On the afternoon of the following day Monsieur De Vlierbeck was seated
in his parlor, his head resting on his hand. He seemed plunged in
profound thought, for his eyes were fixed on vacancy and his face
exhibited by turns contentment and hope, inquietude and anxiety.
Occasionally Lenora came into the apartment, and, seeming unusually
restless, wandered about from spot to spot, arranging and rearranging
the little fancy articles upon the tables, looking out of the window
into the garden, and at last running down-stairs suddenly as if she were
pursued. No one who saw her could doubt that she was nervously anxious
about something; yet her expression was one of joy and hope. Had she
been able to penetrate her father's mind and behold the various emotions
that excited it, she would not perhaps have been so gay and blithesome;
but poor De Vlierbeck restrained himself with his habitual care in her
presence, and smiled at her impatience as if he too were confident of
approaching happiness.
At length, tired of running about, Lenora seated herself by her father
and fixed her clear and questioning gaze on his face.
"Don't be so excited, my good child," said he. "We shall know nothing
to-day; but we may, perhaps, to-morrow. Moderate your joy, my daughter;
if it please Heaven to decide against your hope in this matter your
grief will be more easily conquered."
"Oh, no, father!" stammered Lenora; "God will grant my prayer; I feel it
in my heart. Don't be astonished, father, that I am full of joy, for I
think I see Gustave speaking to his uncle. I hear what he says, and
Monsieur Denecker's replies; I see him embrace Gustave and give his
consent! Who can doubt, father, that I ought to hope, when I know that
Monsieur Denecker loved me and was always kind?"
"Would you be very happy, Lenora," asked De Vlierbeck, with a smile, "if
Gustave were betrothed to you?"
"Never to leave him!" cried Lenora,--"to love him,--to be the happiness
of his life, his consolation, his joy,--to enliven the solitude of
Grinselhof by our love!--ah! that, father, would be delight indeed; for
then there would be two of us to contribute to the pleasures of your
life! Gustave would have more skill than I to chase away the grief that
sometimes clouds your brow; you could walk, talk, or hunt with him; he
would venerate and love you as a son and watch you with the tenderest
care; his only thought on earth would be to make you happy, because he
knows that your happiness is mine; and I--I, father, will recompense him
for his devotion by the gratitude of my heart, and love. Oh, yes, dear
father! we shall live together in a paradise of contentment!"
"Ingenuous girl!" exclaimed De Vlierbeck, with a sigh; "may the Lord
hear your prayer! But the world, my child, is governed by laws and
customs of which you are altogether ignorant. A wife must follow her
husband wherever he goes. If Gustave shall select another residence you
must follow him and console yourself gradually at the separation from
your father. Under other circumstances, parting might be painful; but
solitude will not sadden me if I know you are happy, my child."
The startled maiden looked at her father with surprise as he uttered
these words; and, as he finished, her head fell heavily on her breast
and tears streamed silently from her eyes. Monsieur De Vlierbeck took
her hand tenderly as he said, in faltering words,--
"I feared, Lenora, that I would make you sad; but you must become
accustomed to the idea of our separation."
Lenora raised her head quickly as she replied, in a firm and resolute
manner, "What! could Gustave ever dream of our separation? To leave you
at Grinselhof passing your days in seclusion while I and my husband were
in the world in the midst of festivity? I should not have an instant's
rest, wherever I might be; conscience would cry aloud in my heart,
'Ungrateful and insensible child, thy father is abandoned to suffering
and solitude!' Yes, I love Gustave; he is dearer to me than life itself,
and I receive his hand as a blessing from God; but if he should say to
me, 'Abandon your father!'--if he left me no choice except you or
him,--I would close my eyes and reject him! I should be sad; I should
suffer; perhaps even I should die; but, father dear, I would die in your
arms!"
She bent down her head for a moment as if oppressed by a dreadful
thought; but, raising her large eyes, liquid with tears, she fixed them
on her father, as she added,--
"You doubt Gustave's affection for you; you imagine him capable of
filling your life with sorrow,--of separating me from you! Oh, father,
you do not know him; you do not know how much he respects and loves you;
you do not comprehend the warmth of his generous and loving heart!"
De Vlierbeck bent over his child and impressed a kiss on her forehead,
as he was about to utter some words of consolation, when suddenly Lenora
sprang from his arms and pointed eagerly to the window, as if listening
to approaching sounds.
The noise of wheels and the clatter of horses on the road soon gave
Monsieur De Vlierbeck to understand why his daughter had been so
startled. His face assumed a more animated expression, and, descending
hurriedly, he reached the door as Monsieur Denecker alighted from his
coach.
The merchant seemed in exceedingly good humor; he grasped De Vlierbeck's
hand, expressing his delight at seeing him once more. "How goes it with
you, my old friend? It seems that rogue, my nephew, has taken advantage
of my absence." And, although De Vlierbeck ushered him into the saloon
with all the formality imaginable, Denecker slapped him familiarly on
the shoulder, and continued,--
"Well! well! we were good friends from the beginning; and now I
understand we are to be regular gossips:--at least I hope so. That scamp
hasn't bad taste, I must confess. He would have to make a long search
before he found a handsomer or more amiable woman than Lenora. Look you,
Monsieur De Vlierbeck, we must have a wedding frolic that people will
talk of twenty years hence!"
By this time they had got into the saloon and taken their seats; but De
Vlierbeck, nervous as he was, had considerable doubt as to the tone of
Denecker's remarks, and whether he was jesting or serious.
"It seems," continued Denecker, assuming a graver tone, "that Gustave is
madly impatient for this union, and begs me to hasten it. I have taken
compassion on the young fellow and left all the business of our house
topsy-turvy to-day to arrange matters with you. He tells me you have
given your consent. That was kind of you, sir. I thought a great deal of
this affair during my journey, for I had observed that Cupid's arrows
had gone clean through and through the boy; yet I had fears about your
consent. Inequality of blood, old-fashioned ideas, might perhaps
interfere."
"And so Gustave told you that I consented to his marriage with Lenora?"
said the old gentleman, paying no attention to Monsieur Denecker's
remarks.
"Did he deceive me, sir?" said Denecker, with surprise.
"No; but did he communicate something else to you, which ought to strike
you as of equal importance?"
Denecker threw back his head with a laugh, as he replied,--
"What nonsense you made him believe! But, between us two, that passes
for nothing. He tells me that Grinselhof don't belong to you and that
you are _poor_! I hope, Monsieur De Vlierbeck, you have too good an
opinion of my sense to imagine I have the least faith in such a story?"
A shudder passed over the poor gentleman's frame. Denecker's
good-humored familiarity had made him believe that he knew and credited
all, and nevertheless responded to his nephew's hopes; but the last
words he heard taught him that he must again go over the sad recital of
his misfortunes.
"Monsieur Denecker," said he, "do not entertain the least doubt, I beg
you, in regard to what I am about to say. I am willing instantly to
consent that my daughter shall become your nephew's wife; but I solemnly
declare that I am poor,--frightfully poor!"
"Come, come!" cried the merchant; "we knew long, long ago that you were
mightily fond of your money; but when you marry your _only_ child you
must open your heart and your purse, my dear sir, and portion her
according to your means. They say--pardon me for repeating it--that you
are _a miser_; but what a shame it would be to let your only daughter
leave your house unprovided for!"
Poor De Vlierbeck writhed on his chair as Denecker poured forth his
incredulous jokes. "For God's sake, sir," cried he, "spare me these
bitter remarks. I declare, on the word of a gentleman, that I possess
_nothing_ in the world!"
"Well!" cried the merchant, taking no heed of his remarks, and with a
mocking smile, "come; let us cipher the matter out on the table. You
suppose, perhaps, that I have come here to ask some great sacrifice of
you: but no, De Vlierbeck, thank God, I have no occasion to be so close
in my calculations. Yet a marriage is a thing to which there are always
two parties, and it is just that each should bring something into the
common stock."
"Oh, God! oh, God!" muttered the poor gentleman, as he clenched his
hands convulsively.
"I propose to give my nephew one hundred thousand francs," continued
Denecker; "and if he wants to continue in business my credit will be
worth as much more to him. I have no wish that Lenora's portion shall
equal his. Your high birth, and especially your character, will make up
what is wanting in her fortune; but what say you to the half,--fifty
thousand francs? You will consent to that, or I am much mistaken. What
say you? Is it a bargain?"
Pale and trembling, De Vlierbeck sat riveted to his chair; but at last,
in a low, melancholy voice,--
"Monsieur Denecker," said he, "this conversation kills me. I beg you to
stop this infliction. I repeat that I possess _nothing_; and, since you
force me to speak before you apprize me of your own intentions, know
that Grinselhof and its dependencies are mortgaged beyond their value!
It is useless to inform you of the origin of these debts. Let it suffice
to repeat that I tell the truth; and I beg you, without going further,
now that you are informed of the state of my affairs, to declare frankly
what are your designs as to your nephew's marriage."
Although this declaration was made with that feverish energy which ought
to have satisfied Denecker of its truth, it nevertheless failed to
convince him. A degree of surprise displayed itself on the merchant's
face; but he continued his observations in the same incredulous tone:--
"Pardon me, De Vlierbeck, but it is impossible to believe you. I did not
think you were so hard in a bargain. Yet be it so: every man has his
weakness; one is too miserly, another too prodigal. Now, for my part, I
confess that I am extremely anxious to spare Gustave the anxiety of
delay. Give your daughter twenty-five thousand francs, with the
understanding that the amount of her portion is to remain a secret; for
I don't want to be laughed at. Twenty-five thousand francs!--you cannot
say it is too much;--in fact, it is a trifle that will hardly pay for
their furniture. Be reasonable, my good sir, and let us shake hands on
it!"
De Vlierbeck said nothing; but, rising abruptly from the table, opened a
closet with a trembling hand, and, taking from it a package of papers,
threw them on the table.
"There!" said he; "read; convince yourself."
Denecker took up the papers and began to examine them. As he went on,
the expression of his face gradually changed, and at times he raised
his head and looked upward, as if in deep thought. After he had been
engaged for some time in this disagreeable task, De Vlierbeck
recommenced the conversation in a tone of cutting irony:--
"Ah! you would not believe me, sir. Well, let your determination be
founded on those papers alone. It is right you should know every thing;
for I have determined never again to be tortured. Besides the evidences
of debt which are before you, I owe a bill of exchange for four thousand
francs, which I cannot pay! You see now, Monsieur Denecker, that I am
worse than poor, for I have debts!"
"Alas! it is but too true," said the stupefied merchant; "you have
indeed nothing! I see by these documents that my notary is also yours;
and, although I spoke to him of your fortune, he left me unadvised, or,
I should rather say, in error."
De Vlierbeck breathed more freely, for he felt as if a rock had fallen
from his breast. His face resumed its ordinary calmness; and, seating
himself, he continued:--
"Now, sir, if you have no longer any reason to doubt my poverty, let me
ask what are your intentions."
"My intentions?" replied the merchant; "my intentions are that we shall
remain as good friends as we were before; but, as to the marriage, that
of course falls to the ground. We will speak no more about it. What were
_your_ calculations, Monsieur De Vlierbeck? I think I am just beginning
to see a little clearly into this matter! You imagined, I suppose, that
you would make a good business out of it and sell your merchandise as
high as possible!"
"Sir," exclaimed De Vlierbeck, bounding from his chair in rage, "speak
respectfully of my daughter! Poor or rich, do not dare to forget who she
is!"
"Don't get angry! don't get angry! Monsieur De Vlierbeck. I have no
desire to insult you. Far from it. Had your enterprise succeeded I would
probably have admired you; but _finesse_ against _finesse_ always makes
a bad game! Permit me to ask, since you are so touchy on the point of
honor, if you have acted a very honorable part in courting my nephew and
allowing his passion to absorb him?"
De Vlierbeck bowed his head to conceal the blush that suffused his aged
cheeks; nor did he awake from his painful stupor till the merchant
recalled him by the single word,--
"Well?"
"Ah!" stammered De Vlierbeck, "have mercy on me! Love for my child,
probably, led me astray. God endowed her with all the gifts that can
adorn a woman. I hoped that her beauty, the purity of her soul, the
nobility of her blood, were treasures quite as precious as gold!"
"That is to say, for a gentleman, perhaps; but not for so common a
person as a merchant," interrupted Monsieur Denecker, with a sneer.
"Don't reproach me with having _courted_ your nephew," continued De
Vlierbeck. "That is a word that wounds me deeply; for it is unjust.
Their attachment was reciprocal and in every way unstudied. I thanked
God daily in my prayers that he had cast in our path a savior for my
child:--yes, a savior, I say; for Gustave is an honorable youth, who
would have made her happy not so much by money as by his noble and
generous character. Is it then so great a crime for a father who has
unfortunately become poor to hope that his child should escape want?"
"Certainly not," replied the merchant; "but every thing is in _success_;
and in that respect, Monsieur De Vlierbeck, your enterprise has been
unfortunate. I am a man who examines his goods twice before he buys, and
it is difficult to pass apples on me for lemons!"
This heartless, trafficking slang tortured the unfortunate bankrupt to
such a degree that he arose from his seat in a passion and began to pace
the apartment.
"You have no consideration for my misfortunes, sir," said he. "You
pretend that I designed deceiving you; but was it _you_ who discovered
my poverty? Are you not free to act as you please, after the disclosures
that I have voluntarily given you? And let me remark, sir, that if I
listen humbly to your reproaches--if I even acknowledge my fault--the
sense of manhood is not dead in my soul. You talk of 'merchandise' and
'goods,' as if you came here to buy something! You allude to my Lenora,
do you? All your wealth, sir, could not purchase her! and, if love is
not powerful enough in your eyes to obliterate the pecuniary inequality
between us, know that I am a De Vlierbeck, and that name, even in
poverty, weighs more than all your money!"
During this explosion his face kindled with indignation and his eyes
shot forth their fiery rays upon the merchant, who, alarmed by the loud
words and animated gestures of De Vlierbeck, regarded him with an air of
stupefaction from the other side of the apartment.
"Good God, sir," said he at last, "there is no need of so much violence
and loud talk! Each of us remains where he is; each keeps what he has,
and the affair is at an end. I have but one request to make of you, and
it is that you will never again receive my nephew,--or else--"
"Or else?" interrupted De Vlierbeck, passionately; "do you _dare_ to
threaten me?" But, restraining himself almost instantly, he continued,
with comparative calmness, "Enough! Shall I call Monsieur Denecker's
carriage?"
"If you please," replied the merchant. "We cannot do business together,
it seems; but that is no reason why we should become enemies."
"Well! well! we will stop short of that, sir. But this conversation
annoys me; it must end!" And, so saying, he led Monsieur Denecker to the
door and bade him farewell abruptly. Be Vlierbeck returned to the
parlor, fell into his chair and covered his brow with both hands, as a
heavy groan burst from his breast, which heaved with almost hysterical
emotion. For a long time he remained silent and motionless; but soon his
hands fell heavily on his knees, a deathly paleness overspread his face,
and the room whirled around the heart-broken man.
Suddenly he heard footsteps in the chamber above, and, rousing himself
by a strong effort, "Oh, God! my poor child!" cried he; "my poor
Lenora! She comes! my punishment is not yet complete! I must break the
heart of my own child; I must tear from it all its hopes, blot out its
dream, behold it withered up with grief! Oh that I could escape this
dreadful disclosure! Alas! What to say to her? how to explain it?"
A bitter smile contracted his lips as he continued, with bitter
irony:--"Ah! hide thy suffering, old man; rally thy strength; take
courage! If thy heart is torn and bleeding,--if despair devours thy
soul,--oh, smile, still smile! Yes! your life has been a continual
farce! Yet, miserable abortion that thou art, what canst thou do but
submit, yield without a fight, and bow thy neck to the yoke like a
powerless slave? Begone, rebellious feeling! Be silent, and behold thy
child!"
Lenora opened the door and ran to her father, her questioning eyes fixed
on his with a look of hope. All of poor De Vlierbeck's efforts to
disguise his suffering were unsuccessful, and Lenora soon read in his
face that he was a prey to some overwhelming sorrow. As he still
obstinately kept silence, she began to tremble, and asked, with feverish
impatience,--
"Well, father,--well,--have you _nothing_ to say to me?"
"Alas! my child," said he, sighing, "we are not happy. God tries us with
heavy blows. Let us bow before the will of the Almighty."
"What do you mean? what is there to fear?" said Lenora, beside herself.
"Speak, father! Has he _refused_ his consent?"
"He has refused it, Lenora!"
"Oh, no! no!" cried the maiden; "it is impossible!"
"Refused it, because he possesses millions and we--nothing!"
"It is true, then? Gustave is hopelessly lost to me!--lost to me
forever!
"Hopelessly!" echoed the father.
A sharp cry escaped Lenora as she tottered to the table and fell on it,
weeping bitterly.
De Vlierbeck arose and stood above his sobbing daughter, and, joining
his uplifted hands, exclaimed, in suppliant tones,--
"Oh, pity me, pity me, Lenora! In that fatal interview I have suffered
all the torments that could rack the heart of a parent; I have drunk the
dregs of shame; I have emptied the cup of humiliation; but all, all are
nothing in comparison with thy grief! Calm yourself, child of my love;
let me see the sweet face I so love to look on; let me regain my lost
strength in thy holy resignation! Lenora! my head swims; I shall die of
despair!"
As he uttered these words he sank heavily into a chair, overpowered by
emotion. The sound of his fall seemed instantly to recall Lenora to
herself, and, dashing the tears from her eyes, she leaned her head on
his shoulder to listen and assure herself that he had not fainted.
"Never to see him more! to renounce his love forever! to lose the
happiness I dreamed of! Alas! alas!"
"Lenora! Lenora!" exclaimed her father, entreatingly!
"Oh, beloved father," sobbed the poor girl, "to lose Gustave _forever_!
The dreadful thought overwhelms me! While I am near you I will bless God
for his kindness; but my tears overpower me; oh! let me weep, let me
weep, I beseech you!"
De Vlierbeck pressed his daughter more closely to his heart, and
respected her affliction in silence.
The stillness of death reigned throughout the apartment, while they
remained locked in each other's arms until the very excess of grief
relaxed their embrace and opened their hearts to mutual consolation.