agitation attracted his attention the moment he caught sight of him; he
ran to his side, seized his hand, and pressing it affectionately, said
to him:
"What has happened? tell me!"
Edouard could not reply at once, his grief choked his utterance; he
tried to speak, but his heart was too full; at last he threw himself
into his friend’s arms, stammering:
"My dear Alfred, you sacrificed your love for Isaure to me; you desired
that I should be happy; you saw my extreme passion for that girl. Well!
to reward my love, she refuses to see me again. I must abandon all hope
of marrying her. When I forget that she is only a peasant, nameless,
penniless, it is she who refuses to be mine!"
"Who told you that?"
"She herself; I left her only a moment ago."
"What reasons does she give you?"
"The obedience which she owes to a man who forbids her to see me again."
"Then I was not misinformed," cried Alfred, after a moment.
"What? what do you mean?"
"Listen! two nights ago, when I went to examine the old tower, I did
find someone there--that vagabond whom we have met so often in the
mountains; he declared that he had made his way into the château at
night for the purpose of speaking to me secretly, and he told me that
Isaure was unworthy of your love, that he had been suspicious of her
conduct for a long time, and that he had at last acquired the certainty
that she went to the White House at night, to see a man who had just
arrived there."
"The traitor! She goes to see him at night; and to think that I
respected her sincerity, her innocence, and was afraid of offending her
delicacy! Ah! my friend, these women! Oh! I am suffocating, I cannot
stand it; I have a weight at my heart which oppresses me, which is
killing me!"
"Come, come, Edouard, be a man; be yourself; does a woman who betrays us
deserve that we should regret her?"
"Ah! my friend, I have not your temperament; but why have you concealed
from me what you had learned?"
"I wished to be certain, before causing you pain; I had my reasons for
doubting the veracity of the wretch’s story, he seemed to take so much
delight in slandering that girl; and I fear even now----"
"What! when she herself told me that she would not see me any more,
because some insolent villain has forbidden her to? And you think that I
will suffer such an outrage? No, I will make this man’s acquaintance. I
will see my rival, and he shall have my life, or I will have his."
"Calm yourself, Edouard, reflect before----"
"Reflection is useless; I am determined to fight with the man who has
stolen Isaure’s heart from me."
"Who has stolen it from you! That is not quite fair; consider that it is
you rather, who have stolen it from him. This man knew Isaure before
you did; if anyone has a right to complain, is it not he?"
"Yes, that man knew Isaure; but before he returned to this place, she
loved me--at least she swore that she did; every day she seemed to see
me with greater pleasure, to part from me with greater regret. It is
only since the return of this unknown protector that she spurns me, that
she wishes to see me no more. So you see that it is he who has stolen
the woman I love from me, it is he who wrecks my life."
"I see that it is utterly impossible to make a man who is in love listen
to reason!"
"My friend, my mind is made up; to-night I shall seek out my rival, and
he must give Isaure up to me, or take my life."
"Give Isaure up to you! What! are you still willing to give her your
name?"
"I do not know what I am willing to do; my blood is boiling, my head is
on fire. Ah! Alfred, may you never know the torments of jealousy! Argue
with me no more; I will listen to nothing until I have satisfied my
rage. To-night we will go together to the White House. That is where I
shall find this man, who surrounds himself with so much mystery. I have
relied upon you to go with me, to be my second. However, if you
disapprove of my resolution, I will go alone."
"What! I desert you at such a moment! No, my dear Edouard, I will go
with you. I shall take my pistols; do you take your weapons too. We will
leave the château on foot, at eight o’clock; we shall be there at ten,
which is early enough. Now let me return to the salon."
"Make my apologies for not appearing; say that I am indisposed; it would
be impossible for me to be with people now in whose presence I must
constrain myself."
Alfred pressed his friend’s hand and did not insist upon remaining with
him; for he knew that in great grief there are times when even words of
comfort are unwelcome. He returned to the company and announced that
Edouard was not feeling well. The absence of one of the young men, and
the depression and absent-mindedness of Alfred did not tend to enliven
the dinner on the day following the wedding, during which Robineau,
having had the misfortune to say, rubbing his hands: "I flatter myself
that I shall not sleep alone to-night!" received a sharp reprimand from
Monsieur de la Pincerie concerning the freedom of his manners; and
Madame de la Roche-Noire manifested a sulky manner during the rest of
the meal.
In the evening, the whist table was prepared; as they no longer had
Monsieur Férulus to make a fourth, because he would have been very sorry
to do anything agreeable to the marquis during his last evening at the
château, they suggested to Alfred that he should take his place; but he
announced that he felt tired and would withdraw early. Thereupon
Monsieur de la Pincerie took his two daughters into the game, and they
played a family bouillotte, at which Mignon considered himself very
skilful, because he said "I pass" before looking at his cards. At eight
o’clock, leaving Robineau in an altercation with his father-in-law and
his wife over a bad play that he had made, Alfred left the salon, went
to his room, took his weapons and his cloak, because it was a damp and
cold evening, and then joined Edouard, who was impatiently pacing his
room, awaiting his friend.
"Here I am," said Alfred.
"Let us go then," replied Edouard shortly, "it is quite time."
"Why are we going on foot?"
"It seems to me that we are less likely to be seen, that they will not
hear us coming. Who knows that the man whom I wish to discover may not
have spies posted on the road, to give him warning of a surprise?"
"All right, let us go on foot; perhaps the walk and the cool night air
will calm you a little."
Edouard did not reply, but took his pistols, put on his cloak, and went
downstairs. The two young men bade the concierge open the gate for them,
and Alfred put a gold piece in his hand, to bribe him to sit up for
their return, which could hardly take place until late at night. They
left the château, and by the pale light of the moon, which showed itself
at intervals from behind the clouds, they took the road leading into the
mountains.
Edouard walked in silence, and at a rapid pace. Alfred dared not
interrupt his reflections, but contented himself with glancing from time
to time at the cliffs and mountains which surrounded them. That night
excursion reminded him of their journey to La Roche-Noire; he thought of
their hilarity at that time, and sighed as he reflected how soon the
happiness which the future promised had disappeared.
After walking more than a league and a half without stopping, and when
they were only a short distance from the little valley, Alfred said to
his friend:
"Let us rest a moment and take breath; perhaps the man whom you seek
will not be at the White House so early."
"Very well," said Edouard, "let us rest here."
And he sat down beside Alfred on a boulder. As he continued to sit in
silence, Alfred took his hand, and said to him:
"My dear Edouard, you must admit that we are great fools, to take so
much trouble for a girl,--a very pretty girl, I admit; but there are so
many others whom we do not even know!"
"Alfred, it is possible that this is folly, rank madness; I realize
fully that I should do better to forget Isaure, to despise her; but, my
dear friend, every day we persevere in things, although we know that we
are doing wrong. As I have told you, you do not feel love as I do, and
it is very lucky for you! You loved Isaure passionately; but as soon as
you made up your mind to sacrifice that love to me, you were able to put
her adored image from your thoughts, and you will agree that in a few
days it presented itself much less often. I loved Isaure without
manifesting it so plainly; but it is a sentiment which will end only
with my life. May I not have long to suffer thus!--Come, the time is
passing, and I am in haste to arrive."
Edouard rose, they walked on, and in ten minutes went down into the
valley. There Edouard was obliged to stop; he was trembling from head to
foot, he could hardly breathe, and he was almost forced to lean upon
Alfred’s arm to keep himself from falling.
"Wait, wait," he said; "the sight of this place makes me ill. Forgive
me, dear Alfred, for all the trouble that I am giving you."
Alfred made no other response than pressing his friend’s hand, and they
soon resumed their walk; but they did not notice that the man with the
knotted stick, who had stopped a short distance away, was now dogging
their footsteps, taking pains to keep constantly in the shadow.
"Let us go first to her house; we will find out if she is still at
home," said Edouard.
They walked silently, trying to make as little noise as possible, and
soon reached the cottage; they saw a light in the room on the first
floor, the window was open, and from a distance they saw Isaure in that
room.
"She is there!" said Edouard in a low voice.
"Yes," replied Alfred, "and she is alone."
"She is doing nothing, she seems lost in thought; see how lovely she is
still, Alfred!"
"Why, my dear friend, women are not less pretty for being unfaithful.
Sometimes they seem even prettier."
"She rises, she walks to Vaillant and pats him; look,--one would say
that she was weeping. Ah! my friend, if I did not hold myself back, I
should rush in and throw myself at her feet."
"Wait, she is coming to the window; let us hide behind these trees."
Isaure came to the window, and looked at the White House.
"It is there, it is always there that her eyes turn," said Edouard
sorrowfully. "Madman that I am! I believed that she was thinking of me."
Ten minutes passed, during which Isaure stood at the window, and the
young men, stationed behind some trees, did not lose sight of her or of
the White House. At the end of that time, a light appeared in a window
of that mysterious house.
"That is the signal that she was waiting for, no doubt," said Edouard.
And, in fact, the girl instantly left the window, disappeared from her
room and soon stole softly out of the cottage. Edouard gripped his
friend’s arm fiercely; he could not speak, but he followed every
movement that Isaure made. She, after locking her door, darted swiftly
into the field, and crossing it at a rapid pace, soon reached the
entrance to the White House, and glided furtively through the door,
which closed behind her.
The young men followed her, watched her enter the house, and stopped a
few steps away.
"There is no more doubt," said Edouard in a gloomy voice; "she is there
with my rival! Ah! I am going----"
"What are you going to do?" said Alfred, holding Edouard back; "knock at
that door? make an uproar? They will not admit you, and besides you will
not find out anything more. Would it not be better to wait until she
comes out? Perhaps the man who is in there will accompany her; suppose
we could see them, hear them, unobserved! There will still be time
enough to challenge your rival; as he is here, he cannot escape you."
"Yes, yes, you are right," said Edouard; "let us wait, I will try to be
strong enough."
"See, let us take our places under this clump of trees. We shall be just
opposite the door, and no one can see us. Come."
Alfred led Edouard under the trees, which were some forty yards from the
White House. There they crouched in the darkest spot, and waited in
silence until the door opposite them was opened. A quarter of an hour
passed in this painful suspense; Edouard was frantic with impatience and
jealousy; but the desire to acquire proofs of Isaure’s treachery gave
him strength to resist the violent impulses of his heart. Suddenly they
heard a slight noise; it did not come from the White House, however, but
from behind the young men.
"I heard something," said Edouard.
"Yes, I thought that I did, too."
"Can it be that we are not alone here?"
They looked carefully all about them, but could see no one. At that
moment, the moon, coming out from behind the clouds, enabled them to
distinguish objects very plainly, and Edouard shuddered as he heard the
door open.
"Here they are!" he said.
Isaure came out first; she was followed by a man of tall stature,
wrapped in an ample coat, and with a round hat pulled low over his eyes.
They stood in the shadow cast by the house, and in a moment the girl
said in a sad tone:
"Adieu, my friend; adieu, I will go home. You will not scold me any
more, will you? He will not come again; I have told him that I could not
receive him any more."
The man who was with Isaure answered too low for them to hear, as he
escorted her toward her house. Edouard followed them, keeping out of
sight in the shadow, while Alfred remained under the trees, in front of
the house, to cut off the stranger’s retreat.
Soon Isaure and her companion stopped; he took the young girl in his
arms and kissed her affectionately. At that sight, Edouard, in a frenzy,
started to rush toward them; but Isaure was already tripping lightly
toward the cottage, while the other person strode rapidly toward the
White House, along the edge of the clump of trees which concealed Alfred
from his sight. At that moment, the moon, shining full in the face of
the person walking toward him, enabled Alfred to examine him at his
ease; and instead of stopping him and preventing him from returning to
the White House, Alfred remained absolutely motionless on the spot where
he stood. Meanwhile, Edouard hastened after the man with whom he was
burning to fight; but he only saw him reënter the house, the door of
which closed upon him.
"What!" he said to Alfred, "he passed in front of you and you did not
stop him? You did not prevent him from escaping from my wrath? I can no
longer doubt Isaure’s perfidy, that man took her in his arms! Ah! he
must pay for his good fortune with his life! Yes, if he refuse to open
the door, though I have to scale the walls or break the windows, he
shall not escape me!"
And Edouard was already rushing toward the house, pistol in hand, when
Alfred, rousing himself from the stupor which had taken possession of
him, hurried after him, grasped his arm and held him back, crying:
"Edouard, do not think of fighting that man, I implore you! it cannot
be!"
"What! not think of revenging myself? Did you come with me for the
purpose of talking to me like this? Let me go!"
"No, I entreat you! in the name of our friendship, put down those
weapons, which horrify me!"
"What is the meaning of the interest which that man arouses in you? Ah!
for my part, I feel that I detest him, that I abhor him! and in his
blood----"
"Wretched man, what are you saying?--It is my father!"
"Your father!" cried Edouard, upon whom those words produced the effect
of a thunderbolt; while the vagabond, a short distance away, repeated in
a hollow voice, "his father"; then strode rapidly away, and disappeared
under the trees.
After a silence of several moments, Edouard, who seemed not to recover
his wits until then, handed the pistols to Alfred, saying:
"Here, take them, take these weapons away from me! You are right, I
cannot fight with him!"
Leaving Edouard no time to change his mind, Alfred took his arm and led
him hurriedly away from the White House.
XXVII
THE FAREWELLS AT THE CHÂTEAU
Alfred led his friend into the first road that they came to; his only
thought was to take him away from the White House, and from Isaure’s
dwelling. The two young men walked a long while at random and without
speaking; their hearts were too heavily burdened for them to be able to
exchange their thoughts. But, after walking for a considerable distance,
with no other object than to escape from the little valley, they
stopped, worn out with fatigue and excitement, in a large field. Edouard
dropped upon the turf, saying:
"Let us rest here; I feel that I must breathe for a moment."
Alfred seated himself beside his friend. They were both silent again for
some time, until at last Edouard said in a trembling voice:
"Are you perfectly sure that that man was your father?"
"My friend, can a son’s eyes be mistaken? Yes, it was certainly he; he
was coming toward me, and the moon shone brightly upon his face. I had
plenty of time to look at him, to recognize him. Thunderstruck, I stood
perfectly motionless, I did not leave the trees which hid me from him;
and I thank heaven for it! A son should never compel the author of his
days to blush before him. I must no longer seek to discover the motives
of my father’s conduct, or the sentiment which he feels for Isaure. Is
he not master of his actions? And if he has some weak points, does he
not redeem them by a thousand noble qualities? Ah! my dear Edouard, when
I think of the ghastly things that might have happened had I not
recognized my father,--if the darkness had concealed his features from
us both,--I still shudder, my heart stands still! My father, who is so
kind, so indulgent to me, whose sole aim is to make me happy, who is a
most affectionate friend to me, would be dead by your hands, perhaps,
and in his son’s presence!--Ah! believe me, my dear friend, all the
griefs of love, all the torments that a woman causes us, will never
approach the agony that tears the heart of a son at the thought that he
might unconsciously have acted as a second to his father’s murderer!"
"I trust, Alfred, that your mind is at ease now?"
"Yes, I am convinced that you will respect my father; and besides, my
dear friend, let us be fair--it is not he who has betrayed you; Isaure
alone is guilty; she should not have responded to your love, she should
not have given you any hope; but women always yield to their desire to
please, without thinking of all that may result from it. In your jealous
rage, you wish to fight him who forbids Isaure to see you, to listen to
you again! And yet, had he not the right to do it? He has undoubtedly
known this girl for a long while.--So this was the motive of those
frequent journeys, in which he never proposed that I should accompany
him! Yes! oh, yes! he must have been coming to the White House for a
long while, a very long while. But a love-affair! I confess that that
astonishes me, and I still have difficulty in believing it. Since the
death of his second wife, of that Adèle whom he loved so dearly, I have
heard him say a hundred times that no woman could touch his heart
again. I know very well that men say that, and that that does not
prevent it; but I say again that it surprises me. His only mistake was
not taking me into his confidence, not saying a word to me of this
affair. Am I not his friend, as well as his son? Then we should not have
walked in the direction of the White House and made love to the girl,
and I should not have been exposed to the risk of becoming my father’s
rival! But, since he wishes to conceal this intrigue, let us respect his
secret. He has no idea that we are in this neighborhood; I have never
had time to write to him, and certainly, if the girl has mentioned an
Edouard to him, he will never have suspected that she referred to his
son’s friend."
Edouard listened calmly to what Alfred said; he seemed to approve of it
all; he was much calmer, for his common sense had made itself heard. The
pure, cool night air, the rest which they had taken, had also produced
their due effect; their blood circulated more freely, their hearts were
less oppressed. The man who abandons himself to all the transports of a
jealous frenzy, and dreams of nothing but vengeance, would be much less
frantic if he would only walk in the open air for a quarter of an hour.
The physical and the mental condition are always dependent upon each
other.
After a further silence of a few moments, Edouard said to his friend:
"I do not propose to remain in this country any longer. On the contrary,
I am anxious to go away. I shall bid the people at the château adieu
to-morrow, and leave Auvergne, where, for the sake of my peace of mind,
I ought never to have come!"
"I will go away with you. Indeed, I am beginning to tire of the Château
of La Roche-Noire, and of all the original characters it contains. Yes,
to-morrow we will make our adieu. We will return to Paris in search of
distraction; or, if you prefer, we will take a trip to Switzerland or
Italy. I will go with you anywhere. Time and my affection will succeed
in banishing painful memories from your mind. Come, give me your hand,
Edouard. Believe me, one is never entirely wretched when one has a
veritable friend."
The two young men held each other’s hands for a long while, and Edouard
promised Alfred to do everything that was in his power to forget Isaure.
"Where are we?" said he, after a moment.
"Faith, I have no idea; we have walked a long while, and I have not paid
any attention to the road. I do not recognize the surroundings, and the
moon is hidden. As we might very well go astray in these mountains, I
think that we shall do better to remain here until daylight; as soon as
it is light, we will go back to the château."
Edouard agreed with Alfred; they stretched themselves out on the grass,
to seek repose; but sleep did not approach the eyelids of Isaure’s
lover, who had always in his thoughts the lovely features of her whom it
had become a pleasant habit to love and to see every day.
As soon as the day began to break, the young men rose, and some peasants
on their way to work pointed out the way to the château. They arrived
there about eight in the morning and met in the courtyard Monsieur
Férulus, who had his big steel buttons on his coat, and who carried
under his arm a large bundle of books, as on the day that he had come to
establish himself at La Roche-Noire.
The scholar had halted in the middle of the courtyard, and was casting a
last glance at the window of the room which he had occupied,
exclaiming:
"Adieu, Rome! I go!"
On turning about, he saw the two young men, and went toward them with a
melancholy expression, then made them a low reverence.
"Where are you going so early in the morning, Monsieur Férulus?" said
Alfred.
"I am going away, messieurs; I am leaving this spot forever; I am
discharged, deprived of my office! And why? because I taught a young
woman to use the warming pan that nature has given her. It was not my
fault that there was not any other kind in the château."
"What! has that trouble not been arranged?--But Robineau is a good
fellow."
"Since he has married, he has become an absolute nullity. Poor, dear
man! He will see some cruel moments! I have not the good fortune to
please his excellent wife. She did not consider my verses pretty, or
rather, she refused to listen to them.--Messieurs, it is useless to hope
for anything from one who does not respect learning! After boring myself
to death, playing whist every evening with that insolent La Pincerie and
his idiotic brother, this is the way that I am rewarded! _Saturus sum
opprobriis!_--and thrown out of doors without even a month’s salary as
librarian. But let them find another like me! Madame says that her Uncle
Mignon can do perfectly well all that I do here. What blasphemy! But it
seems that all the places which the dear uncle was to hold will be
reduced to that of servant to his niece.--However, I am carrying the
library away under my arm; it belongs to me, it is all my property. I am
going to try to start another little school, or to find another Mæcenas,
who desires a Virgil to procure him immortality for three hundred francs
a year. It seems to me that that is not worth haggling about.--As for
this château, you will see, messieurs, that it will soon be pillaged,
sold, abandoned; it will crumble to dust, and no one will remember the
name of its last owner, and people will seek for La Roche-Noire as they
now seek for Babylon, Thebes and Nineveh!"
"We shall not see that, my dear Monsieur Férulus, for we too are about
to leave the château."