“Was this threat of the countess meant in earnest? I did not doubt it;
but affecting great composure, I said,--
“‘You would not do that.’
“‘By all that I hold dear and sacred in this world,’ she replied, ‘I
would do it.’
“Many months have passed by since that scene, Magloire, many events have
happened; and still I feel as if it had taken place yesterday. I see the
countess still, whiter than a ghost. I still hear her trembling voice;
and I can repeat to you her words almost literally,--
“‘Ah! you are surprised at my determination, Jacques. I understand
that. Wives who have betrayed their husbands have not accustomed their
lovers to be held responsible by them. When they are betrayed, they
dare not cry out; when they are abandoned, they submit; when they are
sacrificed, they hide their tears, for to cry would be to avow their
wrong. Who would pity them, besides? Have they not received their
well-known punishment? Hence it is that all men agree, and there are
some of them cynical enough to confess it, that a married woman is a
convenient lady-love, because she can never be jealous, and she may be
abandoned at any time. Ah! we women are great cowards. If we had more
courage, you men would look twice before you would dare speak of love to
a married woman. But what no one dares I will dare. It shall not be said
that in our common fault there are two parts, and that you shall have
had all the benefit of it, and that I must bear all the punishment.
What? You might be free to-morrow to console yourself with a new love;
and I--I should have to sink under my shame and remorse. No, no! Such
bonds as those that bind us, riveted by long years of complicity, are
not broken so easily.
“‘You belong to me; you are mine; and I shall defend you against all
and every one, with such arms as I possess. I told you that I valued my
reputation more than my life; but I never told you that I valued life.
On the eve of your wedding-day, my husband shall know all. I shall not
survive the loss of my honor; but at least I shall have my revenge. If
you escape the hatred of Count Claudieuse, your name will be bound up
with such a tragic affair that your life will be ruined forever.’
“That was the way she spoke, Magloire, and with a passion of which I can
give you no idea. It was absurd, it was insane, I admit. But is not
all passion absurd and insane? Besides, it was by no means a sudden
inspiration of her pride, which made her threaten me with such
vengeance. The precision of her phrases, the accuracy of her words,
all made me feel that she had long meditated such a blow, and carefully
calculated the effect of every word.
“I was thunderstruck.
“And as I kept silence for some time, she asked me coldly,--
“‘Well?’
“I had to gain time, first of all.
“‘Well,’ I said, ‘I cannot understand your passion. This marriage
which I mentioned has never existed as yet, except in my mother’s
imagination.’
“‘True?’ she asked.
“‘I assure you.’
“She examined me with suspicious eyes. At last she said,--
“‘Well, I believe you. But now you are warned: let us think no more of
such horrors.’
“She might think no more of them, but I could not.
“I left her with fury in my heart.
“She had evidently settled it all. I had for lifetime this halter around
my neck, which held me tighter day by day and, at the slightest effort
to free myself, I must be prepared for a terrible scandal; for one of
those overwhelming adventures which destroy a man’s whole life. Could
I ever hope to make her listen to reason? No, I was quite sure I could
not.
“I knew but too well that I should lose my time, if I were to recall to
her that I was not quite as guilty as she would make me out; if I were
to show her that her vengeance would fall less upon myself than upon her
husband and her children; and that, although she might blame the count
for the conditions of their marriage, her daughters, at least, were
innocent.
“I looked in vain for an opening out of this horrible difficulty. Upon
my honor, Magloire, there were moments when I thought I would pretend
getting married, for the purpose of inducing the countess to act, and of
bringing upon myself these threats which were hanging over me. I fear no
danger; but I cannot bear to know it to exist, and to wait for it with
folded hands: I must go forth and meet it.
“The thought that the countess should use her husband for the purpose of
keeping me bound shocked me. It seemed to me ridiculous and ignoble that
she should make her husband the guardian of her love. Did she think I
was afraid of her?
“In the meantime, my mother had asked me what was the result of my
reflections on the subject of marriage; and I blushed with shame as I
told her that I was not disposed to marry as yet, as I felt too young
to accept the responsibility of a family. It was so; but, under other
circumstances, I should hardly have put in that plea. I was thus
hesitating, and thinking how and when I should be able to make an end of
it, when the war broke out. I felt naturally bound to offer my services.
I hastened to Boiscoran. They had just organized the volunteers of the
district; and they made me their captain. With them I joined the army
of the Loire. In my state of mind, war had nothing fearful for me:
every excitement was welcome that made me forget the past. There was,
consequently, no merit in my courage. Nevertheless, as the weeks passed,
and then the months, without my hearing a word about the Countess
Claudieuse, I began secretly to hope that she had forgotten me; and
that, time and absence doing their work, she was giving me up.
“When peace was made, I returned to Boiscoran; and the countess gave no
more signs of life now than before. I began to feel reassured, and to
recover possession of myself, when one day M. de Chandore invited me to
dinner. I went. I saw Miss Dionysia.
“I had known her already for some time; and the recollection of her had,
perhaps, had its influence upon my desire to quit the countess. Still I
had always had self-control enough to avoid her lest I should draw some
fatal vengeance upon her. When I was brought in contact with her by her
grandfather, I had no longer the heart to avoid her; and, on the day on
which I thought I read in her eyes that she loved me I made up my mind,
and I resolved to risk every thing.
“But how shall I tell you what I suffered, Magloire, and with what
anxiety I asked every evening when I returned to Boiscoran,--
“‘No letter yet?’
“None came; and still it was impossible that the Countess Claudieuse
should not have heard of my marriage. My father had called on M. de
Chandore, and asked him for the hand of his grand-daughter for me. I had
been publicly acknowledged as her betrothed; and nothing was now to be
done but to fix the wedding-day.
“This silence frightened me.”
Exhausted and out of breath, Jacque de Boiscoran paused here, pressing
both of his hands on his chest, as if to check the irregular beating of
his heart.
He was approaching the catastrophe.
And yet he looked in vain to the advocate for a word or a sign of
encouragement. M. Magloire remained impenetrable: his face remained as
impassive as an iron mask.