I slept soundly, and I rose refreshed, although my hands were very
stiff, and my head was not without its pains from the rude treatment
that each had undergone. No one in the house was up when I woke, and
saddling my own horse as well as I could, I left word with the old
gardener that I should return before the hour of breakfast, and set
out for Lourdes.
If I was not always very considerate in forming my resolutions, as the
wise axiom recommends, I was certainly not slow in executing them; and
I now proceeded at full speed to fulfil my determination of the night
before in regard to the Chevalier. Stopping at Arnault's house, I
threw myself off my horse, and entered his _étude_, which appeared to
be just opened; nor did the least doubt enter my mind that the person
I sought was still there.
The first thing, however, that I perceived was the enormous head of
the old procureur himself, looking through the sort of barred screen
that surrounded his writing-table, like some strange beast in a
menagerie. I was not very much inclined to treat this incubus of the
law with any great civility on my own account, as I was aware that,
for some reason to himself best known, he bore me no extraordinary
love; but as Helen's father, he commanded other feelings, and I
therefore addressed him as politely as I could.
In answer to my inquiries for the Chevalier, he bowed most profoundly,
replying that the Monsieur de Montenero would be quite in despair when
he found that I had come to honour him with a visit only five minutes
after his departure.
"What! is he gone already?" cried I. "When did he go?--where did he go
to?"
"He is indeed, I am sorry to say, gone, Monsieur le Comte," replied
the procureur; "and in answer to your second interrogatory, I can
reply, that he has been gone precisely nine minutes and three
quarters; but in regard to the third question, all I can depone is,
that I do not at all know--only that he spoke of being absent some
three months or more."
Angry, vexed, and disappointed, I turned unceremoniously on my heel;
and as I went out, I heard a sort of suppressed laugh issue through
the wide, unmoved jaws of the procureur, whose imperturbable
countenance announced nothing in the least like mirth; and yet I am
certain that he was at that moment laughing most heartily at the
deceit he had put upon me; for, as I afterwards learned, the Chevalier
was in his house at the very time.
The distance between Lourdes and the château was narrowed speedily;
and on my arrival, I found the domestic microcosm I had left behind
sound asleep an hour before, now just beginning to buzz. My father had
not yet quitted his own room, but the servants were all bustling about
in the preparations of the morning; and as I rode up, old Houssaye
himself, recovered from his drunkenness, sneaked into the court like a
beaten dog--not that he was at all ashamed of having been drunk--it
was a part of his profession; but upon the road he had heard my
adventures of the night before detailed in very glowing language; and
he justly feared that the indignation of the whole household would
fall upon his head for having been absent in the moment of danger.
Beckoning him to speak to me, I gave him a hint that I had been tender
of his name, and that, if he chose to keep his own counsel, he might
yet pass scathless from the rest of the family. "I shall punish you
myself, Maître Houssaye," continued I; "for I _will_ teach you to get
drunk at proper times and seasons only."
"As I hope to live," answered the trumpeter, "I did but drink two
cups; and you well know, monsieur, that two cups of wine to me, or the
_maître d'hôtel_, who have drunk so many hundred tuns in our lives, is
but as a cup of cold water to another man. They must have been drugged
those two cups--for a certainty, they must have been drugged."
At breakfast, I found Helen with my father. They were alone; for my
mother was ill from the agitation of the night before, and had
remained in her own chamber, desiring not to be disturbed. The moment
my step sounded in the vestibule, Helen's eyes darted towards the
door, and I could see the flush of eagerness on her cheek, and the
paleness that then overspread it, as she saw my head bound up; and
then again the blood mounting quickly, lest any one should see the
busy feelings of her swelling heart. It was a mute language which I
could read as easily as my own thoughts; but still I would have given
worlds to have been permitted to hear and speak to her with the
openness of acknowledged love. The breakfast passed over. Helen left
the hall; and after a few minutes' conversation, my father went to the
library, while I gazed for a moment from the window, meditating over a
thousand hopes, in all of which Helen had her part--letting thought
wander gaily through a thousand mazy turns, like a child sporting in a
meadow without other object than delight, roaming heedlessly here and
there, and gathering fresh flowers at every step.
As I gazed, I saw the figure of Helen glide from the door of the
square tower, and take her way towards the park.--Now, now then was
the opportunity. She had promised not to avoid me any longer. Now then
was the moment for which my heart had longed, more than language can
express; and snatching a gun to excuse the wanderings, which indeed
needed no excuse, I was hastening to pour forth the multitude of
accumulated feelings, and thoughts, and dreams, and wishes, which had
gathered in my bosom during so many months of silence, when I was
called to speak with my father, just as my foot was on the step of the
door.
I will own, that if ever I felt undutiful, it was then. However, I
could not avoid going, and certainly with a very unwilling heart I
mounted the stairs, and entered the library. My father had a letter in
his hand, which I soon found came from the Countess de Soissons, and
contained a reply favourable to my mother's request, that I might be
placed near the person of the prince, her son, so well known under the
name of _Monsieur le Comte_. My father placed it in my hands, and
seemed to expect that I should be very much gratified at the news; but
I could only reply, as I had done before, that I had not the least
inclination to quit my paternal home, without, indeed, it was for the
purpose of serving for a campaign or two in the armies of my country.
"Well, Louis," replied my father, thinking me doubtless a wayward and
whimsical boy, "if you will look at the _proscriptum_, you will
perceive that you are likely to be gratified in that point at least,
for the Countess states that his highness, her son, though at present
at Sedan, from some little rupture with the court, is likely to
receive the command of one of the armies. However, take the letter,
consider its contents, and at dinner let me know when you will be
prepared to set out."
Glad to escape so soon, I flew out into the park in search of my
beautiful Helen. It was now a fine day in the beginning of May, as
warm as summer--as bright, as lovely. Nature was in her very freshest
robe of green: the air was full of sweetness and balm; and as I went,
a lark rose up before my steps, and mounting high in the sunshine,
hung afar speck upon its quivering wings, making the whole air thrill
with its melodious happiness. I love the lark above all other birds.
Though there is something more tender and plaintive in the liquid
music of the nightingale, yet there seems a touch of repining in its
solitude and its gloom: but the lark images always to my mind a happy
and contented spirit, who, full of love and delight, soars up towards
the beneficent heaven, and sings its song of joy and gratitude in
presence of all the listening creation.
All objects in external nature have a very great effect upon my mind;
whether I will or not, they are received by my imagination as omens.
And catching the lark's song as a happy augury, I sped on upon my way.
As much had been done as possible to render the park, which extended
behind the château, regular and symmetrical; but the ground was so
uneven in its nature, so broken with rocks, and hills, and streams,
and dells, that it retained much more of the symmetry of nature than
anything else; which, after all, to my taste, is more beautiful than
aught man can devise.
If Helen had wandered very far from the house, it would have been a
difficult matter to have found her; but a sort of instinct guided me
to where she was. I thought of the spot, I believe, which I myself
would have chosen for lonely musing--a spot where a bower of high
trees arched over a little cascade of about ten feet in height, whose
waters, after escaping from the clear pool into which they fell,
rushed quickly down the slanting ravine before them, nourishing the
roots of innumerable shrubs, and trees, and flowers, and spreading a
soft murmur and a cool freshness wherever they turned.
Helen was sitting on the bank over which the stream fell; and though
she held in her hand some piece of female work, which, while my mother
slept, she had brought out to occupy herself in the park, yet her eyes
were fixed upon the rushing waters of the fall. At that moment,
catching a stray sunbeam that found its way through the trees, the
cascade had decorated itself with a fluttering iris, which, varied
with a thousand hues, waved over the cataract like those changeful
hopes of life, which, hanging bright and beautiful over all the
precipices of human existence, still waver and change to suit every
wind that blows along the course of time. My footstep was upon the
greensward, so that Helen heard it not; and she continued to sit with
her full dark eyes fixed upon the waterfall, her soft downy cheek
resting upon the slender, graceful hand, which might have formed a
model for the statuary or the painter, and her whole figure leaning
forward with that untaught elegance of form and position, which never
but once _did_ painter or statuary succeed in representing.
When she did hear me she looked up; but there was no longer the quick
start to avoid me, as if she feared a moment's unobserved
conversation. Her cheek, it is true, turned a shade redder, and I
could see that she was somewhat agitated; but still those dear, tender
eyes turned upon me; and a smile, that owned she was happy in my
presence, broke from her heart itself, and found its way to her lips.
"Dear, dear Helen," said I, seating myself beside her, "thank you for
the promise that you would not avoid me, and thank you for its
fulfilment; and thank you for that look, and thank you for that smile.
Oh, Helen! you know not how like a monarch you are, in having the
power, by a word, or a glance, or a tone, to confer happiness, and to
raise from misery and doubt, to hope, and life, and delight."
"Indeed, Louis," answered she, in a very different manner from that
which I had ever seen in her before--"if I do possess such power, I am
not sorry that it is so; for I am sure that while it remains with me
to make you happy, you shall never be otherwise.--You think it very
strange," she added, with a smile, "to hear me talk as I do now; and I
would never, never have done so had not circumstances changed. But
they have changed, Louis; and as I now see some hope of----" she
paused a moment, as if seeking means to express herself, and I saw a
bright, ingenuous blush spread over her whole countenance. "Why should
I hesitate to say it?" she added, "as I see some hope now of becoming
your wife, without entering into a family unwilling to receive me, I
know not why I should not tell _you_ also _this_ that has made me so
happy."
"A thousand and a thousand thanks, dearest Helen," answered I; "but
tell me on what circumstance you, who once doubted my parents' consent
so much more than I ever did, now found expectations so joyful--let me
say, for us both."
"You must not ask me, Louis," answered Helen; "the only reason
that could at all have influenced me to withhold from you what I
hoped--what I was sure would make you happy--was, that I felt myself
bound to be silent on more than one subject. You cannot fancy how I
dislike anything that seems to imply mystery and want of confidence
between two people that love one another; and, indeed, it is the
greatest happiness I anticipate in being yours, that then I shall have
neither thought, nor feeling, nor action, that you may not know--but
in the present case you must spare me. Do not ask me, Louis, if you
love me."
Of course, however much my curiosity might be excited, I put no
farther question, merely asking, as calmly as I could, fearful lest I
should instil some new doubts in Helen's mind, if she was sure, very
sure, that the joyful news she gave me was perfectly certain; for I
owned that it took such a burden from my heart, I could scarce believe
my own hopes.
"All I can say, Louis," answered she, "is, that I feel sure neither
your father nor your mother will object to our union, when the time
arrives to think that it may take place--of course we are yet far too
young."
"Too young!" said I; "why too young, dear Helen?"
"Oh, for many reasons," she answered, smiling. "You have yet to mingle
with the world; at least, so I have heard people, who know the world,
say that it is necessary for a young man to do before he dreams of
marriage. You have to see all the fair, and the young, and the gay,
which that world contains, before you can rightly judge whether your
poor Helen may still possess your heart."
"And do you doubt me?" demanded I. "Helen, you have promised me never
to give your hand to another; and, without one doubt, or one
hesitation, do I promise the same to you--by yourself--by my hopes of
happiness in this world or the next--by all that I hold sacred----"
"Hush, hush, dear Louis!" replied she; "do not swear so deeply. There
are many, many temptations, I have heard, in the great world, which
are difficult for a young man to resist. Louis, have you not found it
so already?"
There was a peculiar emphasis in her question, which surprised and
hurt me; but in a moment it flashed through my mind--the Chevalier had
communicated his suspicions of me to Arnault, and Arnault had taken
care to impart them to his daughter. I stood for a moment as one
stupified--then, taking her hands in mine, I asked, "Helen, what is
it that you mean? Can you--do you in the least believe me guilty?"
"No, Louis--no, dear Louis!" answered she, with a look of full,
undoubting, unhesitating confidence; "if all the world were to declare
you guilty, mine should be the dissenting voice; and I would never,
never believe it.--I will not deny that tales have reached me, which I
do not dwell on, because I am sure they are false--basely,
ungenerously false, or originating in some mistake which you can
correct when you will, and will correct when you ought. Do not explain
them to me--do not waste a word or a thought upon them, as far as I am
concerned," she added, seeing me about to speak, "for I believe not a
word of them--not one single word."
Oh, woman's love! It is like the sunshine, so pure, so bright, so
cheering; and there is nothing in all creation equal to it! I threw my
arms round her unopposed--I pressed my lips upon hers; but the
kiss that I then took was as pure as gratitude for such generous
affection could suggest--I say not that it was brotherly, for it was
dearer--sweeter; but if there be a man on earth who says there was one
unholy feeling mingled therein, I tell him, in his throat, he lies!
At that moment the figure of a man broke at once through the boughs
upon us. Helen turned, and, confused and ashamed at any one having
seen her so clasped in my arms, fled instinctively like lightning,
while the intruder advanced upon me in a menacing attitude.--It was
Jean Baptiste Arnault; and with a flushed cheek and a raised stick he
came quickly upon me, exclaiming, "Villain, you have seduced my
sister, and, by the God above, your nobility shall not protect you!"
"Hear me, Arnault!" cried I; but he still advanced with the stick
lifted, in an attitude to strike. My blood took fire. "Hear me,"
repeated I, snatching up my carbine,--"hear me, or take the
consequences;" and I retreated up the hill, with the gun pointed
towards his breast. Mad, I believe--for his conduct can hardly be
attributed to anything but frenzy--he rushed on upon me without giving
time for any explanation, and struck a violent blow at my head with
his stick. I started back to avoid it; my foot struck against an angle
of the rock; I stumbled; the gun went off; and Arnault, after reeling
for a moment with an ineffectual effort to stand, pressed his hand
upon his bosom, and fell lifeless at my feet.