The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Vi Part 16

"Indeed, my lord, I know nothing. But I cannot even account to myself for the strange feelings that come over me."

"You are concealing something from me!"

"No, indeed, my lord; on the honour of a man, I know only what the marquise said to me."

"And what did she say?"

"'Sir Walter,' said she, with an unsteady voice, though her countenance shone with joy, 'no doubt you are surprised at my presence here; but there are some circ.u.mstances so imperative as to leave no time to consider the strict rules of etiquette. Beg of his royal highness to grant me an immediate interview of a few minutes only in your presence, for I know well that the prince has not a better friend than yourself. I might certainly have requested him to call on me, but that would have caused at least an hour's delay; and when the prince has learned the occasion of my coming, I am sure he will feel grateful to me for not delaying the interview I seek for a single instant.' And as she uttered these words, her countenance wore an expression that made me tremble all over."

"But," returned Rodolph, in an agitated tone, and, spite of all his attempts at retaining his composure, being even paler than Murphy himself, "I cannot guess what caused your emotion; there must be something beyond those words of Madame d'Harville's to occasion it."

"I pledge you my honour if there be I am wholly ignorant of it; but I confess those few words from Madame la Marquise seemed quite to bewilder me. But even you, my lord, are paler than you were."

"Am I?" said Rodolph, supporting himself on the back of his chair, for he felt his knees tremble under him.

"Nay, but, my lord, you are quite as much overcome as I was. What ails you?"

"Though I die in making the effort," exclaimed the prince, "it shall be done. Beg of Madame d'Harville to do me the honour to walk in."

By a singular and sympathetic feeling this extraordinary and wholly unexpected visit of Madame d'Harville had awakened in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of Murphy and Rodolph the same vague and groundless hope, but so senseless did it seem that neither was willing to confess it to the other.

Madame d'Harville, conducted by Murphy, entered the apartment in which was the prince.

CHAPTER VI.

THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

Ignorant of Fleur-de-Marie's being the prince's daughter, Madame d'Harville, in the fullness of her delight at restoring to him his protegee, had not reckoned upon its being necessary to observe any particular precaution in presenting her young companion, whom she merely left in the carriage until she had ascertained whether Rodolph chose to make known his real name and rank to the object of his bounty, and to receive her at his own house; but perceiving the deep alteration in his features, and struck with the visible gloom which overspread them, as well as the marks of recent tears so evident in his sunken eye, Clemence became alarmed with the idea that some fresh misfortune, greater than the loss of La Goualeuse would be considered, had suddenly occurred.

Wholly losing sight, therefore, of the original cause of her visit, she anxiously exclaimed:

"For heaven's sake, my lord, what has happened?"

"Do you not know, madame? Then all hope is at an end! Alas! your earnest manner, the interview so unexpectedly sought by you, all made me believe--"

"Let me entreat of you not to think for a moment of the cause of my visit; but, in the name of that parent whose life you have preserved, I adjure you to explain to me the cause of the deep affliction in which I find you plunged. Your paleness, your dejection, terrify me. Oh, be generous, my lord, and relieve the cruel anxiety I suffer."

"Wherefore should I burden your kind heart with the relation of woes that admit of no relief?"

"Your words, your hesitation, but increase my apprehensions. Oh, my lord, I beseech you tell me all! Sir Walter, will you not take pity on my fears? For the love of heaven explain the meaning of all this! What has befallen the prince?"

"Nay," interrupted Rodolph, in a voice that vainly struggled for firmness, "since you desire it, madame, learn that since I acquainted you with the death of Fleur-de-Marie I have learned she was my own daughter."

"Your daughter!" exclaimed Clemence, in a tone impossible to describe.

"Fleur-de-Marie your daughter!"

"And when just now you desired to see me, to communicate tidings that would fill me with joy,--pardon and pity the weakness of a parent half distracted at the loss of his newly-found treasure!--I ventured to hope--But no,--no,--I see too plainly I was mistaken! Forgive me, my brain seems wandering, and I scarce know what I say or do."

And then sinking under the failure of this last fond imagination of his heart, and unable longer to struggle with his black despair, Rodolph threw himself back in his chair and covered his face with his hands, while Madame d'Harville, astonished at what she had just heard, remained motionless and silent, scarcely able to breathe amid the conflicting emotions which took possession of her mind; at one instant glowing with delight at the thoughts of the joy she had it in her power to impart, then trembling for the consequences her explanation might produce on the overexcited mind of the prince.

Both these reflections were, however, swallowed up in the enthusiastic grat.i.tude which she felt in the consideration that to her had been deputed the happiness not only of announcing to the grief-stricken father that his child still lived, but that the unspeakable rapture of placing that daughter in her parent's arms was likewise vouchsafed to her.

Carried away by a burst of pious thankfulness, and wholly forgetting the presence of Rodolph and Murphy, Madame d'Harville threw herself on her knees, and, clasping her hands, exclaimed, in a tone of fervent piety and ineffable grat.i.tude:

"Thanks, thanks, my G.o.d, for this exceeding goodness! Ever blessed be thy gracious name for having permitted me to be the happy bearer of such joyful tidings,--to wipe away a father's tears by telling him his child lives to reward his tenderness!"

Although these words, p.r.o.nounced with the sincerest fervour and holy ecstasy, were uttered almost in a whisper, yet they reached the listening ears of Rodolph and his faithful squire; and as Clemence rose from her knees, the prince gazed on her lovely countenance, irradiated as it was with celestial happiness and beaming with more than earthly beauty, with an expression almost amounting to adoration.

Supporting herself with one hand, while with the other she sought to still the rapid beating of her heart, Madame d'Harville replied by a sweet smile and an affirmative inclination of the head to the eager, soul-searching look of Rodolph, a look wholly beyond our poor powers to describe.

"And where is she?" exclaimed the prince, trembling like a leaf.

"In my carriage."

But for the intervention of Murphy, who threw himself before Rodolph with the quickness of lightning, the latter would have rushed to the vehicle.

"Would you kill her, my lord?" exclaimed the squire, forcibly retaining the prince.

"She was merely p.r.o.nounced convalescent yesterday," added Clemence; "therefore, as you value her safety, do not venture to try the poor girl's strength too far."

"You are right," said Rodolph, scarcely able to restrain himself sufficiently to follow this prudent advice, "you are quite right. Yes, I will be calm,--I will not see her at present; I will wait until her first emotions have subsided. Oh, 'tis too much to endure in so short a s.p.a.ce of time!" Then addressing Madame d'Harville, he said, in an agitated tone, while he extended to her his hand, "I feel that I am pardoned, and that you are the angel of forgiveness who brings me the glad tidings of my remission."

"Nay, my lord, we do but mutually requite our several obligations. You preserved to me my father, and Heaven permits me to restore your daughter at a time you bewailed her as lost. But I, too, must beg to be excused for the weakness which resists all my endeavours to control it; the sudden and unexpected news you have communicated to me has quite overcome me, and I confess I should not have sufficient command over myself to go in quest of Fleur-de-Marie,--my emotion would terrify her."

"And by what means was she preserved?" exclaimed Rodolph; "and whose hand s.n.a.t.c.hed her from death? I am most ungrateful not to have put these questions to you earlier."

"She was rescued from drowning by a courageous female, who s.n.a.t.c.hed her from a watery grave just as she was sinking."

"Do you know who this female was?"

"I do; and to-morrow she will be at my house."

"The debt is immense!" rejoined the prince; "but I will endeavour to repay it."

"Heaven must have inspired me with the idea of leaving Fleur-de-Marie in the carriage," said the marquise. "Had I brought her in with me the shock must have killed her."

"Now, then," said the prince, who had been for some minutes occupied in endeavouring to subdue his extreme agitation, "I can promise you, my kind friends, that I have my feelings sufficiently under control to venture to meet my--my--daughter. Go, Murphy, and fetch her to my longing arms."

Rodolph p.r.o.nounced the word daughter with a tenderness of voice and manner impossible to describe.

"Are you quite sure you are equal to the trying scene, my lord?"

inquired Clemence; "for we must run no risks with one in Fleur-de-Marie's delicate state."