Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 15

by Plots (and) Counterplots (v1. 1)

  His keen eye was upon me as he spoke, and seeing the conflict which raged within me, mistook it for dismay and fear. A sardonic laugh broke from his lips, and before Mathilde could reply, he said, 'I little thought, when listening to the cheerful story Mme. Steinburg told with such grace, how speedy and agreeable a use I should have power to make of it. Believe me, madame, I sympathize with your misfortunes, and admire the art which renders you all ice to one lover, and all fire to another.” Mathilde dropped my hand, and stood with folded arms, lofty pride in her mien, calm pity in her eye, and cool contempt upon her lips, as she replied in clear, cold tones:

  “I am not what you think me, sir, and your generous sympathy comes too late. I was a widow; for the husband whose misfortune should have made his name sacred even to you died three years ago—I am a wife, happy in the love doubt could not estrange or time destroy. Your dark designs have failed, and for every year of needless separation we forgive you, since it renders our affection doubly strong, our union doubly blessed. Your absence at Mme. Steinburg’s side removed the only barrier that could have kept us still asunder. Let me thank both of those false friends for the one kind deed that crowned our happiness. Gustave has left your punishment to me. See! It is this.”

  With a gesture of impassioned grace she threw herself upon my breast, and looking out from that fond shelter with a countenance all radiant with love, and pride, and joy, she cried, “Go! We pity you, and from the fullness of our bliss we pardon all.”

  She had avenged us well, for in the glance my proud eyes met, I read passion, humiliation, and despair, as Louis gazed upon us for a moment, and then vanished, the last cloud that dimmed our sky.

  Paris lay behind us, and we stood on the green terrace looking over the fair domain now so full of peace and promise to our eyes.

  Remembering the look of hopeless anguish that had stirred the face I loved in that same spot so long ago, I looked down to read its lineaments afresh.

  It was there, close beside me, bright with happiness, and beautiful with the returning bloom that banished its former pensive charm. Trust spoke in the clinging touch upon my arm, joy beamed in the blithe smile of her lips, and love sat like a glory in her tender eyes.

  She met my glance, and with a sudden impulse folded her hands, saying softly, “The shadow has departed, Gustave, never to return, and I am free at last. May I be truly grateful for my happy lot.”

  “No, dearest Mathilde, you are a captive still, not to duty, but to love, whose thralldom shall be to you as light as the fetter I now bind you with.” And as I spoke I clasped a slender chain of gold upon the fair arm where for nine bitter years lay the weight of that steel bracelet.

  A Whisper in the Dark

  AS we rolled along, I scanned my companion covertly, and saw much / to interest a girl of seventeen. My uncle was a handsome man, with all the polish of foreign life fresh upon him; yet it was neither comeliness nor graceful ease which most attracted me; for even my inexperienced eye caught glimpses of something stern and somber below these external charms, and my long scrutiny showed me the keenest eye, the hardest mouth, the subtlest smile I ever saw—a face which in repose wore the look that comes to those who have led lives of pleasure and learned their emptiness. He seemed intent on some thought that absorbed him, and for a time rendered him forgetful of my presence, as he sat with folded arms, fixed eyes, and restless lips. While I looked, my own mind was full of deeper thought than it had ever been before; for I was recalling, word for word, a paragraph in that half-read letter:

  At eighteen Sybil is to marry her cousin, the compact having been made between my brother and myself in their childhood. My son is with me now, and I wish them to be together during the next few months, therefore my niece must leave you sooner than l at first intended. Oblige me by preparing her for an immediate and final separation, but leave all disclosures to me, as 1 prefer the girl to remain ignorant of the matter for the present.

  That displeased me. Why was I to remain ignorant of so important an affair? Then I smiled to myself, remembering that I did know, thanks to the willful curiosity that prompted me to steal a peep into the letter that Mme. Bernard had pored over with such an anxious face. I saw only a single paragraph, for my own name arrested my eye; and, though wild to read all, I had scarcely time to whisk the paper back into the reticule the forgetful old soul had left hanging on the arm of her chair. It was enough, however, to set my girlish brain in a ferment, and keep me gazing wistfully at my uncle, conscious that my future now lay in his hands; for I was an orphan and he my guardian, though I had seen him but seldom since I was confided to Madame a six years’ child.

  Presently my uncle became cognizant of my steady stare, and returned it with one as steady for a moment, then said, in a low, smooth tone, that ill accorded with the satirical smile that touched his lips, “I am a dull companion for my little niece. How shall I provide her with pleasanter amusement than counting my wrinkles or guessing my thoughts?”

  I was a frank, fearless creature, quick to feel, speak, and act, so I answered readily, “Tell me about my cousin Guy. Is he as handsome, brave, and clever as Madame says his father was when a boy?”

  My uncle laughed a short laugh, touched with scorn, whether for Madame, himself, or me I could not tell, for his countenance was hard to read.

  “A girl’s question and artfully put; nevertheless I shall not answer it, but let you judge for yourself.”

  “But, sir, it will amuse me and beguile the way. I feel a little strange and forlorn at leaving Madame, and talking of my new home and friends will help me to know and love them sooner. Please tell me, for I’ve had my own way all my life, and can’t bear to be crossed.”

  My petulance seemed to amuse him, and I became aware that he was observing me with a scrutiny as keen as my own had been; but I smilingly sustained it, for my vanity was pleased by the approbation his eye betrayed. The evident interest he now took in all I said and did was sufficient flattery for a young thing, who felt her charms and longed to try their power.

  “I, too, have had my own way all my life; and as the life is double the length, the will is double the strength of yours, and again I say no. What next, mademoiselle?”

  He was blander than ever as he spoke, but I was piqued, and resolved to try coaxing, eager to gain my point, lest a too early submission now should mar my freedom in the future.

  “But that is ungallant, Uncle, and I still have hopes of a kinder answer, both because you are too generous to refuse so small a favor to your ‘little niece,’ and because she can be charmingly wheedlesome when she likes. Won’t you say yes now, Uncle?” And pleased with the daring of the thing, I put my arm about his neck, kissed him daintily, and perched myself upon his knee with most audacious ease.

  He regarded me mutely for an instant, then, holding me fast, deliberately returned my salute on lips, cheeks, and forehead, with such warmth that I turned scarlet and struggled to free myself, while he laughed that mirthless laugh of his till my shame turned to anger, and I imperiously commanded him to let me go.

  “Not yet, young lady. You came here for your own pleasure, but shall stay for mine, till I tame you as I see you must be tamed. It is a short process with me, and I possess experience in the work; for Guy, though by nature as wild as a hawk, has learned to come at my call as meekly as a dove. Chut! What a little fury it is!”

  I was just then; for exasperated at his coolness, and quite beside myself, I had suddenly stooped and bitten the shapely white hand that held both my own. I had better have submitted; for slight as the foolish action was, it had an influence on my afterlife as many another such has had. My uncle stopped laughing, his hand tightened its grasp, for a moment his cold eye glittered and a grim look settled round the mouth, giving to his whole face a ruthless expression that entirely altered it. I felt perfectly powerless. All my little arts had failed, and for the first time I was mastered. Yet only physically; my spirit was rebellious still. He saw it in the glance that met his
own, as I sat erect and pale, with something more than childish anger. I think it pleased him, for swiftly as it had come the dark look passed, and quietly, as if we were the best of friends, he began to relate certain exciting adventures he had known abroad, lending to the picturesque narration the charm of that peculiarly melodious voice, which soothed and won me in spite of myself, holding me intent till I forgot the past; and when he paused I found that I was leaning confidentially on his shoulder, asking for more, yet conscious of an instinctive distrust of this man whom I had so soon learned to fear yet fancy.

  As I was recalled to myself, I endeavored to leave him; but he still detained me, and, with a curious expression, produced a case so quaintly fashioned that I cried out in admiration, while he selected two cigarettes, mildly aromatic with the herbs they were composed of, lit them, offered me one, dropped the window, and leaning back surveyed me with an air of extreme enjoyment, as I sat meekly puffing and wondering what prank I should play a part in next. Slowly the narcotic influence of the herbs diffused itself like a pleasant haze over all my senses; sleep, the most grateful, fell upon my eyelids, and the last thing I remember was my uncles face dreamily regarding me through a cloud of fragrant smoke. Twilight wrapped us in its shadows when I woke, with the night wind blowing on my forehead, the muffled roll of wheels sounding in my ear, and my cheek pillowed upon my uncle’s arm. He was humming a French chanson about “love and wine, and the Seine tomorrow!” I listened till I caught the air, and presently joined him, mingling my girlish treble with his flutelike tenor. He stopped at once and, in the coolly courteous tone I had always heard in our few interviews, asked if I was ready for lights and home.

  “Are we there?” I cried; and looking out saw that we were ascending an avenue which swept up to a pile of buildings that rose tall and dark against the sky, with here and there a gleam along its gray front.

  “Home at last, thank heaven!” And springing out with the agility of a young man, my uncle led me over a terrace into a long hall, light and warm, and odorous with the breath of flowers blossoming here and there in graceful groups. A civil, middle-aged maid received and took me to my room, a bijou of a place, which increased my wonder when told that my uncle had chosen all its decorations and superintended their arrangement. “He understands women,” I thought, handling the toilet ornaments, trying luxurious chair and lounge, and ending by slipping my feet into the scarlet-and-white Turkish slippers, coquettishly turning up their toes before the fire. A few moments I gave to examination, and, having expressed my satisfaction, was asked by my maid if I would be pleased to dress, as “the master” never allowed dinner to wait for anyone. This recalled to me the fact that I was doubtless to meet my future husband at that meal, and in a moment every faculty was intent upon achieving a grand toilette for this first interview. The maid possessed skill and taste, and I a wardrobe lately embellished with Parisian gifts from my uncle which I was eager to display in his honor.

  When ready, I surveyed myself in the long mirror as I had never done before, and saw there a little figure, slender, yet stately, in a dress of foreign fashion, ornamented with lace and carnation ribbons which enhanced the fairness of neck and arms, while blond hair, wavy and golden, was gathered into an antique knot of curls behind, with a carnation fillet, and below a blooming dark-eyed face, just then radiant with girlish vanity and eagerness and hope.

  “I’m glad I’m pretty!”

  “So am I, Sybil.”

  I had unconsciously spoken aloud, and the echo came from the doorway where stood my uncle, carefully dressed, looking comelier and cooler than ever. The disagreeable smile flitted over his lips as he spoke, and I started, then stood abashed, till beckoning, he added in his most

  courtly manner, “You were so absorbed in the contemplation of your charming self that Janet answered my tap and took herself away unheard. You are mistress of my table now. It waits; will you come down?” With a last touch to that unruly hair of mine, a last, comprehensive glance and shake, I took the offered arm and rustled down the wide staircase, feeling that the romance of my life was about to begin. Three covers were laid, three chairs set, but only two were occupied, for no Guy appeared. I asked no questions, showed no surprise, but tried to devour my chagrin with my dinner, and exerted myself to charm my uncle into the belief that I had forgotten my cousin. It was a failure, however, for that empty seat had an irresistible fascination for me, and more than once, as my eye returned from its furtive scrutiny of napkin, plate, and trio of colored glasses, it met my uncle’s and fell before his penetrative glance. When I gladly rose to leave him to his wine—for he did not ask me to remain—he also rose, and, as he held the door for me, he said, “You asked me to describe your cousin. You have seen one trait of his character tonight; does it please you?”

  I knew he was as much vexed as I at Guy’s absence, so quoting his own words, I answered saucily, “Yes, for I’d rather see the hawk free than coming tamely at your call, Uncle.”

  He frowned slightly, as if unused to such liberty of speech, yet bowed when I swept him a stately little curtsy and sailed away to the drawing room, wondering if my uncle was as angry with me as I was with my cousin. In solitary grandeur I amused myself by strolling through the suite of handsome rooms henceforth to be my realm, looked at myself in the long mirrors, as every woman is apt to do when alone and in costume, danced over the mossy carpets, touched the grand piano, smelled the flowers, fingered the ornaments on etagere and table, and was just giving my handkerchief a second drench of some refreshing perfume from a filigree flask that had captivated me when the hall door was flung wide, a quick step went running upstairs, boots tramped overhead, drawers seemed hastily opened and shut, and a bold, blithe voice broke out into a hunting song in a tone so like my uncle’s that I involuntarily flew to the door, crying, “Guy is come!”

  Fortunately for my dignity, no one heard me, and hurrying back I stood ready to skim into a chair and assume propriety at a minute’s notice, conscious, meanwhile, of the new influence which seemed suddenly to gift the silent house with vitality, and add the one charm it needed—that of cheerful companionship. “How will he meet me? And how shall I meet him?” I thought, looking up at the bright-faced boy, whose portrait looked back at me with a mirthful light in the painted eyes and a trace of his fathers disdainful smile in the curves of the firm-set lips. Presently the quick steps came flying down again, past the door, straight to the dining room opposite, and, as I stood listening with a strange flutter at my heart, I heard an imperious young voice say rapidly, “Beg pardon, sir, unavoidably detained. Has she comer5 Is she bearable?”

  “I find her so. Dinner is over, and I can offer you nothing but a glass of wine.”

  My uncles voice was frostily polite, making a curious contrast to the other, so impetuous and frank, as if used to command or win all but one.

  “Never mind the dinner! Im glad to be rid of it; so Fll drink your health, Father, and then inspect our new ornament.”

  “Impertinent boy!” I muttered, yet at the same moment resolved to deserve his appellation, and immediately grouped myself as effectively as possible, laughing at my folly as I did so. I possessed a pretty foot, therefore one little slipper appeared quite naturally below the last flounce of my dress; a bracelet glittered on my arm as it emerged from among the lace and carnation knots; that arm supported my head. My profile was well cut, my eyelashes long, therefore I read with face half averted from the door. The light showered down, turning my hair to gold; so I smoothed my curls, retied my snood, and, after a satisfied survey, composed myself with an absorbed aspect and a quickened pulse to await the arrival of the gentlemen.

  Soon they came. I knew they paused on the threshold, but never stirred till an irrepressible “You are right, sir!” escaped the younger.

  Then I rose prepared to give him the coldest greeting, yet I did not. I had almost expected to meet the boyish face and figure of the picture; I saw instead a man comely and tall. A dark moustache half hid the
proud mouth; the vivacious eyes were far kinder, though quite as keen as his fathers; and the freshness of unspoiled youth lent a charm which the older man had lost forever. Guy’s glance of pleased surprise was flatteringly frank, his smile so cordial, his “Welcome, cousin!” such a hearty sound that my coldness melted in a breath, my dignity was all forgotten, and before I could restrain myself I had offered both hands with the impulsive exclamation “Cousin Guy, I know I shall be very happy here! Are you glad I have come?”

  “Glad as I am to see the sun after a November fog.”

  And bending his tall head, he kissed my hand in the graceful foreign fashion he had learned abroad. It pleased me mightily, for it was both affectionate and respectful. Involuntarily I contrasted it with my uncles manner, and flashed a significant glance at him as I did so. He understood it, but only nodded with the satirical look I hated, shook out his paper, and began to read. I sat down again, careless of myself now; and Guy stood on the rug, surveying me with an expression of surprise that rather nettled my pride.

  “He is only a boy, after all; so I need not be daunted by his inches or his airs. I wonder if he knows I am to be his wife, and likes it.”

  The thought sent the color to my forehead, my eyes fell, and despite my valiant resolution I sat like any bashful child before my handsome cousin. Guy laughed a boyish laugh as he sat down on his fathers footstool, saying, while he warmed his slender brown hands, “I beg your pardon, Sybil. (We won’t be formal, will we?) But I haven’t seen a lady for a month, so I stare like a boor at sight of a silk gown and highbred face. Are those people coming, sir?”