"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."