CONFESSIONS
The engraver and his daughter were deeply affected by the recital of M.
de Hansfeld. The pity of Bertha was excited by the painful situation of
a man compelled like Arnold to struggle between his love for his wife
and the horrible suspicions he entertained of her murderous intentions
towards himself; there seemed to her a singular resemblance in the
sorrows of the unhappy husband and her own; both were chained for life
to objects wholly unworthy of their affections, and henceforward they
must each drag on a weary existence, consuming their days in vain
regrets or futile hopes. Still Bertha admitted to herself that her own
burden was considerably lightened, since she had met in the preserver of
her father a man who had inspired her with a sympathy as sincere as it
was pure and innocent.
She neither sought nor desired greater happiness than that of frequently
seeing Arnold, and of hearing him converse with Pierre Raimond in a
style and manner so winningly cheerful and gay, yet replete with
tasteful observations on the literature of the day, as well as on every
other subject indicative of an expansive and cultivated mind. We shall
not allude to the exquisite delight with which, after Arnold had taken
his departure, Bertha listened to the warm and energetic praises of the
old engraver concerning the wonderful talent of Arnold, who, in Pierre
Raimond's estimation, was one of the most learned, scientific,
intelligent individuals, it had ever been his lot to meet.
The day following that in which Iris had held the conversation with her
mistress we have just related, M. de Brévannes, irritated by the
all-absorbing passion which engrossed his thoughts, as well as by many
other causes of extreme anxiety, had resumed his brutal treatment of his
wife, whose presence became more and more insupportable to him,
persuaded as he was that once freed from his marriage-bonds, he should
have both more leisure and better facilities for completing his affair
with Madame de Hansfeld, even on the morning of the very day of which we
are speaking he had compelled his poor suffering wife to endure a fresh
scene of violence and abuse. The time was past when Bertha would have
received these reproaches with floods of bitter tears; on the contrary,
her heart smote her for finding such ready consolation in the hope and
prospect of finding Arnold as usual awaiting her arrival at her father's
humble but happy home. Banishing from her mind all recollection of the
unkindness she had just experienced, Bertha hastened with eager delight
to refresh her worn and wearied spirits in the society of the two
persons dearest to her upon earth.
Great was the joy of old Pierre at the unexpected entrance of his
daughter, the following day having been the one arranged between them,
when last they parted, for her next visit.
"Welcome, my child!" cried the old man, tenderly caressing her, "this is
a pleasure I had not ventured to promise myself before to-morrow; but I
see--I see--some fresh outbreak of cruel tyranny. Well! never mind,
since the brutal treatment of that man who daily cares less and less
about you enables you to visit your old father more frequently, I find
my dislike to him considerably decrease, and if you are not happy, at
least you are no longer absolutely wretched; that is something towards
a cure, and I do not despair of seeing you again happy. But what an old
fool I am to let you know all the foolish fancies that come into my head
at times!"
"No, no, dear father! it is very good and kind of you to try and cheer
me up by hopes for the future; tell me, then, what you venture to expect
may one day happen to render us both happy?"
"Why, my beloved daughter, it is this, that, finding your husband allow
you uncontrolled permission to pass half your time with me, I live in
hopes that he may be induced to grant you permission to reside here
entirely."
"Oh! no, father: I dare not think of such a thing! he knows too well
what happiness it would give me."
"Perhaps you are right; but imagine what would be my delight if such a
blessing were granted to my prayers. But, alas! he only can bring about
this desirable arrangement, the power of separating rests with him; and
as our laws stand, a poor wife has no refuge from the thousand tortures
the cruelty and neglect of her husband may inflict upon her: she must
bear all--suffer all--while he, armed with absolute power, may crush her
spirit to the dust with impunity. If I may venture to say so much to
you, my child, it is my idea that this bad man has some new and
disgraceful passion for another; his increased brutality, his desire to
keep me at a distance, all conspire to make me believe it is so; and in
that case he will be but too ready to grant a separation which will be
as congenial with his desires as yours! What do we want of him! From the
time in which you resumed giving music-lessons you have been unable to
accept half the pupils offered; you your small earnings will satisfy all
our humble wants; you will re-establish yourself in your old familiar
apartment, our friend Arnold will come and visit us daily; what on earth
can we wish for more?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing, dearest father! but this dream is too delightful
to be realised!"
"Once more, I say, who knows what may be in store for us? And, although,
my child, I well know your attachment for your old father, still the
company of one of my time of life is not fitted to form the sole society
of a young creature like you; and I should have felt some remorse in
accepting your devoted affection. But now that we have Don 'Raphael'
Arnold to occasionally enliven our solitude," continued Pierre Raimond,
smiling and talking of him, "Bertha, see what a reward is reaped by
those who cherish pure and virtuous feelings, and possess honour and
integrity; but for the profound esteem which unites us three together,
and gives so great a charm to our intimacy, how large a portion of
happiness would be lost to each, had I believed Arnold capable of
entertaining a criminal passion for you, and basely trampling under foot
the sacred relations of _benefactor_ and _benefited_, it would have
deprived him of that friendship on our part which is as essential to his
happiness as to our own!"
At this moment a knock was heard at the door of the engraver.
"Come in!" cried the old man.
The door opened, and Arnold appeared.
"Why, we are in luck's way to-day!" exclaimed Pierre Raimond; "first my
daughter, then you agreeably surprise me by your presence. But what has
occurred? are you not well? you appear thoughtful, dejected, absorbed in
some painful idea."
"Yes, indeed, M. Arnold," added Bertha, "you do look very different from
your usual cheerful appearance, and you are so silent, too! Has any
fresh trouble reached you? Some fresh source of disquietude probably on
account of your wife?"
Arnold started, smiled sadly, and then replied,--
"You are right, I am disturbed, and it is on my wife's account!"
"How?" exclaimed Pierre Raimond, indignantly; "does the wretched woman
even presume so far as to look up after your--what shall I call
it?--weakness; oh! then this time shew neither pity nor compassion,
crimes such as hers deserve no mercy. Have a care that you do not carry
your generosity rather too far; there is a dangerous gulf intermediate
between a magnanimous forbearance towards our enemies, and a culpable
indifference towards the wicked, whose misdeeds merit condign
chastisement."
The utter prostration of bodily powers seemed to prevent M. de Hansfeld
from making any attempt to interrupt Pierre Raimond, but when he had
ceased speaking, the prince said mournfully,--
"My wife is not guilty! while I have deceived you greatly, by
introducing myself into your family under a false name: candour and
honesty alike call for this avowal!"
"What is this I hear?" exclaimed the old man, suddenly rising from his
chair.
Pale and terrified, Bertha gazed on M. de Hansfeld with painful anxiety,
from him to her father, but the features of the old man wore an
expression of gloomy sternness that made her quickly turn away her eyes.
"Explain yourself, sir!" said the engraver, coldly; "it is impossible
for me to attempt to find any excuse for your conduct until I have heard
the whole of your reasons for acting as you have done."
"I will reveal every thing; deign, however, to bear in mind that I am in
no way compelled to make my present avowal; and my sole reason for so
doing is that I may remain worthy of your friendship."
"After so base a deception? hope it not, sir!"
"Be kind enough to hear my exculpation, it may probably induce you to
view my offence with greater indulgence. When chance enabled me to offer
you my assistance, which was afterwards so more than repaid by your
humane intervention in my behalf, and that I was, during my temporary
loss of consciousness, transported into your dwelling, my first impulse
was to declare to you my real name; but at the very instant the words
were on my lips, your daughter entered."
"And how could that prevent you following out your intention?"
"Because I recognised her!"
"Me?" exclaimed Bertha.
"Observe, I knew her only by sight," resumed Arnold; "a few evenings
previously I had met your daughter at the Théâtre François: her name
was pronounced in my presence, and subsequently I heard a just eulogium
passed on the stern but noble pride of her father."
"You will be pleased, sir, to dispense with praise, either false or
real, on the present occasion," interrupted Pierre Raimond impatiently.
"I offer them not as my words, or with any intention of conciliating you
by flattery; but in order better to explain the reason of my concealing
my title--since fate has thought proper that I should bear one."
"No matter, sir, what might have been your motives, you have very
skilfully succeeded in deceiving the confidence of an old man and the
simplicity of a young woman. I beg to congratulate you on your great
success!"
"I was wrong; I seek not to deny so much; but, at least, listen to my
explanation of why I did not announce my name and rank. Aware of your
antipathy for certain classes of society, I was apprehensive that my
position in life would prove an obstacle to the acquaintance I so much
desired to cultivate with you."
"Doubtless with the equally honourable idea of seducing my daughter, and
abusing the most sacred of all obligations--the gratitude of one who has
been served towards his benefactor. Oh! you, and such as you belong to,
are ever the same!" cried Pierre Raimond, with increasing bitterness.
Then, after a momentary pause, he indignantly exclaimed, "And, not many
instants ere you entered, was I discoursing with my daughter upon the
charm of that noble confidence inspired by mutual esteem, and which so
firmly knits together in bonds of tender friendship all faithful,
upright hearts."
"Alas!" said Bertha, in low and tearful accents to the prince, "you
little know the pain you have occasioned both my father and myself by
your disingenuous conduct; for my father had so perfect a confidence in
your honour and truth!"
"I am aware I merit all your reproaches, but remember I come voluntarily
to encounter them."
"Who then are you, sir?" inquired old Pierre.
"The Prince de Hansfeld," replied Arnold, dejectedly, and looking
downwards as if ashamed so to style himself.
"And you inhabit the Hôtel Lambert close by?"
"The Prince de Hansfeld!" repeated Bertha, with an astonishment mingled
with compassionate interest and terror.
"In relating to you, under a feigned name, the fatal consequences of my
marriage, my recital was strictly true in all save the name. Convinced
at that period of the culpability of my wife--more especially after the
last attempt I told you of--I had determined to make her quit France for
ever. I should this very day have spread the report that I was about to
depart with her, and entirely giving up the Hôtel Lambert. Carefully
preserving the disguise beneath which I had formed friendships so dear
and precious, I desired to live obscurely, or rather happily, in some
retreat adjoining whatever retirement you should select. My ambition
aimed at nothing beyond the enjoyment of your society, and the drawing
still closer the bonds of our union; but these sweet dreams I am
compelled to resign. When I left you yesterday I entered the apartments
of Madame de Hansfeld, and provoked to find she had not commenced the
preparations for her journey, exasperated equally by the positive
refusal she gave to quitting Paris, I at length found courage to utter
the fearful charge my tongue had hitherto refused to utter."
"And then you found she was not guilty," exclaimed Bertha. "Ah, my own
heart told me such crimes were utterly impossible!"
"It was indeed so," replied M. de Hansfeld. "My wife justified herself
with dignified frankness; the reasons by which she sought to vindicate
herself appeared to me abundantly convincing; and an old servant, in
whom I place the utmost confidence, confirmed my impression of its being
utterly impossible for Madame de Hansfeld to have committed any of the
three attempts upon my life. I can scarcely describe to you the contrary
feelings by which I was agitated upon making this discovery; sometimes
I applauded myself for having (in spite of the apparently most positive
proofs of guilt) listened to the secret voice that whispered she was
innocent; then I keenly reproached myself for the accusations and
inconsistencies which must have tortured and perplexed my unfortunate
wife, changing thereby the slender love she had ever borne me to
aversion, if not to downright hatred. I reflected upon the misery my
hateful suspicions must have caused her, and I felt that I had much to
expiate, much for which to endeavour to obtain pardon. Still my
self-upbraiding feelings failed to rekindle my affection for my wife.
No! that passion was for ever extinguished amid the whirlwind of
continual doubts and apprehensions in which I had lived; but for the
very reason that I loved her no longer, I felt myself the more called
upon to lavish on her my utmost care and attention. And now we come to
the reason of my being here to reveal to you a circumstance of which I
might, had I so wished, have kept you ever ignorant. But I considered it
as base and dishonourable to create for myself, out of events which I
now know so utterly false, an interest which might have served to cement
still closer the bonds of affection which united us. Many a time have I
been on the point of revealing to you my real name and station, but the
fear of exciting your anger by this tardy confession has always
restrained me. You now know all. Again I repeat I seek not to extenuate
my fault or deny its turpitude; but take into consideration how much I
had to endure, and how heavenly and soothing to my wounded heart was the
gentle consolation I found here; you will then, perhaps, feel inclined
to pardon me for having trembled at the bare apprehension of losing such
happiness."
Pierre Raimond remained mute and pensive while M. de Hansfeld was thus
speaking; by degrees the expression of bitter wrath faded from his harsh
features, and just before Arnold had quite ceased, the old engraver
looked earnestly towards his daughter, accompanying his regard with a
movement of the head indicative of his approbation. Bertha, with
downcast eyes, sat plunged in the deepest melancholy; she knew her
father too well to expect that, after the prince's confession, he would
admit him again to his house; and thus she saw torn from her the only
charm which had enabled her to support her sufferings; the idea was too
painful for her gentle nature to struggle against, and she resigned
herself to utter hopelessness and despair. After a few instants'
silence, Pierre Raimond extended his hand to M. de Hansfeld, saying,--
"You are right--quite right! you triumph even over my prejudices, since
you nobly and voluntarily undertake a sacrifice--which may cost you
much, but which must cost us more!"
"I must not hope to see you again?" inquired Arnold, sorrowfully.
"Impossible! to receive into my house the man who had saved my life, and
even contract with him a degree of intimacy, warranted by the supposed
equality of our conditions, was natural enough; relying, too, on the
noble integrity of his heart and honourable principles, I might even
blamelessly have sanctioned the brotherly affection he evinced for my
child; but all that is at an end. A poor artisan like myself is not a
befitting companion for a prince; neither can my daughter take his hand
with an innocent freedom as she did at our last meeting; she can no
longer dare to claim a sister's right to welcome one whom Providence has
placed in a sphere so different from ours. No, no: I may pardon the
artifice you employed to obtain our friendship--but I should be
applauding and commending you for it were I henceforward to permit a
continuance of your visits."
"I beseech you to believe----"
"I am fully aware how painful will be your separation from us; not,
however, more so than it will be to us."
"Oh no!" murmured Bertha, unable to restrain her tears.
"But," resumed Pierre Raimond, "you can seek consolation in the
pleasures which your rank and fortune can afford."
"The pleasures! alas, do you believe what you say!"
"Well, then, we will change the word, and say the duties it has pleased
Providence to impose on you; you have to endeavour to erase from the
mind of your wife all the pain you have made her suffer, and that to a
generous mind is an occupation at once grand and noble. But what means
have we of filling up the void left in our hearts by this sudden
breaking off of an intimacy we delighted in? So long as this poor girl
is permitted to remain with me I shall regret you less poignantly; but
when I am left to myself----. My child had even become more indifferent
to the many causes of unhappiness her home supplied, from the soothing
pleasure and calm enjoyment she experienced in her visits here. And now
what is left her? Nothing but vain regrets for a past happiness it
would, perhaps, have been far better she had never known."
"Dearest father," replied Bertha, "do not afflict yourself for me; I
will try and submit as I ought to this painful separation from our
valued friend; besides, shall I not still have you to love and cherish?"
"True, my child; and I promise you that though he," added the old man,
extending his hand to Arnold, who warmly pressed it between his own, "be
no longer present to our view, he shall still live in our memories; and
that we will never meet without at least mentioning his name."
"Then take courage, Monsieur Arnold," said Bertha, striving to smile
even amid her fast-falling tears, "you hear what my father says--we
shall never cease to cherish you in our recollections; and very, very
often talk of you, and of the happy hours we have passed together. And
now farewell! in this world farewell for ever!"
The violent emotion of M. de Hansfeld almost overpowered him; in a
broken voice he at length contrived to murmur,--
"Adieu! dear and estimable friend and sister, adieu for ever! but oh,
believe----"
Here, however, further utterance was denied him; his sobs burst forth
with overwhelming force, and he hastily covered his face with his hands.
"You see," said he, after a momentary silence, during which he had
succeeded in partly repressing his agitation, and addressing Pierre
Raimond, who was contemplating him with deep sorrow, "still the same
weak, feebleminded creature as ever; how must I sink in the estimation
of one of your stern, rigid character!"
But without replying to this remark, Pierre Raimond abruptly
exclaimed,--
"But, merciful heavens! now I consider, your wife's innocence of the
frightful crime imputed to her is happily proved,--of that there is no
doubt. But the pertinacity with which your life has been so repeatedly
placed in danger; some one must be guilty of all this. At Trieste, or
here, I should say it might have been effected by strangers; but while
you were travelling, staying for the night merely at an inn, it appears
to me it must have been the work of some person in your establishment,
or at least a very singular concurrence of circumstances must exist."
"I have also asked myself the same question, but it is a mystery which
resists every attempt I can make to solve it. While travelling we were
accompanied but by three persons, an old servant who brought me up, a
young female received into the family by Madame de Hansfeld from motives
of compassion, and my _chasseur_, who also acted as courier, and had
been a very long while in my service. To suspect my worthy old Frantz or
a young girl of seventeen years of age would be preposterous; there is
no one left, then, who could by probability have committed the crime but
the _chasseur_. Now, though a most excellent and devoted servant, the
unfortunate fellow is so extremely stupid and slow of imagination that
it is even more impossible it could have been he than either Frantz or
the young companion of my wife."
"Still, so great a persistance in these murderous attempts proves----"
"Stay, my worthy friend; the unjust suspicions I have already
entertained have cost me too dear, and occasioned too much grief to
myself and others for me to venture again to affix blame to any one
except on certain grounds."
"But these attacks speak with a startling reality; there is no mistaking
their import; and what if they are repeated?"
"I shall rejoice if it be so; that which yesterday I dreaded and sought
to avoid, to-day I desire and court."
"Ah, Monsieur Arnold! if your life is valueless to yourself, do you owe
nothing to the friends who would survive to lament your loss? And you do
not intend making any efforts to discover the vile perpetrators of this
shameful machination?"
"None whatever! why should I? am I not now here to say, _Farewell for
ever?_"
And with these words M. de Hansfeld quitted the room in a state of mind
bordering on desperation.