -in the fullest acceptation of the word, she was already developed. Her -melting eyes already shone with a curious expression; her bearing and -character were those of a young woman. But I did not love Noun, or I -loved her only because of you, with whom she always played. It never -occurred to me to wonder whether she was beautiful already; whether she -would be more beautiful some day. I never looked at her. In my eyes she -was more of a child than you; for, you see, I loved you. I staked all my -hopes upon you; you were the companion of my life, the dream of my -youth.</p> - -<p>"Those days of exile in England, that period of pain and grief, I will -not describe. If I treated any one badly, it was not you; and if any one -treated me badly, I do not propose to complain. There I became more -<i>egotistical</i> that is to say more depressed and more distrustful than -ever. By being suspicious of me, people had compelled me to become -self-sufficient and to rely upon myself. Thus I had only the testimony -of my own heart to support me in those trials. It was attributed to me -as a crime that I did not love a woman who married me only because she -was forced to and who never treated me with anything but contempt. It -was afterwards remarked that one of the principal characteristics of my -egotism was the aversion I seemed to feel for children. Raymon more than -once bantered me cruelly concerning that supposed peculiarity, observing -that the care necessary for the education of children was quite -inconsistent with the rigidly methodical ways of an old bachelor. I -fancy that he did not know that I had been a father, and that it was I -who educated you. But none of you would ever understand that the memory -of my son was as intensely painful to me after many years as on the -first day, and that my sore heart swelled at the sight of flaxen heads -that reminded me of him. When a man is unhappy, people are terribly -afraid of not finding him blameworthy enough, because they dread being -compelled to pity him.</p> - -<p>"But what no one will ever be able to understand is the profound -indignation, the black despair which took possession of me when I, a -poor child of the desert, upon whom no one had ever deigned to cast a -pitying glance, was forced to leave this spot and take upon myself the -burdens of society; when I was told that I must fill an empty place that -had spurned me; when they tried to make me understand that I had duties -to fulfil toward those men and women who had disregarded their duties -toward me. Think of it! no one of all my kindred had chosen to be my -protector and now they all called upon me to undertake the defence of -their interests! They would not even leave me to enjoy in peace what -pariahs enjoy, the air of solitude! I had but one thing in life that I -cherished, one thought, one hope—that you would belong to me forever; -they deprived me of that, they told me that you were not rich enough for -me. Bitter mockery! for me whom the mountains had nourished and whom my -father's roof had cast out! me, who had never been allowed to learn the -use of riches, and upon whom was now laid the duty of managing to -advantage the riches of other people!</p> - -<p>"However I submitted. I had no right to pray that my paltry happiness -might be spared; I was despised enough, Heaven knows! to resist would -have been to make myself odious. My mother, inconsolable for her other -son's death, threatened to die herself if I did not follow out my -destiny. My father, who accused me of not knowing how to comfort him, as -if I were to blame because he loved me so little, was ready to curse me -if I tried to escape from his yoke. I bent my head; but what I suffered -even you yourself, although you too have been very unhappy, could never -understand. If, after being hunted and maltreated and oppressed as I -have been, I have not returned mankind evil for evil, perhaps it is a -fair conclusion that my heart is not so cold and sterile as it has been -accused of being.</p> - -<p>"When I came back here, when I saw the man to whom you had been -married—forgive me, Indiana, that was the time when I was genuinely -selfish; there must always be selfishness in love, since there was a -touch of it even in mine—I felt an indescribably cruel joy in the -thought that that legal sham would give you a master and not a husband. -You were surprised at the species of affection for him I displayed; it -was because I did not look upon him as a rival. I knew well enough that -that old man could neither feel nor inspire love, and that your heart -would come forth untouched from that marriage. I was grateful to him for -your coldness and your melancholy. If he had remained here, I should -perhaps have become a very guilty man; but you left me alone and it was -not in my power to live without you. I tried to conquer the indomitable -love which had sprung to life again in all its force when I found you as -fair and sad as I had dreamed of you in your childhood. But solitude -only intensified my suffering and I yielded to the craving I felt to see -you, to live under the same roof, to breathe the same air, to drink my -fill every hour of the melodious tones of your voice. You know what -obstacles I had to meet, what distrust I had to overcome; I realized -then what duties I had voluntarily undertaken; I could not connect my -life with yours without quieting your husband's suspicions by a sacred -promise, and I have never known what it was to trifle with my word. I -pledged myself therefore with my mind and my heart never to forget my -rôle of brother, and I ask you, Indiana, if I ever was false to my -oath.</p> - -<p>"I realized also that it would be difficult, perhaps impossible, for me -to perform that painful task, if I laid aside the disguise that -precluded any intimate relations, any profound sentiment; I realized -that I must not play with the danger, for my passion was too intense to -come forth victorious from a battle. I felt that I must erect about -myself a triple wall of ice, in order to repel your interest in me, in -order to deprive myself of your compassion, which would have ruined me. -I said to myself that on the day that you pitied me, I should be already -guilty, and I made up my mind to live under the weight of that horrible -accusation of indifference and selfishness, which, thank Heaven! you did -not fail to bring against me. The success of my ruse surpassed my hopes; -you lavished upon me a sort of insulting pity like that which is -accorded to eunuchs; you denied me the possession of a heart and -passions; you trampled me under foot, and I had not the right to display -energy enough to be angry and vow vengeance, for that would have -betrayed me and shown you that I was a man.</p> - -<p>"I complain of mankind at large and not of you, Indiana. You were always -kind and merciful; you tolerated me under this despicable disguise I had -adopted in order to be near you; you never made me blush for my rôle, -you were all in all to me, and sometimes I thought with pride that if -you looked kindly upon me in the guise I had assumed in order that you -might misunderstand me, you might perhaps love me if you should know me -some day as I really was. Alas! what other than you would not have -spurned me? what other would have held out her hand to that speechless, -witless clown? Everybody but you held aloof with disgust from the -<i>egotist!</i> Ah! there was one being in the world generous enough not to -tire of that profitless exchange; there was one heart large enough to -shed something of the blessed flame that animated it upon the narrow, -benumbed heart of the poor abandoned wretch. It required a heart that -had too much of that of which I had not enough. There was under Heaven -but one Indiana capable of caring for a Ralph.</p> - -<p>"Next to you the person who showed me the most indulgence was Delmare. -You accused me of preferring him to you, of sacrificing your comfort to -my own by refusing to interfere in your domestic quarrels. Unjust, blind -woman! you did not see that I served you as well as it was possible to -do; and, above all, you did not understand that I could not raise my -voice in your behalf without betraying myself. What would have become of -you if Delmare had turned me out of his house? who would have protected -you, patiently, silently, but with the persevering steadfastness of an -undying love? Not Raymon surely. And then I was fond of him from a -feeling of gratitude, I confess;—yes, fond of that rough, vulgar -creature who had it in his power to deprive me of my only remaining joy, -and who did not do it; that man whose misfortune it was not to be loved -by you, so that there was a secret bond of sympathy between us! I was -fond of him too for the very reason that he had never caused me the -tortures of jealousy.</p> - -<p>"But I have come now to the most ghastly sorrow of my life, to the fatal -time when your love, of which I had dreamed so long, belonged to -another. Then and not till then did I fully realize the nature of the -sentiment that I had held in check so many years. Then did hatred pour -poison into my breast and jealousy consume what was left of my strength. -Hitherto my imagination had kept you pure; my respect encompassed you -with a veil which the innocent audacity of dreams dared not even raise; -but when I was assailed by the horrible thought that another had -involved you in his destiny, had snatched you from my power and was -intoxicating himself with deep draughts of the bliss of which I dared -not I even dream, I became frantic; I would have rejoiced to see that -detested man at the foot of this precipice and to roll stones down upon -his head.</p> - -<p>"However your sufferings were so great that I forgot my own. I did not -choose to kill him, because you would have wept for him. Indeed I was -tempted twenty times, Heaven forgive me! to be a vile and despicable -wretch, to betray Delmare and serve my enemy. Yes, Indiana, I was so -insane, so miserable at the sight of your suffering, that I repented -having tried to enlighten you and that I would have given my life to -bequeath my heart to that man! Oh! the villain! may God forgive him for -the injury he has done me! but may He punish him for the misery he has -heaped on your head! It is for that that I hate him; for, so far as I am -concerned, I forget what my life has been, when I see what he has made -of yours. He is a man whom society should have branded on the forehead -on the day of his birth! whom it should have spat upon and cast out as -the hardest-hearted and vilest of men! But on the contrary, she bore it -aloft in triumph. Ah! I recognize mankind in that, and I ought not to be -indignant; for man simply obeys his nature in adoring the deformed -creature who destroys the happiness and consideration of another.</p> - -<p>"Forgive me, Indiana, forgive me! it is cruel perhaps to complain before -you, but this is the first time and the last; let me curse the -ungrateful wretch who has driven you to the grave. This terrible lesson -was necessary to open your eyes. In vain did a voice from Noun's -deathbed and Delmare's cry out to you: 'Beware of him, he will ruin -you!'—you were deaf: your evil genius led you on and, dishonored as -you are, public opinion condemns you and absolves him. He did all sorts of -evil and no heed was paid to it. He killed Noun and you forgot it; he -ruined you and you forgave him. You see, he had the art to dazzle the -eyes and deceive the mind; his adroit, deceitful words found their way -to the heart; his viper's glance fascinated; and if nature had given him -my metallic features and my dull intelligence she would have made a -perfect man of him.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I say, may God punish him, for he was barbarous to you! or, -rather, may He forgive him, for perhaps he was more stupid than wicked! -He did not understand you; he did not appreciate the happiness he might -have enjoyed! Oh! you loved him so dearly! He might have made your life -so beautiful! In his place I would not have been virtuous; I would have -fled with you into the heart of the mountains; I would have torn you -from society to have you all to myself, and I should have had but one -fear, that you would not be accursed and abandoned sufficiently so that -I might be all in all to you. I would have been jealous of your -consideration, but not in the same way that he was; my aim would have -been to destroy it in order to replace it by my love. I should have -suffered intensely to see another man give you the slightest morsel of -pleasure, a moment's gratification; it would have been a theft from me; -for your happiness would have been my care, my property, my life, my -honor! Oh! how vain and how wealthy I would have been with this wild -ravine for my only home, these mountain trees for my only fortune, if -heaven had given them to me with your love! Let us weep, Indiana; it is -the first time in my life that I have wept; it is God's will that I -should not die without knowing that melancholy pleasure."</p> - -<p>Ralph was weeping like a child. It was in very truth the first time that -stoical soul had ever given way to self-compassion; and yet there was in -those tears more sorrow for Indiana's fate than for his own.</p> - -<p>"Do not weep for me," he said, seeing that her face too was bathed in -tears. "Do not pity me; your pity wipes out the whole past, and the -present is no longer bitter. Why should I suffer now? You no longer love -him."</p> - -<p>"If I had known you as you are, Ralph, I should never have loved him," -cried Madame Delmare; "it was your virtue that was my ruin."</p> - -<p>"And then," continued Ralph, looking at her with a sorrowful smile, "I -have many other causes of joy. You unwittingly confided something to me -during the hours that we poured out our hearts to each other on board -ship. You told me that this Raymon was never so fortunate as he had the -presumption to claim to be, and you relieved me of a part of my -torments. You took away my remorse for having watched over you so -ineffectually; for I had the insolence to try to protect you from his -fascinations; and therein I insulted you, Indiana. I did not have faith -in your strength; that is another crime for you to forgive."</p> - -<p>"Alas!" said Indiana, "you ask me to forgive! me who have made your -whole life miserable, who have rewarded so pure and generous a love with -incredible blindness, barbarous ingratitude! Why, I am the one who -should crawl at your feet and implore forgiveness."</p> - -<p>"Then this love of mine arouses neither disgust nor anger in your -breast, Indiana? O my God! I thank Thee! I shall die happy! Listen, -Indiana; cease to blame yourself for my sufferings. At this moment I -regret none of Raymon's joys, and I think that my fate would arouse his -envy if he had the heart of a man. Now I am your brother, your husband, -your lover for all eternity. Since the day that you promised to leave -this life with me, I have cherished the sweet thought that you belonged -to me, that you had returned to me never to leave me again. I began once -more to call you my betrothed under my breath. It would have been too much -happiness—or, it may be, not enough—to possess you on earth. In -God's bosom the bliss awaits me of which my childhood dreamed. There, -Indiana, you will love me; there, your divine intellect, stripped of all -the lying fictions of this life, will make up to me for a whole life of -sacrifices, suffering and self-denial; there, you will be mine, O my -Indiana! for you are heaven! and if I deserve to be saved, I deserve to -possess you. This is what I had in mind when I asked you to put on this -white dress; it is the wedding dress; and yonder rock jutting out into -the basin is the altar that awaits us."</p> - -<p>He rose and plucked a branch from a flowering orange tree in a -neighboring thicket and placed it on Indiana's black hair; then he knelt -at her feet.</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="figure06"></a> -<img src="images/figure06.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="center"><i>RALPH AND INDIANA SEEK DEATH<br /> -TOGETHER</i></p> -<p><i>Their lips met; and doubtless there is in a love -that comes from the heart a greater power than in -the ardor of a fugitive desire; for that kiss, on the -threshold of another life, summed up for them all -the joys of this.</i></p> - -<p><i>Thereupon Ralph took his fiancée in his arms and -bore her away to plunge with her in the torrent.</i></p></div> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p>"Make me happy," he said; "tell me that your heart consents to this -marriage in another world. Give me eternity; do not compel me -to pray for absolute annihilation."</p> - -<p>If the story of Ralph's inward life has produced no effect upon you, if -you have not come to love that virtuous man, it is because I have proved -to be an unfaithful interpreter of his memories, because I have not been -able to exert the power possessed by a man who is profoundly in earnest -in his passion. Moreover, the moon does not lend me its melancholy -influence, nor do the song of the grosbeak, the perfume of the -cinnamon-tree, and all the luxurious and intoxicating seductions of a -night in the tropics appeal to your head and heart. It may be, too, that -you do not know by experience what powerful and novel sensations awake -in the heart at the thought of suicide, and how all the things of this -life appear in their true light at the moment of severing our connection -with them. This sudden light filled all the inmost recesses of Indiana's -heart; the bandage, which had long been loosened, fell from her eyes -altogether. Newly awake to the truth and to nature, she saw Ralph's -heart as it really was. She also saw his features as she had never seen -them; for the mental exaltation of his position had produced the same -effect on him that the Voltaic battery produces on paralyzed limbs; it -had set him free from the paralysis that had fettered his eyes and his -voice. Arrayed in all the glory of his frankness and his virtue he was -much handsomer than Raymon, and Indiana felt that he was the man she -should have loved.</p> - -<p>"Be my husband in heaven and on earth," she said, "and let this kiss -bind me to you for all eternity!"</p> - -<p>Their lips met; and doubtless there is in a love that comes from the -heart a greater power than in the ardor of a fugitive desire; for that -kiss, on the threshold of another life, summed up for them all the joys -of this.</p> - -<p>Thereupon Ralph took his fiancée in his arms and bore her away to -plunge with her in the torrent.</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="CONCLUSION">CONCLUSION</a></h4> - -<h5>TO J. NERAUD</h5> - - -<p>On a hot, sunshiny day in January last I started from Saint-Paul and -wandered into the wild forests of Ile Bourbon to muse and dream. I -dreamed of you, my friend; those virgin forests had retained for me the -memory of your wanderings and your studies, the ground had kept the -imprint of your feet. I found everywhere the marvellous things with -which your magical tales charmed the tedium of my vigils in the old -days, and, in order that we might enjoy them together, I called upon old -Europe, where obscurity encompasses you with its modest advantages, to -send you to me. Happy man, whose intellect and merits no treacherous -friend has made known to the world!</p> - -<p>I walked in the direction of a lonely spot in the highest part of the -island, called <i>Brulé de Saint-Paul.</i></p> - -<p>A huge fragment of mountain, which was dislodged and fell during some -volcanic disturbance, has formed on the slope of the principal mountain -a sort of long arena studded with rocks arranged in the most magical -disorder, in the most extraordinary confusion. Here, a huge boulder -balances itself on a number of small fragments; there, rises a wall of -slender, light, porous rocks with dentilated edges and openwork -decoration like a Moorish building; farther on, an obelisk of basalt, -whose sides an artist seems to have carved and polished, stands upon a -crenelated bastion; in another place, a gothic fortress is crumbling to -decay beside a curious, shapeless pagoda. That spot is the rendezvous of -all the rough drafts of art, all the sketches of architecture; it would -seem that all the geniuses of all nations and of all ages went for their -inspiration to that vast work of hazard and demolition. There, doubtless -some magically elaborate design of chance gave birth to the Moorish -style of sculpture. In the heart of the forests, art found in the -palm-tree one of its most beautiful models. The <i>vacoa</i> which anchors -itself in the ground and clings to it with a hundred arms branched from -its main stalk, evidently furnished the first suggestion of the plan of -a cathedral supported by its light flying buttresses. In the <i>Brulé de -Saint-Paul</i> all shapes, all types of beauty, all humorous and bold -conceits were assembled, piled upon one another, arranged and -constructed in one tempestuous night. The spirits of air and fire -undoubtedly presided over this diabolical operation; they alone could -give to their productions that awe-inspiring, fanciful, incomplete -character which distinguishes their works from those of man; they alone -could have piled up those monstrous boulders, moved those gigantic -masses, toyed with mountains as with grains of sand, and strewn, amid -creations which man has tried to copy, those grand conceptions of art, -those sublime contrasts impossible of realization, which seem to defy -the audacity of the artist and to say to him derisively: "Try it again."</p> - -<p>I halted at the foot of a crystallized basaltic monument, about sixty -feet high and cut with facets as if by a lapidary. At the top of this -strange object an inscription seemed to have been traced in bold -characters by an immortal hand. Those vulcanized rocks often present -that phenomenon; long ago, when their substance, softened by the action -of fire, was still warm and malleable, they received and retained the -imprint of the shells and climbing plants that clung to them. These -chance contacts have resulted in some strange freaks, curious -hieroglyphics, mysterious characters which seem to have been stamped -there like the seal of some supernatural being, written in cabalistic -letters.</p> - -<p>I stood there a long time, detained by a foolish idea that I might find -a meaning for those ciphers. This profitless search caused me to fall -into a profound meditation, during which I forgot that time was flying.</p> - -<p>Already the mists were gathering about the peaks of the mountains, -creeping down the sides and rapidly shutting out their outlines. Before -I had descended half way to the plateau, they reached the belt that I -was crossing and enveloped it in an impenetrable curtain. A moment later -a high wind came up and swept the mist away in a twinkling. Then it -fell; the mist settled down once more, to be once more driven away by a -terrific squall.</p> - -<p>I sought shelter from the storm in a grotto which afforded me some -protection; but another scourge came to the assistance of the wind. -Torrents of rain swelled the streams, all of which flow from the summit -of the mountain. In an hour, everything was inundated and the sides of -the mountain, with water pouring down on every side, formed one vast -cascade which rushed madly down toward the lowlands.</p> - -<p>After two days of most painful and dangerous travelling, I found myself, -guided by Providence, I doubt not, at the door of a house built in an -exceedingly wild locality. The simple but attractive cottage had -withstood the tempest, being sheltered by a rampart of cliffs which -leaned over it as if to act as an umbrella. A little lower, a waterfall -plunged madly down into a ravine and formed at the bottom a brimming -lake, above which, clumps of lovely trees still reared their -storm-tossed, tired heads.</p> - -<p>I knocked vigorously; but the face that appeared in the doorway made me -recoil. Before I had opened my mouth to ask for shelter the master of -the house had welcomed me gravely and silently with a wave of his hand. -I entered and found myself alone with him, face to face with Sir Ralph -Brown.</p> - -<p>In the year that had passed since the <i>Nahandove</i> brought Sir Ralph -and his companion back to the colony, he had not been seen in the town -three times; and, as for Madame Delmare, her seclusion had been so absolute -that her existence was still a problematical matter to many of the -people. It was about the same time that I first landed at Bourbon, and -my present interview with Monsieur Brown was the second one I had had in -my life.</p> - -<p>The first had left an ineradicable impression on me; it was at -Saint-Paul, on the seashore. His features and bearing had impressed me -only slightly at first; but when, through mere idle curiosity, I -questioned the colonists concerning him, their replies were so strange, -so contradictory, that I scrutinized the recluse of Bernica more -closely.</p> - -<p>"He's a clown—a man of no education," said one; "an absolute -nullity, who has only one good quality—that of keeping his mouth -shut."</p> - -<p>"He's an extremely well educated and profound man," said another, "but -too strongly persuaded of his own superiority, contemptuous and -conceited—so much so that he considers any words wasted that he -happens to exchange with the common herd."</p> - -<p>"He's a man who cares for nobody but himself," said a third; "a man of -inferior capacity, but not stupid; profoundly selfish and, they say, -hopelessly unsociable."</p> - -<p>"Why, don't you know?" said a young man brought up in the colony and -thoroughly imbued with the characteristic narrow-mindedness of -provincials, "he's a knave, a villain who poisoned his friend in the -most dastardly way in order to marry his wife."</p> - -<p>This assertion bewildered me so that I turned to another, older -colonist, whom I knew to be possessed of considerable common sense.</p> - -<p>As my glance eagerly requested a solution of these enigmas, he -answered:</p> - -<p>"Sir Ralph was formerly an excellent man, who was not a favorite because -he was not communicative, but whom everybody esteemed. That is all I can -say about him; for, since his unfortunate experience, I have had no -relations with him."</p> - -<p>"What experience?" I inquired.</p> - -<p>He told me about Colonel Delmare's sudden death, his wife's flight -during the same night, and Monsieur Brown's departure and return. The -obscurity which surrounded all these circumstances had been in nowise -lessened by the investigations of the authorities; there was no evidence -that the fugitive had committed the crime. The king's attorney had -refused to prosecute; but the partiality of the magistrates for Monsieur -Brown was well known, and they had been severely criticised for not -having at least enlightened public opinion concerning an affair which -left the reputations of two persons marred by a hateful suspicion.</p> - -<p>A fact that seemed to justify these suspicions was the furtive return of -the two accused persons and their mysterious establishment in the depths -of the ravine of Bernica. They had run away at first, so it was said, to -give the affair time to die out; but public opinion had been so cold in -France that they had been driven to return and take refuge in the -desert, to gratify their criminal attachment in peace.</p> - -<p>But all these theories were set at naught by another fact which was -vouched for by persons who seemed better informed: Madame Delmare, I was -told, had always manifested a decided coolness, almost downright -aversion for her cousin Monsieur Brown.</p> - -<p>I had thereupon scrutinized the hero of so many strange tales -carefully—conscientiously, if I may say so. He was sitting on a bale -of merchandise, awaiting the return of a sailor whom he had sent to make -some purchase or other for him. His eyes, blue as the sea, were gazing -pensively at the horizon, with such a placid and honest expression; all -the lines of his face were so perfectly in harmony with one another; -nerves, muscles, blood, all seemed so tranquil, so perfect, so -well-ordered in that robust and healthy individual, that I would have -sworn that all the tales were deadly insults, that he had no crime on -his conscience, that he had never had one in his mind, that his heart -and his hands were as pure as his brow.</p> - -<p>But suddenly the baronet's distraught glance had fallen upon me, as I -was staring at him with eager and impertinent curiosity. Confused and -embarrassed as a thief caught in the act, I lowered my eyes, for Sir -Ralph's expression conveyed a stern rebuke. Since then I had often -thought of him, involuntarily; he had appeared in my dreams. I was -conscious, as I thought of him, of that vague feeling of uneasiness, -that indescribable emotion, which are like the magnetic fluid with which -an unusual destiny is encompassed.</p> - -<p>My desire to know Sir Ralph was very real, therefore, and very keen; but -I should have preferred to watch him furtively, without being seen -myself. It seemed to me that I had wronged him. The crystalline -appearance of his eyes froze me with terror. It was so evident that he -was a man of towering superiority, either in virtue or in villainy, that -I felt very small and mean in his presence.</p> - -<p>His hospitality was neither showy nor vulgar. He took me to his room, -lent me some clothes and clean linen; then led me to his companion, who -was awaiting us to take supper.</p> - -<p>As I saw how young and lovely she still was—she seemed barely -eighteen—and admired her bloom, her grace, and her sweet voice, I -felt a thrill of painful emotion. I reflected that that woman was either -very guilty or very unfortunate: guilty of a detestable crime or dishonored -by a detestable accusation.</p> - -<p>I was detained at Bernica for a week by the overflowing of the rivers, -the inundation of the plains, the rain and the wind; and then came the -sun, and it never occurred to me to leave my hosts.</p> - -<p>Neither of them could be called brilliant. They had little wit, I should -say—perhaps indeed they had none at all; but they had that quality -which makes one's words impressive and pleasant to hear; they had -intellect of the heart. Indiana is ignorant, but not with that narrow, -vulgar ignorance which proceeds from indolence, from carelessness or -nullity of character. She is eager to learn what the engrossing -preoccupations of her life had prevented her from finding out; and then, -too, there may have been a little coquetry in the way she questioned Sir -Ralph, in order to bring into the light her friend's vast stores of -knowledge.</p> - -<p>I found her playful, but without petulance; her manners have retained a -trace of the languor and melancholy natural to creoles, but in her they -seemed to me to have a more abiding charm; her eyes especially have an -incomparably soft expression and seem to tell the story of a life of -suffering; and when her mouth smiles, there is still a touch of -melancholy in those eyes, but the melancholy that seems to be the -contemplation of happiness or the emotion of gratitude.</p> - -<p>One morning I said to them that at last I was going away.</p> - -<p>"Already!" was their answer.</p> - -<p>The accent of regret was so genuine, so touching, that I felt -encouraged. I had determined that I would not leave Sir Ralph without -asking him to tell me his story; but I felt an insurmountable timidity -because of the horrible suspicion that had been planted in my mind.</p> - -<p>I tried to overcome it.</p> - -<p>"Men are great villains," I said to him; "they have spoken ill of you to -me. I am not surprised, now that I know you. Your life must have been a -very beautiful one, to be so slandered——"</p> - -<p>I stopped abruptly when I detected an expression of innocent surprise on -Madame Delmare's features. I understood that she knew nothing of the -atrocious calumnies current in the colony, and I encountered upon Sir -Ralph's face an unequivocal look of haughty displeasure. I rose at once -to take my leave of them, shamefaced and sad, crushed by Monsieur -Brown's glance, which reminded me of our first meeting and the silent -interview of the same sort we had had on the sea-shore.</p> - -<p>Bitterly chagrined to leave that excellent man in such a frame of mind, -regretting that I had annoyed and wounded him in return for the happy -days I owed to him, I felt my heart swell within me and I burst into -tears.</p> - -<p>"Young man," he said, taking my hand, "remain with us another day; I -have not the courage to let the only friend we have on the island leave -us in this way—I understand you," he added, after Madame Delmare had -left the room; "I will tell you my story, but not before Indiana. There -are wounds which one must not re-open."</p> - -<p>That evening we went for a walk in the woods. The trees, which had been -so fresh and lovely a fortnight earlier, were entirely stripped of their -leaves, but they were already covered with great resinous buds. The -birds and insects had resumed possession of their empire. The withered -flowers already had young buds to replace them. The streams -perseveringly carried seaward the gravel with which their beds were -filled. Everything was returning to life and health and happiness.</p> - -<p>"Just see," said Ralph to me, "with what astounding rapidity this -kindly, fecund nature repairs its losses! Does it not seem as if it were -ashamed of the time wasted, and were determined, by dint of a lavish -expenditure of sap and vigor, to do over in a few days the work of a -year?"</p> - -<p>"And it will succeed," rejoined Madame Delmare. "I remember last year's -storms; at the end of a month there was no trace of them."</p> - -<p>"It is the image of a heart broken by sorrow," I said to her; "when -happiness comes back, it renews its youth and blooms again very -quickly."</p> - -<p>Indiana gave me her hand and looked at Monsieur Brown with an -indescribable expression of affection and joy.</p> - -<p>When night fell she went to her room, and Sir Ralph, bidding me sit -beside him on a bench in the garden, told me his history to the point at -which we dropped it in the last chapter.</p> - -<p>There he made a long pause and seemed to have forgotten my presence -completely.</p> - -<p>Impelled by my interest in his narrative, I decided to interrupt his -meditation by one last question.</p> - -<p>He started like a man suddenly awakened; then, smiling pleasantly, he -said:</p> - -<p>"My young friend, there are memories which we rob of their bloom by -putting them in words. Let it suffice you to know that I was fully -determined to kill Indiana with myself. But doubtless the consummation -of our sacrifice was still unrecorded in the archives of Heaven. A -doctor would tell you perhaps that a very natural attack of vertigo took -possession of my wits and led me astray as to the location of the path. -For my own part, who am not a doctor at all in such matters, I prefer to -believe that the angel of Abraham and Tobias, that beautiful white angel -with the blue eyes and the girdle of gold, whom you often saw in your -childish dreams, came down from Heaven on a moonbeam, and, as he hovered -in the trembling vapor of the cataract, stretched his silvery wings over -my gentle companion's head. The only thing that I am able to tell you is -that the moon sank behind the great peaks of the mountain and no ominous -sound disturbed the peaceful murmur of the waterfall; the birds on the -cliff did not take their flight until a white streak appeared on the -horizon; and the first ruddy beam that fell upon the clump of -orange-trees found me on my knees blessing God.</p> - -<p>"Do not think, however, that I accepted instantly the unhoped-for -happiness which gave a new turn to my destiny. I was afraid to sound the -radiant future that was dawning for me; and when Indiana raised her eyes -and smiled upon me, I pointed to the waterfall and talked of dying.</p> - -<p>"'If you do not regret having lived until this morning,' I said to her, -'we can both declare that we have tasted happiness in all its plenitude; -and it is an additional reason for ceasing to live, for perhaps my star -would pale to-morrow. Who can say that, on leaving this spot, on coming -forth from this intoxicating situation to which thoughts of death and -love have brought me, I shall not become once more the detestable brute -whom you despised yesterday? Will you not blush for yourself when you -find me again as you have always known me? Oh! Indiana, spare me that -horrible agony; it would be the complement of my destiny.'</p> - -<p>"'Do you doubt your heart, Ralph?' said Indiana with an adorable -expression of love and confidence, 'or does not mine offer you -sufficient guarantee?'</p> - -<p>"Shall I tell you? I was not happy at first. I did not doubt Madame -Delmare's sincerity, but I was terrified by thought of the future. -Having distrusted myself beyond measure for thirty years, I could not -feel assured in a single day of my ability to please and to retain her -love. I had moments of uncertainty, alarm and bitterness; I sometimes -regretted that I had not jumped into the lake when a word from Indiana -had made me so happy.</p> - -<p>"She too must have had attacks of melancholy. She found it difficult to -break herself of the habit of suffering, for the heart becomes used to -unhappiness, it takes root in it and cuts loose from it only with an -effort. However, I must do her heart the justice to say that she never -had a regret for Raymon; she did not even remember him enough to hate -him.</p> - -<p>"At last, as always happens in deep and true attachments, time, instead -of weakening our love, established it firmly and sealed it; each day -gave it added intensity, because each day brought fresh obligations on -both sides to esteem and to bless. All our fears vanished one by one; -and when we saw how easy it was to destroy those causes of distrust, we -smilingly confessed to each other that we took our happiness like -cowards and that neither of us deserved it. From that moment we have -loved each other in perfect security."</p> - -<p>Ralph paused; then, after a few moments of profound meditation in which -we were equally absorbed, he continued, pressing my hand:</p> - -<p>"I say nothing of my happiness; if there are griefs that never betray -their existence and envelop the heart like a shroud, so there are joys -that remain buried in the heart of man because no earthly voice can -describe them. Moreover, if some angel from heaven should light upon one -of these flowering branches and describe those joys in the language of -his native land, you would not understand them, young man, for the -tempest has not bruised and shattered you. Alas! what can the heart that -has not suffered understand of happiness? As to our crimes——" -he added with a smile.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" I cried, my eyes wet with tears.</p> - -<p>"Listen, monsieur," he continued, interrupting me; "you have lived but a -few hours with the two outlaws of Bernica, but a single hour would -suffice for you to learn their whole life. All our days resemble one -another; they are all calm and lovely; they pass by as swiftly and as -pure as those of our childhood. Every night we bless God; we pray to him -every morning, we implore at his hands the sunshine and shade of the day -before. The greater part of our income is devoted to the redemption of -poor and infirm blacks. That is the principal cause of the evil that the -colonists say of us. Would that we were rich enough to set free all -those who live in slavery! Our servants are our friends; they share our -joys, we nurse them in sickness. This is the way our life is spent, -without vexations, without remorse. We rarely speak of the past, rarely -of the future; but always of the former without bitterness, of the -latter without alarm. If we sometimes surprise ourselves with tears in -our eyes, it is because great joys always cause tears to flow; the eyes -are dry in great misery."</p> - -<p>"My friend," I said after a long silence, "if the accusations of the -world should reach your ears, your happiness would answer loudly -enough."</p> - -<p>"You are young," he replied, "in your eyes, for your conscience is -ingenuous and pure and unsoiled by the world, our happiness is the proof -of our virtue; in the eyes of the world it is our crime. Solitude is -sweet, I tell you, and men are not worth a regret."</p> - -<p>"All do not accuse you," I said; "but even those who appreciate your -true character blame you for despising public opinion, and those who -acknowledge your virtue say that you are arrogant and proud."</p> - -<p>"Believe me," replied Ralph, "there is more pride in that reproach than -in any alleged scorn. As for public opinion, monsieur, judging from -those whom it exalts, ought we not always to hold out our hand to those -whom it tramples upon? It is said that its approval is necessary to -happiness; they who think so should respect it. For my part, I sincerely -pity any happiness that rises or falls with its capricious breath."</p> - -<p>"Some moralists criticise your solitary life; they claim that every man -belongs to society, which demands his presence. They add that you set an -example which it is dangerous to follow."</p> - -<p>"Society should demand nothing of the man who expects nothing from it," -Sir Ralph replied. "As for the contagion of example, I do not believe in -it, monsieur; too much energy is required to break with the world, and -too much suffering to acquire that energy. So let this unknown happiness -flow on in peace, for it costs nobody anything, and conceals itself for -fear of making others envious. Go, young man, follow the course of your -destiny; have friends, a profession, a reputation, a fatherland. As for -me, I have Indiana. Do not break the chains that bind you to society, -respect its laws if they protect you, accept its judgments if they are -fair to you: but if some day it calumniates you and spurns you, have -pride enough to find a way to do without it."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said I, "a pure heart will enable us to endure exile; but, to -make us love it, one must have such a companion as yours."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" he said, "if you knew how I pity this world of yours, which looks -down on me!"</p> - -<p>The next day I left Ralph and Indiana; one embraced me, the other shed a -few tears.</p> - -<p>"Adieu," they said to me; "return to the world; if some day it banishes -you, remember our Indian cottage."</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Indiana, by George Sand - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIANA *** - -***** This file should be named 63445-h.htm or 63445-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/4/4/63445/ - -Produced by Dagny and Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free -Literature (Images generously made available by Hathi -Trust.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> - -</html> - diff --git a/old/63445-h/images/figure01.jpg b/old/63445-h/images/figure01.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 52d4b63..0000000 --- a/old/63445-h/images/figure01.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63445-h/images/figure02.jpg b/old/63445-h/images/figure02.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6870e7f..0000000 --- a/old/63445-h/images/figure02.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63445-h/images/figure03.jpg b/old/63445-h/images/figure03.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7ff6e40..0000000 --- a/old/63445-h/images/figure03.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63445-h/images/figure04.jpg b/old/63445-h/images/figure04.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6e32b52..0000000 --- a/old/63445-h/images/figure04.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63445-h/images/figure05.jpg b/old/63445-h/images/figure05.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 985983f..0000000 --- a/old/63445-h/images/figure05.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63445-h/images/figure06.jpg b/old/63445-h/images/figure06.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b75b2ad..0000000 --- a/old/63445-h/images/figure06.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63445-h/images/indiana_cover.jpg b/old/63445-h/images/indiana_cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3ef5a53..0000000 --- a/old/63445-h/images/indiana_cover.jpg +++ /dev/null |
