From that day forward Godfrey became what a youth of his years and raceshould be, a high-spirited, athletic, and active young man. MadameRiennes and her visions passed from him like a bad dream. Thoughtful heremained always, for that was his nature; sometimes sad also, when hethought of Isobel, who seemed to have disappeared quite out of hislife. But as was natural at his age, this mood weakened by degrees. Shewas always there in the background, but she ceased to obscure thelandscape as she had done before, and was to do in his after life. Hadshe been a girl of the common type, attractive only because she was ayoung and vivacious woman, doubtless the eclipse would have beencomplete. Occasionally, indeed, men do love fools in an enduringfashion, which is perhaps the most evil fate that can be laid uponthem. For what can be worse than to waste what is deep and real upon athing of flesh without a soul, an empty, painted bubble, which evadesthe hand, or bursts if it is grasped? Those are the real unfortunates,who have sold themselves for a mess of potage, that for the most partthey are never even allowed to eat, since before the bell rings it hasprobably been deposited by heaven knows what hand of Circumstance insomeone else's plate, or gone stale and been thrown away.
Godfrey was not one of these, because the hand of Circumstance hadmanaged his affairs otherwise. Isobel was no mess of potage, but withall her faults and failings, a fair and great inheritance for him whocould take seisin of her. Still, as he believed, she had first treatedhim badly, then utterly neglected him whose pride she had outraged, bynot even taking the trouble to write him a letter, and finally, hadvanished away. And he was young, with manhood advancing in his veins,like the pulse of spring, and women are many in the world, some of whomhave pretty faces and proper figures. Also, although the fact isoverlooked by convention, it has pleased Nature to make man polygamousin his instincts, though where those instincts end and what is calledlove begins, is a thing almost impossible to define. Probably in truththe limit lies beyond the borders of sex.
So Isobel's grey eyes faded into the background of Godfrey's mentalvision, while the violet eyes of Juliette drew ever nearer to hisphysical perceptions. And here, to save trouble, it may be said atonce, that he never cared in the least for Juliette, except as a malecreature cares for a pretty female creature, and that Juliette nevercared in the least for him, except as a young woman cares in generalfor a handsome and attractive young man--with prospects. Indeed, shefound him too serious for her taste. She did not understand him, as,for his part, in her he found nothing to understand.
After all, ruling out the primary impulses which would make a scullerymaid congenial to a genius upon a desert isle, what was there in aJuliette to appeal to a Godfrey? And, with the same qualification, whatwas there in a Godfrey to appeal to a Juliette? As once, with anaccidental touch of poetry, she said to her mother, when at his sideshe felt as though she were walking over a snow-covered crevasse in thesurrounding Alps. All seemed firm beneath her feet, but she never knewwhen the crust would break, and he would vanish into unfathomed depths,perchance dragging her with him. Or, feeling her danger she might runfrom him on to safer ground, where she knew herself to be on good,common rock or soil, and no strange, hollow echoes struck her ears,leaving him to pursue his perilous journey alone.
Her mother laughed, and falling into her humour, answered, that beyondthe crevasse and at the foot of the further slope lay the warm andmerry human town, the best house of which--not unlike the VillaOgilvy--could be reached in no other way, and that with such a homewaiting to receive her, it was worth while to take a little risk.Thereon Juliette shrugged her white shoulders, and in the intervals ofone of the French _chansonettes_ which she was very fond of warbling inher gay voice, remarked that she preferred to make journeys, safe orperilous, in the company of a singing-bird in the sunlight, rather thanin that of an owl in the dusk, who always reminded her of the advancingdarkness.
At least, that was the substance of what she said, although she did notput it quite so neatly. Then, as though by an afterthought, she askedwhen her cousin Jules, a young notary of Berne, was coming to stay withthem.
The winter wore away, the spring came, and after spring, summer, withits greenery and flowers. Godfrey was happy enough during this time. Tobegin with, the place suited him. He was very well now, and grewenormously in that pure and trenchant air, broadening as well aslengthening, till, notwithstanding his slimness, he gave promise ofbecoming a large, athletic man.
Madame Riennes too and her unholy terrors had faded into thebackground. He no longer thought of spirits, although, it is true thata sense of the immanence and reality of the Unseen was always with him;indeed, as time went on, it increased rather than lessened. Partly,this was owing to the character and natural tendencies of his mind,partly also, without doubt, to the fact that his recent experienceshad, as it were, opened a door to him between the Seen and the Hidden,or rather burst a breach in the dividing wall that never was built upagain. Also his astronomical studies certainly gave an impetus tothoughts and speculations such as were always present with him. Onlynow these were of a wholesome and reverent nature, tending towardsthose ends which are advanced by religion in its truest sense.
He worked hard, too, under the gentle guidance of the learned Pasteur,at the classics, literature, and other subjects, while in French hecould not fail to become proficient in the company of the talkativeMadame and the sprightly Juliette. Nor did he want for relaxation.There were great woods on the hills behind the Maison Blanche, and inthese he obtained leave to shoot rabbits, and, horrible to say, foxes.Juliette and he would set out together towards evening, accompanied bya clever cur which belonged to Jean, the factotum of the house.
They would post themselves at some convenient spot, while theinstructed hound ranged the woods above. Then would appear perhaps arabbit, perhaps a hare, though these in that land of poaching were notcommon, or occasionally a great, red, stealthy fox. At first, with hisEnglish traditions, Godfrey shrank from shooting the last, which he hadbeen taught ought to die in one way only, namely, by being torn topieces in the jaws of the hounds.
Juliette, however, mocked at him, volubly reciting Reynard's manymisdeeds--how he stole chickens; how he tore out the throats of lambs,and, according to local report, was not even above killing a baby if hefound that innocent alone. So it came about next time the excitedyapping of the cur-dog was heard on the slopes above them, followed bystealthy movements among the fallen pine needles, and at length by theappearance of the beautiful red creature slyly slinking away toshelter, not twenty yards from where they stood behind a tree-trunk,that Juliette whispered:
"_Tirez_! _Tirez_!" and he lifted the gun, an old-fashioned,single-barrelled piece, aimed and fired.
Then followed a horrid scene. The big shot with which he had loaded,mortally wounded but did not kill the fox, that with its forepawsbroken, rolled, and bit, and made dreadful noises in its agony, itsbeautiful fur all stained with blood. Godfrey did not know what to do;it was too big and strong to kill with Juliette's little stick, so hetried to batter it to death with the stock of the gun, but withoutsuccess, and at last withdrew, looking at it horrified.
"What shall I do?" he asked faintly of Juliette.
"Load the gun and shoot it again," replied that practical young woman.
So with some mistakes, for the emergency made him nervous, such as thedropping of the cap among the pine needles, he obeyed. At last the poorbeast lay dead, a very disagreeable spectacle, with the cur-dog thathad arrived, biting joyously at its quivering form.
Godfrey put down the gun and retired behind a tree, whence presently heemerged, looking very pale, for to tell the truth, he had been ill.
"I do not think I like shooting foxes," he said.
"How strange you are," answered Juliette. "Quite unlike other men. Nowmy Cousin Jules, there is nothing that he loves better. Go now and cutoff his tail, to hang upon the wall. It is beautiful."
"I can't," said Godfrey still more faintly.
"Then give me the knife, for I can."
 
; And she did!
Had Madame but known it, that fox did not die unavenged upon herfamily, for with it departed from the world all hopes of the alliancewhich she desired so earnestly.