The Mysteries Of Paris Volume Ii Part 27

"Crimes!" cried Madame d'Harville, in alarm; "can it be possible, the man whom Madame Roland so highly extolled, and into whose hands my poor mother was delivered, was guilty of crimes? Alas, my dear parent lingered but a very short time after she pa.s.sed into his care! Ah, my lord, my presentiments have not deceived me!"

"Your presentiments?"

"Oh, yes! I was telling you just now of the invincible antipathy I felt for this man from the circ.u.mstance of his having been introduced among us by Madame Roland; but I did not tell you all, my lord."

"How so?"

"I was fearful lest the bitterness of my own griefs should make me guilty of injustice towards an innocent person; but now, my lord, you shall know everything. My mother had lain dangerously ill about five days; I had always watched beside her, night as well as day. One evening, that I felt much oppressed with confinement and fatigue, I went to breathe the fresh air on the terrace of the garden: after remaining about a quarter of an hour, I was returning by a long and obscure gallery; by a faint light which streamed from the apartment of Madame Roland I saw M. Polidori quit the room, accompanied by the mistress of the chamber. Being in the shadow, they did not perceive me; Madame Roland spoke some words to the doctor, but in so low a tone I could not catch them; the doctor's answer was given in a louder key, and consisted only of these words: 'The day after to-morrow;' and, when Madame Roland seemed to urge him, still in so low a voice as to prevent the words reaching me, he replied, with singular emphasis, 'The day after to-morrow, I tell you,--the day after to-morrow.'"

"What could those words mean?"

"What did they mean? Alas, alas, my lord, it was on the Wednesday evening I heard M. Polidori say 'The day after to-morrow;' on the Friday my mother was a corpse!"

"Horrible, indeed!"

"After this mournful event I was consigned to the care of a relation, who, forgetful of the afflicted state of my mind, as well as tender age, told me, without reserve or consideration of the consequences, what powerful reasons there were for my hating Madame Roland, and fully enlightened me as to the ambitious projects entertained by this woman: full well I could then imagine all my poor mother must have endured. I thought my heart would break the first time I again saw my father, which was upon the occasion of his coming to fetch me from the house of my relation to take me into Normandy, where we were to pa.s.s the first months of our mourning. During the journey he informed me, without the least embarra.s.sment, and as though it had been the most natural thing in the world, that, out of regard for himself and me, madame had kindly consented to take the command of the establishment, and to act as my guide and friend. On arriving at Aubiers (so was my father's estate called), the first object we beheld was Madame Roland, who had established herself here on the very day of my mother's death. Spite of her modest, gentle manner, her countenance betrayed an ill-disguised triumph; never shall I forget the look, at once ironical and spiteful, she cast on me as I descended from the carriage; it seemed to say, 'I am mistress here,--'tis you who are the intruder.' A fresh grief awaited me; whether from an inexcusable want of proper judgment or unpardonable a.s.surance, this woman occupied the apartment which had been my mother's: in my just indignation I loudly complained to my father of this unpleasant forgetfulness of my rights as well as wishes. He reprimanded me severely for making any remonstrance on the subject, adding that it was needless for me either to feel or express surprise on the subject, as it was his desire I should habituate myself to consider Madame Roland in every respect as a second mother, and show her a corresponding deference. I replied that it would be a profanation to that sacred name to act as he commanded; and, to his extreme wrath, I never allowed any opportunity to escape by which I could evince my deeply rooted aversion to Madame Roland. At times my father's rage knew no bounds, and bitterly would he reproach me in the presence of that woman for the coldness and ingrat.i.tude of my conduct towards an angel, as he styled her, sent by heaven for our consolation and happiness. 'Let me entreat of you to speak for yourself alone,' said I, one day, quite wearied with the hypocritical conduct of Madame Roland and my father's blind infatuation.

The harshness and unreasonableness of his conduct became at last quite unendurable; while Madame Roland, with the honeyed words of feigned affection, would artfully intercede for me, because she well knew by so doing she should only increase the storm she had raised. 'You must make some allowances for Clemence,' she would say; 'the sorrow she experiences for the excellent parent we all deplore is so natural, and even praiseworthy, that you should respect her just grief, and pity her for her unfounded suspicions.' 'You hear her! you hear her!' would my father exclaim, pointing with mingled triumph and admiration to the accomplished hypocrite; 'what angelic goodness! what enchanting n.o.bleness and generosity! Instantly entreat her pardon for the unworthiness of your conduct.' 'Never!' I used to reply; 'the spirit of my angel mother, who now beholds me, would be pained to witness such a degradation in her child;' and, bursting with grief and mortification, I would fly to my own chamber, leaving my father to dry the tears, and calm the ruffled feelings of the woman I despised and hated. You will, I hope, excuse me, my lord, for dwelling so long and so minutely on all my early troubles, but it is only by so doing I can accurately describe to you the sort of life I led at that period."

"I can enter fully into the painful subject; yet how often have the same scenes been enacted in other families, and still, it is much to be feared, will they be repeated till the end of time. But in what capacity did your father introduce Madame Roland to the neighbourhood?"

"As my instructress and his friend, and she was estimated accordingly."

"I need scarcely inquire whether he shared in the solitude to which her questionable character condemned the lady?"

"With the exception of some few and unavoidable visits, she saw no one.

My father, guided by his pa.s.sion, or influenced by Madame Roland, threw off his mourning for my mother ere he had worn it three months, under the plea that the sable garb continually reminded him of his loss, and prevented him from regaining his lost tranquillity. His manners to me daily became colder and more estranged, while his perfect indifference concerning me allowed a degree of liberty almost incredible in a person of my age. I met him only at breakfast, after which he returned to his study with Madame Roland, who acted as his secretary, read and answered all his letters, etc.; that completed, they either walked or drove out together, returning only an hour before dinner, against which, Madame Roland would array herself in an elegant and well-chosen evening dress; while my father would make a most studiously elaborate toilet, as uncalled for as ill-adapted to his time of life. Occasionally, after dinner, he received a few persons he could not avoid asking to his house, when he would play at tric-trac with Madame Roland until ten o'clock, at which hour he would offer his arm to conduct her to my mother's apartment, and return to his guests. As for myself, I had unrestrained permission to go where I pleased throughout the whole day.

Attended by a servant, I used to take long rides in the extensive woods surrounding the chateau, and when, as occasionally happened, I felt my spirits unequal to appearing at the dinner-table, not the slightest inquiry was ever made after me, or my absence noticed."

"What singular neglect and forgetfulness!"

"Having accidentally encountered one of our neighbours during several successive days of my excursions in the woods, I gave up riding there, and confined myself entirely to the park."

"And how did this infamous woman conduct herself towards you when alone?"

"She shunned all occasions of being with me as sedulously as I avoided her; but once that we were unexpectedly _tete-a-tete_ with each other, and that she was reproaching me for some severe words I had spoken the preceding evening, she said, coldly, 'Have a care: you cannot contend against my power; any such attempt will bring down certain ruin on your head.' 'As it did upon that of my mother,' answered I. 'It is a pity, madame, you have not M. Polidori by your side, to announce to you that your vengeance can be satisfied--the day after to-morrow."

"And what reply did she make when you thus recalled those fearful words?"

"She changed colour rapidly, her features were almost convulsed; then, by a strong effort conquering her emotion, she angrily demanded what I meant by the expression. 'Ask your own heart, madame,' answered I; 'in the solitude of your chamber inquire of yourself to what I allude: your conscience will find a ready explanation.' Shortly after that, a scene occurred which for ever sealed my destiny.

"Among a great number of family portraits, which graced the walls of the salon in which we usually spent the evening, was that of my mother. One day I observed it had been removed from its accustomed place. Two neighbours had dined with us. One of them, a M. Dorval, a country lawyer, had always expressed the utmost veneration and respect for my mother. When we reached the salon after dinner, I inquired of my father what had become of my dear mother's picture. 'Cease!' cried my father, significantly pointing to our guests, as though intimating his desire that they should not hear any discussion on the subject; 'the reason of the picture being taken away is that the sight of it continually reminded me of the heavy loss I have sustained, and so prevented my regaining my usual calmness and peace of mind.' 'And where is the portrait at present?' inquired I. Turning towards Madame Roland, with an impatient and uneasy air, he said, 'Where has the picture been put?' 'In the lumber-room,' replied she, casting on me a glance of defiance, evidently under the impression that the presence of witnesses would prevent me from proceeding further in the matter. 'I can easily believe, madame,' cried I, indignantly, 'that the recollection of my mother must have been painful to you; but that was not a sufficient reason for banis.h.i.+ng from the walls the likeness of her who, when you were in want and misery, kindly and charitably afforded you the shelter of her roof.'"

"Excellent!" exclaimed Rodolph; "yours was, indeed, a stinging and a just reproach."

"'Mademoiselle,' cried my father, 'you forget that this lady has watched, and still continues to preside, with maternal solicitude over your education; you also seem to banish from your recollection the very high esteem and respect you are aware I entertain for her; and, since you allow yourself thus to attack her before strangers, you will permit me to tell you that, in my opinion, the charge of ingrat.i.tude lies at the door of her who, overlooking the tender cares she has received, presumes to reproach a person, deserving of the utmost interest and respect, with misfortunes and calamities she so n.o.bly sustained.' 'I cannot venture to discuss the subject with you, my dear father,' said I, submissively. 'Perhaps, then, mademoiselle, you will favour me with your polite arguments in favour of rudeness and unmerited abuse,' cried Madame Roland, carried away by rage into a neglect of her usual caution and prudence; 'perhaps you will permit me to a.s.sert that, so far from owing the slightest obligation to your mother, I have nothing to remember but the constant coldness and dislike she invariably manifested towards me, fully expressive of the disgust and displeasure with which my residence in the house inspired her.' 'Forbear, madame!' exclaimed I, interrupting her. 'Out of respect for my father, if not to spare your own blushes, cease such shameful confessions as the one you have just made, or you will make even me regret having exposed you to so humiliating a disclosure.'"

"Better and better!" cried Rodolph; "this was, indeed, cutting with a two-edged sword. Pray go on. And what said this woman?"

"By a very hackneyed, though convenient expedient, Madame Roland contrived to end a scene in which she felt she was likely to have the worst. With a sudden cry she threw herself into a chair, and very naturally imitated a fainting-fit. Thanks to this incident, the two visitors quitted the room in search of restoratives; while I retired to my own apartment, leaving my father hanging in deep anxiety over the wicked cause of all this confusion."

"Doubtless your next interview with your father must have been a stormy one."

"He came to me next morning, and, without further preamble, addressed me as follows: 'In order to prevent a recurrence of the disgraceful scene of yesterday, I think proper to inform you, that, immediately that decency permits both you and myself to throw off our mourning, it is my intention to celebrate my marriage with Madame Roland, which will compel you to treat her with the respect and deference due to my wife.

For certain reasons, it is expedient you should marry before me. You will have as a dowry your mother's fortune, amounting to more than a million francs. From this very day, I shall take the necessary steps to form a suitable match for you, and, for that purpose, I shall accept one of the many offers I have received for your hand.' After this conversation, I lived more alone than ever, never meeting my father except at mealtimes, which generally pa.s.sed off in the utmost silence.

So really dull and lonely was my present existence, that I only waited for my father to propose any suitor he might approve of, to accept him with perfect willingness. Madame Roland, having relinquished all further ill-natured remarks upon the memory of my deceased parent, indemnified herself by inflicting on me the continual pain of seeing her appropriate to herself the various trifles my dear mother had exclusively made use of. Her easy chair, embroidery-frame, the books which composed her private library, even a screen I myself had embroidered for her, and in the centre of which were our united ciphers: this woman laid her sacrilegious hands on all the elegant articles with which my mother's taste and my affection had ornamented her apartments."

"I can well imagine all the horror these profanations must have caused you."

"Still, great as were my sufferings, the state of loneliness, in which I found myself, rendered them even greater."

"And you had no one, no person in whom you could confide?"

"No one; but at this time I received a touching proof of the interest my fate excited, and which might have opened my eyes to the dangers preparing for me. One of the two persons present, during the scene with Madame Roland I so lately described, was a M. Dorval, a worthy old notary, to whom my mother had rendered some signal service. By my father's orders, I never since then entered the salon when strangers were there; I had never, therefore, seen M. Dorval after the eventful day when I spoke so undisguisedly to Madame Roland; great, therefore, was my surprise to see him coming towards me one day, in the park, while I was taking my accustomed walk. 'Mademoiselle,' said he to me, with a mysterious air, 'I am fearful of being observed by your father; here is a letter,--read it, and destroy it immediately,--its contents are most important to you.' So saying, he disappeared as quickly as he came. In the letter he informed me that it was in agitation to marry me to the Marquis d'Harville, and that the match appeared in every respect eligible, inasmuch as every one concurred in bearing testimony to the many excellent qualities of M. d'Harville, who was young, rich, good-looking, and highly distinguished for his talents and mental attainments; yet that the families of two young ladies, with whom he had been on the point of marriage, had abruptly broken off the matches. The notary added that, although entirely ignorant of the cause of these ruptures, he still considered it his duty to apprise me of them, without in the slightest degree insinuating that they originated in any circ.u.mstance prejudicial to the high opinion entertained of M.

d'Harville. The two young ladies alluded to were, one, the daughter of M. Beauregard, a peer of France; the other, of Lord Dudley. M. Dorval concluded by saying that his motive in making the communication was because my father, in his extreme desire to conclude the marriage, did not appear to attach sufficient importance to the facts now detailed."

"Now you recall it to my recollection," said Rodolph, after some minutes spent in deep meditation on what he had just heard, "I remember that your husband, at intervals of nearly twelve months, told me of two marriages which had been broken off just as they were on the point of taking place, and ascribing their abrupt termination to a difficulty in arranging matters of a mere pecuniary nature."

Madame d'Harville smiled bitterly as she replied:

"You shall know what those motives really were, my lord, very shortly.

After reading the letter, so kindly intentioned on the part of the worthy notary, I felt both my uneasiness and curiosity rapidly increase.

Who was D'Harville? My father had never mentioned him to me. In vain I ransacked my memory; I could not recollect ever to have heard the name.

Soon, however, the current of my thoughts was directed into another channel by the abrupt departure of Madame Roland for Paris. Although the period of her absence was limited to eight days at the utmost, yet my father expressed the deepest grief at even this trifling separation from her. His temper became altogether soured, and his coldness towards me hourly increased; he even went so far as to reply, when one day I inquired after his health, 'I am ill,--and all through you.' 'Through me?' exclaimed I. 'a.s.suredly, through you; you know full well how indispensable to my happiness is the company of Madame Roland, yet this incomparable woman, who has been so grossly insulted by you, has left me to undertake her present journey solely on your account.' This mark of interest on the part of Madame Roland filled me with the most lively apprehensions of evil, and a vague presentiment floated across my mind that my marriage was in some way or other mixed up with it. I must leave it to your imagination, my lord, to picture the delight of my father upon the return of my future mother-in-law. The next day he sent to desire my company; I found him alone with her. 'I have, for some time,'

said he, 'been thinking of establis.h.i.+ng you in the world; in another month your mourning will have expired. To-morrow I expect M.

d'Harville, a young man possessed of every requisite, both as to fortune and figure, to secure any woman's approbation; he is well looked upon in society, and is capable of securing the happiness of any lady he may seek in marriage. Now, having seen you, though accidentally, his choice has fallen on you. In fact, he is most anxious to obtain your hand.

Every pecuniary arrangement is concluded. It therefore remains solely with yourself to be married ere the next six weeks have elapsed. If, on the contrary, from any capricious whim impossible for me to foresee, you think fit to refuse the unlooked-for good offer now before you, it will in no respect alter my own plans, as my marriage will take place, according to my original intention, directly my mourning expires. And, in this latter case, I am bound to inform you that your presence in my house will not be agreeable to me, unless I have your promise to treat my wife with the respect and tenderness to which she is ent.i.tled.' 'I understand you,' replied I; 'whether I accept M. d'Harville or no, you will marry; and my only resource will then be to retire to the Convent of the Holy Heart?' 'It will,' answered he, coldly."

"His conduct now ceases to be cla.s.sed under the term weakness," said Rodolph; "it a.s.sumes the form of positive cruelty."

"Shall I tell you, my lord, what has always prevented me from feeling the least resentment at my father's conduct? It is because I have always had a strong presentiment that he would one day pay dearly--too dearly, alas!--for his blind pa.s.sion for Madame Roland. Thank Heaven, that evil day has not yet arrived!"

"And did you not mention to your father what the old notary had informed you of,--the abrupt breaking off of the two marriages M. d'Harville had been on the point of contracting?"

"Indeed, I did, my lord. I signified to my father, upon the occasion of the conversation I was relating to you, a wish to speak with him alone, upon which Madame Roland abruptly rose and quitted the apartment. 'I have no objection to the union you propose with M. d'Harville,' said I; 'only, as I understand, he has twice been upon the point of marriage, and--' 'Enough--enough!' interrupted he, hastily. 'I know all about those two affairs, which were so abruptly broken off merely because matters of a pecuniary nature were not satisfactorily arranged; although, I am bound to a.s.sure you, that not the slightest shadow of blame was attributable to M. d'Harville. If that be your only objection, you may consider the match as concluded on, and yourself as married,--ay, and happily, too,--for, spite of your conduct, my first wish is for your happiness.'"

"No doubt Madame Roland was delighted with your marriage?"

"Delighted? Yes, my lord," said Clemence, with bitterness. "She was, and well might be, delighted with this union, which was, in fact, of her effecting. She it was who had first suggested it to my father; she knew full well the real occasion of breaking off the marriages so nearly completed by M. d'Harville, and hence arose her exceeding anxiety for him to become my husband."

"What motive could she possibly have had?"

"She sought to avenge herself on me by condemning me to a life of wretchedness."

"But your father--"

"Deceived by Madame Roland, he fully and implicitly believed that interested motives alone had set aside the two former marriages of M.

d'Harville."

"What a horrible scheme! But what was this mysterious reason?"