“Well, yes; one night a young man, Charles de Kergrist,--a profligate,
a gambler, crowning his scandalous life with the vilest and meanest
act,--did come and kill himself under my window. The next day a great
outcry arose against me. Three days later the brother of that wretched
madman, a M. Rene de Kergrist, came and held M. Elgin to account. But
do you know what came of these explanations? Charles de Kergrist, it
appears, killed himself after a supper, which he left in a state of
drunkenness. He committed suicide because he had lost his fortune at
Homburg and at Baden; because he had exhausted his last resources;
because his family, ashamed at his disgrace, refused to acknowledge
him any longer. And, if he chose my window for his self-murder, it was
because he wanted to satisfy a petty grievance. Looking upon me as an
heiress, whose fortune would enable him to continue his extravagant
life, he had courted me, and been refused by M. Elgin. Finally, at the
time when the catastrophe occurred, I was sixty miles away from here, in
Tours, staying at the house of one of M. Elgin’s friends, M. Palmer, who
deposed”--
And, as Daniel looked at her with an air of utter bewilderment, she
added,--
“Perhaps you will ask me for proofs of what I state. I have none to give
you. But I know a man who can give you what you want, and that man is M.
de Kergrist’s brother; for, after those explanations, he has continued
to be our friend, sir, one of our best friends. And he was here
to-night, and you have seen him; for he came and spoke to me while you
were standing by me. M. de Kergrist lives here in Paris; and M. Elgin
will give you his address.”
She looked at Daniel with a glance in which pity and contempt were
strangely mixed, and then added, in her proudest tone,--
“And now, sir, since _I_ have deigned to stand here like a criminal, do
you sit in judgment on me. Question me, and I will answer. What else are
you going to charge me with?”
A judge, however, ought to be calm; and Daniel was but too conscious of
his deep excitement; he knew he could not even prevent his features from
expressing his utter bewilderment. He gave up all discussion therefore,
and simply said,--
“I believe you, Miss Brandon, I believe you.”
Miss Brandon’s beautiful eyes lighted up for a moment with joy; and in a
tone of voice which sounded like the echo of her heart, she said,--
“Oh, thank you, sir! now I am sure you will grant me Miss Henrietta’s
friendship.”
Why did she mention that name? It broke the charm which had overcome
Daniel. He saw how weak he had been, and was ashamed of himself.
He said sternly, thus proving his anger at himself, and the failure of
his judgment,--
“Permit me not to reply to that to-night. I should like to consider.”
She looked at him half stupefied.
“What do you mean?” she said. “Have I, or have I not, removed your
doubts, your insulting suspicions? Perhaps you wish to consult one of my
enemies?”
She spoke in a tone of such profound disdain, that Daniel, stung to
the quick, forgot the discretion which he had intended to observe, and
said,--
“Since you insist upon it, Miss Brandon, I must confess that there is
one doubt which you have not removed.”
“Which?”
Daniel hesitated, regretting the words he had allowed to escape him. But
he had gone too far now to retract. He replied,--
“I do not understand, Miss Brandon, how you can marry Count Ville-
Handry.”
“Why not?”
“You are young. You are immensely rich, you say. The count is sixty-six
years old.”
She, who had been so daring that nothing seemed to be able to disconcert
her, now lowered her head like a timid boarding-school girl who has been
caught acting contrary to rules; and a flood of crimson spread over her
face, and every part of her figure which was not concealed by her dress.
“You are cruel, sir!” she stammered; “the secret into which you pry is
one of those which a girl hardly dares to confide to her mother.”
He was triumphant, thinking he had caught her at last.
“Ah, indeed!” he said ironically.
But the proud young lady did not waver, and replied with bitter
sadness,--
“You will have it so; be it so. For your sake, I will lay aside that
veil of proud reserve which conceals the mysteries of a young girl’s
heart. I do not love Count Ville-Handry.”
Daniel was startled. This confession seemed to him the height of
imprudence.
“I do not love him,--at least not with real love; and I have never
allowed him to hope for such a feeling. Still I shall be most happy to
become his wife. Do not expect me to explain to you what is going on
within me. I myself hardly understand it as yet. I can give no precise
name to that feeling of sympathy which attracts me towards him. I
have been captivated by his wit and his kindness; his words have an
indescribable charm for me. That is all I can tell you.”
Daniel could not believe his ears.
“And,” she continued, “if you must have motives of more ordinary
character, I will confess to you that I can no longer endure this life,
harassed as I am by vile calumnies. The palace of Count Ville-Handry
appears to me an asylum, where I shall bury my disappointments and my
sorrows, and where I shall find peace and a position which commands
respect. Ah! you need not be afraid for that great and noble name.
I shall bear it worthily and nobly, and shrink from no sacrifice to
enhance its splendor. You may say that I am a calculating woman. I dare
say _I_ am; but I see nothing mean or disgraceful in my hopes.”
Daniel had thought he had confounded her, and it was she who crushed
him by her bold frankness; for there was nothing to say, no reasonable
objection to make. Fifty marriages out of every hundred are made upon
less high ground. Miss Brandon, however, was not a woman to be easily
overcome. She rose as she spoke, to her former haughtiness, and inspired
herself with the sound of her voice.
“During the last two years,” she said, “I have had twenty offers; and
among them three or four that would have been acceptable to a duchess. I
have refused them, in spite of M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. Only yesterday,
a man of twenty-five, a Gordon Chalusse, was here at my feet. I have
sent him off like the others, preferring my dear count. And why?”
She remained a moment buried in thought, her eyes swimming in tears;
and, answering apparently her own questions, rather than Daniel’s, she
went on,--
“Thanks to my beauty, as the world calls it, a fatal beauty, alas! I
have been admired, courted, filled to satiety with compliments. They say
I am in the most elegant and most polished society in Europe; and yet I
have looked in vain for the man whose eye could for a moment even break
the peace of my heart. I have seen everywhere only persons of like
perfection, whose characters had no more wrinkles than the coat made
by the first of tailors, all equally eager and gallant, playing well,
talking well, dancing well, riding well.”
She shook her head with a movement full of energy; and, beaming with
enthusiasm, she exclaimed,--
“Ah! I had dreamed of better things to come. What I dreamed of was a
man of noble heart, with an inflexible will, capable of attempting what
others dared not,--what, I do not know, but something grand, perilous,
impossible. I dreamed of one of those ambitious men with a pale brow, a
longing look, whose eyes sparkle with genius,--one of those strong men
who impose their will upon the multitude, and who remove mountains by
the force of their will.
“Alas! to repay the love of such a man, I would have found treasures in
my heart, which now remain useless, like all the wealth that is buried
at the bottom of the sea. I would have drunk deep from the cup of my
hopes; my pulse would have kept time with the fever of his excitement.
For his sake, I would have made myself small, humble, useful; I would
have watched in his looks for the shadow of a desire.
“But how proud I would have been, I, his wife, of his success and of his
glories, of the reverence paid him by his admirers, and the hatred of
his enemies!”
Her voice had vibrations in it that might have stirred up the heart of a
stoic. The splendor of her exalted beauty illumined the room.
And gradually, one by one, Daniel’s suspicions vanished, or fell to
pieces like the ill-jointed pieces of an ancient armor. But Miss Brandon
paused, ashamed of her vehemence, and continued more slowly,--
“Now, sir, you know me better than any other person in this world. You
alone have read the innermost heart of Sarah Brandon. And yet I see you
today for the first time in my life. And yet you are the first man who
has ever dared to speak harshly to me, harsh unto insult. Will you make
me repent of my frankness? Oh, no, no! surely you will not be so cruel.
I know you to be a man of honor and of high principles; I know how, in
order to save a name which you revere, you have risked your prospects in
life, the girl you love, and an enormous fortune. Yes, Miss Ville-Handry
has made no ordinary choice.”
She looked as if she were utterly despondent, and added, in a tone of
concentrated rage,--
“And I, I know my fate.”
Then followed a pause, a terrible pause. They were standing face to
face, pale, troubled, trembling with excitement, their teeth firmly set,
their eyes eloquent with deep feeling.
Daniel, as he felt the hot breath of this terrible passion, became
almost unconscious of the surroundings; his mind was shaken; a
mysterious delirium took possession of his senses; the blood rushed to
his head; and he felt as if the beating at his temples was ringing in
the whole house.
“Yes,” began at last Miss Brandon once more, “my fate is sealed. I must
become the Countess of Ville-Handry, or I am lost. And once more, sir,
I beseech you induce Miss Henrietta to receive me like an elder sister.
Ah! if I were the woman you think I am, what would I care for Miss
Henrietta and her enmity? You know very well that the count will go
on at any hazard. And yet I beg,--I who am accustomed to command
everywhere. What more can I do? Do you want to see me at your feet? Here
I am.”
And really, as she said this, she sank down so suddenly, that her knees
struck the floor with a noise; and, seizing Daniel’s hands, she pressed
them upon her burning brow.
“Great God!” she sighed, “to be rejected, by him!”
Her hair had become partially loosened, and fell in masses on Daniel’s
hands. He trembled from head to foot; and, bending over Miss Brandon,
he raised her, and held her, half lifeless, while her head rested on his
shoulder.
“Miss Sarah,” he said in a hoarse, low voice.
They were so near to each other, that their breaths mingled, and Daniel
felt Miss Brandon’s sobs on his heart, burning him like fiery flames.
Then, half drunk with excitement, forgetting every thing, he pressed his
lips upon the lips of this strange girl.