第49章
I hastily dressed myself. I entered the drawing-room pale and agitated. Edmee was pale too. It was a cold, rainy morning. A fire was burning in the great fire-place. Lying back in an easy chair, she was warming her little feet and dozing. It was the same listless, almost lifeless, attitude of the days of her illness. M. de la Marche was reading the paper at the other end of the room. On seeing that Edmee was more affected than myself by the emotions of the previous night, Ifelt my anger cool, and, approaching her noiselessly, I sat down and gazed on her tenderly.
"Is that you, Bernard?" she asked without moving a limb, and with eyes still closed.
Her elbows were resting on the arms of her chair and her hands were gracefully crossed under her chin. At that period it was the fashion for women to have their arms half bare at all times. On one of Edmee's I noticed a little strip of court-plaster that made my heart beat. It was the slight scratch I had caused against the bars of the chapel window. I gently lifted the lace which fell over her elbow, and, emboldened by her drowsiness, pressed my lips to the darling wound. M.
de la Marche could see me, and, in fact, did see me, as I intended he should. I was burning to have a quarrel with him. Edmee started and turned red; but immediately assuming an air of indolent playfulness, she said:
"Really, Bernard, you are as gallant this morning as a court abbe. Do you happen to have been composing a madrigal last night?"I was peculiarly mortified at this jesting. However, paying her back in her own coin, I answered:
"Yes; I composed one yesterday evening at the chapel window; and if it is a poor thing, cousin, it is your fault.""Say, rather, that it is the fault of your education," she replied, kindling.
And she was never more beautiful than when her natural pride and spirit were roused.
"My own opinion is that I am being very much over-educated," Ianswered; "and that if I gave more heed to my natural good sense you would not jeer at me so much.""Really, it seems to me that you are indulging in a veritable war of wits with Bernard," said M. de la Marche, folding his paper carelessly and approaching us.
"I cry quits with her," I answered, annoyed at this impertinence. "Let her keep her wit for such as you."I had risen to insult him, but he did not seem to notice it; and standing with his back to the fire he bent down towards Edmee and said, in a gentle and almost affectionate voice:
"What is the matter with him?" as if he were inquiring after the health of her little dog.
"How should I know?" she replied, in the same tone.
Then she rose and added:
"My head aches too much to remain here. Give me your arm and take me up to my room."She went out, leaning upon his arm. I was left there stupefied.
I remained in the drawing-room, resolved to insult him as soon as he should return. But the abbe now entered, and soon afterward my Uncle Hubert. They began to talk on subjects which were quite strange to me (the subjects of their conversation were nearly always so). I did not know what to do to obtain revenge. I dared not betray myself in my uncle's presence. I was sensible to the respect I owed to him and to his hospitality. Never had I done such violence to myself at Roche-Mauprat. Yet, in spite of all efforts, my anger showed itself. Ialmost died at being obliged to wait for revenge. Several times the chevalier noticed the change in my features and asked in a kind tone if I were ill. M. de la Marche seemed neither to observe nor to guess anything. The abbe alone examined me attentively. More than once Icaught his blue eyes anxiously fixed on me, those eyes in which natural penetration was always veiled by habitual shyness. The abbe did not like me. I could easily see that his kindly, cheerful manners grew cold in spite of himself as soon as he spoke to me; and Inoticed, too, that his face would invariably assume a sad expression at my approach.
The constraint that I was enduring was so alien to my habits and so beyond my strength that I came nigh to fainting. To obtain relief Iwent and threw myself on the grass in the park. This was a refuge to me in all my troubles. These mighty oaks, this moss which had clung to their branches through the centuries, these pale, sweet-scented wild flowers, emblems of secret sorrow, these were the friends of my childhood, and these alone I had found the same in social as in savage life. I buried my face in my hands; and I never remember having suffered more in any of the calamities of my life, though some that Ihad to bear afterward were very real. On the whole I ought to have accounted myself lucky, on giving up the rough and perilous trade of a cut-throat, to find so many unexpected blessings--affection, devotion, riches, liberty, education, good precepts and good examples. But it is certain that, in order to pass from a given state to its opposite, though it be from evil to good, from grief to joy, from fatigue to repose, the soul of a man must suffer; in this hour of birth of a new destiny all the springs of his being are strained almost to breaking--even as at the approach of summer the sky is covered with dark clouds, and the earth, all a-tremble, seems about to be annihilated by the tempest.
At this moment my only thought was to devise some means of appeasing my hatred of M. de la Marche without betraying and without even arousing a suspicion of the mysterious bond which held Edmee in my power. Though nothing was less respected at Roche-Mauprat than the sanctity of an oath, yet the little reading I had had there--those ballads of chivalry of which I have already spoken--had filled me with an almost romantic love of good faith; and this was about the only virtue I had acquired there. My promise of secrecy to Edmee was therefore inviolable in my eyes.
"However," I said to myself, "I dare say I shall find some plausible pretext for throwing myself upon my enemy and strangling him."To confess the truth, this was far from easy with a man who seemed bent on being all politeness and kindness.