“All is over!”
There were five or six of them in the room; and one of them, his eyes
swollen from sleeplessness, and overcome with fatigue, had drawn the
count into a corner, and, pressing his hands, repeated over and over
again,--
“Courage, my dear sir, courage!”
He, overcome, with downcast eye, and cold perspiration on his pallid
brow, did not understand him; for he continued to stammer incessantly,--
“It is nothing, I hope. Did you not say it was nothing?”
There are misfortunes so terrible, so overwhelming in their suddenness,
that the stunned mind refuses to believe them, and denies their
genuineness in spite of their actual presence.
How could any one imagine or comprehend that the countess, who but a
moment ago was standing there full of life, in perfect health, and
the whole vigor of her years, apparently perfectly happy, smiling, and
beloved by all,--how could one conceive that she had all at once ceased
to exist?
They had laid her on her bed in her ball costume,--a blue satin dress
trimmed with lace. The flowers were still in her hair; and the blow
had come with such suddenness, that, even in death, she retained the
appearance of life; she was still warm, her skin transparent, and her
limbs supple. Even her eyes, still wide open, retained their expression,
and betrayed the last sensation that had filled her heart,--terror. It
looked as if she had had at that last moment a revelation of the future
which her too great cautiousness had prepared for her daughter.
“My mother is not dead; oh, no! she cannot be dead!” exclaimed
Henrietta. And she went from one doctor to the other, urging them,
beseeching them, to find some means--
What were they doing there, looking so blank, instead of acting? Were
they not going to restore her,--they whose business it was to cure
people, and who surely had saved a number of people? They turned away
from her, distressed by her terrible grief, expressing their inability
to help by a gesture; and then the poor girl went back to the bed, and,
bending over her mother, watched with a painfully bewildered air for her
return to life. It seemed to her as if she felt that noble heart still
beat under her hand, and as if those lips, sealed forever by death, must
speak again to re-assure her.
They attempted to take her away from that heartrending sight; they
begged her to go to her room; but she insisted upon staying. They tried
to remove her by force; but she clung to the bed, and vowed that they
should tear her to pieces sooner than make her leave her mother.
At last, however, the truth broke upon her. She sank down upon her knees
by the side of the bed, hiding her face in the drapery, and repeating
with fierce sobs,--
“My mother, my darling mother!”
It was nearly morning, and the pale dawn was stealing into the room,
when at last some sisters of charity came, who had been sent for; and
then a couple of priests; a little later (it was towards the end of
January) one of the count’s friends appeared, who undertook all those
sickening preparations which our civilization demands in such cases. On
the next day the funeral took place.
More than two hundred persons called to condole with the count,
twenty-five or thirty ladies came and kissed Henrietta, calling her
their poor dear child.
Then horses were heard in the court-yard, coachmen quarrelling; orders
were given; and at last the hearse rolled away solemnly--and that was
all.
Henrietta wept and prayed in her chamber.
Late in the day, the count and Henrietta sat down at table alone for the
first time in their lives; but they did not eat a morsel. How could they
do it, seeing before them the empty seat, once occupied by her who was
the life of the whole house, and now never to be filled again?
And thus, for a long time, their meals were a steady reminder of their
loss. During the day they were seen wandering about the house, without
any apparent purpose, as if looking or hoping for something to happen.
But there was another true and warm heart, far from that house, which
had been sorely wounded by the death of the countess. Daniel had loved
her like a mother; and in his heart a mysterious voice warned him, that,
in losing her, he had well-nigh lost Henrietta.
He had called several times at the house of mourning; but it was only a
fortnight later that he was admitted. When Henrietta saw him, she felt
sorry she had not let him come in before. He had apparently suffered as
much as she; he looked pale; and his eyes were red.
They remained for some time seated opposite each other, without saying
a word, but deeply moved, and feeling instinctively that their common
grief bound them more firmly than ever to each other.
The count, in the meantime, walked up and down in the large room. He was
so much changed, that one might have failed to recognize him. There was
a strange want of steadiness in his movements; he looked almost like a
paralytic, whose crutches had suddenly broken down. Was he conscious
of the immense loss which he had suffered? His vanity was too great to
render that very probable.
“I shall master my grief as soon as I go back to work,” he said.
He ought not to have done it; but he resumed his duties as a politician
at a time when they had become unusually difficult, and when great
things were expected of him. Two or three absurd, ridiculous, in fact
unpardonable blunders, ruined him forever. He lost his reputation as a
statesman, and with it his influence.
As yet, however, his reputation remained uninjured. No one suspected the
truth. They attributed the sudden failure of his faculties to the great
sorrow that had befallen him in the death of his wife.
“Who would have thought that he had loved her so deeply?” they asked one
another.
Henrietta was as much misled as the others, and perhaps even more. Her
respect and her admiration, so far from being diminished, only increased
day by day. She loved him all the more dearly as she watched the
apparent effect of his incurable grief.
He was really deeply grieved, but only by his fall. How had it come
about? He tortured his mind in vain; he could not find a plausible
explanation, and said over and over again,--
“It is perfectly inexplicable.”
He talked of regular plots, of a coalition of his enemies, of the black
ingratitude of men, and their fickleness. At first he had thought of
going back to the country. But gradually, as day followed day, and
weeks grew into months, his wounded vanity began to heal; he forgot his
misfortunes, and adopted new habits of life.
He was a great deal at his club now, rode much on horseback, went to the
theatres, and dined with his friends. Henrietta was delighted; for she
had at one time begun to be seriously concerned for her father’s health.
But she was not a little amazed when she saw him lay aside his mourning,
and exchange his simple costumes, suitable to his age, for the eccentric
fashions of the day, wearing brilliant waistcoats and fancy-colored
trousers.
Some days later matters grew worse.
One morning Count Ville-Handry, who was quite gray, appeared at
breakfast with jet black beard and hair. Henrietta could not restrain
an expression of amazement. But he smiled, and said with considerable
embarrassment,--
“My servant is making an experiment; he thinks this goes better with my
complexion, and makes me look younger.”
Evidently something strange had occurred in the count’s life. But what
was it?
Henrietta, although ignorant of the world, and at that time innocence
personified, was, nevertheless, a woman, and hence had the keen instinct
of her sex, which is better than all experience. She reflected, and she
thought she could guess what had happened.
After hesitating for three days, the poor girl, saddened rather than
frightened, confided her troubles to Daniel. But she had only spoken a
few words when he interrupted her, and, blushing deeply, said,--
“Do not trouble yourself about that, Miss Henrietta; and, whatever your
father may do, do not mind it.”
That advice was more easily given than followed; for the count’s ways
became daily more extraordinary. He had gradually drifted away from
his old friends and his wife’s friends, and seemed to prefer to their
high-bred society the company of very curious people of all kinds. A
number of young men came in the forenoon on horseback, and in the most
unceremonious costumes. They came in smoking their cigars, and asked at
once for liquors and absinthe. In the afternoon, another set of men made
their appearance,--vulgar and arrogant people, with huge whiskers and
enormous watch-chains, who gesticulated vehemently, and were on most
excellent terms with the servants. They were closeted with the count;
and their discussions were so loud, they could be heard all over the
house.
What were the grave discussions that made so much noise? The count
undertook to enlighten his daughter. He told her, that, having been
ill-treated in politics, he intended to devote himself henceforth to
grand enterprises, and hoped confidently to realize an enormous fortune,
while, at the same time, rendering great service to certain branches of
industry.
A fortune? Why should he want money? What with his own estate, and what
with his wife’s fortune, he had already an income of a hundred thousand
dollars. Was that not quite enough for a man of sixty-five and for a
young girl who did not spend a thousand a year on her toilet?
Henrietta asked him timidly, for she was afraid of hurting her father’s
feelings, why he wanted more money.