Chapter XIX.

The weeping blood in woman's breast

Was never known to thee;

Nor the balm that drops on wounds of woe

From woman's pitying e'e.

Burns.

A large portion of the curious followed the disconcerted mummers from the

square, while others hastened to break their fasts at the several places

selected for this important feature in the business of the day. Most of

those who had been on the estrade now left it, and, in a few minutes, the

living carpet of heads around the little area in front of the bailiff was

reduced to a few hundreds of those whose better feelings were stronger

than their self indulgence. Perhaps this distribution of the multitude is

about in the proportion that is usually found in those cases in which

selfishness draws in one direction, while feeling or sympathy with the

wronged pulls in another, among all masses of human beings that are

congregated as spectators of some general and indifferent exhibition of

interests in which they have no near personal concern.

The bailiff and his immediate friends, the prisoners, and the family of

the headsman, with a sufficient number of the guards, were among those who

remained. The bustling Peterchen had lost some of his desire to take his

place at the banquet, in the difficulties of the question which had

arisen, and in the certainty that nothing material, in the way of

gastronomy, would be attempted until he appeared. We should do injustice

to his heart, did we not add, also, that he had troublesome qualms of

conscience, which intuitively admonished him that the world had dealt

hardly with the family of Balthazar. There remained the party of Maso,

too, to dispose of, and his character of an upright as well as of a firm

magistrate to maintain. As the crowd diminished, however, he and those

near him descended from their high places, and mixed with the few who

occupied the still guarded area in front of the stage.

Balthazar had not stirred from his riveted posture near the table of the

notary, for he shrunk from encountering, in the company of his wife and

daughter, the insults to which he should be exposed now his character was

known, by mingling with the crowd, and he waited for a favorable moment to

withdraw unseen. Marguerite still stood folding Christine to her bosom, as

if jealous of farther injury to her beloved. The recreant bridegroom had

taken the earliest opportunity to disappear, and was seen no more in Vevev

during the remainder of the revels.

Peterchen cast a hurried glance at this group, as his foot reached the

ground, and then turning towards the thief-takers he made a sign for them

to advance with their prisoners.

"Thy evil tongue has balked one of the most engaging rites of this day's

festival, knave;" observed the bailiff, addressing Pippo with a certain

magisterial reproof in his voice. "I should do well to send thee to Berne,

to serve a month among those who sweep the city streets, as a punishment

for thy raven throat. What, in the name of all thy Roman saints and idols,

hadst thou against the happiness of these honest people, that thou must

come, in this unseemly manner, to destroy it?"

"Naught but the love of truth, eccellenza, and a just horror of the man of

blood."

"That thou and all like thee should have a horror of the ministers of the

law, I can understand; and it is more than probable that thy dislike will

extend to me, for I am about to pronounce a just judgment on thee and thy

fellows for disturbing the harmony of the day, and especially for having

been guilty of the enormous crime of an outrage on our agents."

"Couldst thou grant me a moment's leave?" asked the Genoese in his ear.

"An hour, noble Gaetano, if thou wilt."

The two then conversed apart, for a minute or more. During the brief

dialogue, the Signor Grimaldi occasionally looked at the quiet and

apparently contrite Maso, and stretched his arm towards the Leman, in a

way to give the observers an inkling of his subject. The countenance of

the Herr Hofmeister changed from official sternness to an expression of

decent concern as he listened, and ere long it took a decidedly forgiving

laxity of muscle. When the other had done speaking, he bowed a ready

assent to what he had just heard, and returned to the prisoners.

"As I have just observed," he resumed, "it is my duty now to pronounce

finally on these men and their conduct. Firstly they are strangers, and as

such are not only ignorant of our laws, but entitled to our hospitality;

next, they have been punished sufficiently for the original offence, by

being abridged of the day's sports; and as to the crime committed against

ourselves, in the person of our agents, it is freely forgiven, for

forgiveness is a generous quality, and becomes a paternal form of rule.

Depart therefore, of God's name! all of ye to a man, and remember

henceforth to be discreet. Signore, and you, Herr Baron, shall we to the

banquet?"

The two old friends had already moved onward, in close and earnest

discourse, and the bailiff was obliged to seek out another companion. None

offered, at the moment, but Sigismund, who had stood, since quitting the

stage, in an attitude of complete indecision and helplessness,

notwithstanding his great physical energy and his usual moral readiness to

act. Taking the arm of the young soldier, with the disregard of ceremony

that denotes a sense of condescension, the bailiff drew him away from the

spot, heedless himself of the other's reluctance, and without observing

that, in consequence of the general desertion, for few were disposed to

indulge their compassion unless it were in company with the honored and

noble, Adelheid was left absolutely alone with the family of Balthazar.

"This office of a headsman, Herr Sigismund," commenced the unobservant

Peterchen, too full of his own opinions, and much too sensible of his

right to be delivered of them in the presence of his junior and inferior,

to note the youth's trouble, "is at the best but a disgusting affair;

though we, of station and authority, are obliged prudently to appear to

deem it otherwise before the people, in our own interest. Thou hast had

occasion to remark often, in the discipline of thy military followers,

that a false coloring must be put upon things, lest they who are very

necessary to the state should not think the state quite so necessary to

them. What is thy opinion, Captain Sigismund, as a man who has yet his

hopes and his views on the softer sex, of this act of Jacques Colis?--Is

it conduct to be approved of, or to be condemned?"

"I deem him a heartless, mercenary, miscreant!"

The suppressed energy with which these unexpected words were uttered

caused the bailiff to stop and to look up in his companion's face, as if

to ask its reason. But there all was already calm, for the young man had

too long been accustomed to drill its expression, when the sensitive sore

of his origin was probed, as so frequently happened, to permit the

momentary weakness long to maintain its ascendency.

"Ay, this is the opinion of thy years;" resumed Peterchen. "Thou art at a

time of life when we esteem a pretty face and a mellow eye of more account

even than gold. But we put on our interested spectacles after thirty, and

seldom see any thing very admirable, that is not at the same time very

lucrative. Here is Melchior de Willading's daughter, now, a woman to set a

city in a blaze, for she hath wit, and lands, and beauty, besides good

blood;--what, for instance, is thy opinion of her merit?"

"That she is deserving of all the happiness that every human excellence

ought to confer!"

"Hum--thou art nearer to thirty than I had thought thee, Herr Sigismund!

But touching this Balthazar, thou art not to believe, on account of the

few words of grace which fell from me, that my aversion for the wretch is

less than thine, or than that of any other honest man; but it would be

unseemly and unwise in a bailiff to desert the last minister of the law's

decrees in the face of the public. There are feelings and sentiments that

are natural to us all, and among them are to be classed respect and honor

for the well and nobly born," (the discourse was in German,) "and hatred

and contempt for those who are condemned of men. These are feelings which

belong to human nature itself, and God forbid that I, a man already past

the age of romance, should really entertain any sentiments that are not

strictly human."

"Do they not rather belong to abuses--to our prejudices?"

"The difference is not material, in a practical view, young man. That

which is fairly bred into the mind, by discipline and habit, gets to be

stronger than instinct, or even than one of the senses. Let there be an

unseemly sight, or a foul smell near thee, and thou hast only to turn thy

eyes, or hold thy nose, to be rid of it; but I could never find the means

to lessen a prejudice that was once fairly seated in the mind. Thou mayest

look whither thou wilt, and shut out the unsavory odors of the imagination

by all the means thou canst invent, but if a man is, in truth, condemned

of opinion, he might as well make his appeal to God at once for justice,

as to any mercy he is likely to receive from men. This much have I learned

in my experience as a public functionary."

"I should hope that these are not the legal dogmas of our ancient canton,"

returned the youth, conquering his feelings, though it cost him a severe

effort.

"As far from it as Basle is from Coire. We hold no such discreditable

doctrines. I challenge the world to show a state that possesses a fairer

set of maxims than ourselves, and we even endeavor to make our practice

chime in with our opinions, whenever it can be done in safety. No in these

particulars, Berne is a paragon of a community, and as rarely says one

thing and does another, as any government you shall see. What I now tell

thee, young man, is said to thee in the familiarity of a fête, as thou

know'st, in which there have been some fooleries, to open confidence and

to loosen the tongue. We openly and loudly profess great truth and

equality before the law saving the city's rights, and take holy, heavenly,

upright justice for our guide in all matters of theory. Himmel! If thou

would'st have thy affair decided on principle, go before the councils, or

the magistracy of the canton, and thou shalt hear such wisdom, and witness

such keen-sightedness into chicanery, as would have honored Solomon

himself!"

"And notwithstanding this, prejudice is a general master."

"How canst thou have it otherwise? Is not a man a man? Will he not lean as

he has been weighed upon?--does not the tree grow in the way the twig is

bent? No, while I adore justice, Herr Sigismund, as becomes a bailiff, I

confess to both prejudice and partiality, mentally considered. Now, yonder

maiden, the pretty Christine, lost some of her grace in my eyes, as no

doubt she did in thine, when the truth came to be known that she was

Balthazar's child. The girl is fair and modest and winning in her way; but

there is something--I cannot tell thee what--but a certain damnable

something--a taint--a color--a hue--a--a--a--that showed her origin the

instant I heard who was her parent--was it not so with thee?"

"When her origin was proved, but not previously."

"Ay, of a certainty; I mean not otherwise. But a thing is not seen any the

worse because it is seen thoroughly, although it may be seen falsely when

there are false covers to conceal its ugliness. Particularity is necessary

to philosophy. Ignorance is a mask to conceal the little details that are

necessary to knowledge. Your Moor might pass for a Christian in a mask,

but strip him of his covering and the true shade of the skin is seen.

Didst thou not observe, for instance, in all that touches feminine grace

and perfection, the manifest difference between the daughter of Melchior

de Willading and the daughter of this Balthazar?"

"There was the difference between a maiden of most honored and happy

extraction and a maiden most miserably condemned!"

"Nay, the Demoiselle de Willading is the fairer."

"Nature has certainly been most bountiful to the heiress of Willading,

Herr Bailiff, who is scarcely less attractive for her female grace and

goodness, than she is fortunate in the accidents of birth and condition."

"I knew thou couldst not, in secret, be of a different mind from the rest

of men!" exclaimed Peterchen in triumph, for he, took the warmth of his

companion's manner to be a reluctant and half-concealed assent to his own

proposition. Here the discourse ended: for, the earnest conference between

Melchior and the Signor Grimaldi having terminated, the bailiff hastened

to join his more important guests, and Sigismund was released from an

examination that had harrowed every feeling of his soul, while he even

despised the besotted loquacity of the man who had been the instrument of

his torture.

The separation of Adelheid from her father was anticipated and previously

provided for; since the men were expected to resort to the banquet at this

hour. She had continued near Christine and her mother, therefore, without

attracting any unusual attention to her movements, even in those who were

the objects of her sympathy, a feeling that was so natural in one of her

years and sex. A male attendant, in the livery of her father's house

remained near her person, a protector who certain to insure not only her

safety in the thronged streets of the town, but to exact from those whose

faculties were beginning to yield to the excesses of the occasion the

testimonials of respect that were due to her station. It was under these

circumstances, then, that the more honored, and, to the eyes of the

uninstructed, the happier of these maidens, approached the other, when

curiosity was so far appeased as to have left the family of Balthazar

nearly alone in the centre of the square.

"Is there no friendly roof near, to which thou canst withdraw?" asked the

heiress of Willading of the mother of the pallid and scarcely conscious

Christine; "thou wouldst do better to seek some shelter and privacy for

thy unoffending and much injured child. If any that belong to me can be of

service, I pray that thou wilt command as freely as if they were followers

of thine own."

Marguerite had never before spoken with a female of a rank superior to the

ordinary classes. The ample means of both her father's and her husband's

family had furnished all that was necessary to the improvement of the mind

of one in her station, and perhaps she had been the gainer, in mere

deportment, by having been greatly excluded, by their prejudices, from

association with females of her own condition. As is often seen among

those who have the thoughts without the conventional usages of a better

caste in life, she was slightly tinctured with an exhibition of what might

be termed an exaggerated manner, while at the same time it was perfectly

free from vulgarity or coarseness. The gentle accents of Adelheid fell on

her ear soothingly, and she gazed long and earnestly at the beautiful

speaker without a reply.

"Who and what art thou that canst think a headman's child may receive an

insult that is unmerited, and who offerest the service of thy menials, as

if the very vassal would not refuse his master's bidding in our behalf!"

"I am Adelheid de Willading, the daughter of the baron of that name, and

one much disposed to temper this cruel blow to the feelings of poor

Christine. Suffer that my people seek the means to convey thy child to

some other place!"

Marguerite folded her daughter still closer to her bosom, passing a hand

across her brow, as if to recall some half-obscured idea.

"I have heard of thee, lady.--'Tis said that thou art kind to the wronged,

and of excellent dispositions towards the unhappy--that thy father's

castle is an honored and hospitable abode, which those who enter rarely

love to quit. But hast thou well weighed the consequences of this

liberality towards a race, that is and has been proscribed of men, from

generation to generation--from him who first lent himself to his bloody

office, with a cruel heart and a greedy desire for gold, to him whose

courage is scarcely equal to the disgusting duty? Hast thou bethought thee

of this, or hast thou yielded, heedlessly, to a sudden and youthful

impulse?"

"Of all this have I thought," said Adelheid, eagerly; "whatever may be the

injustice of others, thou hast none to fear from me."

Marguerite yielded the form of her child to the support of her father's

arm, and drew nearer, with a gaze of earnest and pleased interest, to the

blushing but still composed Adelheid. She took the hand of the latter,

and, with a look of recognition and intelligence, said slowly, as if

communing with herself, rather than speaking to another----

"This is getting to be intelligible!" she murmured; "there is still

gratitude and creditable feeling in the world. I can understand why we

are not revolting to this fair being: she has a sense of justice that is

stronger than her prejudices. We have done her service, and she is not

ashamed of the source whence it has come!"

The heart of Adelheid throbbed quick and violently; and, for a moment, she

doubted her ability to command her feelings. But the pleasing conviction

that Sigismund had been honorable and delicate, even in his most sacred

and confidential communications with his own mother, came to relieve her,

and to make her momentarily happy; since nothing is so painful to the pure

mind, as to think those they love have acted unworthily; or nothing so

grateful, as the assurance that they merit the esteem we have been induced

liberally and confidingly to bestow.

"You do me no more than justice," returned the pleased listener of this

flattering and seemingly involuntary opinion--"we are indeed--indeed we

are truly grateful; but had we not reason for the sacred obligations of

gratitude, I think we could still be just. Will you not now consent that

my people should aid you?"

"This is not necessary, lady. Send away thy followers, for their presence

will draw unpleasant observations on our movements. The town is now

occupied with feasts, and, as we have not blindly overlooked the necessity

of a retreat for the hunted and persecuted, we will take the opportunity

to withdraw unseen. As for thyself--"

"I would be near this innocent at a moment so trying,"--added Adelheid

earnestly, and with that visible sympathy which rarely fails to meet an

echo.

"Heaven bless thee! Heaven bless thee, sweet girl! And Heaven will bless

thee, for few wrongs go unrequited in this life, and little good without

its reward. Send thy followers away, or if thy habits require their

watchfulness, let them be near unseen, whilst thou wateriest our

movements; and when the eyes of all are turned on their own pleasures,

thou canst follow. Heaven bless thee--ay, and Heaven will!"

Marguerite then led her daughter towards one of the least frequented

streets. She was accompanied by the silent Balthazar, and closely watched

by one of the menials of Adelheid. When fairly housed, the domestic

returned to show the spot to his mistress, who had appeared to occupy

herself with the hundred silly devices that were invented to amuse the

multitude. Dismissing her attendants, with an order to remain at hand,

however, the heiress of Willading soon found means to enter the humble

abode in which the proscribed family had taken refuge, and, as she was

expected, she was soon introduced into the chamber where Christine and her

mother had taken refuge.

The sympathy of the young and tender Adelheid was precious to one of the

character of Christine. They wept together, for the weakness of her sex

prevailed over the pride of the former, when she found herself

unrestrained by the observation of the world, and she gave way to the

torrent of feeling that broke through its bounds, in spite of her

endeavors to control it. Marguerite was the only spectator of this silent

but intelligible communion between these two young and pure spirits, and

her soul was shaken by the unlooked-for commiseration of one so honored,

and who was usually esteemed so happy.

"Thou hast the consciousness of our wrongs," she said, when the first

burst of emotion had a little subsided. "Thou canst then believe that a

headsman's child is like the offspring of another and is not to be hunted

of men like the young of a wolf."

"Mother, this is the Baron de Willading's heiress," said Christine: "would

she come here, did she not pity us?"

"Yes, she can pity us--and yet I find it hard even to be pitied! Sigismund

has told us of her goodness, and she may, in truth, feel for the

wretched!"

The allusion to her son caused the temples of Adelheid to burn like fire,

while there was a chill, resembling that of death, at her heart. The first

arose from the quick and uncontrollable alarm of female sensitiveness; the

last was owing to the shock inseparable from being presented with this

vivid, palpable picture of Sigismund's close affinity with the family of

an executioner. She could have better borne it, had Marguerite spoken of

her son less familiarly, or with more of that feigned ignorance of each

other, which, without stopping to scan its fitness, she had been led to

think existed between the young man and his family.

"Mother!" exclaimed Christine reproachfully, and in surprise, as if a

great indiscretion had been thoughtlessly committed.

"It matters not, child; it matters not. I saw by the kindling eye of

Sigismund to-day, that our secret will not much longer be kept. The noble

boy must show more energy than those who have gone before him; he must

quit for ever a country in which he was condemned, even before he was

born."

"I shall not deny that your connexion with Monsieur Sigismund is known to

me," said Adelheid, summoning all her resolution to make an avowal which

put her at once into the confidence of Balthazar's family. "You are

acquainted with the heavy debt of gratitude we owe your son, and it will

explain the nature of the interest I now feel in your wrongs."

The keen eye of Marguerite studied the crimsoned features of Adelheid till

forgetfulness got the better of discretion. The search was anxious, rather

than triumphant, the feeling most dreaded by its subject; and, when her

eyes were withdrawn, the mother of the youth became thoughtful and

pensive. This expressive communion produced a deep and embarrassing

silence, which each would gladly have broken, had they not both been

irresistibly tongue-tied by the rapidity and intensity of their thoughts.

"We know that Sigismund hath been of service to thee," observed

Marguerite, who always addressed her gay companion with the familiarity

that belonged to her greater age, rather than with the respect which

Adelheid had been accustomed to receive from those who were of a rank

inferior to her own. "The brave boy hath spoken of it, though he hath

spoken of it modestly."

"He had every right to do himself justice in his communications with those

of his own family. Without his aid, my father would have been childless;

and without his brave support, the child fatherless. Twice has he stood

between us and death."

"I have heard of this," returned Marguerite, again fastening her

penetrating eye on the tell-tale features of Adelheid, which never failed

to brighten and glow, whenever there was allusion to the courage and

self-devotion of him she secretly loved, "As to what thou say'st of the

intimacy of our poor boy with those of his blood, cruel circumstances

stand between us and our wishes. If Sigismund has told thee of whom he

comes he has also most probably told thee of the manner in which he

passes, in the world, for that which he is not."

"I believe he has not withheld any thing that he knew, and which it was

proper to communicate to me;" answered Adelheid, dropping her eyes before

the attentive, expectant look of Marguerite. "He has spoken freely, and--"

"Thou wouldst have said--"

"Honorably, and as became a soldier;" continued Adelheid, firmly.

"He has done well! This lightens my heart of one burthen at least. No; God

has destined us to this fate, and it would have grieved me that a son of

mine should have failed of principle in an affair, of all others, in which

it is most wanted. You look amazed, lady!"

"These sentiments, in one so situated, surprise as much as they delight

me! If any thing could excuse some looseness in the manner of regarding

the usual ties of life, it would surely be to find oneself so placed, by

no misconduct of our own, as to be a but to the world's dislike and

injustice; and yet here, where there was reason to expect some resentment

against fortune, I meet with sentiments that would honor a throne!"

"Thou thinkest as one more accustomed to consider thy fellow-creatures

through the means of what men fancy, than through things as they are. This

is the picture of youth, and inexperience, and innocence; but it is not

the picture of life. 'Tis misfortune, and not prosperity that chasteneth,

by proving our insufficiency for true happiness, and by leading the soul

to depend on a power greater than any that is to be found on earth. We

fall before the temptation of happiness, when we rise in adversity. If

thou thinkest, innocent one, that noble and just sentiments belong to the

fortunate, thou trustest to a false guide. There are evils which flesh

cannot endure, it is true; but, removed from these overwhelming wants, we

are strongest in the right, when least tempted by vanity and ambition.

More starving beggars abstain from stealing the crust they crave, than

pampered gluttons deny themselves the luxury that kills them. They that

live under the rod, see and dread the hand that holds it; they who riot in

earth's glories, come at last to think they deserve the short-lived

distinctions they enjoy. When thou goest down into the depths of misery,

thou hast naught to fear except the anger of God! It is when raised above

others, that thou shouldst tremble most for thine own safety."

"This is not the manner in which the world is used to reason."

"Because the world is governed by those whose interest it is to pervert

truth to their own objects, and not by those whose duties run hand-in-hand

with the right. But we will say no more of this, lady; here is one that

feels too acutely just now to admit truth to be too freely spoken."

"Dost, feel thyself better, and more able to listen to thy friends, dear

Christine?" asked Adelheid, taking the hand of the repudiated and deserted

girl with the tenderness of an affectionate sister.

Until now the sufferer had only spoken the few words related, in mild

reproof of her mother's indiscretion. That little had been uttered with

parched lips and a choked voice, while the hue of her features was deadly

pale, and her whole countenance betrayed intense mental anguish. But this

display of interest in one of her own years and sex, of whose excellencies

she had been accustomed to hear such fervid descriptions from the

warm-hearted Sigismund, and of whose sincerity she was assured by the

subtle and quick instinct that unites the innocent and young, caused a

quick and extreme change in her sensibilities. The grief which had been

struggling and condensed, now flowed more freely from her eyes, and she

threw herself, sobbing and weeping, in a paroxysm of gentle, but

overwhelming, feeling, on the bosom of this new found friend. The

experienced Marguerite smiled at this manifestation of kindness on the

part of Adelheid, though even this expression of satisfaction was austere

and regulated in one who had so long stood at bay with the world. And,

after a short pause, she left the room, under the belief that such a

communion with a spirit, pure and inexperienced as her own, a communion so

unusual to her daughter, would be more likely to produce a happy effect,

if left to themselves, than when restrained by her presence.

The two girls wept in common, for a long time after Marguerite had

disappeared. This intercourse, chastened as it was by sorrow, and rendered

endearing on the one side by a confiding ingenuousness, and on the other

by generous pity, caused both to live in that short period, as it were,

months together in a near and dear intimacy. Confidence is not always the

growth of time. There are minds that meet each other with a species of

affinity that resembles the cohesive property of matter, and with a

promptitude and faith that only belongs to the purer essence of which they

are composed. But when this attraction of the ethereal part of the being

is aided by the feelings that have been warmed by an interest so tender as

that which the hearts of both the maidens felt in a common object, its

power is not only stronger, but quicker, in making itself felt. So much

was already known by each of the other's character, fortunes, and hopes

(always with the exception of Adelheid's most sacred secret, which

Sigismund cherished as a deposit by far too sacred to be shared even with

his sister) that the meeting under no circumstances could have been that

of strangers, and their mutual knowledge came as an assistant to break

down the barriers of those forms which were so irksome to their longings

for a freer interchange of feeling and thought. Adelheid possessed too

much intellectual tact to have recourse to the every-day language of

consolation. When she did speak, which, as became her superior rank and

less embarrassed situation, she was the first to do, it in general but

friendly allusions.

"Thou wilt go with us to Italy, in the morning," she said, drying her

eyes; "my father quits Blonay, in company with the Signor Grimaldi, with

to-morrow's sun, and thou wilt be of our company?"

"Where thou wilt--anywhere with thee--anywhere to hide my shame!"

The blood mounted to the temples of Adelheid; her air even appeared

imposing to the eyes of the artless and unpractised Christine, as she

answered--

"Shame is a word that applies to the mean and mercenary, to the vile and

unfaithful," she said, with womanly and virtuous indignation; "but not to

thee, love."

"O! do not, do not condemn him;" whispered Christine, covering her face

with her hands. "He has found himself unequal to bearing the burthen of

our degradation, and he should be spoken of in pity rather than with

hatred."

Adelheid was silent; but she regarded the poor trembling girl, whose head

now nestled in her bosom, with melancholy concern.

"Didst thou know him well?" she asked in a low tone, following rather the

chain of her own thoughts, than reflecting on the nature of the question

she put. "I had hoped that this refusal would bring no other pain than the

unavoidable mortification which I fear belongs to the weakness of our sex

and our habits."

"Thou knowest not how dear preference is to the despised!--how cherished

the thought of being loved becomes to those, who, out of their own narrow

limits of natural friends, have been accustomed to meet only with contempt

and aversion! Thou hast always been known, and courted, and happy! Thou

canst not know how dear it is to the despised to seem even to be

preferred!"

"Nay, say not this, I pray thee!" answered Adelheid, hurriedly, and with a

throb of anguish at her heart; "there is little in this life that speaks

fairly for itself. We are not always what we seem; and if we were, and far

more miserable than anything but vice can make us, there is another state

of being, in which justice--pure, unalloyed justice--will be done."

"I will go with thee to Italy," answered Christine, looking calm and

resolved, while a glow of holy hope bloomed on each cheek; "when all is

over, we will go together to a happier world!"

Adelheid folded the stricken and sensitive plant to her bosom. Again they

wept together, but it was with a milder and sweeter sorrow than before.

The Headsman; Or, The Abbaye des Vignerons · 第 19 / 31 章