PAULA MONTI
M. de Morville could scarcely believe his eyes.
It was no illusion: he was really in the presence of Madame de Hansfeld.
It would require the pencil of some great artist to depict the firmness,
the decision of that queenly visage, as pale and as stern as a statue of
antiquity--to describe that look, as piercing and as fascinating as that
of the evil spirit of some German legend.
It is but by invoking the resemblance of Cleopatra or Lady Macbeth (our
readers must excuse the bold comparison), that an idea can be formed of
the mixture of seductive loveliness and sombre majesty displayed in the
countenance of the Venetian, Paula Monti, Princess de Hansfeld.
Madame de Hansfeld had removed her mask. The hood of her domino
projected a deep shadow on her forehead, whilst the rest of her face was
strongly lighted up. Her eyes seemed to glow even more brightly than
before from out of the chiaroscuro that enshrouded the upper part of her
features.
With the exception of this look, sparkling like a star in the dark sky,
the physiognomy of Madame de Hansfeld was utterly without expression.
The princess said in a firm and grave tone to M. de Morville,--
"I confide, monsieur, the secret of this interview fearlessly to your
honour."
"I will prove myself worthy of your confidence, madame."
"I know it, but I required this certainty ere I risked the step to which
unwittingly you have forced me."
"I, madame?"
"It is your conduct alone that has driven me to seek this interview."
"For Heaven's sake, madame, explain yourself!"
"It is now about two months since, monsieur, that you prayed your aunt,
Madame de Lormoy, one of my intimate friends, to present you to me. I
acceded with pleasure to this request. Some days afterwards, you
informed Madame de Lormoy, that you would not, on any account, be
presented to me."
M. de Morville cast down his eyes, and replied,--
"It is true, madame."
"From that instant, monsieur, you have affected to fly every place where
you fancied there existed the least possibility of encountering me."
"I cannot deny it, madame," replied M. de Morville, sorrowfully.
Madame de Hansfeld continued,--
"Some time ago, not knowing that Madame de Senneterre had given me a
seat in her box, you entered it; at the end of a quarter of an hour you
left it under a pretence too ridiculous to deceive any one."
"That is also true, madame."
"Also, when Madame de Sémur invited you and a small party to attend a
lecture you were most anxious to hear, you accepted the invitation
eagerly; but no sooner had Madame de Sémur mentioned that I was
expected, than you declined being present."
"That is equally true, madame."
"In a word, monsieur, you have manifested, I may say, affected, so
decided a determination to avoid me, that it has been remarked by others
as well as by myself."
"Madame, believe me that----"
"I hear the frankness of your character, your invariable politeness,
praised every where; you must then have cogent reasons for thus
studiously avoiding me. Let me assure you that your conduct would not
occupy me for a moment, were it not for a circumstance with which I am
bound to acquaint you."
"Madame, I am aware how strange--how rude, my conduct must appear to
you; yet--"
Madame de Hansfeld interrupted M. de Morville with a bitter smile.
"Once for all, monsieur, let me assure you I am not here to upbraid you
for thus shunning me; I have reason to believe that your resolution to
avoid me is dictated by motives so imperative, that to make them known
would endanger the happiness, if not the life, of two persons."
As she spoke, the princess darted a searching glance at De Morville.
The latter coloured and replied,--
"I assure you, madame, did I but know----"
"I do know, monsieur," interrupted the princess, "that there exists a
secret between us. You have discovered that secret between the day when
you asked to be introduced to me and that fixed for the introduction;
from this moment arose your determination to avoid me. You are a man of
honour. Tell me if I am mistaken; swear to me that you have had no
motive for thus avoiding me--that chance, that caprice, alone, have
occasioned this, and I will believe you; and then, thank Heaven, the
purpose of this interview will be accomplished!"
After some moments of painful hesitation M. de Morville seemed to make a
violent effort, and said,--
"Madame, I scorn falsehood, there does exist a secret of vital
importance."
"I was not deceived," cried Madame de Hansfeld, interrupting M. de
Morville; "you do possess the secret which I believed known but to two
persons, one I thought dead, the other had good cause for secrecy, for
his own honour was affected by it. It was for this reason that I
requested this appointment, as I could not see you at my own house, and
I never meet you in society. I care but little for the opinion you have
formed of me after the revelation that has been made you. Your studied
aversion shews me that it is horrible: be it so, Heaven is my judge. But
enough of this. You are not aware, monsieur, perhaps, of the terrible
importance of the secret that chance or treachery has placed in your
hands. Osorio--is he not then dead? Is it really true that he did not
perish at Alexandria, as was generally believed? For mercy's sake,
monsieur, answer me. If that were the case, much would be explained to
me."
"Osorio! I never heard the name uttered, madame."
"It was M. de Brévannes, then?" cried the princess, involuntarily.
M. de Morville regarded Madame de Hansfeld with increasing surprise; for
the last few minutes he could not comprehend her meaning.
"I scarcely know M. de Brévannes, madame, and I am ignorant if he be
now in Paris."
For the first time during this interview Madame de Hansfeld's real or
assumed composure forsook her, she rose hastily, and her pale face
became crimson as she exclaimed,--
"There is no one living except Osorio or M. de Brévannes who could have
told you what passed three years ago at Venice on the night of the 13th
of April."
"Three years ago?--at Venice?--the 13th of April?" repeated M. de
Morville, more and more surprised; "I assure you, madame, it is not that
I allude to. Not a word more on that head. I would not, for the world,
surprise your confidence. Again, madame, I assure you the reason that
forces me to fly you has nought to do with the names or dates, you have
mentioned. This motive has not for a moment altered my sincere respect,
my admiration, for your character. In avoiding you, madame, I fulfil a
promise--a sacred duty."
"Oh, Heaven! what have I said?" cried Madame de Hansfeld, covering her
face with her hands, and thinking of the half confession she had
involuntarily made to M. de Morville. "No, no, this cannot be a snare to
entrap me."
Then addressing De Morville, "I believe you, monsieur:--By a strange
fatality, by a singular chance, when I knew you had urgent reasons for
shunning me, I fancied you were actuated by sad, too sad circumstances,
in which I might seem to prejudiced eyes to have acted an unworthy part,
that would, indeed, have entitled me to your aversion. Your word
relieves my fears, I was deceived without doubt, nought concerning this
melancholy adventure has transpired. Now then, monsieur, the purpose of
this meeting is attained. I came hither to relate to you what the
probable consequences of your indiscretion might be. Fortunately my
fears were vain, I care little now, whether all the world remark how you
avoid me. As for the cause, that is equally indifferent to me. Adieu,
monsieur, you are a man of honour, and I doubt not of discretion;" and
Madame de Hansfeld rose to quit the box.
M. de Morville took her hand respectfully:--"One word more, madame; I
shall never, probably, be alone with you again; hear, at least, some
portion of my secret, you may then perchance pity me. Alas, you know not
the struggle it has cost me to fly you! When a sentiment, the reverse of
hatred--Oh! do not take this for a mere effusion of gallantry, but, I
implore you, hear me."
Madame de Hansfeld, who had risen, resumed her seat, and listened to
Monsieur de Morville in profound silence.