A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY.
The family did not meet again till the next day at the hour of second
_dejeuner_, and an intangible cloud appeared to have fallen on the
party. There was something like suspicion in the manner of those who
yesterday were so trustingly united.
The chevalier, sulky and silent, would not raise his eyes from his
plate. The liveliest sallies of the abbe fell dismally flat, for even
Gabrielle was so pre-occupied that she could not summon a smile. Her
beautiful face was grave and sad, and bore trace of recent tears,
while the brow of the marquis wore a frown, as if he had heard bad
news. Indeed, a proposition had been placed before him yesternight,
or, rather, dropped carelessly, which startled and annoyed him. In
course of their _tete-a-tete_ over the plans, Pharamond had said, "If
I were you I would be careful not to offend madame, for she, not you,
is master." It had never occurred to him before to see things in this
light, and yet it was undoubtedly true. She had never stood between
him and his desires, but it was not pleasant to be reminded that she
might be led to do so some day. And from the conversation--as it
chanced--a wavering idea had become in his mind a fixed resolve. The
introduction of an adept into the household had been the happiest
thought on the part of Pharamond, but--provoking fellow that he
was--no sooner had he made the suggestion than he proceeded to nip it
in the bud. For when Clovis would fain have enlarged upon the topic,
the abbe had retorted with a demure headshake: "I made a mistake, and
I am sorry. Your wife believes no more in Mesmer than I do--less--and,
taking offence, might complain to old de Breze of the introduction
into _his_ house of a pack of needy jugglers."
If she did it would be awkward and insulting to her husband. Would she
be capable of so unwifely a proceeding? Surely not. The abbe, who was
a compendium of wise maxims, remarked that it would be better not to
try her--to let sleeping dogs lie. Perhaps he was right, but the pill
presented to the lips of Clovis was bitter, with a new and acrid
taste.
Glancing round the breakfast-table, the spirits of Pharamond went up,
and he rubbed his hands with satisfaction. No need to ask simple
Phebus how he had fared last night? Failure was written on his face!
In the minds of all three who sat around him a tiny germ was working.
So far all was well; but the _menage_ must not be permitted to fall
back into the doldrums.
"Come, come!" cried the abbe, cheerily; "what ails us all? Is the
angel of death passing overhead? The weather is divine. Were we not to
hunt to-day, starting from Montbazon, and is not the attractive
Angelique anxiously awaiting Phebus? Air and exercise will brace our
nerves. Clovis's wits want sharpening, and then, maybe, he will guess
all about the bucket without further aid from Mesmer."
Cloud or no cloud, there was no resisting Pharamond for long. His tact
was infinite. Pretending to perceive that there was a tiff of some
sort between the chevalier and the chatelaine, he ostentatiously
interposed himself between them. No one was in the humour for the
chase? Very well. No more was he. Phebus, whose one accomplishment was
a knowledge of horseflesh, had business in the stables, which he would
be good enough to see to. The other brothers would flutter around
Gabrielle, who, established on her favourite seat in the moat-garden,
would issue orders to her slaves.
What? The hobby again? Really the prophet should be proud of a pupil
so serious and earnest! Well, well. Would dear Gabrielle mind being
left alone for a little? No? Then the brothers would take a stroll
together, and perhaps the abbe would be converted.
"If I am," the latter cried merrily, as linking his arm within that of
the marquis, he led him away, "I shall turn myself to the conversion
of Gabrielle. After that we will set our wits to work, arrange a magic
tub, and all preside over it together."
The magic tub! When the brothers returned from their walk, heated with
discussion, the one was airy and serene, the other wofully cross.
Gabrielle was sorely troubled by the change which she indistinctly
felt. Why should Clovis be cross? The reason of the chevalier's
sullenness, alas, she knew too well! The abbe was apparently much
struck by the arguments of the neophyte, and wavered. Why, then,
should Clovis be in a bad humour? And if Pharamond, the clever one,
was well nigh convinced, who was she that she should doubt? There was
nothing for it but to submit to the guidance of the abbe.
Clovis shambled off to his study in a self-conscious and sheepish way,
whereupon a sly smile spread over the face of Pharamond.
"Do you know why our dear Clovis is in so villanous a humour?" he
asked, glancing archly down at the marquise. "No, of course not. You
would never guess. He wants something of you, and is afraid to ask,
lest you refuse."
"Afraid of me!" ejaculated Gabrielle, amazed.
"Not quite that--but husbands do not like to ask favours and be
refused."
The marquise held her peace, for she was bitterly hurt. Refuse a
favour to him, the husband whose good graces she was here to
cultivate? Never. Oh, why was he so very blind! How could she ever
hope to win his entire love and confidence if he read her character so
ill! Then, overcome by emotion, she wept and confided in the abbe, who
skilfully soothed her pain. He did not deserve such a treasure--this
purblind, blundering husband, of course he did not; but since the
Church had bound the two together, there was nothing for it but to
make the best of the bad bargain. It was most fortunate that he,
Pharamond, should have joined the circle, for it should be his
privilege, as son of the Church, if permitted so great a favour, to
act as go-between on delicate subjects, and prevent friction. Now here
was a silly thing which, but for him, might have led to estrangement.
Clovis had concluded that his scientific investigations demanded a
trained assistant, and dreaded to admit as much. Was he not a foolish
fellow?
Gabrielle's heart sank low within her. Oh, Clovis! Clovis! An
assistant! an army of assistants, if he so wished it. But it was
soul-harrowing that his desires should require an interpreter. And now
the good churchman changed his note from comfort to gentle chiding.
She was ungrateful, the dear Gabrielle, to be so impatient. The
ambassador would run on the instant and tell Clovis how he wronged his
wife. She was ready to do all he wished, as he might have known she
would be. Rome was not built in a day, and the firm trusting
confidence which should unite wife and husband requires to be put
together brick by brick, with plodding patience for a trowel. It
should not be the abbe's fault if his watchful care did not produce,
with time, the desired end. He would try, but Clovis was of a
suspicious and untrusting nature, and if failure were to result after
all--why he, the abbe, could not help what, of course, he would
bitterly deplore.
It is a curious fact that this was not quite the communication which
he made to Clovis when, presently, he joined him in his study.
"She has given way," he said; "I thought I could persuade her. I led
her to feel that though she may hold the purse-strings, she must learn
to know that you are master. We shall arrive at that, and make good
our independence with constant quiet pressure. How wise of you to
trust in me! Leave the whole matter in my hands. Say nothing on the
subject yourself, for the plant of marital right is a fragile one
which requires most careful handling."
Gabrielle spent much of her time in reflection, wondering how it was
that she should be so lamentably misunderstood. The only one who could
read her aright was Abbe Pharamond, and yet there were points in his
behaviour which perplexed the simple lady. He was kind and sympathetic
now as he invariably was; but a change might be detected in his
manner, which was a difference, though so slight a one that a man
would scarce have noticed it. He loved to recline at her feet reciting
poetry or reading classic prose--a course of improving literature, he
called it, for the storing of a magazine that was somewhat empty; and
in intervals of rest she would find his steely eyes fixed steadily on
her with a peculiar expression that was half pity. Warming under his
ever-ready sympathy she confided to him one day the shocking details
of a certain evening on the river, and was unaccountably pained and
disappointed at the way he treated the disclosure. In the butterfly
clergy of Paris--steeped to the lips in vice--such a view would be
natural and consistent; but that Pharamond, self-elected friend and
Mentor, should display so little indignation and proper principle was
distressing.
Instead of being shocked at the escapade of Phebus, he laughed
outright, and remarked lightly, "Of course, the poor donkey fell in
love with you. He must, indeed, be a figure-head of wood who could
resist such charms, and I should be sorry to find a brother of mine to
be made of timber. Command me. Am I not your champion? Shall I rush
forth and spit the simpleton for his temerity?"
Clearly this was not the spirit in which a son of Mother Church should
receive the news of a brother-in-law's declaration, and Gabrielle
declared as much to her trusted counsellor.
"Half-brother-in-law," interrupted the latter, admiring his oval
nails.
"It is all the same--equally wrong."
"Oh, dear no! Excuse me, but it takes two halves to make a whole!"
This light method of dealing with so grave a subject savoured of
flippant levity; added to which distressful fact, the abbe, taking
advantage of Gabrielle's troubled silence, had sidled closer, and was
peering up through half-closed lids with an admiring scrutiny which
made her vaguely uncomfortable.
"The heart is independent of the will," he whispered, absently, "and
we should not be blamed for its vagaries! You could not like the
fellow? Of course, you could not: he is fat and foolish; and I a dolt
to ask so vain a question. Before we are aware of it our hearts are
given, and the gift may not be cancelled. A platitude, is it not? Does
not that same platitude show that Love is Fate--that where he wills he
lights, always a conqueror? Who shall punish us for bending before the
tyrant?"
"What can you mean?" inquired the marquise, startled.
"Say," inquired the abbe. "Despite trivial drawbacks, we are all happy
here together, are we not? As to Phebus, what is your decree? Because
a man loved you, you would not chase him hence? That were unduly
harsh."
No. The marquise had no intention of endeavouring to banish Phebus.
Was he not of the same blood as Clovis and Pharamond, husband and
friend? To the latter she owed much, and, being grateful, would strain
many a point to avoid offending him. It was thanks to his intervention
that the wheels had run of late more smoothly. Indeed, she might have
come in time to accept the situation as it was, ceasing to wish for
something better, but for the chevalier's inconvenient flame. Even as
it was, there was no reason why the stream, disturbed for a moment,
should not flow as smoothly as before, since Phebus, convinced of his
mistake, ceased to be importunate. Enwrapt in a veil of reserve he
studiously avoided a _tete-a-tete_ with her whom he had honoured with
elephantine love-making.
Impelled by these various considerations, Gabrielle replied, quietly,
"No. I would not chase a man away because he loved me," and a look of
exultation flashed over the abbe's features, which as quickly faded.
Lorge in winter could scarcely be called a cheerful spot; yet,
accustomed by gradual degrees to the still life of unbroken monotony,
none of the party suggested a return to Paris. The chevalier wandered
aimlessly, a solitary figure, the phantom of regret--and his energies
seemed bent on equal avoidance of Gabrielle and Angelique. Clovis
became more and more engrossed in his pursuits, and though he
frequently discussed the proposed assistant, took no steps--lymphatic
unpractical creature--to unearth an adept learned in mystic lore. It
became his habit to join the family circle once a day, and on these
occasions he grew almost genial under the skilled banter of his
brother. Pharamond, a miracle of resource and ready usefulness,
ferreted out curtains of thick silk from mouldering trunks, and made
of the boudoir at the end of the suite quite a tempting and delightful
nest. With heaps of cushions he arranged a species of divan about the
fire, and stretched out at full length on it declaimed by the hour
with nice emphasis the sparkling lines of Beaumarchais. Gabrielle did
not quite take in the sense of all he read, but the voice was
singularly sweet and soothing--so different from the groaning
'cello--and she grew accustomed as time went on to the singular
expression in the eyes.
Those were peaceful, placid days. When the snow swirled without in
blustering eddies, the curtains were drawn close, and logs were piled
upon the fire till they hissed and sparkled, and Gabrielle, as she
listened to the rhythm of the verse, broken pleasantly from time to
time by the distant mirth of the children as they romped now and then
with the attentive chevalier, was fain to confess herself content. How
smoothly the water runs as it approaches the edge of the precipice,
and with what angry foam crests it hurries away after the fall. If the
chatelaine had been asked at this juncture whether she pined for
aught, she would have said _No_. Clovis, the shadowy one, was nearer
to her than he had ever been, condescending sometimes to discuss
affairs with her and even play with the darling prodigies. We can't
fashion our spouses to our liking. Those who are undemonstrative must
not be expected to coruscate. Clovis was not wilfully unkind. The
chevalier had forgotten his folly. What a mercy that was! The abbe,
with all his lightly scintillating oddities, was a pearl of price. All
things considered, existence was not unpleasant.
The dream was interrupted in this wise. On a certain stormy evening
the abbe had laid down his book. The chevalier reclined in his chair,
gulping in stentorous slumber, while Gabrielle sat listening to the
saddest sound in the world--the soughing of the winter wind. At her
feet lay Pharamond with flushed face, excited by the story he had been
reading--that of Francesca da Rimini.
"That pig will die in a fit," he remarked presently, with a glance of
scorn at his brother, who lay with his back to them in gurgling
unconsciousness; "and the sooner the better, for then we shall be
alone."
"_That day they read no more!_" Ah me, what a tale it is, old as the
hills but ever new!
A silence. Gabrielle too was reflecting on the story of Francesca.
"An all-devouring consuming love. Tell me, Gabrielle, is it a curse or
a blessing?"
"That depends," replied the other, slowly, "whether it be pure or not.
The condition of real love implies abnegation of self in favour of the
one who is loved."
"Too cold a view of it for me," returned the abbe. "I belong to the
south, where it burns and scorches. I believe that illicit love is
best. Poor Gabrielle! Ignorant sleeping princess, yet awaiting the
awakening kiss! How strange, that one so beautiful should never have
felt the divine breath! Clovis could not love. He is too selfish. With
that brute snoring there, the god-like sentiment rises no higher than
the lust of the uncultured savage."
Tears welled into the eyes of Gabrielle. "I take it," she murmured,
"that the reason love is so often a curse lies in its inequality,
since it is given to no couple to love with equal fervour."
Under influence of the reading and of the abbe's words, old yearnings
had sprung newly into life again which she had deemed dead. Alas! If
the affection of Clovis had been as true and staunch as hers, how
unclouded a career would have been theirs. Illicit love, he had dared
to say--this insidious Pharamond! No; never--never that! She sighed,
and with chin on hand, gazed into the fire. It was mere idle prate.
Men of a poetic turn run into such extremes.
How beautiful she looked in the warm fitful glow in a plain sacque of
palest rose, her hair loosely gathered to display to advantage the
poise of the graceful head. What a perfect neck and shoulder, and how
exquisitely modelled an arm. One hand lay carelessly upon her lap. It
was as though he saw that shapely arm for the first time. The blood
surging to his brain, the abbe bent down and impressed a burning kiss
on it.
Goaded by circumstances--an irresistible temptation--he had betrayed
himself. Well! Why not now as well as later? On the whole, he was
rather glad to have been drawn out of his usual caution.
Rising from the cushions to his knees, he pressed another kiss upon
her shoulder, and whispered with hot and labouring breath, which
seemed to burn the skin--"Gabrielle--my Gabrielle--my own, spite all;
it is I who am to teach you the love that maddens and entrances."
Bewildered by the suddenness of the act, crimson to the roots of her
fair hair, Gabrielle sank panting, speechless, against the carven
oak-panel--till, feeling a hand gliding round her waist, she writhed
out of the embrace, and, revolted, half-choked, with swimming head,
staggered to her feet.
"You too!" she faltered faintly, glancing from one brother to the
other in fear. "Oh, Pharamond! You must be insane! You did not know
what you were doing!"
"Did I not? Hush. Why wake that idiot?" whispered the abbe, striving,
as he clung, to wreathe again about her arm his trembling sinuous
fingers. "I know right well what I have done, and glory in it since I
have made you my own. On the first evening that I set eyes on your
lustrous beauty, I swore that some day you should be mine. That day is
come; you are hemmed round. Others want you, but not so much as I; and
when I say _I will_, all must give way to that! I hold you in my hand
as I might a fluttering bird just caught. Aha! How the poor heart
beats. Be calm; oh, heart of mine! I can be patient and wait until the
bird shall cease to struggle, and will like you all the better for the
fluttering!"
Gabrielle's blood chilled in growing horror, and she endeavoured to
recoil, as he approached. Now she understood the strange expression
that he wore sometimes. Her chosen counsellor had been slowly winding
a limed thread about her limbs which should hold her fast--a helpless
victim to his unhallowed passions--ere she knew that she was bound.
Fool! Vain, wicked fool! Could one so astute have so completely missed
the key to the situation? She adored the husband who, in her ignorance
and inexperience, she deemed a demigod. To her he was a genius of whom
she was unworthy. Here was her shield of unsullied steel, and
brilliant, cynical Pharamond, who saw through and despised Clovis,
guessed nothing of its existence.
Then, as thought swiftly followed thought in tumultuous wave, it fell
on her with a numb dead weight of misgiving, how much this discovery
might mean to her. What would she do without the abbe's help? With
terror, she realized now as she looked steadily at him, that this was
no wild impulse borne of chance, to be condoned and forgotten like
that of the chevalier, but the result of a deep-laid scheme. She could
see before her an obstinate man whose will was iron and scruples nil,
who had resolved some day to snatch what she had not to give. To whom
in so strange an extremity could she turn for help? Wringing her hands
together, she moaned out, "I am alone, without a friend!"
"Not so!" the abbe whispered, edging nearer. "Trust to me in this as
in other matters, for I know best, and you will thank me--oh, how
much. Are not you to learn and I to teach? I hold the clue of the
mystery, which is still veiled to you. Learn love from me--burning,
devouring love; and for the first time you will know happiness."
"Another step and I will wake the chevalier!" Gabrielle faltered,
wrapping round her a poor tattered shred of shivering dignity.
Pharamond laughed his long sweet laugh of rippling music, which now
caused Gabrielle to shudder.
"Awake him? Do!" gibed he, "or shall I? Look at his bull neck and
broad fat back! He is not yours, for he is mine, though he would have
been yours if you had wished it. Why not admit the truth in order that
you may know me? It will save useless trouble. I loyally allowed him
as my elder the first chance, on condition that if he failed the prize
should be left to me. Ha, ha! Awake him by all means, that I may bid
him remove his carcase. It cumbers the ground! Pah! What a pig-like
snore!"
Again, though she had retreated, with feet faltering among the
draperies, to an extreme corner behind the cushions, Gabrielle felt
the wreathing arm stealing round her waist.
"Pharamond!" she pleaded huskily, exhausted. "To yourself and me be
merciful, and you will have my earnest prayers----"
"Would you usurp my functions?" whispered the abbe in mischief.
The marquise pushed him from her with a strength wrung from
indignation. "For the sake of all of us, go for a time," she murmured.
"In the name of honest womanhood and vain regret--go! that this folly
may be forgotten. I will try to forget. Go! and I swear to you that no
word of it shall pass my lips."
"How little you know me," scoffed the abbe, disdaining for the time to
press her further. "Have you not learnt yet, that what I will is done?
Awake the pig there, and ask if it is not so. What I have resolved
upon, I do. You are mine--all mine--whether you like it or not; now or
a little later!"
"Then I must seek refuge with my husband."
"If you accuse me, he will not believe you. The influence over him
that you awkwardly threw away, I gained. How ill you've played your
cards, most charming woman! He is a weak man who must be led by some
one--it might have been by _you_. Come, say the word, and you shall
lead him yet; or, rather, we will together."
Gabrielle looked again into the abbe's face (which was so terribly
close to hers), then at that of his sleeping brother, who had turned
in uneasy slumber. How could she have been deceived so long?
Sensuality on both masks--the one, gross and altogether earthy; the
other, marked by flashes of sly eyes and twists of thin lips that were
not well to look upon, for that second mask was transparent, and the
devil was peering through.
"I will give you time to think," proceeded the abbe, "since, though
the moment is propitious, you are not in the mood for wooing. Here is
a rebus. Your fate is in my hand, yet in your own. According as you
decide, you will find in me the most devoted servant or the most
implacable enemy. The love of us southerners is not far removed from
hate. According as you act, you may bask in its beams or be scorched
into a cinder; hence it is to be feared and respected."
Pressing so close to her that she could feel the pulsations of his
breast, he added in low accents that cut into her heart like steel,
"Be well advised, and comprehend the truth. Your life hangs in the
balance for happiness or misery. Consider, and choose wisely, for this
is the critical time on which your fate depends."
Then, opening the door with a bow whose distinction would have done
honour to Trianon, he stood aside to let the lady pass into her
bedchamber. Closing the door again, he knit his brows and bit his
nails while contemplating the sleeping chevalier. "A trifle premature,
that's all," he muttered; "no harm done, for all her sweeping pride.
Well-meaning, vacillating women are like satin-skinned horses in the
arena--all the better for a touch of the lash. It is written, my
mission is to teach her _love_, and I will do it thoroughly from my
own point of view--of course. She is inexperienced, and proud, and
empty. If the fruit's not ripe, I've time to wait for it to mellow.
Perhaps, who knows? I may, should she be restive, be forced to crush
her pride. A pity! for it would be a charm removed. Perchance I shall
only squeeze firmly, without crushing it. The snaring of a bird that
is shy, whose plumage must not be injured! Shall it be tamed by
kindness, or the reverse? A problem, this, that Time's slow fingers
must unravel. The key to it is patience--most valuable of virtues!" He
stood long, pondering as he surveyed his sleeping brother. It was as
if he sought some luminous answer in those puffed and stolid features.
Next morning, Gabrielle appeared at dejeuner with pallid cheeks and
red eyes, under whose lids there glinted a ray of apprehension. That
Clovis's two half-brothers should both have developed, without
encouragement, so ill-omened a passion! What had the future in store
for a helpless woman as the upshot of so perilous a dilemma? Was it
not, after all, an ugly dream--a hideous nightmare born of Erebus,
that had been routed by healthful morning? Having eaten his fill,
Clovis was placidly sipping claret, and forming a mimic tub out of
bread-crusts. The round visage of the chevalier was as expressionless
as usual.
Upon the entrance of the chatelaine, the abbe had risen to close the
door with nimblest alacrity and deftest grace, and had led her to the
table with ceremoniously respectful finger-tips. The evil expression
was gone. Glancing nervously at him, she saw nothing but a polished
bonhomie veneered with distant and deferential kindliness. He deplored
her looks with ready grief, but added, for consolation, that a washed
rose revives in sunshine, and becomes more fragrant for the shower.
"She mopes for lack of proper exercise," he exclaimed, with a gentle
headshake of reproach. "Let us make a little party, and make a raid on
Montbazon."
Clovis, busy with the bread-crusts, remarked somewhat tartly that he
was much occupied, as they ought all to know; that the others had
better go without him; whereupon Gabrielle turned pale. Ride with the
two brothers, whose overweening and importunate affection she had so
recently repulsed!
"I vow," cried facetious Pharamond, "that our Gabrielle is growing
delicate. She who was wont to be active objects to exercise.
Decidedly, my Clovis, we must set the miraculous tub agoing for the
benefit of your delightful wife."