CHAPTER XXXVII.
The greatest blessing that could befal me, under such circumstances asI have described, was sleep procured by great corporeal exhaustion. Ihad not closed an eye the night before, I had slept but little onthose that preceded it, and now a ride of forty miles, without havingtaken any sort of refreshment, had greatly wearied me. When I laydown to seek repose, then, I found it; and, though it was far fromthat sweet, calm slumber which I had known in former years, yet stillit was a relief. The first part of the night I was tormented withdreams, and more than once I started up and found myself, ere I waswell awake, laying my hand upon my sword, which I had cast down bymy bedside on going to rest. Less disturbed repose, however, camewith the morning; and, when I awoke, I found that the sun had risenmore than an hour. I was glad that it was so, for my days werewithout object, and my waking hours were sure to be hours of pain.
Nevertheless, it must not be supposed that I abandoned myself weaklyto thoughts which were only calculated to unnerve my mind, or that Idetermined purposely to cultivate the feelings which made life sobitter; far from it; I knew, indeed, that those thoughts and thosefeelings would engross my heart and mind, by whatever means or devicesI might attempt to banish them; but, at the same time, I resolved todo all that lay within my power, to turn my attention to other things,and to occupy myself with studies and pursuits that might give merelief. I laid out many a plan for the day, so as, if possible, toleave not a moment vacant for regret and sorrow to intrude themselvesupon me. In the first place, I thought I would read for a couple ofhours; and then I would trace down the bank of the stream, to the spotwhere the unhappy Duchess de Villardin had perished; I would then rideout to Juvigny, and, seeing Jacques Marlot, would examine all that waspassing on the estate, and by planning with him every improvement Icould think of, would endeavour to furnish occupation for manysucceeding days.
In my very first attempt, however, I found how foolish it was to makesuch calculations. There stood the little library which had been givento me by Father Ferdinand, and certainly it contained many a bookwhich might have afforded matter for instruction, consolation, andamusement; but I took down one after another and attempted to read invain. My eyes wandered over the lines, my hands turned the pages, Icaught now and then the sense of a sentence or a paragraph; but, uponthe whole, I was reading without understanding, and nine times out often I could not have told whether the words were French, or Latin, orArabic. Fancying that it was something dry and dull in the nature ofthe good priest's selection which prevented me from attending, I wentdown to the great library, caused the windows to be thrown open, andchose whatever I thought was most likely to attract and please me: butit was still the same. Replacing the books, I determined not toattempt to read till my mind was more calm; and, in the meantime, bycombining corporeal with mental occupation, to force my thoughts fromthe channel in which they were so strongly disposed to flow.
I now remembered that I had not seen my little page during themorning, and, on inquiry, found that he had gone out by daybreak, andhad not yet returned.
He was probably gone to Juvigny, old Marguerite, who had been helpingme in the library, observed; for when last he had been there withFather Ferdinand, she said, the boy had never been absent from thatplace. Indeed, he seemed as fond of that fellow Jacques Marlot, as ifhe were his own father--he might be so too, she added, for aught thatever she could discover. But the boy was a pretty boy, too, and notlike that ugly cock-nosed scapegrace.
In despite of all my gloom, the spite of the old woman towards my pooracquaintance, Jacques Marlot, made me smile for a moment; and takingmy hat, I ordered my horses to be ready in an hour, and walked out tothe banks of the stream, in order to see whether the second occupationwhich I had laid out for myself would be attended with more successthan the first. But my walk was in every respect a melancholy one, as,indeed, I might well have anticipated, had I allowed myself to judgeas rationally of my own feelings and their associations as I shouldhave done had the case been that of another. My first halt was at thespot where I had rescued poor Laura from the fatal stream thatafterwards swept away her unhappy mother; and as I stood and gazedupon the river, I could not but think how much misery would have beensaved us, had the dull and sullen water that rolled deep and darkbefore me taken us both for ever to its silent bosom. Memory, too,exerted all her power, and I could see before the mind's eye the deargirl I loved, in all the smiling happiness of infant joy, ran boundingon to meet me, as she had appeared the moment before she fell into thestream. I recalled, too, as vividly as if it had just passed, theheartfelt gladness with which I had grasped her fairy form in themidst of the waters, and the sort of triumphant joy with which I hadheld her up rescued towards those who watched us from the brink. Iremembered it all as if it had been a thing of yesterday; but Iremembered, at the same moment, my existing situation; and the bittercomment of the present on the past poured like a torrent upon myheart, and almost drowned out hope for ever.
I turned away, for in the state of my feelings I would rather haverested in spots, the associations of which were painful in themselves,than in those where happy memories formed a dreadful contrast withpresent misery. I turned away, then, and walked slowly on to thebroken bridge, which remained still unrepaired, and was exactly in thestate in which it had been left on the night of Madame de Villardin'sdeath, except that a quantity of green mould, and many colouredlichens, had grown over the broken woodwork, telling how many yearshad past since the fall of the rest had taken place. Grief, however,finds matter to increase its own stores in everything; and when Ithought of Madame de Villardin's unhappy fate, of her affection forher husband so terribly repaid, of his love for her proving a sourceof the bitterest anguish to himself, and of all the fearful sceneswhich I had witnessed and in which I had taken a part, I began tothink--without feeling my own unhappiness relieved in the least by thebelief--I began to think that the whole world, and every state andstation in it, were full of misery to the overflowing--that eachfeeling, virtuous or vicious, was alike prolific of sorrow--and thatthe only happy being on the earth was the stoic or the anchorite, thepure egotist or the mindless fool.
If I went out gloomy, I returned home more gloomy still, and, mountingmy horse, which was by this time prepared, I rode back to Juvigny, andentered the house which I had lent to Jacques Marlot. The good farmerwas out, but Madame Marlot, who now presented the very best possibleimage of a _bonne fermi?re_, adorned with fine white muslin, a profusionof lace, and manifold gold ornaments, received me at the gate, andgave me ocular proof of her husband's increasing prosperity. My visithad evidently been expected, and on inquiring for my little page, Iwas informed that he had been there since an early hour in themorning, but had gone out upon his rounds with Jacques Marlot, whowould return with him directly.
The ci-devant printer was not long in making his appearance, and Tsoon found from his manner that little Clement had informed him thatsome events had lately occurred to render my mind not attuned to thepleasantries with which he was wont to treat me. He was consequentlygrave and calm, and though an occasional little drop of acid humourwould mix with what he said, yet our conversation passed much as amatter of business; and highly approving of my intention of makingimprovements, he went over my two farms with me, pointing out all thathe thought might be done. We thus planned a new road, and a number ofplantations, and having provided employment for myself for severaldays in inspecting the progress of the workmen, I returned to Dumont,feeling that at all events I had found an occupation which woulddistract some of my thoughts from the more painful theme.
Day after day I returned to Juvigny, and carrying on severaloperations at one time, I had an opportunity of diversifying myamusement; thus waging a sort of incessant war against thought. Assoon as I found that painful ideas were obtruding upon me, I changedmy place at once, and went to the workmen engaged in some otherundertaking; and, thanks to their blessed stupidity, I alwaysdiscovered some matter to set right or some mist
ake to rectify. Thuspassed my days for more than a fortnight, and though the long dullevenings were still terrible, yet the occupation of my thoughts duringthe hours of light was in itself a great relief. My little page, wildas the winds, left me almost entirely to myself, and although it hadbeen a part of my plan to fill up my vacant time by pursuing the taskof his education, yet my mind was not equal to it; and I soon foundthat I could not bend my thoughts to the subject with sufficientapplication, to do him any good or myself either. Thus from nightfallto midnight my hours were generally spent in walking up and down thegreat library, sometimes forcing myself to read for a few minutes, butgenerally giving full course to the thoughts which I contrived toavoid, more or less, during the day.
At length, however, a messenger arrived from the Pr?s Vall?e, bringingme letters, which again rendered every effort to occupy my mindperfectly vain. The first was from Monsieur de Villardin, and was fullof the kindest and most affectionate language; but it went on toinform me that the Count de Laval had arrived at the ch?teau, and thathis marriage was fixed for that day week. Feeling it necessary toinform me of the fact, and yet knowing that every word upon thesubject was a dagger in my heart, Monsieur de Villardin wrote asbriefly upon it as possible, simply telling me the bare facts, andthen adding, "Laura is calm."
The next was a letter from Father Ferdinand, but it was more full,more interesting, and yet more painful. I give it, therefore, as itwas, so far at least as translation can render it.
"My dear Son,"Although Monsieur de Villardin has written to you himself, I feelit necessary to address you also as one who loves you sincerely,and whose wishes are all for your future welfare and happiness. Inthe first place, however, let me say, that although I doubt not youllmay think I outstepped my duty, and interfered, perhaps cruelly, ininforming the Duke of the mutual affection which existed between Lauraand yourself, yet I had an undoubted right to do so, founded oncircumstances which you do not know, but which shall one day beexplained to you. In other respects, some words that I once let drop,which might tend to encourage your passion, still rest upon myconscience; but my error in having spoken them is attributable in somedegree to Monsieur de Villardin himself, who did not inform me, as heought to have done at an earlier period, that he had promised the handof his daughter to another.
"_The future husband of Laura de Villardin_ is now here, and while Iacknowledge my regret that in every respect he does not resembleyourself, yet he seems a noble and dignified man, with whom, I trust,she will find peace, if not happiness. The day of marriage is fixedfor this day week, and beyond all doubt it will then take place. Laurais calm and composed, and her mind appears made up to her fate; but atthe same time it is useless to dissemble that she suffers much. Inspeaking thus, my son, I have the utmost reliance on those goodprinciples which I have marked with pleasure daily taking firmer rootin your bosom; and on those generous feelings which I have often seenmake you prefer the happiness of others to your own. I know that mancan hardly love woman better than you love her who is now about tobecome the wife of another; and I believe that your love for her willnot decay; but I believe at the same time that her tranquillity andpeace of mind will ever be your first desire; and on this ground Ientreat, I beseech, I command you never to see her after her marriage,till long years have calmed and softened feelings that are now toovehement for control. If, indeed, you do love her sincerely, such willbe your course; and the blessing of a quiet conscience, and theknowledge of having acted nobly under the most trying circumstances,will follow such conduct, and cannot fail to assuage your grief.
"Ere long I shall again see you, at least, if you remain at Dumont;for as soon as the marriage is over, Monsieur de Villardin and all hisfamily set out for Paris. On the same day I leave the Pr?s Vall?e forRennes, where I shall spend but three days in necessary business, andwill then join you. I hope to give you consolation, and at all eventsto be enabled to afford you some support under the bitterdisappointment which you suffer. From these circumstances, and knowinghow painful all the details must be to you, I shall not write againtill we meet; and in the meantime may God bless and comfort you, andgive you strength, and wisdom, and faith, to bear the dispensation ofhis will without murmurs or repining."
The effect of these letters upon my mind may be conceived. Nooccupation now took any hold upon my thoughts; and the whole of thenext week was spent in wandering about in a state of despairingwretchedness, that made me almost think the use of my reason wouldabandon me. I read over and over again the letters which conveyed tome the intelligence of the near approach of my beloved Laura'smarriage to another; and, instead of feeling soothed by the terms ofaffection and consolation which they contained, every word served butto irritate me, and to aggravate my grief. Cruel, cruel did it seem tome, to force the poor unhappy girl into an union from which her heartrevolted, without giving her time even to prepare her mind by thought;or, by contemplation, to habituate her ideas to a change of situationand of duties which implied the sacrifice of her heart's first andstrongest affection. Bitterly, in my own breast, did I upbraidMonsieur de Villardin for the haste with which he proceeded--bitterlyalso did I upbraid Father Ferdinand for not using all his influence toobtain, at least, a delay of some weeks or months.
From what had fallen from Monsieur de Villardin, when last I saw him,I had certainly anticipated that the marriage would take place muchsooner than he had at first determined; but never did I think thatonly three short weeks would be allowed for Laura to cast me from herheart, and to summon resolution to plight her faith to another: andthe agony of mind that I knew she would suffer, as may well besupposed, added not a little to my own. Often, often was I tempted toact now, as I most certainly should have acted in former years--tohasten to the Pr?s Vall?e, and, exerting all the influence that Ipossessed over her mind, to persuade her to escape from the trammelswhich they sought to impose upon her, and, uniting her fate to minefor ever, fly to some distant land, where we might spend the rest ofour days in peace. But still a sense of honour and gratitude made mepause and doubt, till the fatal day at length arrived, and I saw thesun rise and set that was to seal my fate and hers for ever. As itsunk below the verge of the horizon, and the grey, deep night came on,the struggle between duty and passion was over, and nothing remainedbut despair. My heart was like a field of battle, from which a fierceand fearful strife had passed away, and had left behind nothing butmourning and death.
Shutting myself up in my own chamber, I cast myself down on my bedwithout undressing, and many an hour passed over my head, uncountedand unmarked, in a sort of dreary stupor, which was in everything thereverse of sleep; far from being a suspension of thought, it was therushing of painful ideas through my brain, in such crowded multitudes,that all individual form and distinctness was lost. At length thefaint grey light told me that it was dawn, and, springing from my bed,with an impulse that I could not resist, I woke the groom, and toldhim to saddle me my stoutest horse, determined to seek the Pr?sVall?e. "They are all gone by this time," I thought; "the house islonely and desolate like my own heart, and I may at least be permittedto see the spot where last she trode."
In a few minutes the horse was at the door, and the servants, gazinganxiously upon me, asked whether they might not accompany me? Ireplied, somewhat harshly, "No." And springing into the saddle, shookmy bridle-rein, and galloped off towards Rennes. My gallant horse,which had borne me through many a battle-field, now carried mestoutly on, and, as if he felt the same eagerness which swelled in myown heart, slackened not his pace for many a mile. As I rode throughthe forest, I heard some distant voices, but my heart and my brainwere both too full for me to give any attention to external objects,and the sounds fell upon my ear heard, but not noticed. About sixmiles more brought me to the first woods of the Pr?s Vall?e, and in afew moments, I was standing amongst the tall trees, and beside thelonely grave of turf, where Laura and myself had been accustomed tomeet. I gazed sternly on the spot for a few moments, calling up allthe memories which thronged around it, and to
rturing my own heart withevery thought which could render my feelings more bitter. Tying myhorse to a branch of a tree, I walked slowly on towards the house,expecting to find it nearly deserted; but I was surprised, when Iapproached the terrace, to see a number of grooms and servants,apparently busy in their usual occupations. The sight startled me,and, drawing rapidly back, I escaped through the garden, in order toregain my horse without being seen; for, unless the whole householdhad departed, to enter the Pr?s Vall?e at such a moment of coursenever crossed my thoughts.
I now passed quickly through the garden, and was turning towards thedoor at the other side, when I suddenly heard a low voice callingafter me, "Hist--hist! Monsieur le Baron," and looking round, I beheldold Jerome, the major-domo, pursuing me as fast as his somewhat feeblelimbs would permit. I turned towards him, and bade him follow to someplace where we should not be observed; but he replied, "O, there is nofear here. They are all gone out, and will be too tired before theirreturn to come walking in the garden."
There were a thousand questions that I could have wished to ask, butthey died away upon my lips; and had not the old man been as eagerto tell as I was to hear, I should have gained no tidings.
"You have heard the news, sir," he said, "you have heard the news?"
"I have heard nothing, Jerome," I replied, "excepting that the familywas to quit the Pr?s Vall?e yesterday, which is the sole cause of mybeing here to-day."
"Well, then, you have not heard," continued the old man, with a smileof evident satisfaction brightening up his features, "you have notheard that the marriage is delayed, and Lise declares she is sure itwill not take place at all."
I thought I should have fallen down dead at his feet, so sudden wasthe change from despair to hope; and now, being more anxious than everto hear him to an end uninterrupted, I beckoned him out of thegardens, and leading the way towards the grave of the Count de Mesnil,in which direction I knew Monsieur de Villardin would not venture, Ibesought him to tell me all that had occurred. He began his story witha long tirade against my rival, whose person and deportment seemedequally to have fallen under the old man's disapprobation. I cut shorthis details, however, concerning the Count de Laval, telling him thatI knew him, and that he need not describe him; and he then went on torelate the events which had occurred within the last week.
"Just five days ago," he said, "when we all thought the marriage wasto take place as yesterday, Mademoiselle--as many of us had fanciedshe would--fell ill; and several physicians were sent for from Rennes.The two who came, I hear from Lise, declared that she was ill in bodybecause she was ill in mind; and that Monsieur de Villardin or FatherFerdinand must be her physicians, as they could do nothing for her.Both the Duke and the Priest went to her immediately, and Lise wassent away, so that she heard nothing more. At length, however, itseems that she obtained permission to see the Count himself, and totell him all she felt, for he was admitted to her chamber, and, whileLise stood at one end of the room, held a long conversation with ouryoung lady at the other. What it was all about Lise did not hear,though she very well guessed: but, as the Count was going away, hesaid aloud, 'As you desire it, madam, I will certainly speak with thegood Father, though I do not think he can tell me anything which I donot know before. But, at all events, rest satisfied that, after theconfidence you have placed in me, I will do nothing ungenerous.'"
"From all this Lise augured well; but, what between agitation, andterror, and fatigue, my young lady fainted seven or eight times withinthe hour, after the Count had left her; and at length Lise was obligedto call the Duke and other people to her assistance, as she could notbring Mademoiselle to herself again; and for some time every onethought she was dead. As soon as she had recovered, she was told that,at the desire of the Count himself, the marriage would be put off fora month; and from that moment she began to get better rapidly. Thesame evening, I saw the Count walking with Father Ferdinand for nearlythree hours; and I always thought that news had been sent to you, forI know that a messenger was despatched that night to Dumont, withoutthe knowledge of Monsieur de Villardin."
"He never came!" I exclaimed. "I never saw him! I never heard of hisarrival!"
"That is very strange," said the old man, "for he certainly went, andas certainly returned early yesterday morning. However, yesterday,Mademoiselle was quite well again; but all the preparations for themarriage have been done away. The Count seems very respectful and kindto my young lady. Lise, who knows better about it than any one,appears more happy, and every one thinks that the marriage will nottake place at all. To-day, all went out early, with the carriage anda few horsemen, but they have not returned yet, though Monseigneursaid that he would be back before noon, and it is now nearly threeo'clock."
The relief that all these tidings gave me was almost too great to bearwith any degree of firmness. I could have wept for very joy; and yetso strange, so unexpected, was the whole, that I scarcely dared suffermyself to entertain the hopes which good old Jerome was so anxious tosupply. "The marriage," I thought, "might indeed be delayed; Laura'sentreaties and illness might have obtained for her some compassion;but if the character which I had heard of the Count de Laval werecorrect, he was not a man to yield easily the hand of the richestheiress in France, or to suffer what he would consider her childishpassion for another ultimately to break through the positiveengagements which her father had entered into with himself." Suchthoughts, of course, tended to calm my joy, and to moderate myexpectations; but still the flame of hope was again lighted in mybosom, and infinite, indeed, was the change which had taken place inall my feelings since I had left Dumont at break of day.
Numberless, however, were still the questions which I had to ask ofthe old man; for the slightest particular, the most accidental trait,in the events which had occurred, was of course calculated to raise upor cast down my new-found hopes, and was in itself interesting fromits connexion with the fate and happiness of Laura de Villardin. Thus,with slow and interrupted steps, we were proceeding in the directionwhich I have mentioned, sometimes pausing to ask a question or toreceive a reply, sometimes stopping short to think over all I hadheard, and to try to discover what was really the state of the casefrom the broken information which Jerome could alone afford me, whensuddenly, a little way ere we reached the spot where I had left mycharger, the sound of a horse's feet, coming rapidly down theneighbouring avenue, made me hasten behind some thick hawthorn bushes,to avoid observation. Jerome, however, remained where he was, and Icould hear, from my place of concealment, the horse stop when itreached him, some hasty conversation take place, and then the voice ofthe old man calling me, for God's sake, to come up. I did so at once;and as I emerged from the trees, was not a little surprised toperceive that the person conversing with the old major-domo was awoman dressed in the habit of a Bretonne paysanne, and mounted on agood horse, which she had not quitted, but was speaking as she sat,with all the eager gesticulation of passion and energy. The nextmoment she turned towards myself, and what was my astonishment as shedid so, to behold Suzette, the former maid of Madame de Villardin, andthe wife of Gaspard de Belleville.
The Little Ball O' Fire; or, the Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall Page 37