Fearful of irritating her pride by a continued avowal of sentiments so dissimilar to her own, Julie did not meditate a reply; but remained with her eyes fastened upon the ground, whilst her cheek was one moment suffused with vermilion, and the next faded into the paleness of the lily, as actuated by the revolving passions of her mind.
Madame Laronne, flattering herself that her niece was reconsidering the subject, and that the arguments she had employed in defence of her favourite hypothesis, were recalling her to rationality, pursued the discourse; and to add more weight to what she had before advanced, stated the possibility of the Signor's reformation being effected, should he fail in making her a convert to his own creed, providing his attachment survived the matrimonial engagement; intimating that whatever persuasion they embraced, it was unimportant, so long as it was mutual.
Julie, finding her aunt was falling into a new error, which, if not timely prevented, might be productive of fresh evils, declared, that her resolution, however singular, was unalterable, and that she desired nothing more ardently than to have an opportunity of verbally convincing the Signor of her determination.
Astonished at the firmness of character this avowal exhibited, and mortified that her niece remained unsubdued by her arguments, and unmoved by her eloquence, Madame Laronne descended from persuasion to invective, threatening her with the most arbitrary proceedings if gentle ones continued inefficacious: then informing her, that if she consented to what would contribute to her own happiness, she was fortunate in having a relation who would guide her to the attainment of it; but if she refused, that relation would compel her to accept the only conditions which would eventually secure it. She darted an indignant look at the affrighted Julie, and withdrew.
CHAPTER VII
Such fate to suffering worth is given.
Who long with wants and woes has striven.
By human pride or cunning driven.
To misery's brink.
-BURNS
The severity which Julie experienced from Madame Laronne, and the unceasing visits of Vescolini, who seemed determined to persevere in his addresses, had a visible effect upon her health; yet believing that he was not thoroughly acquainted with her resolution, she anxiously awaited an opportunity of convincing him that she meant positively to reject the alliance, hoping that, when he was able to ascertain the primary cause of this conduct, he would be less disposed to continue his persecutions. But she knew not sufficiently the character of her lover when she cherished this delusive idea. Young, sanguine, and enterprising, every new obstacle increased his ardour, and, regardless of the consequences of such a proceeding, he was secretly persuaded that nothing but death should prevent the accomplishment of his design.
Finding that all hopes, founded on his generosity of sentiment, were likely to prove abortive, since no honourable motive could instigate him to abandon the pursuit, she began to lose all esteem for his character, and to reflect upon this authoritative mode of procedure with mingled disgust and aversion.
The Marchese, whose attentions to Madame Laronne were less marked than on the commencement of their acquaintance, was still a constant visitor at the chateau; and Julie observed that he was now become unusually thoughtful without in the least suspecting the cause, though in conversation he was visibly abstracted from the subject in which he had engaged, and he frequently gazed upon her with a degree of silent and tender earnestness that heightened her distress. This change, though it might have been easily penetrated by an uninterested spectator, was unmarked by Madame Laronne, who was too much blinded by an excess of unprecedented vanity to imagine that the Marchese could behold any other than herself with an eye of approbation.
As Julie's indisposition now daily increased, she spent many hours in her apartment, which was one of the most substantial comforts allowed her under her augmenting afflictions. She was sometimes fortunately excused from attending upon her aunt's parties, which were frequent and uninteresting, and declined, as much as possible, all visits of ceremony.
One evening, Madame Laronne being engaged at a route, to which the Marchese was also invited, Julie was left alone in her absence to meditate upon her own misfortunes, as well as to endeavour to arm her mind as much as she was able against the accumulating adversities of her fate.
As soon as her haughty protectress had left the chateau, she took a long and solitary walk along the margin of the lake. It was a still and beautiful evening; every object seemed to repose in uninterrupted silence and tranquillity. The sun, retiring from the horizon, was setting beyond the distant hills. Not a bird broke the stillness of the night; not a breeze disturbed the universal calm of nature; not a sound was borne upon the air, save a bell from an adjacent convent, which was solemnly tolling for vespers, "that the day, which had been ushered in with blessings, might be closed with the effusions of gratitude".
As she gazed upon that venerable pile, which was tinged with the last ray of the retiring orb, she lamented she had not been consigned to a similar abode, and reverted with tender regret to that in which she had found so hospitable an asylum. Having yielded to a flood of tears, she endeavoured to recall her mind from these painful contemplations; but the attempt was inefficacious; the cruelty of her aunt, the perseverance of Vescolini, and her own defenceless situation, were invincible bars to returning peace.
The moon, now sailing majestically through the concave, was shedding her mildest light upon the surface of the water, which warned her of the approach of night, and precipitated her steps towards the mansion; but not without an intention of extending her walk along the gardens in this serene hour of moon-light.
Having reached the chateau, she took her lute, which had lain neglected in one corner of her apartment, and repairing to a grotto that terminated one of the principal avenues, played her service to the virgin.
As the last notes, which were warbled with a peculiar taste and sweetness, died into cadence, she fancied she distinguished the sound of advancing footsteps, and willing to discover the intruder, hastily arose from the place; but not being able to discern any one, and finding all was again silent, she believed it to be only an illusion, and again resumed her seat. The moon, now shining with redoubled lustre, deepened the contrasting gloom of the walks, which were so effectually shaded from its benign influence by the protuberant branches of the chestnut, that her beams could only play on the tops of the boughs. Again she thought she heard the approach of footsteps, and a faint rustling among the leaves, and starting from her seat, hurried to the door of the grotto, where she beheld, in the same instant, the shadow of plumes waving upon the grass. Believing it could be no other than Vescolini, an emotion of terror took possession of her frame, and, without waiting to be assured whether she was right or not in the conjecture, she quitted the recess.
It was the Marchese de Montferrat, who, having learned from Madame Laronne that Julie was prevented by indisposition from joining the party, to which he had repaired in the hope of meeting with her, had suddenly retreated from this scene of splendour and gaiety soon after its commencement, and had wandered about in pursuit of her. Finding she was not at the chateau, he had rambled for a considerable time along the grounds; and being still unsuccessful in his undertaking, was alarmed lest any thing had happened, till he was at once relieved from the anguish of fear and suspense by the wild harmony of her song, to which he had listened attentively with the most pleasurable emotions till the sound died away upon the air, and was succeeded by a mournful silence.
Julie, being assured that the Marchese was of Madame Laronne's party, was not less surprised than agitated at this intrusion; and supposing that some material occurrence had occasioned it, eagerly demanded if any thing had happened to her aunt.
Having dissipated her apprehensions, and made an inquiry concerning her health, he began, in a stile at once the most seductive and impressive, to assure her, that he had long sedulously sought for an opportunity of soliciting her attention on a subject the most serious and important.
After this preparatory address, he proceeded to inform her that Vescolini, contrary to the nice dictates of honour, intended to have recourse to the most infamous mode of conduct, if she refused to yield to his entreaties; and that Madame Laronne was so earnestly engaged in his interest, that every thing was to be dreaded without timely interference. This, he added, had influenced him to quit rather precipitately the society into which he had entered, as the probability of her being sacrificed to a man who had proved himself not only destitute of religion, but of honour, was insupportable and dreadful.
He then endeavoured, with all the eloquence he could command, to prevail upon her to accept his protection, since the means of preventing the machinations of her enemies could only be accomplished by instant flight; which arguments he attempted to enforce by an avowal of his regard, and a declaration that his life would be joyfully hazarded in her defence.
Julie, who had listened to this discourse with mingled confusion and astonishment, replied with more warmth than was natural to her disposition, but with the firmness inseparable from rectitude, and the delicacy peculiar to her sex; which tended to convince the Marchese that nothing could induce her to rush voluntarily into an act of imprudence, which might hereafter be attended with the severest remorse; and, though she acknowledged the high sense she entertained of the honour he was anxious to confer, desired, if he valued her esteem, he would desist from farther solicitation. She was then hastening towards the chateau, when the Marchese, throwing himself at her feet, again besought her attention.
"Say but that you pity me," continued he, respectfully taking her hand, which she instantly withdrew, "that you forgive this premature declaration, and promise that no arguments shall persuade you to bestow yourself upon a man who has proved himself unworthy of your favour."
Julie, having given him an answer sufficiently satisfactory concerning Vescolini, whom she now began to reflect upon with increasing indignation, quickened her steps towards the mansion, and had just reached the edge of the lawn, pursued by the Marchese, when Madame Laronne's carriage appeared at the gate.
Alarmed at her unexpected arrival, she ran to the side of the carriage, and inquired if she was indisposed, or what had occasioned her return, with that affectionate tenderness of deportment natural to her character, whilst the Marchese endeavoured to escape unobserved through the vista, which opened on the lawn, till perceiving he was already discovered by the person whose notice he was visibly anxious to elude, he was compelled to emerge from his obscurity.
Madame Laronne, having observed an alteration in the looks of her imaginary lover, when she had mentioned the indisposition of Mademoiselle de Rubine, and having also remarked that soon afterwards he had suddenly disappeared, began to feel herself neglected by the only individual in the company whose attention she was anxious to secure, and by comparing the present with the past, and reverting to some little occurrences which her vanity had prevented her from considering before, suspected her niece as the cause. She had a presentiment that he was with her during her continuance at the route, and being determined to ascertain the truth of the surmise, had pleaded a sudden indisposition as an excuse to return to her chateau.
Confused and chagrined at this discovery, the Marchese, though not often off his guard, was unable to acquit himself with his accustomed address; and after inquiring into the state of her health as he led her from the carriage, which was answered with an air of unusual formality, an awkward silence ensued. Conscious of the integrity and purity of her conduct, Julie met the angry glances of her aunt with patient firmness, who exerted herself to conceal her mortification whilst in the presence of the Marchese.
As soon as he had retired, Julie perceiving from the countenance of Madame Laronne, that she had but little to expect from the candour and clemency of her offended relative, sat for some moments in silent dread. "Your taste for solitude is at last well accounted for," cried the irritated lady, darting a look of severity at her innocent niece; "I little thought when I consented to take you under my protection, that my kindness would have been repaid with such flagrant ingratitude; but since the liberty I have allowed you in the disposal of your time has induced you to form assignations which may lead to the most dangerous consequences, I am resolved to prevent the bad effects of a conduct which prudence would blush to reflect upon, to hasten your marriage with the Signor; granting you a month only to conquer your ridiculous scruples, during which interval I shall insist upon you confining yourself to your chamber, excepting the evenings when you will be permitted to have a private conference with your lover."
Finding that no powers of persuasion were likely to soften the invincible cruelty of Madame Laronne, Julie retired from her presence, and, after some time spent in devotion with more than usual earnestness, she endeavoured to find comfort in repose. But the subject of her dreams had a reference to the past; her sleep was transient and disturbed, for fearful and uneasy visions fleeted before her fancy.
In the morning she arose long before her accustomed hour, and cast her eyes over her ancient and gloomy apartment, which was now become her prison, with a painful sensation, though even this was felicity when compared with the prospects of the future.
Several days were passed by Mademoiselle de Rubine in this dreary confinement, in which time she received no message or visit from Madame Laronne, who avoided giving her any opportunity of repeating her entreaties. Dorothée, one of the inferior domestics, who had received orders to convey her food into the chamber, glanced upon her a look of tender concern as she was performing her office, which Julie, long unused to the language of sympathy, did not fail to return.
"This is a poor forlorn looking place, Mademoiselle," cried the simple-hearted girl, looking fearfully around as she spread the cloth upon the table for supper; "I little thought Madame would have fixed upon this for your apartment, that looks for all the world as if it was haunted by spirits, when there are so many handsome ones in the chateau!"
Julie, being awakened from her reverie by these words, which were uttered in an accent of condolence, was going to reply, when a message from her aunt summoned her into the saloon.
Weak and trembling she descended the stairs, and a glow of resentment crimsoned her cheek, when on entering the room she beheld, instead of Madame Laronne, the Signor Vescolini. Amazed and disconcerted, she was hastily retreating, when he caught her hand to prevent her retiring, and closing the door, led her to a chair. As soon as she was seated, he repeated his former professions, lamenting at the same time that measures, seemingly so arbitrary, could not be dispensed with; assuring her, that when he had attained the completion of his happiness, he would endeavour to insure her's by the most unremitting attention to her desires; and, though he could not so far divest himself of every thing repugnant to her inclinations as to embrace the tenets of the Romish Church, he would allow her the free exercise of her religion, and would engage a confessor to attend her.
Julie, who rejected his proposals with dignity and energy, informed him, that if he desired to make any alteration in her sentiments respecting himself, that this could only be accomplished by his desisting from further persecution, which, as her resolution was irrevocably fixed, would be at once conducive to his honour and her peace.
Pacing the room for some minutes with a perturbed air, and then gazing wildly upon her face, he declared that nothing on earth should alter his determination; and, though he had much rather use persuasion than force, if one would not prove effectual, the other must.
"In a fortnight from this time," resumed he, emphatically, "you become my wife; and as business of a peculiar nature will detain me from this place during the interval, I must request you will employ it in attempting to reconcile yourself to a destiny that is unavoidable. Madame Laronne will see you no more till the ceremony is performed."
The truth of the Marchese's assertion being now proved, Julie was unable for the moment to utter a reply. She endeavoured to arise, but could not; her limbs trem
bled her voice failed an ashy paleness overspread her face and she sunk into a state of insensibility!
Vescolini, having caught her in his arms, rang the bell for some water, which soon acted as a restorative; and wiping a tear from his eye, uttered some incoherent expressions as he pressed her hand to his breast, and suffered her to be conveyed from the room.
The next morning, her agitation being in some measure subsided, she began to reflect seriously upon her situation, and to consider if by any means she could prevent the success of the Signor's designs. Her first resolve was, to send a note to Madame Laronne, to desire she would indulge her with an interview, which intention was speedily executed. To this an answer was returned, which was perfectly consistent with her former conduct; it contained an assurance of the request being granted, on her promise of acceding to the proposals of Signor Vescolini, but on no other conditions, and a conviction that, if she still continued to decline the alliance, she had nothing to expect from her compassion.
Several days had elapsed after this event, in which time Julie was not permitted to see any of the family except Dorothée. During this period of suspense, the extreme agitation of her mind so seriously affected her health, that the rose had forsaken her cheek, though without considerably impairing her beauty, having left in its stead a bewitching softness of complexion, a kind of interesting dejection, which was infinitely more charming and attractive than the most striking animation of colour.
One week of that fortnight which was to seal her inevitable doom, was now past, and still no probable means of preventing the success of these authoritative measures appeared. To escape unassisted from the chateau was impracticable, and to stay (in the present situation of affairs) would be attended with unavoidable misery; yet, possessing much sanguineness of disposition, she did not yield, without reflection, to the despondency of the moment. Some unexpected assistance she still hoped might be administered, though no object was presented to her imagination to justify and confirm the supposition.
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