CHAPTER XLIII
"THE SKELETON"
It is one of the conventional grievances of the world to mourn ever themutability of human affairs, the ever-recurring changes incidental tothat short span of existence here which we are pleased to term Life, asif the scenes and characters with which we are familiar were alwaysbeing mingled and shifted with the rapidity and confusion of apantomime. It has often struck me that the circumstances which encircleus do _not_ by any means change with such extraordinary rapidity andfacility--that, like a French road, with its mile after mile of levelfertility and unvarying poplars, our path is sometimes for yearstogether undiversified by any great variety of incident, any glimpse ofromance; and that the same people, the same habits, the same pleasures,and the same annoyances seem destined to surround and hem us in from thecradle to the grave. Which is the most numerous class, those who feartheir lot _may_ change, or those who hope it _will_? Can we make thischange for ourselves? Are we the slaves of circumstances, or is not thatthe opportunity of the strong which is the destiny of the weak? Surelyit must be so--surely the stout heart that struggles on must win atlast--surely man is a free agent; and he who fails, fails not becausehis task is impossible, but that he himself is faint and weak andinfatuated enough to hope that he alone will be an exception to thecommon lot, and achieve the prize without the labour, _Sine pulverepalma_.
The old castle at Edeldorf, at least, is but little changed from what Irecollect it in my quiet boyhood, when with my dear father I firstentered its lofty halls and made acquaintance with the beautifulblue-eyed child that now sits at the end of that table, a grown-up,handsome man. Yes, once more I am at Edeldorf. Despite all my scruples,despite all the struggles between my worse and better self, I could notresist the temptation of seeing her in her stately home; of satisfyingmyself with my own eyes that she was happy, and of bidding her a longand last farewell. Oh! I thirsted to see her just once again, only tosee her, and then to go away and meet her never, never more. ThereforeRopsley and I journeyed through Bulgaria and up the Danube, and arrivedlate at Edeldorf, and were cordially welcomed by Victor, and dressed,and came down to dinner, and so I saw her.
She was altered, too; so much altered, and yet it was the well-knownface, _her_ face still; but there were lines on the white forehead Iremembered once so smooth and fair, and the eyes were sunk and the cheekpale and fallen; when she smiled, too, the beautiful lips parted assweetly as their wont, but the nether one quivered as though it weremore used to weeping than laughing, and the smile vanished quickly, andleft a deeper shadow as it faded. She was not happy. I was _sure_ shewas not happy, and shall I confess it? the certainty was not to me afeeling of unmixed pain. I would have given every drop of blood in mybody to make her so, and yet I could not grieve as I felt I ought togrieve, that it was otherwise.
Perhaps one of the greatest trials imposed on us by the artificial stateof society in which we live, is the mask of iron that it forces us towear for the concealment of all the deeper and stronger feelings of ournature. There we sit in that magnificent hall, hung around with horn ofstag and tusk of boar, and all the trophies of the chase, waited on byHungarian retainers in their gorgeous hussar uniforms, before a tableheaped to profusion with the good things that minister to thegratification of the palate, and conversing upon those light andfrivolous topics beyond which it is treason to venture, while the heartsprobably of every one of us are far, far distant in some region of painunknown and unguessed by all save the secret sufferers, who hide awaytheir hoarded sorrows under an exterior of flippant levity, and affectto ignore their neighbour's wounds as completely as they veil their own.What care Ropsley or Valerie whether _perdrix aux champignons_ is or isnot a better thing than _dindon aux truffes_? They are dying to be alonewith each other once more--she, all anxiety to hear of his campaign andhis illness; he, restless and preoccupied till he can tell her of hisplans and prospects, and the arrangements that must be concluded beforehe can make her his own. Both, for want of a better grievance, somewhatdisgusted that the order of precedence in going to dinner has placedthem opposite each other, instead of side by side. And yet Valerie, whosits by me, seems well pleased to meet her old friend once more; if Ihad ever thought she really cared for me, I should be undeceived now,when I mark the joyous frankness of her manner, the happy blush thatcomes and goes upon her cheek, and the restless glances that ever andanon she casts at her lover's handsome face through the epergne offlowers and fruit that divides them. No, they think as little of theball of conversation which we jugglers toss about to each other, andjingle and play with and despise, as does the pale stately Countessherself, with her dark eyes and her dreamy look apparently gazing farinto another world. She is not watching Victor, she seems scarcelyaware of his presence: and yet many a young wife as beautiful, ashigh-spirited, and as lately married, would sit uneasily at the top ofher own table, would frown, and fret, and chafe to see her handsomehusband so preoccupied by another as is the Count by the fair guest onhis right hand--who but wicked Princess Vocqsal?
That lady has, according to custom, surrounded herself by a system offortification wherewith, as it were, she seems metaphorically to set theworld at defiance: a challenge which, to do her justice, the Princess isever ready to offer, the antagonist not always willing to accept. Shedelights in being the object of small attentions, so she invariablyrequires a footstool, an extra cushion or two, and a flask of eau deCologne, in addition to her bouquet, her fan, her gloves, herpocket-handkerchief, and such necessary articles of female superfluity.With these outworks and fences within which to retire on the failure ofan attack, it is easy to carry out a system of aggressive warfare; andwhether it is the presence of his wife that makes the amusementparticularly exciting, or whether Count de Rohan has made himself to-daypeculiarly agreeable, or whether it is possible, though this contingencyis extremely unlikely, that the Prince has _told her not_, certainlyMadame la Princesse is taking unusual pains, and that mostunnecessarily, to bring Victor into more than common subjection to herfascinations.
She is without contradiction the best-dressed woman in the room; herlight gossamer robe, fold upon fold, and flounce upon flounce, floatsaround her like a drapery of clouds; her gloves fit her to a miracle;her exquisitely-shaped hands and round white arms bear few ornaments,but these are of the rarest and costliest description; her blooming,fresh complexion accords well with those luxuriant masses of soft brownhair escaping here and there from its smooth shining folds in largeglossy curls. Her rich red lips are parted with a malicious smile, halfplayful, half coquettish, that is inexpressibly provoking andattractive; while, although the question as to whether she does reallyrouge or not is still undecided, her blue eyes seem positively to danceand sparkle in the candle-light. Her voice is low, and soft, andsilvery; all she says racy, humorous, full of meaning, and to the point.Poor Victor de Rohan!
He, too, is at first in unusually high spirits; his courteous, well-bredmanner is livelier than his wont, but the deferential air with which heresponds to his neighbour's gay remarks is dashed by a shade of sarcasm,and I, who know him so well, can detect a tone of bitter irony in hisvoice, can trace some acute inward pang that ever and anon convulses fora moment his frank, handsome features. I am sure he is ill at ease, anddissatisfied with himself. I observe, too, that, though he scarcelytouches the contents of his plate, his glass is filled again and againto the brim, and he quaffs off his wine with the eager feverish thirstof one who seeks to drown reflection and remorse in the Lethean draught.Worst sign of all, and one which never fails to denote mental suffering,his spirits fall in proportion to his potations, and that which in awell-balanced nature "makes glad the heart of man," seems but to clogthe wings of Victor's fancy, and to sink him deeper and deeper indespondency. Ere long he becomes pale, silent, almost morose, and thecharming Princess has all the conversation to herself.
But one individual in the party attends thoroughly to the business inhand. W
ithout doubt, for the time being he has the best of it. PrinceVocqsal possesses an excellent appetite, a digestion, as he sayshimself, that, like his conscience, can carry a great weight and be allthe better for it; a faultless judgment in wine, and a tendency to enjoythe pleasures of the table, enhanced, if possible, by the occasional fitof gout with which this indulgence must unfortunately be purchased.Fancy-free is the Prince, and troubled neither by memories of the past,misgivings for the present, nor anxieties for the future. Many suchpassive natures there are--we see them every day. Men who are contentto take the world as it is, and, like the ox in his pasture, browse, andbask, and ruminate, and never wish to overleap the boundary that forbidsthem to wander in the flowery meadow beyond. And yet it may be thatthese too have once bathed in the forbidden stream, the lava-stream thatscorches and sears where it touches; it may be that the heart we deem sohard, so callous, has been welded in the fire, and beaten on the anvil,till it has assumed the consistency of steel. It winced and quiveredonce, perhaps nearly broke, and now it can bid defiance even to thememory of pain. Who knows? who can tell his neighbour's history, orguess his neighbour's thoughts? who can read the truth, even in thedepth of those eyes that look the fondest into his own? Well! there isOne that knows all secrets, and He will judge, but not as man judges.
So Prince Vocqsal thinks not of the days that are past, the hearts hehas broken, the friends he has lost, the duels he has fought, the moneyhe has squandered, the chances he has thrown away; or, if he does allowhis mind to dwell for an instant on such trifles, it is with a sort ofdreamy satisfaction at the quantity of enjoyment he has squeezed out oflife, tinged with a vague regret that so much of it is over. Why, itwas but to-day that, as he dressed for dinner, he apostrophised thegrimacing image in his looking-glass,--"Courage, _mon gaillard_,"muttered the Prince, certainly not to his valet, who was tightening hiswaistbelt, "courage! you are worth a good many of the young ones, still,and your appetite is as good as it was at sixteen."
He is splendid now, though somewhat apoplectic. His wig curls over hismagnificent head in hyacinthine luxuriance, his dyed whiskers andmoustache blush purple in the candlelight; his neckcloth is tiedsomewhat too tight, and seems to have forced more than a wholesomequantity of blood into his face and eyes, but its whiteness is dazzling,and the diamond studs beneath it are of extraordinary brilliance; nordoes his waistbelt, though it defies repletion, modify in any greatdegree the goodly outline of the corpulent person it enfolds.Altogether he is a very jolly-looking old gentleman, and the only one ofthe party that seems for the nonce to be "the right man in the rightplace."
Constance listens to him with a weary, abstracted air; perhaps she hasheard that story about the bear and the waterfall once or twice before,perhaps she does not hear it now, but she bends her head courteouslytowards him, and looks kindly at him from out of her deep, sad eyes.
"Champagne, if you please," says the Prince, interrupting the thread ofhis narrative, by holding up his glass to be replenished; "and so,Madame, the bear and I were _vis-a-vis_ at about ten paces apart, and myrifle was empty. The last shot had taken effect through his lungs, andhe coughed and held his paw to the pit of his stomach, so like aChristian with a cold, that, even in my very precarious position, Icould not help laughing outright. Ten paces is a short distance,Madame, a very short distance, when your antagonist feels himselfthoroughly aggrieved, and advances upon you with a red, lurid eye, and ashort angry growl. I turned and looked behind me for a run--I wasalways a good runner," remarks the Prince, with a downward glance ofsatisfaction, the absurdity of which, I am pained to see, does not evencall a smile to his listener's pale face--"but it was no question ofrunning here, for the waterfall was leaping and foaming forty feet deepbelow, and the trees were so thick on either side, that escape by aflank movement was impossible. It was the very spot, Victor, where Ikilled the woodcocks right and left the morning you disappointed me soshamefully, and left me to have all the sport to myself."--Victor bowscourteously, drinks her husband's health, and glances at the Princesswith a bitter smile.--"The very spot where I hope you will place meto-morrow at your grand _chasse_. Peste! 'tis strange how passionatelyfond I still am of the chase. Well, Madame, indecision is not usuallymy weakness, but before I could make up my mind what to do, the bear wasupon me. In an instant he embraced me with his huge hairy arms, and Ifelt his hot breath against my very face. My rifle was broken short offby the stock, and I heard my watch crack in my waistcoat pocket. Ithought it was my ribs. I have seen your wrestlers in England, Madame,and I have once assisted in your country at an exhibition of '_The Box_'but such an encounter as I now had to sustain was more terrible thananything I ever witnessed fought out fairly between man and man.Fortunately a ball through the back part of the head, and anotherthrough the lungs, had somewhat diminished the natural force of myadversary, or I must have succumbed; and by a great exertion of strengthon my part, I managed to liberate one hand and make a grasp for myhunting-knife. Horror! it had fallen from the sheath, but by the mercyof Heaven and the blessing of St. Hubert, it had caught in my boot, andI never felt before how dear life was as when I touched the buckhornhandle of my last friend; three, four times in succession I buried thelong keen blade in the bear's side; at each thrust he gave a quick,convulsive sob, but he strained me tighter and tighter to his body, tillI thought my very blood-vessels would burst with the fearful pressure.At last we fell, and rolled over and over towards the waterfall. In thehasty glance I had previously cast behind me, I had remarked a deadfir-tree that stood within a yard or so of the precipice; I remember thethought had darted through my mind, that if I could reach it I might besafe, and the reflection as instantaneously followed, that a bear was abetter climber than a Hungarian. Never shall I forget my sensationswhen, in our last revolution, I caught a glimpse of that naked tree. Ishut my eyes then, for I knew it was all over, but I gave him one morestab, and a hearty one, with my hunting-knife. Splash! we reached thewater together, and went down like a couple of stones, down, down to thevery bottom, but fortunately it was the deepest part of the pool, and weunclosed our embrace the instant we touched the surface--the bear, Ibelieve, was dead before he got there, and I thought myself fortunate inbeing able to swim ashore, whilst the brown body of my late antagonistwent tumbling and whirling down the foaming torrent below. I recoveredhis skin, Madame, to make a cover for my arm-chair, but I have neverbeen fond of water since. Give me a glass of Tokay, if you please."
"And did you sustain no further harm from your encounter?" askedConstance, rousing herself from her abstraction with an effort, andbending politely towards the Prince, who was drinking his Tokay withimmense satisfaction.
"Only the marks of his claws on my shoulder," replied he, smacking hislips after his draught. "I have got them there to this day. Is it notso, Rose?" he added, appealing to his wife with a hearty laugh.
She turned her head away without condescending to notice him. Victorbit his lip with a gesture of impatience, and the Countess, risingslowly and gracefully, gave her hand to the Prince to lead her back tothe drawing-room, whither we all followed in the same order as that inwhich we had proceeded to dinner.
"Do you not feel like a wounded man once more?" observed Valerie, gaily,to me, as I stood, coffee-cup in hand, with my back to the fireplace,like a true Englishman. "Is it not all exactly as you left it? theeasiest arm-chair and my eternal embroidery-frame, and your own sofawhere you used to lie so wonderfully patient, and look out of window atthe sunset. Constance has established herself there now, and considersit her peculiar property. Oh, Vere (I shall always call you Vere), isshe not charming? I am so fond of her!"
Slow torture! but never mind, it is but for to-night--this experimentmust never be repeated. Go on, Countess Valerie, happy, unconsciousexecutioner.
"You English people are delightful, when one knows you well, although atfirst you are so cold and undemonstrative. Now, Constance, though sheis so quiet and melancholy-looking, though she never laughs, and rarelysmiles
, has the energy and the activity of a dozen women when it is aquestion of doing good. You have no idea of what she is here amongstour own people. They worship the very ground she walks on--they callher 'the good angel of Edeldorf.' But she over-exerts herself; she isnot strong: she looks ill, very ill. Vere, do you not think so?"
For the first time since we entered the drawing-room I glanced in thedirection of the Countess de Rohan, but her face was turned from me; shewas still occupied with Prince Vocqsal, who, old enough to appreciatethe value of a good listener, was devoting himself entirely to heramusement. No, I could not see the pale, well-known face, but the lightstreamed off her jet-black hair, and memory probed me to the quick asits shining masses recalled the wet, heavy locks of one whose life Isaved in Beverley Mere.
"Come and play the march in 'The Honijady,'" said Ropsley, leading his_fiancee_ gaily off to the pianoforte. "_On revient toujours a sespremiers amours_, but I really cannot allow you to flirt with Egertonany more," he added, with a smile of such thorough confidence andaffection in his promised bride as altered the whole expression of hiscountenance, and lit it up with a beauty I had never before imagined itto possess.
"Not _that_," she answered, looking anxiously round, "but 'Cheer, boys!cheer!' as often as you like, now we have got you back again." And theywalked away together, a happy, handsome pair as one should wish to see.
I could not have borne it much longer. I gasped for solitude as a manhalf-stifled gasps for air. With an affectation of leisurelyindifference, I strolled into the adjoining billiard-room. I passedclose to the Countess, but she never turned her head, so engrossed wasshe with the conversation of Prince Vocqsal. I walked on through thespacious conservatory. I even stopped to examine an exotic as I passed.At length I reached a balcony in which that structure terminated, andsinking into a chair that stood in one corner, out of sight andinterruption, I leaned my forehead against the cold iron railing, andprayed for fortitude and resignation to my lot.
The fresh night air cooled and composed me. A bright moonlightflickered and glistened over the park. The tones of Valerie'spianoforte, softened by distance, stole sadly, yet soothingly, on myear. The autumn breeze, hushed to a whisper, seemed to breathe of peaceand consolation. I felt that the strength I had asked would be given;that though the fight was not yet over, it would be won at last; thatalthough, alas! the sacrifice was still to be offered, I should havepower to make it, and the higher the cost, the holier, the moreacceptable it would be. More than once the Devil's sophistry promptedme to repine; more than once I groaned aloud to think that _she_, too,was sacrificed unworthily, that her happiness, like my own, was lostbeyond recall. "Oh," I thought, in the bitterness of my agony, "I couldhave given her up to one that _loved_ her, I could have rejoiced in herwelfare, and forgotten _myself_ in the certainty of her happiness. Icould have blessed him thankfully for his care and tenderness towardsthat transplanted flower, and lived on contented, if not happy, to thinkthat I had not offered up my own broken heart in vain; but to see herneglected and pining--her dignity insulted--her rights trampledon--another, immeasurably her inferior, filling the place in herhusband's affections to which she had an undoubted right! Victor!Victor! you were my earliest friend, and yet I can almost _curse_ youfrom my soul!"
But soon my better nature triumphed; I saw the path of duty plain beforeme, I determined to follow it, and struggle on, at whatever cost. I hadlived for her all my life. I would live for her still. Perhaps when Ibecame an old grey man she would know it; perhaps--never in thislife--perhaps she might bless me for it in another; but it should bedone! Could I but make a certainty of Victor's _liaison_ with thePrincess, could I but obtain _a right_ to speak to him on the subject!I would make him one last appeal that should _force_ him back to hisduty. I would, if necessary, tell him the whole truth, and shame him bymy own sacrifice into the right path. I felt a giant's strength and amartyr's constancy; once more I leaned my head upon the cold iron rail,and the opportunity that I asked for seemed to come when I leastexpected it.
In such a mood as I then was, a man takes no note of time; I could nottell how long I had been sitting there in the solemn peaceful night, itmight have been minutes, it might have been hours, but at length theclick of billiard-balls, which had been hitherto audible in theadjoining apartment, ceased altogether, a man's step and the rustle of alady's dress were heard in the conservatory, and when they reachedwithin six paces of me, Victor placed a chair for Princess Vocqsal underthe spreading branches of a brilliant azalea, and seated himself at herside. She dropped her bracelet on the smooth tesselated floor as shesat down; he picked it up and clasped it on her arm: as he did so Icaught a glimpse of his face: he was deadly pale, and as he raised hiseyes to hers, their wild mournful appealing glance reminded me of poorBold's last look when he died licking my hand. The Princess, on thecontrary, shone if possible more brilliant than ever; there was asettled flush, as of triumph, on her cheek, and her whole countenancebore an impress of determined, uncompromising resolution, which I hadalready remarked as no uncommon expression on those lovely features.
My first impulse was to confront them at once, and take my departure;but I have already said I suffered from constitutional shyness to agreat degree, and I was unwilling to face even my old friend with suchtraces of strong emotion as I knew must be visible on my exterior. I wasmost unwilling to play the eavesdropper. I felt that, as a man ofhonour, I was inexcusable in not instantly apprising them of mypresence; yet some strange, inexplicable fascination that I could notresist, seemed to force me to remain where I was, unnoticed andunsuspected. Ere they had spoken three words I was in possession of thewhole truth, that truth which a few minutes earlier I had been soanxious to ascertain. I do not attempt to excuse my conduct, I am awarethat it admits of no palliation, that no one can be guilty of an act ofespial and still remain _a gentleman_; but I state the fact as itoccurred, and can only offer in extenuation the fever of morbidexcitement into which I had worked myself, and my unwavering resolutionto save Victor, in spite of his own infatuation, for her sake in whosebehalf I did not hesitate thus to sacrifice even my honour.
"Anything but _that_, Rose, my adored Rose; anything but that," pleadedthe Count; and his voice came thick and hoarse, whilst his featuresworked convulsively with the violence of his feelings. "Think of what Ihave been to you, think of all my devotion, all my self-denial. Youcannot doubt me: it is impossible; you cannot mistrust me _now_; but, asyou have a woman's heart, ask me for anything but _that_."
She was clasping and unclasping the bracelet he had placed upon her arm,her head drooped over the jewel, but she raised her soft lustrous eyesto his, and with a witching, maddening glance, of which he knew too wellthe power, murmured--
"Give it me, Victor, _dear_ Victor! you have never refused me anythingsince I have known you."
"Nor would I now, were it anything that is in my power to give," heburst out hurriedly, and in accents of almost childish impatience; "Itell you, that for your sake I would cast everything to thewinds--fortune, friends, home, country, life itself. Drop by drop, youshould have the best blood in my body, and I would thank you and blessyou for accepting it; but this is more than all, Rose--this is myhonour. Could you bear to see me a disgraced and branded man? could youbear to feel that I _deserved_ to have my arms reversed and my namescouted? Could you care for me if it were so? Oh, Rose, you have neverloved me if you ask for this!"
"Perhaps you are right," she answered coldly, "perhaps I never did. Youhave often told me I am very hard-hearted--Victor," she added, after apause, with a sudden change of manner, and another of those soft fondlooks that made such wild work with her victim--"do you think I wouldask a man I did not care for to make such a sacrifice? Oh, Victor! youlittle know a woman's heart--you have cruelly mistaken mine."
The fond eyes filled with tears as she spoke. Victor was doomed. Iknew it from that moment. He scarcely made an effort to save himselfnow.
"And you ask for this as a last proof
of my devotion. You are notsatisfied yet. It is not enough that I have given you the wholehappiness of my life, you must have that life itself as well--nay, eventhat is too little," he added with bitter emphasis, "I must offer up theunstained honour of the De Rohans in addition to all!"
Another of those speaking, thrilling glances. Oh, the old, old story!Samson and Delilah--Hercules and Omphale--Antony and Cleopatra, on theruins of an empire--or plain Jack and Gill at the fair. Man's weaknessis woman's opportunity, and so the world goes on.
"Victor," she said, "it is for _my_ sake."
The colour mounted in his cheek, and he rose to his feet like a man.The old look I had missed all the evening on his face came back oncemore, the old look that reminded me of shouting squadrons by the Danube,and a dash to the front with AH Mesrour and brave Iskender Bey. Hisblood was up, and his lance in rest now, stop him who can!
"So be it," he said, calmly and distinctly, but with his teeth clenchedand his nostril dilated, like that of a thorough-bred horse after agallop. "So be it! and never forget, Rose, in the long dark future,never forget that it was for your sake: and now listen to me. I betraymy own and my father's friends, I complete an act of treachery such asis yet unknown in the annals of my country, such as her history shallcurse for its baseness till the end of time. I devote to ruin and deatha score of the noblest families, a score of the proudest heads inHungary. I stain my father's shield, I break my own oaths. Life, andhonour, and all, I cast away at one throw, and, Rose, it is for yoursake!"
She was weeping now--weeping convulsively, with her face buried in herhands; but he heeded it not, and went on--
"All this I am willing to do, Rose, because I love you; but mark theconsequence. As surely as I deliver you this list"--he drew a paperfrom his breast as he spoke--"so surely I proclaim my treachery to theworld, so surely I give myself over to the authorities, so surely Imarch up to the scaffold at the head of that devoted band who were oncemy friends, and though they think it shame that their blood should soakthe same planks as mine, though they turn from me in disgust, even onthe verge of another world, so surely will I die amongst them as boldly,as unflinchingly, as the most stainless patriot of them all!"
"No, no," she sobbed out; "never, never; do you think I have no feeling?do you think I have no heart? I have provided for your safety long ago.I have got your free pardon in a written promise, your life and fortuneare secure, your share in the discovery will never be made known.Victor, do you think I have not taken care of _you_?"
Even then his whole countenance softened. This man, whose proud spiritshe had so often trampled on, whose kind heart she had so often wounded,from whom she asked so much--ay, so much as his bitterest enemy wouldhave shrunk from taking--was ready and willing to give her all, and tobless the very hand that smote him to the death. He spoke gently andcaressingly now. He bent over her chair, and looked down at her withkind, sad eyes.
"Not so," he said, "Rose, not so. I am glad you did not sacrifice me.I like to think you would have saved me if you could; but I cannotaccept the terms. To-morrow is my birthday, Rose. It is St. Hubert'sday, and I have a grand _chasse_ here, as you know. Many of thesedevoted gentlemen will be at Edeldorf to-morrow. Give us at least thatone day. In twenty-four hours from this time you can forward yourinformation to Vienna; after that, you and I will meet no more on earth.Rose, dear Rose," he murmured, as he placed the paper in her hand, "itis the _last_ present I shall give you--make the most of it."
Why did she meddle with politics, woman as she was in her heart ofhearts? What had she to do with Monsieur Stein, and Governmentintrigues, and a secret police, and all that complicated machinery whichis worked by gold alone, and in which the feelings count for nothing?State information might go to other quarters; fortunes be made on theBourse by other speculators; her husband wait for his appointment tilldoomsday, and the attainder remain unreversed on the estates in theBanat as long as the Danube flowed downward from its source;--what caredPrincess Vocqsal? She looked up, smiling through her tears, like a wetrose in the sunshine. She took the list from his hand; once, twice, shepressed the paper to her lips, then tore it in a thousand fragments, andscattered them abroad over the shining floor of the conservatory, tomingle with the shed blossoms of the azalea, to be swept away with thedecayed petals of the camellias, to be whirled hither and thither by thebreeze of morning to oblivion, but to rise up between her and him whonow stood somewhat aghast by her side, never, never more!
She put her hand almost timidly in his. "Victor," she said, in a soft,low voice, "you have conquered. I am yours now in defiance of all. Oh,Victor, Victor, you do indeed love me!"
He looked startled, scared, almost as if he could not understand her; heshook in every limb, whilst she was composed and even dignified.
"Yes," she said, rising from her chair, "I will trifle with you nolonger now. I know what I do; I see the gulf into which I plunge.Misery, ruin, and crime are before me; but I fear _nothing_. Victor deRohan! when I leave Edeldorf, I leave it with you, and with you I remainfor ever."
They walked out of the conservatory side by side. I do not think theyexchanged another word; and I remained stunned, motionless, stupefied,like a man who wakes from some ghastly and bewildering dream.
The striking of the Castle clock roused me to consciousness--to aconviction of the importance of time, and the necessity for immediateaction. It was now midnight. Early to-morrow we should all be on thealert for the grand battue on the Waldenberg, for which preparations hadbeen making for several days. I should scarcely have an opportunity ofspeaking in private to my friend, and the day after it might be toolate. No, to-night I must see Victor before he slept: to-night I mustwarn him from the abyss into which he was about to fall, confess to himthe dishonourable act of which I had been guilty, sustain his anger andcontempt as I best might, and plead her cause whom I must never seeagain. More than once--I will not deny it--a rebellious feeling rose inmy heart. Why are these things so? Why is she not mine whom I haveloved so many dark and lonely years? Why must Victor, after the proofhe has given to-night of more than human devotion, never be happy withher for whose sake he did not hesitate to offer up all that was fardearer to him than life? But I had long learnt the true lesson, that"Whatever is, is right"--that Providence sees not with our eyes, norjudges with our judgment; and that we must not presume to question, muchless dare to repine. I hurried through the billiard-room towardsVictor's apartments; I had then to traverse the drawing-room, and alittle snug retreat in which it used to be our custom to finish theevening with a social cigar, and to which, in former days Valerie wassometimes to be prevailed upon to bring her work. Here I found Ropsleyand Prince Vocqsal comfortably established, apparently with no idea ofgoing to bed yet for hours. They had never met till to-day, but seemedto suit each other admirably, all that was ludicrous in the Prince'scharacter and conversation affording a ceaseless fund of amusement tothe Guardsman; while the latter's high prowess as a sportsman, andintimate acquaintance with the turf, rendered him an object of greatinterest and admiration to the enthusiastic Hungarian. Ropsley, withrestored health and his ladye-love under the same roof with him, was inthe highest spirits, and no wonder.
"Don't run away, Vere," said he, catching me by the arm as I passedbehind his chair; "it's quite early yet. Have a quiet weed beforeturning in." Adding, in an amused whisper, "He's an immense trump,this! That's his third cigar and his fourth tumbler of brandy-and-sodasince we came here; and he's telling me now how he once pinked a fellowin the Bois de Boulogne for wearing revolutionary shirt buttons. InEnglish, too, my dear fellow; it's as good as a play."
Even as he spoke I heard a door shut in the passage, and I hurried away,leaving the new acquaintances delighted with each other's society.
In the gallery I met Victor's French valet with a bundle of clothes overhis arm, humming an air from a French opera. "Could I see the Count?""Alas! I was a few seconds too late!" The valet "was in despair--hewas desolate--it was i
mpossible. Monsieur had even now retired to theapartments of Madame!" "I must do it to-morrow," thought I; "perhaps Imay find an opportunity when the _chasse_ is over." And I went to bedwith a heavy, aching heart.