The candles were already lighted, when Edmond stood before a large
house, undecided if he should enter or not; "she has company again, the
same as ever," said he to himself; "and how shall I in my dusty
shooting-dress present myself among well-dressed ladies? However, she
is kind and indulgent, I am at a distance from home, the strangers too
are already accustomed to this in me." He ascended and laid down his
gun and pouch in the anti-chamber, the servant ushered him in, and he
found only a small circle, the young lady's two old aunts and a few
younger ladies of the town of Nismes, established at two card tables
and entertained, as usual, by an old Captain. They were relating to one
another the defeat of the Camisards on the preceding day, and how they
had assembled again, and how their leaders had escaped.
"Where is the Lady Christine?" asked Edmond of the Lady de Courtenai.
"My niece," replied the lady, "is within there, indisposed as she says:
her capricious fits have returned again, and no one can make anything
of her; perhaps you may be able to enliven her, or perhaps she is sad,
because the Marshal is not yet come."
Edward passed into the adjoining room, the door of which stood open, it
was lighted up, and there, on a sofa with tearfraught eyes sat the Lady
Christine; her lute lay negligently on her arm, as if she would have
played, but she was so deeply plunged in thought, that she started up
terrified, when Edmond greeted her and inquired after her health.
"Lady, dearest," he exclaimed, "what is the matter with you? I have
never yet seen you thus!"
"Not thus?" said Christine, looking wildly, and with a smile of
bitterness, "and why not, it is thus indeed I should ever be! Only you
do not know, nor understand me; you will not understand me!"
Edmond drew back bewildered; "how shall I interpret these words?"
"As you will, or rather as you can."
"Explain yourself," said the young man; "you have been weeping, you
appear ill."
"All this is of great importance, is it not?" said she with a
passionate movement.
"How have I offended you?" asked Edmond with sympathy, "it almost
appears as if I had: are you mortified by me? I do not know myself
guilty in anything; what is it then in the name of all the saints?"
"That you are a man!" said Christine, while her pale cheeks glowed with
the deepest crimson.
"Well! really," said Edmond, "this transgression is so new, that I know
not how to answer. Is this the amiable Christine of Castelnau, who thus
greets her friend, who"--
"Amiable!" cried she passionately--"what do you call thus, ye friends?
the bad, the wretched, the worthless of this world, with which we cover
our naked misery as with torn purple rags from the worn out, faded
wardrobes of former times, when there were yet clothes, and ornament
and men?--or has the world been always thus miserable?"--she threw the
lute from her as if it terrified her. "This is also one of the
deplorable customs, that we should warble and play, and make grimaces,
though our hearts were to break, in case a particle of heart throb yet
within us."
"You are ill," exclaimed Edmond, "so ill, that I shall run immediately
to our friend Vila;" "Stop," said Christine, and while they were still
disputing, an equipage quickly rattled up; all arose in the first room,
it was the Marshal of Montrevel, who in his dress-uniform stepped
lightly and gracefully out of the carriage and bounded up the stairs,
and while the folding doors were thrown open, and the ladies and
gentlemen in the room formed a respectful line, he greeted them all
with the most polite condescension, "Good evening ladies," said he
kindly, "I rejoice to see you all well; Captain, Mr. Counsellor, your
servant; ah, my young friend," turning to Edmond, "you are here very
often; but where is our amiable hostess?"
"She too is not far," said Christine, coming forward.
"And well?" asked the Marshal; "certainly this charming serenity, this
grace, these divine talents, how could it be otherwise?--I hope ladies
that you will not disturb yourselves; let us all sit down and play, or
converse as best it may seem."
He laid aside his sword and plumed hat, and with obliging promptitude
placed an armchair near the fire-place for the lady Christine; he took
a footstool and sat on it at her feet, Edmond leaned over the back of
her chair and the rest of the company resumed their play. "At your
feet, loveliest of women," began the Marshal, "must I find again the
peace and tranquillity, which deserted me to-day: yes, this day is one
of the most unfortunate of my life!" "Have the Camisards penetrated
into Nismes?" asked Christine.
"They will never do that," replied the Marshal smiling, "means have
been taken to prevent it; these miserable men will soon have sung their
last song. Yesterday they were as good as annihilated, and we should
have given them the rout here near Nages, if treachery and wickedness
had not, as usual, rendered our best efforts abortive."
"Certainly," said Edmond, "if the people were unanimous in their
exertions to extirpate them, the best part would have been achieved."
"Young man," rejoined the Marshal, "I will annihilate them even without
the assistance of the people, for these associations composed of
citizens, and peasants to oppose them, are more injurious than useful,
these men understand neither service nor war, they rather call forth
the vigour and insolence of the rebels, the soldier alone can put them
down. How unfortunate has it turned out with the good hermit of
Saumiere! he is said to have been completely defeated, and at last
drowned."
Edmond related what he knew of the affair, and the Marshal said
smilingly; "I can easily imagine the anxiety of the old boy; but to
continue: an old Camisard, a squinting, bald-headed man passed over to
us, he was well acquainted with all the secret passes of the mountains;
I think his name is Favart; he promised to deliver into our hands the
leader Cavalier, and his principal troop, together with the infamous
Catinat; we find the matter as he has announced it; the Lord of
Basville had through kindness for the wretched man, taken him into his
service as gamekeeper; and whether it is, that he has not been able to
conquer his old attachment to the rebels, or that he himself did not
know all precisely: the rebel leaders with a numerous troop have
escaped us again, and Cavalier has, as I have just learned from a
courier, defeated a considerable body of our people in the mountains
not far from St. Hypolite."
"I know Favart," said Christine, "he was in our service for a long
while; a wild but otherwise good man; I am only surprised that he could
have again abandoned his sect. But is this the misfortune that you
bewail so much, Marshal?" "No, beauteous lady," said the Lord of
Montrevel, "such things which are mere trifles to a real soldier cannot
disconcert me, I should blush for myself, if the common accidents of
the field or of life could ruffle my temper."
"Your beloved then is become faithless? console yourself, there still
remain enough for you," said the young lady drily.
"Ah, sly one!" said the Marshal, holding up his finger threateningly;
"yes, enchantress, if you feel and return my flame, if you only believe
in it, then would I consider this gloomy day as the happiest of my
life, and to me all the rest of womankind on earth would be as
nothing." He declined all the refreshments presented to him by the
servants: "This is a fast day for me," he continued, "and I have not
yet been permitted to dine to-day."
"You are too severe," said Christine, "too orthodox, too devout;
moreover, I do not recollect that this is a fast day."
"It is not that," said the general solemnly; "for, at times, one may
break this fast without any great qualms of conscience; but there are
things which are not really connected with the church or her
ordinances, but which lie in nature, and on that account are more
deeply engraven on our hearts; things which many philosophers, as well
as ecclesiastics censure as prejudice and superstition, and which
nevertheless have, through the implicit faith of millions, been
transmitted to us from the remotest times, and from that very
circumstance possess, yes, I may so express myself, a revered, a holy
authority. These signs and tokens of a dark futurity, the immediate
voice, as it were, of fate, speaks so much the more thrillingly to us
as they appear to the dull eye only ridiculous or, at least,
insignificant, and as every man has his protecting genius, so has he
also all the signs, which are peculiarly suited to him, and which are
of the highest importance, if he attends to them and knows how to apply
to himself their signification."
"Excellent!" exclaimed the Lady, "now I listen to you willingly, for if
the hero is at the same time a philosopher, I like him all the better
for it."
"Most bewitching of your sex!" said Montrevel while he attempted to
kiss her hand, which she hastily snatched from his lips. "Being then of
this belief," said the Marshal, "you may judge of my horror as I sat
to-day at table,--the Lord of Basville to whom, on account of his
station, this attention is due, sat near me, my aide-de-camp and a few
officers,--dinner is announced, the plates are changed,--but, my sight
becomes again obscured when I think of it."--
"For heaven's sake," said Edmond, "what is it? assuredly some dreadful
wickedness of the rebels, fire-brands and murder, or poison."--"No,
young man," continued the Marshal, somewhat tranquillized, "against
such things I am secure,--my Fleury, the luckless man, my valet, who in
other respects is cleverness and dexterity itself, this man at a sign
from me (for he only waits upon me and therefore the affair is the more
incomprehensible) was handing the salt, and while I was taking it, he
entirely upset the saltcellar before me; a mist came over my eyes, I
was compelled to go to bed, having discharged my valet, and come here
to find consolation and tranquillity."
Edmond, who turned away with the greater shame and vexation, the more
he had been excited by the narrative; could not sustain the fiery
regards of the Marshal, who, in seeking to arouse sympathy, fixed his
eyes steadfastly upon him and Christine. The latter very
unceremoniously burst into a loud and hearty fit of laughter, while she
looked at Edmond almost maliciously.
"Well, really! madam," began the Marshal, "this treatment is the more
unexpected, as I am unaccustomed to it from you; if such things can
make you merry, you think too slightly of the happiness, or unhappiness
of your friend."
"Not so indeed," said Christine, "besides I am not particularly merry,
I think the tale very edifying and dare be sworn, that the woman and
children, whom early this morning you so serenely caused to be shot,
also upset the saltcellar in their hut yesterday evening, but you are
now free from all these accidents, is it not so Marshal?"
"Is it permitted to ask," said Edmond modestly, "what the affair is?"
"Early this morning," said the Marshal more composedly, "I was compelled
to sacrifice a few of these unhappy people to the law, for they would
have sent provisions to the rebels in the mountains."
"The investigation was somewhat precipitate," said Christine, "not much
regard was paid to the denial of the persons arrested; it is true there
was some probability, for the mother had a son among the rebels, who
may have often enough suffered hunger. She was a woman of forty years
of age with two children, one twelve and the other eight years old.
They were led through this street."
"But not the children?" said Edmond turning pale.
The Marshal shrugged up his shoulders and answered lightly, "we must
enforce with severity our self-appointed laws, in order to terrify;
they could not themselves shew why they were on the by-road; for that
they still would have gathered fruit is incredible."
"This mother," interrupted the lady, "with her younger children were
seeking for some beans, they were found in the fields by a party of
soldiers, terror prevented them from replying quickly to their
questions,--and this noble marshal, this gay, gallant, amiable man,
this _bel esprit_, who writes verses, beats his enemies and makes
netting, this tender-hearted man who sheds tears if I suffer from
headache, this hateful monster caused mother and children to be shot,
while he blows a feather from his uniform with infinite grace!"
"Lady!" screamed the Marshal starting up, Edmond stepped back, the
footstool was upset and the whole company rose from their card-tables
at this sudden uproar.
"Is it not true," said Christine passionately while she stood in the
middle of the room, "that such conduct is great, heroic and noble? have
our enlightened times come, that we should experience such things? oh,
monster! dare you mention the words friendship and love? have you the
arrogance to wish to pass for estimable and benevolent? yes, you are
also a contemptible creature like your despicable associates, yet you
must have felt, seen, or in your dreams at least experienced what a
dark destiny poverty, sorrow, necessity, and holy compassion is, these
destitute parents, these hungry children; the mother, who with scanty
and meagre food entered her hut, how their eyes sought hers
imploringly; how her glance of consolation shone in the eyes of her
children; how the small supply spread a heaven of tranquil abundance
and mutual love! Had you but the eye of an imprisoned swallow; had you
only understood your dog when he begs some crumbs from you: you would
have trampled your cross of honour under foot rather than have done
that deed. Man only can sink so low; the beast which tears itself is
gentle and innocent; a spark of ancient heaven shines still brighter in
its savage state than in our more degenerate nature. There are tales
for children in which a timid girl is made to kiss a scaly dragon in
order to disenchant him; but I could caress the tiger, extend my hand
and offer my lips to the hideous hyena, rather than polute myself by
being friendly towards you, for I should fear from a woman to be
transformed into a dragon. And yet,--as they passed here, exchanging
farewell glances, these children, who yet knew nothing of life, and
were slaughtered at this tender age--it was indeed as if the last
judgment with all its terrors burst upon my heart; behold, I could have
kissed the dust from your and your executioner's shoes in the public
streets, only to have saved them! I flew to you, I found you not. Yes,
most assuredly, all that was felt in those bitter moments by these
wretched creatures is now changed for them into peace and blessedness;
yes, they have forgotten this life and you, if we do not madly pray to
a tyrant instead of to the God of goodness."
"You are mad yourself, miserable woman," exclaimed the Marshal
vehemently, "to forget yourself thus--by heaven! you should be shut up
in a madhouse. But, by my honour, you shall never see me again."
"Never! never!" cried Christine, with flashing eyes, "Oh, already this
is happiness and gain! no, great hero, never, or if you should feel a
desire to come, a large vessel filled with salt shall be upset at your
feet, as people strew salt over the places where the cursed have
dwelt."
The Marshal trembled so violently with rage, that he was not able to
gird on his sword; he took it under his arm and left the house without
uttering a single word. The captain had already slipped away, when the
conversation took this unexpected turn; the aunts curtesied, mutually
embarrassed, and retired also, as their niece paid no attention to
them; the latter made a sign to the servants to withdraw, and released
and exhausted, she fell prostrate on the ground, while tears burst from
her eyes so unrestrainedly, as if she would thus weeping pass away and
expire.
Edmond, much embarrassed, drew near, she saw him not, he spoke a few
words, but she heard him not. "Dearest," he exclaimed at length, "you
kill me, you kill yourself! these powerful shocks will destroy your
constitution." "And were it not as well?" said she in a feeble voice,
without restraining her tears, "look on me, here on the ground, weep
with me; all good men should now perish." "Rise, lady," said Edmond,
while he assisted her, "if I must not believe that your reason has
deserted you."
"It has certainly suffered," said she somewhat tranquillised, while she
stood by him, and continued, "otherwise would I have seen and endured
these things as others do: it is even so, I have had a glance of the
sorrows of the world and of the enormity of mankind and can never more
jest and smile with them as formerly, I am awakened from the mock
existence and therefore you consider me mad; but you, Edmond, you,
among so many, should have known me better!"
"I am yet as in a dream," said Edmond, "how could you thus give way to
your grief, how so rudely wound the feelings of the Marshal, even
though you were in the right? I no longer recognise you, although I am
acquainted with you for more than a year. You were never thus."
"Always Edmond," sobbed she, "never otherwise, only that my grief has
burst out too violently. Why do you not understand me? Is your heart
incased in some hard metal that no feeling can penetrate it? Do not
believe that, on that account, I have neglected my mass or vesper to
implore the God of mercy to enlighten these wretches and to succour
these poor persecuted creatures, and that he may also strengthen
myself? Mark me, Edmond, although I do not belong to the community of
Huguenots, but if all these murderers were extirpated in a second by
one tremendous blow, our church should institute a festival of
thanksgiving that this stigma was removed from her, and her holy banner
would be no more dishonoured."
"I understand you now," said Edmond.--They had stepped into the
antechamber, "by heaven, I shall soon give up all society and rather
hold communion with stones than with men." He took his gun indignantly
from the wall, "How wild, Edmond, how obstinate," said she softly, "is
it then not permitted that men should understand, in love at least,
their confused Babilonean language? disembodied spirits only love--and
you say indeed that I have a place in your heart!"
"Love!" exclaimed Edmond, "accursed word! execrable equivocation and
madness of mankind! this old misunderstanding, love, this detestable
riddle of the sphynx, that no one has unriddled and for which thousands
have bled--damnation!" He gnashed his teeth and dashed his gun on the
ground, so that it went off and the shot passed through the ceiling.
The women and servants of the Lady Christine hastened towards her; he
looked at her, she was not injured and smiled at him sorrowfully as he
rushed out of the door and to his parting salute only answered by a
strange shake of the head, so that her dark tresses were loosened and
shaded her face. She pressed them to her weeping eyes and went silently
to the garden and out into the fresh night air.