CHAPTER XXII
A WEEK is gone; LE JOUR DES NOCES arrived; the marriage was solemnizedat St. Jacques; Mdlle. Zoraide became Madame Pelet, NEE Reuter; and, inabout an hour after this transformation, "the happy pair," as newspapersphrase it, were on their way to Paris; where, according to previousarrangement, the honeymoon was to be spent. The next day I quitted thepensionnat. Myself and my chattels (some books and clothes) were soontransferred to a modest lodging I had hired in a street not far off. Inhalf an hour my clothes were arranged in a commode, my books on a shelf,and the "flitting" was effected. I should not have been unhappy that dayhad not one pang tortured me--a longing to go to the Rue Notre Dameaux Neiges, resisted, yet irritated by an inward resolve to avoidthat street till such time as the mist of doubt should clear from myprospects.
It was a sweet September evening--very mild, very still; I had nothingto do; at that hour I knew Frances would be equally released fromoccupation I thought she might possibly be wishing for her master, Iknew I wished for my pupil. Imagination began with her low whispers,infusing into my soul the soft tale of pleasures that might be.
"You will find her reading or writing," said she; "you can take yourseat at her side; you need not startle her peace by undue excitement;you need not embarrass her manner by unusual action or language. Be asyou always are; look over what she has written; listen while she reads;chide her, or quietly approve; you know the effect of either system; youknow her smile when pleased, you know the play of her looks when roused;you have the secret of awakening what expression you will, and you canchoose amongst that pleasant variety. With you she will sit silent aslong as it suits you to talk alone; you can hold her under a potentspell: intelligent as she is, eloquent as she can be, you can seal herlips, and veil her bright countenance with diffidence; yet, you know,she is not all monotonous mildness; you have seen, with a sort ofstrange pleasure, revolt, scorn, austerity, bitterness, lay energeticclaim to a place in her feelings and physiognomy; you know that fewcould rule her as you do; you know she might break, but never bend underthe hand of Tyranny and Injustice, but Reason and Affection can guideher by a sign. Try their influence now. Go--they are not passions; youmay handle them safely."
"I will NOT go was my answer to the sweet temptress. A man is masterof himself to a certain point, but not beyond it. Could I seek Francesto-night, could I sit with her alone in a quiet room, and address heronly in the language of Reason and Affection?"
"No," was the brief, fervent reply of that Love which had conquered andnow controlled me.
Time seemed to stagnate; the sun would not go down; my watch ticked, butI thought the hands were paralyzed.
"What a hot evening!" I cried, throwing open the lattice; for, indeed, Ihad seldom felt so feverish. Hearing a step ascending the common stair,I wondered whether the "locataire," now mounting to his apartments, wereas unsettled in mind and condition as I was, or whether he lived in thecalm of certain resources, and in the freedom of unfettered feelings.What! was he coming in person to solve the problem hardly proposed ininaudible thought? He had actually knocked at the door--at MY door; asmart, prompt rap; and, almost before I could invite him in, he was overthe threshold, and had closed the door behind him.
"And how are you?" asked an indifferent, quiet voice, in the Englishlanguage; while my visitor, without any sort of bustle or introduction,put his hat on the table, and his gloves into his hat, and drawingthe only armchair the room afforded a little forward, seated himselftranquilly therein.
"Can't you speak?" he inquired in a few moments, in a tone whosenonchalance seemed to intimate that it was much the same thing whetherI answered or not. The fact is, I found it desirable to have recourse tomy good friends "les besicles;" not exactly to ascertain the identity ofmy visitor--for I already knew him, confound his impudence! but to seehow he looked--to get a clear notion of his mien and countenance.I wiped the glasses very deliberately, and put them on quite asdeliberately; adjusting them so as not to hurt the bridge of my noseor get entangled in my short tufts of dun hair. I was sitting in thewindow-seat, with my back to the light, and I had him VIS-A-VIS; aposition he would much rather have had reversed; for, at any time, hepreferred scrutinizing to being scrutinized. Yes, it was HE, and nomistake, with his six feet of length arranged in a sitting attitude;with his dark travelling surtout with its velvet collar, his graypantaloons, his black stock, and his face, the most original one Natureever modelled, yet the least obtrusively so; not one feature that couldbe termed marked or odd, yet the effect of the whole unique. There is nouse in attempting to describe what is indescribable. Being in no hurryto address him, I sat and stared at my ease.
"Oh, that's your game--is it?" said he at last. "Well, we'll see whichis soonest tired." And he slowly drew out a fine cigar-case, picked oneto his taste, lit it, took a book from the shelf convenient to his hand,then leaning back, proceeded to smoke and read as tranquilly as if hehad been in his own room, in Grove-street, X---shire, England. I knewhe was capable of continuing in that attitude till midnight, if heconceived the whim, so I rose, and taking the book from his hand, Isaid,--
"You did not ask for it, and you shall not have it."
"It is silly and dull," he observed, "so I have not lost much;" then thespell being broken, he went on: "I thought you lived at Pelet's; I wentthere this afternoon expecting to be starved to death by sitting ina boarding-school drawing-room, and they told me you were gone, haddeparted this morning; you had left your address behind you though,which I wondered at; it was a more practical and sensible precautionthan I should have imagined you capable of. Why did you leave?"
"Because M. Pelet has just married the lady whom you and Mr. Brownassigned to me as my wife."
"Oh, indeed!" replied Hunsden with a short laugh; "so you've lost bothyour wife and your place?"
"Precisely so."
I saw him give a quick, covert glance all round my room; he marked itsnarrow limits, its scanty furniture: in an instant he had comprehendedthe state of matters--had absolved me from the crime of prosperity. Acurious effect this discovery wrought in his strange mind; I am morallycertain that if he had found me installed in a handsome parlour,lounging on a soft couch, with a pretty, wealthy wife at my side, hewould have hated me; a brief, cold, haughty visit, would in such a casehave been the extreme limit of his civilities, and never would he havecome near me more, so long as the tide of fortune bore me smoothly onits surface; but the painted furniture, the bare walls, the cheerlesssolitude of my room relaxed his rigid pride, and I know not whatsoftening change had taken place both in his voice and look ere he spokeagain.
"You have got another place?"
"No."
"You are in the way of getting one?"
"No."
"That is bad; have you applied to Brown?"
"No, indeed."
"You had better; he often has it in his power to give useful informationin such matters."
"He served me once very well; I have no claim on him, and am not in thehumour to bother him again."
"Oh, if you're bashful, and dread being intrusive, you need onlycommission me. I shall see him to-night; I can put in a word."
"I beg you will not, Mr. Hunsden; I am in your debt already; you did mean important service when I was at X----; got me out of a den where Iwas dying: that service I have never repaid, and at present I declinepositively adding another item to the account."
"If the wind sits that way, I'm satisfied. I thought my unexampledgenerosity in turning you out of that accursed counting-house would beduly appreciated some day: 'Cast your bread on the waters, and itshall be found after many days,' say the Scriptures. Yes, that's right,lad--make much of me--I'm a nonpareil: there's nothing like me in thecommon herd. In the meantime, to put all humbug aside and talk sense fora few moments, you would be greatly the better of a situation, and whatis more, you are a fool if you refuse to take one from any hand thatoffers it."
"Very well, Mr. Hunsden; now you have settled that point, talk ofsomething else
. What news from X----?"
"I have not settled that point, or at least there is another to settlebefore we get to X----. Is this Miss Zenobie" (Zoraide, interposedI)--"well, Zoraide--is she really married to Pelet?"
"I tell you yes--and if you don't believe me, go and ask the cure of St.Jacques."
"And your heart is broken?"
"I am not aware that it is; it feels all right--beats as usual."
"Then your feelings are less superfine than I took them to be; you mustbe a coarse, callous character, to bear such a thwack without staggeringunder it."
"Staggering under it? What the deuce is there to stagger under in thecircumstance of a Belgian schoolmistress marrying a French schoolmaster?The progeny will doubtless be a strange hybrid race; but that's theirlook-out--not mine."
"He indulges in scurrilous jests, and the bride was his affianced one!"
"Who said so?"
"Brown."
"I'll tell you what, Hunsden--Brown is an old gossip."
"He is; but in the meantime, if his gossip be founded on less thanfact--if you took no particular interest in Miss Zoraide--why, Oyouthful pedagogue! did you leave your place in consequence of herbecoming Madame Pelet?"
"Because--" I felt my face grow a little hot; "because--in short, Mr.Hunsden, I decline answering any more questions," and I plunged my handsdeep in my breeches pocket.
Hunsden triumphed: his eyes--his laugh announced victory.
"What the deuce are you laughing at, Mr. Hunsden?"
"At your exemplary composure. Well, lad, I'll not bore you; I see howit is: Zoraide has jilted you--married some one richer, as any sensiblewoman would have done if she had had the chance."
I made no reply--I let him think so, not feeling inclined to enter intoan explanation of the real state of things, and as little to forge afalse account; but it was not easy to blind Hunsden; my very silence,instead of convincing him that he had hit the truth, seemed to renderhim doubtful about it; he went on:--
"I suppose the affair has been conducted as such affairs alwaysare amongst rational people: you offered her your youth and yourtalents--such as they are--in exchange for her position and money: Idon't suppose you took appearance, or what is called LOVE, into theaccount--for I understand she is older than you, and Brown says, rathersensible-looking than beautiful. She, having then no chance of makinga better bargain, was at first inclined to come to terms with you, butPelet--the head of a flourishing school--stepped in with a higher bid;she accepted, and he has got her: a correct transaction--perfectlyso--business-like and legitimate. And now we'll talk of something else."
"Do," said I, very glad to dismiss the topic, and especially glad tohave baffled the sagacity of my cross-questioner--if, indeed, I hadbaffled it; for though his words now led away from the dangerous point,his eyes, keen and watchful, seemed still preoccupied with the formeridea.
"You want to hear news from X----? And what interest can you have inX----? You left no friends there, for you made none. Nobody ever asksafter you--neither man nor woman; and if I mention your name in company,the men look as if I had spoken of Prester John; and the women sneercovertly. Our X---- belles must have disliked you. How did you excitetheir displeasure?"
"I don't know. I seldom spoke to them--they were nothing to me. Iconsidered them only as something to be glanced at from a distance;their dresses and faces were often pleasing enough to the eye: butI could not understand their conversation, nor even read theircountenances. When I caught snatches of what they said, I could nevermake much of it; and the play of their lips and eyes did not help me atall."
"That was your fault, not theirs. There are sensible, as well ashandsome women in X----; women it is worth any man's while to talk to,and with whom I can talk with pleasure: but you had and have no pleasantaddress; there is nothing in you to induce a woman to be affable. I haveremarked you sitting near the door in a room full of company, bent onhearing, not on speaking; on observing, not on entertaining; lookingfrigidly shy at the commencement of a party, confusingly vigilant aboutthe middle, and insultingly weary towards the end. Is that the way, doyou think, ever to communicate pleasure or excite interest? No; and ifyou are generally unpopular, it is because you deserve to be so."
"Content!" I ejaculated.
"No, you are not content; you see beauty always turning its back onyou; you are mortified and then you sneer. I verily believe all that isdesirable on earth--wealth, reputation, love--will for ever to you bethe ripe grapes on the high trellis: you'll look up at them; they willtantalize in you the lust of the eye; but they are out of reach: youhave not the address to fetch a ladder, and you'll go away calling themsour."
Cutting as these words might have been under some circumstances, theydrew no blood now. My life was changed; my experience had been variedsince I left X----, but Hunsden could not know this; he had seen me onlyin the character of Mr. Crimsworth's clerk--a dependant amongst wealthystrangers, meeting disdain with a hard front, conscious of an unsocialand unattractive exterior, refusing to sue for notice which I was surewould be withheld, declining to evince an admiration which I knew wouldbe scorned as worthless. He could not be aware that since then youth andloveliness had been to me everyday objects; that I had studied them atleisure and closely, and had seen the plain texture of truth underthe embroidery of appearance; nor could he, keen-sighted as hewas, penetrate into my heart, search my brain, and read my peculiarsympathies and antipathies; he had not known me long enough, or wellenough, to perceive how low my feelings would ebb under some influences,powerful over most minds; how high, how fast they would flow underother influences, that perhaps acted with the more intense force on me,because they acted on me alone. Neither could he suspect for an instantthe history of my communications with Mdlle. Reuter; secret to himand to all others was the tale of her strange infatuation herblandishments, her wiles had been seen but by me, and to me only werethey known; but they had changed me, for they had proved that I COULDimpress. A sweeter secret nestled deeper in my heart; one full oftenderness and as full of strength: it took the sting out of Hunsden'ssarcasm; it kept me unbent by shame, and unstirred by wrath. But of allthis I could say nothing--nothing decisive at least; uncertainty sealedmy lips, and during the interval of silence by which alone I replied toMr. Hunsden, I made up my mind to be for the present wholly misjudgedby him, and misjudged I was; he thought he had been rather too hardupon me, and that I was crushed by the weight of his upbraidings; so tore-assure me he said, doubtless I should mend some day; I was only atthe beginning of life yet; and since happily I was not quite withoutsense, every false step I made would be a good lesson.
Just then I turned my face a little to the light; the approach oftwilight, and my position in the window-seat, had, for the last tenminutes, prevented him from studying my countenance; as I moved,however, he caught an expression which he thus interpreted:--
"Confound it! How doggedly self-approving the lad looks! I thought hewas fit to die with shame, and there he sits grinning smiles, as good asto say, 'Let the world wag as it will, I've the philosopher's stonein my waist-coat pocket, and the elixir of life in my cupboard; I'mindependent of both Fate and Fortune.'"
"Hunsden--you spoke of grapes; I was thinking of a fruit I like betterthan your X---- hot-house grapes--an unique fruit, growing wild, which Ihave marked as my own, and hope one day to gather and taste. It is of nouse your offering me the draught of bitterness, or threatening me withdeath by thirst: I have the anticipation of sweetness on my palate; thehope of freshness on my lips; I can reject the unsavoury, and endure theexhausting."
"For how long?"
"Till the next opportunity for effort; and as the prize of success willbe a treasure after my own heart, I'll bring a bull's strength to thestruggle."
"Bad luck crushes bulls as easily as bullaces; and, I believe, the furydogs you: you were born with a wooden spoon in your mouth, depend onit."
"I believe you; and I mean to make my wooden spoon do the work of somepeople's silver ladles: gra
sped firmly, and handled nimbly, even awooden spoon will shovel up broth."
Hunsden rose: "I see," said he; "I suppose you're one of those whodevelop best unwatched, and act best unaided--work your own way. Now,I'll go." And, without another word, he was going; at the door heturned:--
"Crimsworth Hall is sold," said he.
"Sold!" was my echo.
"Yes; you know, of course, that your brother failed three months ago?"
"What! Edward Crimsworth?"
"Precisely; and his wife went home to her father's; when affairs wentawry, his temper sympathized with them; he used her ill; I told you hewould be a tyrant to her some day; as to him--"
"Ay, as to him--what is become of him?"
"Nothing extraordinary--don't be alarmed; he put himself under theprotection of the court, compounded with his creditors--tenpence inthe pound; in six weeks set up again, coaxed back his wife, and isflourishing like a green bay-tree."
"And Crimsworth Hall--was the furniture sold too?"
"Everything--from the grand piano down to the rolling-pin."
"And the contents of the oak dining-room--were they sold?"
"Of course; why should the sofas and chairs of that room be held moresacred than those of any other?"
"And the pictures?"
"What pictures? Crimsworth had no special collection that I know of--hedid not profess to be an amateur."
"There were two portraits, one on each side the mantelpiece; you cannothave forgotten them, Mr. Hunsden; you once noticed that of the lady--"
"Oh, I know! the thin-faced gentlewoman with a shawl put on likedrapery.--Why, as a matter of course, it would be sold among the otherthings. If you had been rich, you might have bought it, for I rememberyou said it represented your mother: you see what it is to be without asou."
I did. "But surely," I thought to myself, "I shall not always be sopoverty-stricken; I may one day buy it back yet.--Who purchased it? doyou know?" I asked.
"How is it likely? I never inquired who purchased anything; there spokethe unpractical man--to imagine all the world is interested in whatinterests himself! Now, good night--I'm off for Germany to-morrowmorning; I shall be back here in six weeks, and possibly I may calland see you again; I wonder whether you'll be still out of place!"he laughed, as mockingly, as heartlessly as Mephistopheles, and solaughing, vanished.
Some people, however indifferent they may become after a considerablespace of absence, always contrive to leave a pleasant impression justat parting; not so Hunsden, a conference with him affected one like adraught of Peruvian bark; it seemed a concentration of the speciallyharsh, stringent, bitter; whether, like bark, it invigorated, I scarcelyknew.
A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow; I slept little on the nightafter this interview; towards morning I began to doze, but hardly had myslumber become sleep, when I was roused from it by hearing a noise inmy sitting room, to which my bed-room adjoined--a step, and a shoving offurniture; the movement lasted barely two minutes; with the closingof the door it ceased. I listened; not a mouse stirred; perhaps Ihad dreamt it; perhaps a locataire had made a mistake, and entered myapartment instead of his own. It was yet but five o'clock; neither I northe day were wide awake; I turned, and was soon unconscious. When I didrise, about two hours later, I had forgotten the circumstance; the firstthing I saw, however, on quitting my chamber, recalled it; just pushedin at the door of my sitting-room, and still standing on end, was awooden packing-case--a rough deal affair, wide but shallow; a porterhad doubtless shoved it forward, but seeing no occupant of the room, hadleft it at the entrance.
"That is none of mine," thought I, approaching; "it must be meant forsomebody else." I stooped to examine the address:--
"Wm. Crimsworth, Esq., No --, -- St., Brussels."
I was puzzled, but concluding that the best way to obtain informationwas to ask within, I cut the cords and opened the case. Green baizeenveloped its contents, sewn carefully at the sides; I ripped thepack-thread with my pen-knife, and still, as the seam gave way, glimpsesof gilding appeared through the widening interstices. Boards and baizebeing at length removed, I lifted from the case a large picture, in amagnificent frame; leaning it against a chair, in a position where thelight from the window fell favourably upon it, I stepped back--already Ihad mounted my spectacles. A portrait-painter's sky (the most sombre andthreatening of welkins), and distant trees of a conventional depth ofhue, raised in full relief a pale, pensive-looking female face, shadowedwith soft dark hair, almost blending with the equally dark clouds;large, solemn eyes looked reflectively into mine; a thin cheek restedon a delicate little hand; a shawl, artistically draped, half hid, halfshowed a slight figure. A listener (had there been one) might have heardme, after ten minutes' silent gazing, utter the word "Mother!" I mighthave said more--but with me, the first word uttered aloud in soliloquyrouses consciousness; it reminds me that only crazy people talk tothemselves, and then I think out my monologue, instead of speaking it.I had thought a long while, and a long while had contemplated theintelligence, the sweetness, and--alas! the sadness also of those fine,grey eyes, the mental power of that forehead, and the rare sensibilityof that serious mouth, when my glance, travelling downwards, fell on anarrow billet, stuck in the corner of the picture, between the frame andthe canvas. Then I first asked, "Who sent this picture? Who thought ofme, saved it out of the wreck of Crimsworth Hall, and now commits it tothe care of its natural keeper?" I took the note from its niche; thus itspoke:--
"There is a sort of stupid pleasure in giving a child sweets, a fool hisbells, a dog a bone. You are repaid by seeing the child besmear his facewith sugar; by witnessing how the fool's ecstasy makes a greater fool ofhim than ever; by watching the dog's nature come out over his bone.In giving William Crimsworth his mother's picture, I give him sweets,bells, and bone all in one; what grieves me is, that I cannot beholdthe result; I would have added five shillings more to my bid if theauctioneer could only have promised me that pleasure.
"H. Y. H.
"P.S.--You said last night you positively declined adding another itemto your account with me; don't you think I've saved you that trouble?"
I muffled the picture in its green baize covering, restored it to thecase, and having transported the whole concern to my bed-room, put itout of sight under my bed. My pleasure was now poisoned by pungent pain;I determined to look no more till I could look at my ease. If Hunsdenhad come in at that moment, I should have said to him, "I owe younothing, Hunsden--not a fraction of a farthing: you have paid yourselfin taunts!"
Too anxious to remain any longer quiescent, I had no sooner breakfasted,than I repaired once more to M. Vandenhuten's, scarcely hoping to findhim at home; for a week had barely elapsed since my first call: butfancying I might be able to glean information as to the time when hisreturn was expected. A better result awaited me than I had anticipated,for though the family were yet at Ostend, M. Vandenhuten had come overto Brussels on business for the day. He received me with the quietkindness of a sincere though not excitable man. I had not sat fiveminutes alone with him in his bureau, before I became aware of a senseof ease in his presence, such as I rarely experienced with strangers.I was surprised at my own composure, for, after all, I had come onbusiness to me exceedingly painful--that of soliciting a favour. I askedon what basis the calm rested--I feared it might be deceptive. Ere longI caught a glimpse of the ground, and at once I felt assured of itssolidity; I knew where it was.
M. Vandenhuten was rich, respected, and influential; I, poor, despisedand powerless; so we stood to the world at large as members of theworld's society; but to each other, as a pair of human beings, ourpositions were reversed. The Dutchman (he was not Flamand, but pureHollandais) was slow, cool, of rather dense intelligence, though soundand accurate judgment; the Englishman far more nervous, active, quickerboth to plan and to practise, to conceive and to realize. The Dutchmanwas benevolent, the Englishman susceptible; in short our charactersdovetailed, but my mind having more fire and action than his,instinctivel
y assumed and kept the predominance.
This point settled, and my position well ascertained, I addressed himon the subject of my affairs with that genuine frankness which fullconfidence can alone inspire. It was a pleasure to him to be so appealedto; he thanked me for giving him this opportunity of using a littleexertion in my behalf. I went on to explain to him that my wish was notso much to be helped, as to be put into the way of helping myself;of him I did not want exertion--that was to be my part--but onlyinformation and recommendation. Soon after I rose to go. He held out hishand at parting--an action of greater significance with foreignersthan with Englishmen. As I exchanged a smile with him, I thought thebenevolence of his truthful face was better than the intelligence of myown. Characters of my order experience a balm-like solace in the contactof such souls as animated the honest breast of Victor Vandenhuten.
The next fortnight was a period of many alternations; my existenceduring its lapse resembled a sky of one of those autumnal nights whichare specially haunted by meteors and falling stars. Hopes and fears,expectations and disappointments, descended in glancing showers fromzenith to horizon but all were transient, and darkness followed swifteach vanishing apparition. M. Vandenhuten aided me faithfully; he set meon the track of several places, and himself made efforts to securethem for me; but for a long time solicitation and recommendation werevain--the door either shut in my face when I was about to walk in,or another candidate, entering before me, rendered my further advanceuseless. Feverish and roused, no disappointment arrested me; defeatfollowing fast on defeat served as stimulants to will. I forgotfastidiousness, conquered reserve, thrust pride from me: I asked, Ipersevered, I remonstrated, I dunned. It is so that openings are forcedinto the guarded circle where Fortune sits dealing favours round. Myperseverance made me known; my importunity made me remarked. I wasinquired about; my former pupils' parents, gathering the reports oftheir children, heard me spoken of as talented, and they echoed theword: the sound, bandied about at random, came at last to ears which,but for its universality, it might never have reached; and at the verycrisis when I had tried my last effort and knew not what to do, Fortunelooked in at me one morning, as I sat in drear and almost desperatedeliberation on my bedstead, nodded with the familiarity of an oldacquaintance--though God knows I had never met her before--and threw aprize into my lap.
In the second week of October, 18--, I got the appointment of Englishprofessor to all the classes of ---- College, Brussels, with a salaryof three thousand francs per annum; and the certainty of being able, bydint of the reputation and publicity accompanying the position, to makeas much more by private means. The official notice, which communicatedthis information, mentioned also that it was the strong recommendationof M. Vandenhuten, negociant, which had turned the scale of choice in myfavour.
No sooner had I read the announcement than I hurried to M. Vandenhuten'sbureau, pushed the document under his nose, and when he had perusedit, took both his hands, and thanked him with unrestrained vivacity.My vivid words and emphatic gesture moved his Dutch calm to unwontedsensation. He said he was happy--glad to have served me; but he haddone nothing meriting such thanks. He had not laid out a centime--onlyscratched a few words on a sheet of paper.
Again I repeated to him--
"You have made me quite happy, and in a way that suits me; I do notfeel an obligation irksome, conferred by your kind hand; I do not feeldisposed to shun you because you have done me a favour; from this dayyou must consent to admit me to your intimate acquaintance, for I shallhereafter recur again and again to the pleasure of your society."
"Ainsi soit-il," was the reply, accompanied by a smile of benignantcontent. I went away with its sunshine in my heart.