which I am myself overwhelmed? And what are you talking of the
violence of her temper? Of this I have never discovered even the
slightest symptom.”
“Friend Colas, you do not know the sex. In order to please you, she
will not show herself in her true colours; and should she once forget
herself, love will make you blind.”
Here the subject was dropped, and he engaged my attention by another
topic, as he would not suffer me to resume our former conversation.
The more I had cause to admire the extent of his confidence, the calmer
I became, and the more I resolved to separate gradually from his wife.
The following evening I saw her again: she was sitting alone in her
apartment, her beautiful head resting sadly on her arm. As soon as she
perceived me she rose, her face expressing a pleasing confusion, and
her eyes cast down. For some time we remain silent.
At length I asked, trembling, “May I dare to appear before you? But I
only come to atone for my transgression.”
To this she made no reply.
“I have abused your confidence,” I continued. “Esteem ought to be my
only feeling for the wife of my friend. I have acted dishonourably.”
“So have I,” she added in a whisper.
“Alas! madame, I feel I am too little master of myself;--nay, who could
be so in your presence? But, should it cost my life, I will not
disturb your peace of mind. My resolution is unalterably taken. I
have discovered my innermost heart to your husband.”
“Discovered!” she exclaimed, terrified; “and he--?”
“He at first changed colour.”
“He changed colour?” she faltered.
“But with confidence in you, madame, and with a confidence greater than
my virtue, he wished to dissuade me from my intention of leaving
Montpellier.”
“Was that your intention, Alamontade?”
“It is still so. I love you, madame; but you are Bertollon’s wife, and
I will not disturb the peace of a family to which I am indebted for a
thousand benefits.”
“You are a noble man,” said she, shedding tears. “You intend doing
what I was resolved to do. My clothes are ready packed. I must and
will not conceal from you, Alamontade, that I wish I had never known
you. Our friendship grew into love. I deceived myself in vain, and
struggled too late against my violent feelings.”
She sobbed more violently, and exclaimed, “Yes, it is better thus! We
must part, but not for ever. No! only until our hearts beat more
calmly, until we can meet with cooler friendship.”
At these words I was deeply moved.
“But, alas! kind friend,” she continued, still sobbing, and throwing
herself on my bosom, “I shall not long survive this separation.”
While her heart beat against mine, and our passion was rekindled, and
our sense of duty was struggling for victory, the hours fled quickly.
We vowed eternal, pure, sacred love, and yet swore to extinguish it in
our hearts. We resolved to separate, to see each other seldom, and
then only with calmness, and in the presence of witnesses, and sealed
the indissoluble alliance of our souls with rapturous kisses.
What a wretched creature is man! He is ever weakest when he thinks
himself strongest. He who flees temptation is the hero; he who
wantonly runs into it to attain the crown of virtue has lost it before
he begins the combat.
When we parted, we agreed that I should not go farther than a league
from Montpellier. I was to live at the château near Castelnau, and
only to come to town on an occasional visit. Without delay I executed
my design, departing without venturing to take leave of Madame
Bertollon; and, however much M. Bertollon was against it, he was,
nevertheless, obliged at last to consent.
I soon recovered from my delusion in the tranquillity of rural nature.
I felt that I had never loved Madame Bertollon, and I despised myself
for endeavouring to make her believe that I entertained a sentiment for
her which I did not feel. All with me had been nothing but an
intoxicating delusion, which was first produced by the unhappy passion
that this lovely creature could no longer conceal from me. She alone
was to be pitied, and it was my duty to restore to her the peace she
had lost.
My mind now gradually resuming its wonted serenity and cheerfulness,
rose above the clouds that had darkened it, and Clementine’s image
stood before me more resplendent and charming than ever. At my
departure from Montpellier, I had left the wreath and harp behind, not
because I had then quite forgotten Clementine, but because shame and a
sacred awe drove me back when I was on the point of touching the adored
relics. I no longer thought myself worthy of her, and considered the
torments of my longing, and of the separation from her, a mild penance
for my crime.
Several weeks passed, during which Bertollon only called on me, telling
me often that he could not live without me, and yet that he was
fettered by his affairs to the unlucky town.
He made several attempts to induce me to return to Montpellier; but in
vain. I continued in my salutary retreat, and felt myself happier.
One morning early, I was awakened by my servant, who told me that M.
Larette, a friend of Bertollon’s, had called, and desired to speak to
me immediately. At the same moment, Larette himself entered, pale and
confused.
“Get up,” he cried, “and come directly to Montpellier.”
“What is the matter?” I asked, terrified.
“Get up and dress yourself; you must not lose a moment; Bertollon is
poisoned, and is on the point of death.”
“Poisoned?” I faltered, and sank back senseless on my bed.
“Only be quick, he wishes to see you once more; I hastened here by his
order.”
Trembling, I flung on my clothes, and followed him mechanically to the
door, where a carriage awaited us. We stepped in, and, with the utmost
speed, went to Montpellier.
“Poisoned?” I asked again on the way.
“Certainly,” replied M. Larette, “but there is an inconceivable mystery
about the affair. A fellow who bought the poison at the chemist’s has
been imprisoned; Madame Bertollon is also a prisoner in her apartment.”
“Madame Bertollon a prisoner!--For what reason? And who has put her
under arrest?”
“The magistrate.”
“The magistrate! Is the police mad enough to fancy Madame Bertollon
capable of poisoning her husband?”
“He believes it, and every body----”
“Sir, you are shrugging your shoulders; ‘And every body?--’ Well,
continue: what were you going to say.”
“That every body believes it. The fellow, Valentine I think is his
name----”
“What Valentine? Sure the old faithful servant, the most honest fellow
under the sun----”
“Well, he has deposed, that about a week ago, he fetched the poison by
order of Madame Bertollon.”
“The infernal liar; the----”
“And Madame Bertollon, when interrogated about the servant’s
deposition, has confessed it unconditionally. There, that is the whole
affair.”
“Confessed? I am bewildered; for I do not understand you. What has
she confessed?”
“That she sent Valentine for the poison.”
“Horrible! and also that it was she that murdered, poisoned, her own
husband?”
“Who would like to confess such things? but such unfortunately is the
case. Bertollon felt yesterday morning his usual indisposition; you
know he is sometimes subject to giddiness. He then requested his wife,
who keeps a medicine-chest, to give him the usual cordial, a very
expensive essence which she keeps in a gilt blue phial.”
“I know it well and also the essence.”
“She herself poured it into a spoon, added some sugar and administered
it to her husband. In a short time he felt the most violent spasms in
his bowels. The physician was sent for and recognised the symptoms as
the effect of poison; of which they found remains in the spoon. The
physician did his utmost to save him. He asked for the essence to
analyze it. At this Madame Bertollon was offended, and asked whether
they thought she was a poisoner; but at length being no longer able to
refuse the phial without causing suspicion, she gave it up. In the
meanwhile several physicians had been called, as well as an officer of
the police. The affair becoming known, the druggist, who recollected
that the poison had been bought by Valentine, had informed the police
of the circumstance. Valentine was immediately arrested, but referred
to his mistress and her orders. Madame Bertollon being interrogated by
the police, fainted; all her keys were taken from her, the
medicine-chest was examined, and the poison, which was recognised by
the above-mentioned druggist, was found. It was, however, deficient in
weight, and the essence in the blue phial being likewise examined, the
poison was discovered in that. Thus, sir, do matters stand, and you
may think of it as you please.”
I shuddered but did not say a word, seeing in the whole a horrible
connexion which neither Larette nor any one but myself could perceive.
Madame Bertollon loved me with frightful intensity, and our separation
had increased her passion instead of checking it; thus she conceived
this atrocious plan of freeing herself from her husband. I called to
mind the consuming fire in her character, of which Bertollon had told
me. I also remembered my last interview with her, during which I had
inconsiderately told her that I had candidly confessed our attachment
to her husband, and how she then was startled, and how she had inquired
anxiously concerning Bertollon’s deportment.
My conjecture was changed into a frightful certainty. I could imagine
how the black thought was matured in her, I saw her mixing the accursed
draught, and, infatuated by her passion, presenting it to her unhappy
husband.
We arrived in Montpellier. I hastened to the room of my beloved
benefactor, exclaiming at the foot of the stairs: “Is he still living?”
They told me in whispers to be calm, and prevented me from entering his
apartment. He had sunk into a gentle slumber, from which he was
expected to derive benefit, and even to recover during its influence.
“And where is Madame Bertollon?” I asked.
In answer to this I was told that she had left the house early that
morning, and had gone to her relations, where she was under arrest upon
the security of her family; that her nearest relations, by their
influence and with much difficulty, had succeeded in saving her from
the disgrace of imprisonment. I was further told in confidence that M.
Bertollon had advised her, through a friend, to fly to Italy before it
was too late. As she hesitated, her brothers also had endeavoured to
persuade her to avail herself of her short period of liberty. Her
pride, however, triumphed, and her reply was: “I shall not fly, for by
doing so I should own a crime of which I am not yet, and cannot be,
convicted.”
Beauty of form exerts its magic only so far as we conceive it to be the
sign of a noble soul, but loses all its power, nay, inspires us with
horror, when it is the cloak of crime. Let the artist paint Sin
beautiful on the threshold of hell, and it will be a thousand times
more terrible when that which is dearest to man is but the tool of his
wickedness.
I could no longer think of Madame Bertollon without detestation. She
was a poisoner, and all that Larette had hastily told me was confirmed
in Montpellier; while a number of various circumstances threw still
greater light on her murderous deed.
All Montpellier was in agitation at this extraordinary occurrence.
Bertollon’s gradual recovery, which was accomplished by the skill of
the physicians, caused the most lively joy in every house. I no more
left the bed of my beloved friend, whom I honoured as a father and a
brother.
“Oh, Bertollon!” I exclaimed one day, “You are saved. How miserable I
should have been had you died! My grief would not long have allowed me
to survive your death. You are my only friend, the only one in the
world; you are my benefactor, my guardian angel. I am always ready to
die for you. And is it possible that a woman, such a tender timid
creature, a woman endowed with, such heavenly charms, a woman whose
eyes and mouth preached virtue so sweetly, could be so atrocious?”
“Do you still love her, Alamontade,” said Bertollon, pressing my hand.
“Love her? The very thought is revolting to me. I never loved her; it
was only trifling vanity and a delusion of the senses that I once in my
infatuation called love. I have never loved her. A secret power
always drove my heart from her. How should I love one who intended to
murder you? I curse every hour I spent in her society; and repent the
attentions I lavished on her. Ah! I knew her not.”
By this time the trial had commenced. The most celebrated counsel in
Montpellier, M. Menard, came forward of his own accord to the family of
the accused, and offered to be her defender. Menard had never lost a
suit. The charm of his eloquence conquered all; where he could not
convince reason he knew how to entangle it inextricably by doubts, and
to excite against it all the feelings of the heart. Whenever he spoke
in the court it was crowded with spectators, who often came from
distant parts to hear him. He undertook with success even the worst
cause, if he could expect from it a rich reward.
“I desire nothing,” said Bertollon, “but an eternal separation from the
poisoner, and I require no other punishment for her than the failure of
her attempt. Her own conscience and public contempt are a sufficient
sting to her. I know Menard is my personal enemy. He was once my
rival, and I foresee that by his artifices he will so confound and
dazzle the judges and people, that my infamous wife will extricate
herself triumphantly.”
“That he shall not do!” I exclaimed with vehemence. “Pray Bertollon
entrust me with your case, though I am but a beginner, and have never
spoken in a court of law. Confide in me and the justness of your
cause. Indeed, it does not grieve me to appear before the tribunal
against a lady whom I once called my friend, and who loaded me with
treacherous favours. You are my brother and benefactor, your cause is
sacred.”
Bertollon smiled, expressing at the same time his doubts as to my being
a match for my adversary’s tact. At length, however, he agreed to my
wish of making his suit the first trial of my ability, but was
apparently apprehensive.
“Be easy, dear Bertollon,” said I, “friendship will inspire and exalt
me if I should seem to sink under Menard’s superior powers, and
notwithstanding all his subtlety he will not be able to get over the
facts which his client too hastily confessed.”
From time immemorial no trial had excited greater interest than this,
which was rendered so conspicuous, both by the atrocity of its cause,
and the respectability of the parties concerned. And what a part I
undertook! No one knew the relation in which I had stood to Madame
Bertollon. No one imagined that I had once clasped the accused to my
heart in a moment of extatic rapture; no one knew that her illicit
affection for me had perhaps given her hand the first direction towards
mixing the poisonous draught.
All this was still a secret, and was to remain so until Menard’s art
should threaten victory over me. Then only this last mine was to
explode against him.
When it was reported in Montpellier that I was Bertollon’s advocate,
success was given to my opponent beforehand. After sufficient
investigation, and the examination of witnesses, Menard and I were
called to the bar. This powerful speaker seemed only to mock me. He
almost evinced contempt, at appearing against a young man who had
recently been his pupil, and was now going to make his _debût_. He
spoke with such power that he affected me most deeply, and almost
inspired me for the cause of the accused.
The trial had been prolonged by Menard’s manoeuvres for six months,
when I had hoped to conquer in a few weeks. Menard was always followed
by the applause of the people on leaving the court; and it appeared
that I wasted my energies in rendering his victory more difficult, only
to increase his laurels.
The beauty of the accused had gained for her party all the young men of
the town, and her former beneficence engaged for her the poorer class
of the people. I had to contend against Menard, against the secret
predilection of innumerable hearts prejudiced in her favour, and the
remembrance of the virtues which Madame Bertollon had once displayed.
The more, however, my cause seemed hopeless, the more my courage rose.
An unusual energy animated me, and Menard himself began to respect or
fear me the more I drove him back from his first conquests. His party
diminished in proportion, as he was forced to acknowledge the truth of
facts which he had before rendered doubtful and uncertain. Soon I
heard my praise in public; soon a small number of partisans surrounded
me: soon the applause of the people was increased, the more Madame
Bertollon appeared guilty, and her beauty and virtues were eclipsed and
darkened by the remembrance of so black a deed.
Pleasing as this incense was to me, it delighted me less than
Clementine’s quiet approval. Madame Bertollon was related to the
family De Sonnes. When it was known that I undertook Bertollon’s
cause, Clementine often appeared at the window shaking her head sadly,
and making menacing signs. I thought I understood her, and shrugged my
shoulders, but was not deterred from performing a duty so sacred.
As my name became more known and lauded in Montpellier, she became more
friendly. She appeared to forget her relationship to Madame Bertollon
in my success. Yes! I saw myself loved by the angel I adored. No
mortal could be happier than I. Our dumb correspondence had now lasted
for years.
But I turn to that fatal trial which now took the most serious turn for
the accused. Madame Bertollon seeing every fact and witness in league
against her, could do nothing but strongly deny her intention of
poisoning her husband, though appearances rendered her guilty. I now
insisted on interrogating her more closely respecting her object in
buying the poison a week previous to the deed. To this she gave
evasive answers, and entangled herself in contradictions. It was
evident that she feared discovering the reason. All the entreaties of
her relations, and the menaces of her advocate, were of no avail. This
increased the suspicion; Menard gave up his case as lost, though still
protesting her innocence. The tribunal ordered closer confinement, and
threatened the first examination by the rack to force confession.
Now Madame Bertollon undertook to plead her own cause before the
tribunal in which Menard had been so unsuccessful. In this I saw
nothing but an artifice of Menard himself, who wished to call the power
of female beauty to his aid to support his eloquence.
As she entered the hall a deathlike silence prevailed. She never was
so charming as at this moment; her simple attire, and the paleness of
deep grief, summoned compassion into each heart, and tears into every
eye.
All was silent, and all eyes were turned from her upon me. I was to
speak, but could not, such was my inexpressible confusion. She was the
picture of suffering innocence. All the delightful hours I had spent
with her were recalled to my memory on seeing her, and surrounded my
soul like weeping angels pleading for her and whispering that she was
certainly guiltless.
At length I recovered. I declared that no one would be more delighted
by a proof of the innocence of the accused than her husband, and
myself, his advocate. But for this proof it was necessary that she
should remove suspicion and confess her intention in purchasing the
poison.
Madame Bertollon appeared very weak, leaning on the arm of her
advocate. She looked at me with a painful glance, expressive of love
and sorrow.
“Oh! Alamontade,” she said, in a faint voice, “and must it be you to
urge the discovery of my object in purchasing the poison? You--and in
this place?”
After a few moments’ silence she suddenly rose, turned her pale
countenance towards the judges, and said, in a bitter tone, expressive
of mental despair,
“My lords, you have threatened me with the rack to force my confession;
that is sufficient, and I will put an end to the proceedings--I am
guilty, I intended a murder with this poison. More you will not learn
from me; pronounce your verdict.”
She turned and left the court--perfect silence and utter amazement
prevailed. Two days afterwards the tribunal pronounced the verdict of
“guilty” against the wretched woman.
M. Bertollon had long since recovered. He was more cheerful than
usual, and joked as before at my zeal for virtue; he loved me at the
same time so truly that it grieved him that I so obstinately persisted
in my strict principles. I therefore sometimes afforded him the
satisfaction of appearing to agree with him, and of yielding to his
favourite whim, that all upon earth was but a play of expediency.
The evening previous to the day on which the sentence was passed I was
with him; we were cheerfully sitting at our wine, until midnight, and
swore everlasting friendship to each other till death.
“Tell me, Colas, do you know Clementine de Sonnes?”
I blushed. Wine and confidence in his friendship elicited the holy
secret. Bertollon laughed immoderately, exclaiming repeatedly,
“Simpleton that you are! you are everywhere tricked by your heavenly
virtue. Pray be rational for once, why have you not told me this long
since? She would now be your betrothed; well, she shall be yours, here
is my hand upon it. With prudence we may subdue the world, why not a
girl or a proud family? I have already observed that Clementine is not
likely to refuse you.”
In raptures I clasped my friend in my arms. “Oh! if you could do that,
Bertollon, you would make me happy--make me a god.”
“So much the better, for I shall still want your divine assistance for
some pet plan. A girl so like your Clementine that they might be taken
for sisters. Such a girl lives at Adze. You simpletons have hitherto
thought that I go there as frequently as I do for the sake of pure air
or business. No; I love the girl inexpressibly; no woman ever fettered
me like her. As soon as I am rid of my wife I shall court the Venus of
Adze. But then, M. Colas, I shall trouble you not to have such
conversations with my future wife as you used to enjoy with my first
one.”
“What, Bertollon!” I exclaimed, confounded; “you will marry again?”
“Certainly. Look you. I at first thought you were going to play a
romance in due form with my wife; I thought you really loved her, in
which case I would have resigned her to you, and then we could have
come to some arrangement in the affair. I should have liked it very
well, and we should not have had all this ado about the poison which
had nearly gone against me.”
“But how do you mean, Bertollon? I do not quite understand you.”
“I must tell you, you innocent. In my wife’s absence, I one evening
secretly searched her drawers--you may laugh; you see I did not quite
trust you at that time, with all your virtue; for I thought you had
exchanged love letters of grief and affection. While so doing, the
lame Jacques happened to come down the stairs and saw me leave my
wife’s room after I played her this trick. But the blockhead passed
quickly and saluted me.”
“What trick do you mean? You talk so confusedly. Drink! here is to
your health.”
“And to yours, Colas! You have acquitted yourself well. You are a
capital fellow. I lay you would not have made an address half so good
before the court against my wife, had you known that I myself mixed the
poison with the essence, though it was only a small quantity.”
“No! certainly not, dear Bertollon.”
“Therefore it was wise on my part not to tell you before; now it can do
no harm.”
“Why you were not fool enough to wish to poison yourself?”
“As to that I knew very well that I was in no great danger. I was only
astonished to find poison in my wife’s possession. She had labelled
it. But what do you think she intended to do with it?”
“Why, that is an enigma.”
“But it was a deep trick, Colas, was it not? The following morning I
pretended giddiness, sent for my wife, who brought me the essence
herself as usual. The physician was also sent for, and an antidote was
applied, but I had only mixed in a small quantity of the poison.”
“But Bertollon, what are you talking about? Your wife after all then
is quite innocent?”