PROPOSITION
De Brévannes did not for a moment consider how humiliating and odious
was the part he was preparing for his wife: no consideration, no
scruple, ever prevented this man from going straight to his purpose.
Under the existing circumstances, and reflecting how he could make use
of Bertha as a means to his end, he said, with a kind of villainous
cynicism,--
"This is the first time that my marriage has ever been of any use to
me."
He still thought it necessary to assume towards his wife a tone less
harsh than usual, in order to make her decide on allowing herself to be
presented to the Princess de Hansfeld. Bertha visited but very little,
she was so very timid; and thus, anticipating some difficulties on her
part, he preferred overcoming them by mildness, as his threats would be
vain before the obstinate refusal of his wife.
She so little expected her husband's visit, that she was giving free
vent to her tears at the recollection that she should never again see M.
de Hansfeld. For the first time she felt the full force and extent of
her love. She had courage enough to refrain from cursing this cruel
separation, when she reflected on the trouble in which a guilty passion
might involve her existence. No longer seeing Arnold, she would be, at
least, out of the reach of that danger. Such a consolation always costs
many tears, and thus this young lady had hardly time to dry her eyes
before her husband was by her side.
Bertha had sufficient resolution not to surprise M. de Brévannes by the
sight of her tears, but yet they annoyed him, for the transition was
rather extreme to begin talking to his wife of the pleasures of the
world and her presentation to Madame de Hansfeld. Repressing, however,
a feeling of impatience, he said, in a gentle tone, to Bertha, and
affecting not to see her chagrin (as thereby he could more rapidly open
on his own desire),--
"Pardon me, my love, I disturb you."
"No, no, Charles, you do not at all disturb me," said Bertha, wiping
away the fresh tears that sprung to her eyes, and which she considered
as reproaches for her fault.
"Have you seen your father to-day?"
"Yes; you gave me leave to go there when I----"
"Oh," said De Brévannes, interrupting Bertha, "I am not reproaching
you! I do not like your father's temper, and I could not possibly live
with him; but I do justice to his frankness of character, the austerity
of his principles, and I am perfectly content when I know you are with
him."
Bertha had nothing to reproach herself withal, and yet her heart smote
her as if she had abused her husband's confidence, when, for the first
time for a long while, he spoke kindly to her, and she looked down and
made no reply.
De Brévannes proceeded,--
"Then these visits to your father are your only amusement since our
return to Paris. With the exception of that first night at the
Français, you have been nowhere; I really must draw you from your
solitude."
"You are too kind, Charles. You know I do not like society, I have been
so long accustomed to the life I lead; therefore, I pray you not to
occupy yourself with what you call my amusements."
"Come, come, you are a child, and must let me think and decide for you
in this matter: you will not repent it."
"But, Charles----"
"Oh, I shall be as obstinate as ever, and more so! for I mean it to be
very agreeable to you in spite of yourself; when once you have got over
your timidity, the world, which inspires you with so much alarm, will
have a thousand attractions for you."
Bertha looked at her husband, quite surprised at the extraordinary
change in his accent and manner. He spoke with such singular mildness at
the very moment when she was reproaching herself for feeling too strong
an inclination for M. de Hansfeld. The anguish, we might almost say the
remorse, of the young wife increased in proportion to the apparent
kindness of her husband, and she replied, with a blush,--
"Really, Charles, I am very grateful to you for all you would do for me;
I am even astonished!"
"Poor, little dear, without thinking of it you reproach me severely."
"Oh, pardon me, I did not intend!"
"But I receive the reproach because I deserve it. Yes, since our return
I have neglected you so much that the least attention on my part
astonishes you. But patience, I have my revenge to take. That is not
all; they think me an Othello, and believe it is from jealousy that I
conceal my treasure from all eyes. I will reply to these maligners by
taking my treasure into a great deal of society this winter, and thus
prove that you inspire me with as much pride as confidence."
"I can only reply to such kind offers by accepting them, although with
regret and solely from obedience to you; for I much prefer solitude,
and, if you will allow me, Charles, I will live as I have done
hitherto."
"No, no, I tell you; I will be as self-willed as yourself."
"Well, then, be it so. I will do what you desire; only be so kind as
promise me that I shall not be forced to amuse myself too much," said
Bertha, smiling bitterly. "I will go into the world since you desire it;
but not too often, I hope?"
"Make yourself easy; when you have been there a few times, it will be I,
I am sure, who will be obliged to restrain your wishes to return to it."
"Oh, you need not fear that, Charles!"
"You will see--you will see."
"I find myself so constrained in the society of persons whom I do not
know, and I seem to see ill-natured critics in all who are around me."
"You are much too handsome not to excite the envy and malevolence of the
women; but the admiration of the men avenges you, without considering
that amongst the persons to whom I wish to present you there are some of
such high rank, and even so exclusive, that your admission amongst them
must create much jealousy."
"What do you mean, Charles?"
"You will soon learn, my love, and I shall have great pleasure in
telling you. I am delighted to see you enter so fully into my views; I
expected, I will tell you, to have more resistance to overcome."
"If I consented so quickly, it was from fear of displeasing you. Say but
a word, and you will see with what facility I will renounce pleasures no
doubt much envied."
"Assuredly that is a word I shall not say, my dear love; far from it, I
shall say one which, on the contrary, would prevent you from renouncing
those vain joys of the world, and which you seem so greatly to
undervalue."
"And that word----"
"Do you recollect the night at the Théâtre Français?"
"Certainly."
"I mean do you remember the circumstances which have most attracted the
public attention, not on the stage, but amongst the auditory?"
"Why, first there was Madame Girard's strange head-dress."
"Yes, the sobieska, certainly; and then?"
Bertha was so far from expecting what her husband was about to say to
her, that she reflected a minute or so before she replied,--
"I do not know; was it the Marquise de Luceval?"
"You are, at the same time, drawing nearer to the truth and the box of
the person to whom I allude."
"In what way?"
"In the next box to Madame de Luceval do you not remember a very
handsome foreign princess, of whom all the world was speaking in terms
of admiration?"
"A foreign princess!" repeated Bertha mechanically, whilst her heart was
struck with an indefinable presentiment.
"Yes, the Princess de Hansfeld."
"What! the princess! It is she to whom----"
"I hope to present you the day after to-morrow."
"Oh, never, never!" exclaimed Bertha, involuntarily. To take advantage
of this offer, which gave her the means of seeing the prince again,
seemed to her most odious treachery.
De Brévannes, although astonished at his wife's exclamation, at first
believed that she refused from timidity, and said,--
"Come, come, what a child you are! Although a a very high lady, the
Princess de Hansfeld is one of the plainest persons in the world, and
you will please her very much, I am sure."
"My dear Charles, I beg of you not to introduce me to the princess, but
leave me in the retirement in which I have hitherto lived."
"My dearest girl, I beg of you, in my turn," said De Brévannes,
repressing his ire, "not to have any such whim and bad taste. But just
now you decided on doing what I desired, and yet now you wish to
withdraw your promise. Be consistent, pray."
"It is really impossible! No, no, Charles, I beg of you, do not exact
this from me."
"Really now, this is quite silly! You obstinately refuse what so many
would sue for as an unexpected boon."
"I know it, I believe it; and, therefore, if I refuse, believe that I
have my reasons for so doing."
"Reasons! reasons! and what may they be?"
"None in particular, but I have no wish to go into society."
De Brévannes amazed at this resistance vainly endeavoured to detect the
cause. He was persuaded that the love of retirement was not the sole
motive for this refusal, and, for a moment, he believed his wife jealous
of the princess, and therefore replied, with a sort of kind air,--
"Be candid now, conceal nothing from me,--is there not a little jealousy
in this?"
"Jealousy?"
"Yes; are you foolish enough to imagine that I am smitten by the
princess?"
"No, I have no such idea, I assure you."
"What, then, can it be?" cried De Brévannes, giving way to his
long-repressed impatience.
"Charles, be kind! be generous!"
"I am weary of being so, madame; and, as you have no regard for my
entreaties, you shall obey my commands, and the day after to-morrow you
will accompany me to Madame de Hansfeld's. Do you understand me now?"
"Charles, one word, I pray. It is to be agreeable to myself, is it not,
that you wish to take me to the princess's?"
"Unquestionably,--and what then?"
"Why, since it was for me that you formed the idea, I beseech you to
give it up!"
"You shall obey me!"
"Oh! go by yourself! It can be of very little consequence whether or
not----"
"It is of so much consequence that you must go,--do you comprehend
that?"
"It pains me to refuse you, but as you cannot force me to go----"
"Well?"
"I will not go!"
"You will not go?"
"No!"
"Your obstinacy is most absurd; and you think to lay down the law to
me?"
"I act as I feel I ought."
"By refusing to go to Madame de Hansfeld's?"
"Yes, Charles."
"I am not in a humour to guess riddles, and I will therefore end our
conversation in two words: if you persist in your refusal, you shall
never see your father again as long as you live, but in a week you shall
return to Lorraine, which you shall never again quit; I have a right to
fix your place of residence. You know my will is inflexible, and
therefore reflect in time."
Bertha bowed her head without any reply. Her husband could, in truth,
send her to Lorraine, separate her from her father, of whom she was the
sole support, as, by a just feeling of pride, Pierre Raimond refused the
pension which De Brévannes had hitherto allowed him. This was not all:
by obeying her husband, Bertha could conceal from the engraver the
reason why she continued to see him; for he would a thousand times have
preferred that his daughter should go to Lorraine, than that she should
obey her husband's commands, when those commands brought her into
contact with Arnold.
One moment she was on the point of confessing to De Brévannes the
motive of her resistance; but reflecting on the ferocious jealousy of
her husband, his anger against the engraver, from whom he would,
perhaps, separate her for ever, she rejected this idea.
Unfortunately for Bertha, there was no mid course between the two
alternatives. Her first impulse had been to resist with determination
her husband's desires, because the tears she had shed at the remembrance
of Arnold enlightened her as to the danger of this love, hitherto so
calm, and thus she was forced to bow before so fatal a necessity. She
replied to her husband, with a tone of despair,--
"You exact it, sir, and I obey."
"Really, it is very fortunate for you, madame."
"Only remember I have done all in my power to resist your commands; I
have conjured you, supplicated you, to allow me to live in retirement,
and it was you--you who would take me from it, in order to throw me into
the whirlpool of the world," said Bertha, growing animated as she
spoke,--"of the world, in which I have neither support nor counsel,
where I shall be exposed to all the dangers which beset a young and
absolutely isolated woman."
"Isolated!--but I, madame?"
"Hear me, sir! I am scarcely twenty-two years of age, you have weighed
me down with unkindness and neglect,--I love you no longer; I am
resolutely determined never to forget my duties, but, although perfectly
confident in myself, there are certain perils to which I do not wish to
expose myself."
This time Bertha had struck true by vaguely arousing the savage jealousy
of De Brévannes, and she hoped thus to make him reflect upon the
results of throwing a young woman, without love for or confidence in her
husband, into the midst of the dissipations of society.
De Brévannes was really amazed at this new language, and looked at
Bertha with irritation mingled with surprise.
"What do you say, madame?" he exclaimed. "Do you wish to make me
understand that you are capable of such indignity as to forget what I
have done for you? Take care, madame, take care; do not sport with such
ideas, they are too serious; reflect well that self-love is a thousand
times more irritable and more ardent for vengeance than love itself. If
ever you had but the thought of wronging me----But no," he said, turning
livid with the bare idea, "do not let us even mention such an idea--it
is too serious."
"And it is because a serious day may arrive, sir, that I do suggest the
idea; and as a virtuous woman, I entreat you to leave me in my
retirement, and not voluntarily expose me to perils which, perhaps, I
may not have the strength to resist. I owe you much, no doubt, but
believe me, do not compel me also to calculate the tears I have shed,
for then I could believe the debt acquitted."
"What audacity!"
"I would rather be audacious before I had done wrong, than hypocritical
afterwards. Once more, for the sake of your repose as well as mine, I
entreat you to leave me in my obscure anti unknown existence. Then I can
promise you that I shall never fail in my duty; otherwise----"
"Otherwise?"
"You will cast me almost defenceless into the midst of the perils of the
world. I know my duties, and shall endeavour to struggle; but I tell
you, circumstances might occur when my powers would fail me."
The good sense, the frankness of this language, made De Brévannes'
jealous blood boil again in his veins; he knew too well his wrongs to
Bertha, not to see that she struggled solely and absolutely from duty.
Yet duty without affection is often powerless against the incitements of
passion.
This man's hell began. Placed between his jealousy and his love, he
hesitated between the desire to draw his connexion with Madame de
Hansfeld more closely through the introduction of Bertha, and the fear
of seeing his wife surrounded by admirers.
The thought of being jealous of the prince, whom he only knew from the
description of his singularities, did not occur to him for a moment; but
independently of him, he conjured up a host of fearful phantoms, or
rather attractive adorers. Already he saw himself mocked at, pointed at
with the finger; he who had made a marriage of love, ridiculous as it
was, as he said to himself,--he who had sacrificed his vanity, his
ambition, his cupidity, to a poor obscure girl, was not to be safe from
a painful destiny! Was he to be always a dupe in the eyes of the world,
as well after as before his marriage?
At these thoughts De Brévannes shook with passion.
Now he saw in Bertha's frankness a guarantee for the future; now, on the
contrary, he saw a kind of cynic defiance, until at last he was so
actually alarmed at the language of a virtuous woman, who, disdained by
her husband, whom she no longer loved, was at length disabused as to
human frailty, and preferred avoiding, to confronting, danger.
Still not to introduce Bertha to the princess was to renounce a future
which he contemplated as so brilliant.
The sacrifice was impossible, and like those who, despairing of making
themselves beloved, hope to make themselves feared, he attempted to
intimidate Bertha, and said to her brutally,--
"When a woman has the effrontery to profess such principles openly,
madame, she has no need to go into the world to deceive her husband."
"Enough, sir, enough," said Bertha proudly; "since you interpret me thus
I have nothing to add. I will accompany you when you please to the
Princess de Hansfeld."
"And be on your guard as to what you do; at least, remember this--and I
repeat it designedly to you--love may be indulgent, generous; pride,
never; and as I should be pitiless towards you if you have the bad taste
to conduct yourself improperly, so I will crush you, break you to atoms
without remorse. So mind," he added, with lips contracted by passion,
and taking Bertha rudely by the arm.
His wife very calmly disengaged herself and replied to him,--
"With any one but me, sir, you would, perhaps, be wrong in thus
contrasting the attraction of danger to the attraction which love may
offer. Believe me, when the respect of duty is powerless, terror is but
vain."
And with these words Bertha quitted the room, leaving M. de Brévannes
in a state of extreme irritation and intense anxiety.