DEVOTION.
"Ah! madame," cried Rudolph, as soon as Murphy and David had departed, "you
do not know that the Countess M'Gregor is the mother of Fleur-de-Marie!"
"Great heavens!"
"I thought her dead; and what you are still ignorant of," added Rudolph,
with bitterness, "is that this woman, as selfish as ambitious, loving me
only as a prince, had, in my younger days, contrived to lead me into a
marriage, which was afterward dissolved. Wishing then to marry again, the
countess has caused all the misfortunes of her child by abandoning her to
mercenary hands."
"Ah! now I understand the aversion that your highness had for her."
"You comprehend also why she wished to ruin you by infamous anonymous
communications! Always impelled by her implacable ambition, she thought to
force me to return to her by isolating me from all endearments."
"Oh! what a wicked intention!"
"And she is not dead!"
"This regret is not worthy of your highness."
"It is because you are not aware of all the injury she has caused! At this
time, when, on finding my daughter again, I was about to give her a mother
worthy of her--oh! no, no--this woman is a demon of vengeance in my path!"
"Come, your highness, take courage!" said Clémence, wiping away the tears,
which fell in spite of her: "you have a great and holy duty to fulfill. You
said yourself, that henceforth the fate of your daughter should be as happy
as it had been miserable; that she should be as elevated as she had been
abased. For that you must legitimatize her birth; for that, your highness,
you must espouse the Countess M'Gregor."
"Never--never! It would be to reward perjury, selfishness and the mad
ambition of this unnatural mother. I will acknowledge my daughter; you will
adopt her, and thus, as I hoped, she will find in you maternal affection."
"No, you will not do that; no, you will not leave the birth of your child
in the shade. The countess is of a noble and ancient house; for you,
doubtless, this alliance is disproportionate, but it is honorable. By this
marriage, your daughter will not be legitimatized, but legitimate; and
thus, whatever may happen to her, she can be proud of her father, and
openly acknowledge her mother."
"But to renounce you--is impossible. Oh! you do not think what happiness it
would have been for me, divided between you and my child--my only love in
this world."
[Illustration: THE PLEA FOR CHARITY]
"Your child remains to your highness: heaven has miraculously restored her
to you. Not to be perfectly happy will be ingratitude!"
"Oh! you do not love me as I love you."
"Believe it, your highness, believe it; the sacrifice that you make to duty
will seem less painful."
"But if you love me--if your regrets are as bitter as mine, you will be
very unhappy. What will remain for you?"
"Charity, your highness! that admirable sentiment which you have awakened
in my heart; that sentiment which has caused me to forget so many sorrows,
and to which I am indebted for so many sweet and tender consolations."
"Pray listen to me. Be it so: I will marry this woman; but once the
sacrifice accomplished, will it be possible for me to live with her, with
her who only inspires me with aversion and contempt? No, no; we shall
remain forever separated; never shall she see my child. Thus Fleur-de-Marie
will lose in you the most tender of mothers."
"But there will remain for her the most tender of fathers. By the marriage,
she will be the legitimate daughter of a sovereign prince of Europe; and
thus, as your highness has said, her position will be as splendid as it was
obscure."
"You are without pity. I am very unhappy."
"Dare you speak thus--you, so great, so just--you, who so nobly comprehend
duty, devotion, and self-denial? A short time since, before this
providential revelation, when you wept for your child with such bitter
tears, if any one had said to you, 'Make one wish--one alone, and it shall
be realized,' you would have cried, 'My daughter!--oh! my daughter--let
her live!' This is accomplished; your daughter is restored to you, and you
call yourself unhappy. Ah! may Fleur-de-Marie not hear your highness."
"You are right," said Rudolph, after, a long silence; "so much happiness
would have been heaven upon earth; but I do not deserve that. I will do my
duty. I do not regret my hesitation. I owe to it a new proof of the beauty
and noble sentiments of your mind."
"This mind--it is you who have exalted and elevated it. If that which I do
is well, it is you whom I praise for it. Courage, my lord; as soon as
Fleur-de-Marie can stand the fatigue of traveling, take her with you. Once
in Germany, a country so calm and grave, her transformation will be
complete, and the past will only be to her a sad and distant dream."
"But you? but you?"
"I--I can well tell you that now, because I shall always say it with joy
and pride: my love for you shall be my guardian angel, my savior, my
virtue, my future. Every day I will write you; pardon me this demand--it is
the only one I shall make. Your highness, you will reply to me sometimes,
to give me news of her, who, for a moment at least, I called my daughter,"
said Clémence, without being able to restrain her tears; "and who shall
always be so, at least in my thoughts; in fine, when time shall have given
us the right openly to avow the unalterable affection which binds us--ah,
well! I swear it in the name of your daughter, if you desire it, I will go
and live in Germany--in the same city with you--never more to part; and
thus terminate a life which might have been more happy, but which will have
been at least worthy and honorable."
"My lord!" cried Murphy, entering precipitately, "she whom God has restored
to you has recovered her senses. Her first words were, 'My father!' She
asks to see you."
A few moments after, Lady d'Harville left the mansion. Accompanied by
Murphy, Baron de Graun, and an aid-de-camp, the prince went in great haste
to the residence of the Countess M'Gregor.