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Page 30
She urged at once her horse forward, leaving me crushed by this blow, the
more terrible that I had wholly ceased to fear it, and that it struck me
with a keen cruelty I had not even foreseen. There had indeed been in the
unhappy woman's voice no trace whatever of insolent swaggering; it was the
very voice of despair, a cry of heart-rending grief and timid reproach;
everything that might add in my soul to the torture of a stained and
shattered love, the disorder of a profound pity and an uneasy conscience.
When I had found strength enough to look around me I was surprised at my
own blindness. Among Madame de Palme's most assiduous courtiers, figures
one Monsieur de Mauterne, whose antipathy for me, though confined within
the limits of good-breeding, often seemed to me to assume an almost
hostile tinge. Monsieur de Mauterne is a man of my age, tall, blonde, with
a figure more robust than elegant, and features regularly handsome, but
stiff and without expression. He possesses social accomplishments, much
audacity, and no wit. His bearing and his conduct during the course of
that fatal ride would have informed me from the start, if I had only
thought of observing them, that he believed he had the right of fearing
henceforth no rivalry near Madame de Palme. He assumed frankly the leading
part in all the scenes in which she participated; he overwhelmed her with
attentions, affected to speak to her in a whisper, and neglected nothing,
in a word, to initiate the public into the secret of his success. In that
respect, he lost his trouble; the world, after exhausting its wickedness
upon imaginary errors, seems thus far to refuse the evidence which vainly
stares it in the face.
As to myself, my friend, it would be difficult to depict the chaos of
emotions and thoughts that tossed and tumbled in my brain. The feeling
that swayed me perhaps with the greatest violence, was that of hatred
against that man--a feeling of implacable hatred, of eternal hatred. I
was, however, more shocked and more distressed than surprised at the
choice that had been made of him; he had happened in the way, and he had
been taken up with a sort of indifference and of scorn, as one picks up
any weapon to commit suicide with, when once the suicide has been resolved
upon. As to my feelings toward her, you may guess them; not a shadow of
anger, frightful sadness, tender compassion, vague remorse, and above all,
passionate, furious regret. I realized at last how much I had loved her! I
could scarcely understand the motives which, two days before, had appeared
to me so powerful, so imperative, and which had seemed to raise between
her and me an insurmountable barrier. All these obstacles of the past
disappeared before the abyss of the present which seemed the only real
one, the only one that was impossible to overcome, the only one that ever
existed. Strange fact! I could see clearly, as clearly as I saw the sun,
that the impossible, the irreparable was there, and I could not accept it,
I could not submit to it. I could see that woman lost to me as irrevocably
as if the grave had closed over her coffin, and I could not give her up!
My mind wandered through insane projects and resolutions; I thought of
picking a quarrel with Monsieur de Mauterne, and compelling him to fight
on the spot. I felt that I would have crushed him! Then I thought of
fleeing with her, of marrying her, of taking her with her shame, after
having refused her pure! Yes, this madness tempted me! To remove it from
my thoughts, I had to repeat a hundred times to myself that mutual disgust
and dispair were the only fruits that could ever be expected of that union
of a dishonored hand with a bloody hand. Ah; Paul, how much I did suffer!
Madame de Palme manifested during the entire course of our ride a feverish
excitement which betrayed itself more particularly in reckless feats of
horsemanship. I heard at intervals her loud bursts of merriment, that
sounded to my ears like heart-rending wails. Once again she spoke to me as
she was going by.
"I inspire you with horror, don't I?" she said.
I shook my head and dropped my eyes without replying.
We returned to the chateau at about four o'clock. I was making my way to
my room when a confused tumult of voices, shrieks, and hurried steps in
the vestibule chilled my heart. I went down again in all haste, and I was
informed that Madame de Palme had just been taken with a nervous fit. She
had been carried into the parlor. I recognized through the door the grave
and gentle voice of Madame de Malouet, to which was mingled I know not
what moan, like that of a sick child. I ran away. I was resolved to leave
this fatal spot without further delay. Nothing could have induced me to
remain a moment longer. Your letter, which had been handed to me on our
return, served me as a likely pretext for my sudden departure. The
friendship that binds us is well-known here. I said you needed me within
twenty-four hours. I had taken care, at all hazards, to send three days
before to the nearest town for a carriage and horses. In a few minutes my
preparations were made; I gave orders to the driver to start ahead and
wait for me at the extremity of the avenue while I was taking my leave.
Monsieur de Malouet seemed to have no suspicion of the truth; the worthy
old gentleman appeared quite moved as he received my thanks, and really
manifested for me a singular affection out of all proportion to the brief
duration of our acquaintance. I had to be scarcely less thankful to M. de
Breuilly. I regret now the caricature I once gave you as the portrait of
that noble heart.
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