THE DOMINO
M. Leon de Morville (one of the two dominos who had just entered the
anteroom) took off his mask.
The praises bestowed on his countenance were not exaggerated; his
features, which were perfect as ideal purity can imagine, almost
realised the divine type of the Antinous, only rendered more poetical
(if the phrase may be allowed us) by a charming expression of
melancholy, an expression completely wanting in the pagan beauty. Long
black and curling hair enframed this noble and attractive physiognomy.
Very romantic in love-affairs, M. de Morville had a religious adoration
for woman, which had its source in the passionate veneration which he
felt for his mother. Of a kind and most considerate nature, a thousand
things were told of his delicacy and devotion. When he appeared, the
females had no look, no smile, no attention, but for him; and he knew
perfectly well how to reply to this general show of admiration with so
much tact and well-regulated demeanour, that he never wounded the
self-love of any, whilst, but for his romantic fidelity to one whom he
had madly loved, and from whom he was separated only by the force of
circumstances, he might have had most brilliant and endless
love-affairs.
M. de Morville was especially endowed with most delightful manners. His
natural affability always inspired him with amiable and complimentary
language. The charming equality of his temper was unalterable, even in
spite of those deceptions, which, from time to time, came to wound his
delicate and sensitive imagination.
Perhaps his disposition was somewhat deficient in its manliness; for,
far from being boldly aggressive towards the contemptible and
unjust--far from returning evil for evil--far from punishing the
treacheries which his generosity often encouraged, M. de Morville had
such a horror, or rather such disgust for human infamies, that he turned
his eyes away from the culpable, instead of taking vengeance on them.
Instead of crushing a filthy reptile, he would have looked out for some
perfumed flower--some white turtledove's nest--some smiling and clear
horizon whereon to repose and console his gaze.
This system of constant commiseration continually exposes us to be again
bitten by the reptile, whilst we are contemplating heaven in order not
to see it. The best things have their inconveniences.
But we must not thus conclude that M. de Morville was deficient in
courage. He had too much honour--too much frankness--not to be very
brave; and of this he had given ample testimony; but, excepting the
injuries which a man never forgives, he shewed himself of such
inexhaustible clemency, that, if he had not painfully resented certain
wrongs, this clemency would have passed for indifference or disdain.
This sketch of M. de Morville's character was necessary for the proper
appreciation of the scene that follows.
We have said that in the anteroom to the box, M. de Morville had taken
off his mask, and he awaited with, perhaps, more uneasiness than
pleasure, the issue of this mysterious interview.
The female who had accompanied him was masked with extreme care; her
hood so covered her, that it was impossible to see even her hair; her
very full domino enveloped her figure, whilst large gloves and large
shoes concealed her hands and feet, which otherwise are such certain
evidences.
The lady appeared agitated: the words which she several times tried to
utter expired on her lips.
M. de Morville first broke silence and said,--
"Madame, I received the letter which you were so obliging as to write to
me, requesting me to be here and masked, with a signal and words of
recognition. Your letter appeared so serious, that, in spite of the
uneasiness with which my mother's health fills me, I am here at your
bidding."
M. de Morville could not continue. With a hand trembling from emotion,
the domino unmasked herself with an effort.
"Madame de Hansfeld!" exclaimed M. de Morville, in extreme astonishment.
It was the princess.