CHAPTER XXIV
"ARCADES AMBO"
Prince Vocqsal possessed a delightful shooting-box in the immediatevicinity of the Waldenberg; and, as a portion of those magnificentwoodlands was on his property, he and the De Rohans, father and son, hadlong established a joint guardianship and right of sporting over thatfar-famed locality. Perhaps what the Prince called a shooting-box, anEnglishman's less magnificent notions would have caused him to term acountry-house; for the "chalet," as Madame la Princesse delighted toname it, was a roomy, commodious dwelling, with all the appliances of acomfortable mansion, furnished in the most exquisite taste. She herselfhad never been induced to visit it till within the last few weeks--acircumstance which had not seemed to diminish its attractions in theeyes of the Prince; now, however, a suite of apartments was fitted upexpressly for "Madame," and this return to primitive tastes and ruralpleasures, on the part of that fastidious lady, was hailed by herdomestics with astonishment, and by her husband with a good-humoured andludicrous expression of dismay. To account for the change in Madame'shabits, we must follow Victor on his solitary ride, the pace of whichwas once more reduced to a walk as soon as he was beyond the gipsy'sken. Who does not know the nervous anxiety with which we have all of ussometimes hurried over the beginning of a journey, only to dawdle outits termination, in absolute dread of the very moment which yet we longfor so painfully.
Now, it was strange that so keen a sportsman as Victor, one, moreover,whose ear was as practised as his eye was quick, should have beendeceived in the direction from which he heard the reports of at leasthalf-a-dozen shots, that could only have been fired from the gun of hisfriend the Prince, whom he had promised faithfully to meet that morningat a certain well-known pass on the Waldenberg. It was strange that,instead of riding at once towards the spot where he must have seen thesmoke from a gun actually curling up amongst the trees, he should havecantered off in an exactly opposite direction, and never drawn rein tillhe arrived at the gate of a white house surrounded by acacias, at leastfive miles from the familiar and appointed trysting-place, and in a partof the Waldenberg by no means the best stocked with game.
It was strange, too, that he should have thought it necessary to informthe grim hussar who opened the door how he had unaccountably missed thePrince in the forest, and had ridden all this distance out of his way toinquire about him, and should have asked that military-lookingindividual, in a casual manner, whether it was probable Madame laPrincesse could put him in the right way of finding his companion, so asnot to lose his day's sport. It might have occurred to the hussar, ifnot too much taken up with his moustaches, that the simplest method forso intimate a friend would have been to have asked at once if "Madamewas at home," and then gone in and prosecuted his inquiries in person.If a shrewd hussar, too, he may have bethought him that the human bipedis something akin to the ostrich, and is persuaded, like that foolishbird, that if he can only hide his head, no one can detect his greatlong legs. Be this how it may, the official never moved a muscle of hiscountenance, and in about half-a-minute Victor found himself, he did notexactly know how, alone with "Madame" in her boudoir.
She gave him her hand, with one of those sunny smiles that used to gostraight to the Hungarian's heart. Madame was never demonstrative;although her companion would joyfully have cast himself at her feet andworshipped her, she wilfully ignored his devotion; and while she knewfrom his own lips that he was her lover, nor had the slightest objectionto the avowal, she persisted in treating him as a commonplace friend.It was part of her system, and it seemed to answer. Princess Vocqsal'slovers were always wilder about her than those of any other dame halfher age and possessed of thrice her beauty. She had the knack ofmanaging that strange compound of vanity, recklessness, and warmaffections which constitutes a man's heart; and she took a great delightin playing on an instrument of which she had sounded all the chords, andevoked all the tones, till she knew it thoroughly, and undervalued itaccordingly.
Victor had very little to say! he who was generally so gay and unabashedand agreeable. His colour went and came, and his hand positively shookas he took hers--so cold, and soft, and steady--and carried it to hislips.
"What, lost again in the Waldenberg?" said she, with a laugh, "andwithin five leagues of Edeldorf. Count de Rohan, you are really not fitto be trusted by yourself; we must get you some one to take care ofyou."
Victor looked reproachfully at her.
"Rose," he stammered, "you laugh at me; you despise me. Again I havesucceeded in seeing you without creating suspicion and remark; but Ihave had to do that which is foreign to my nature, and you know not whatit costs me. I have had to act, if not to speak, a lie. I was to havemet the Prince at the waterfall, and I wilfully missed him that I mightcome down here to inquire which way he had gone; I felt like a cowardbefore the eye of the very servant who opened your door; and all to lookon you for five minutes--to carry back with me the tones of your belovedvoice, and live upon them for weeks in my dreary home, till I can seeyou again. Rose! Rose! you little know how I adore you."
"But I cannot pity you in this instance, Monsieur le Comte," replied thelady; "I cannot, indeed. Here you are, in my comfortable boudoir, witha warm stove, and a polished floor, and your choice of every arm-chairand sofa in the room, instead of stamping about on that bleak and drearyWaldenberg, with your hands cold and your feet wet, and a heavy rifle tocarry, and in all probability nothing to shoot. Besides, sir, does mycompany count for nothing, instead of that of _Monsieur le Prince_? Itmay be bad taste, but I confess that, myself, I very much prefer my ownsociety to his." And the Princess laughed her cheerful ringing laugh,that seemed to come straight from the heart.
Victor sighed. "You will never be serious, Rose, for a minutetogether."
"Serious!" she replied, "no! why should I? Have I not cause to bemerry? I own I might have felt _triste_ and cross to-day if I had beendisappointed; but you are come, _mon cher Comte_, and everything is_couleur de rose_."
This was encouraging; and Victor opened the siege once more. He lovedher with all the enthusiasm and ardour of his warm Hungarian heart.Wilfully shutting his eyes to ruin, misery, and crime, he urged her tobe his--to fly with him--to leave all for his sake. He vowed to devotehimself to her, and her alone. He swore he would obey her lightestword, and move heaven and earth to fulfil her faintest wish for the restof his life, would she but confide her happiness to him. He was mad--hewas miserable without her: life was not worth having unless gilded byher smiles; he would fly his country if she did not consent: he wouldhate her, he would never see her more, and a great deal to the samepurpose, the outpouring of an eager, generous nature, warped bycircumstances to evil; but in vain; the lady was immovable; she knew toowell the value of her position to sacrifice it for so empty an illusionas love. Prudence, with the Princess, stood instead of principle; andPrudence whispered, "Keep all you have got, there is no need tosacrifice anything. You have all the advantage, take care to retain it.He may break his chains to-day, but he will come back voluntarily andput them on again to-morrow! it is more blessed to _receive_ than to_give_." Such was the Princess's reasoning, and she remained firm andcold as a rock. At last his temper gave way, and he reproached herbitterly and ungenerously.
"You do not love me," he said; "cold, false, and heartless, you havesacrificed me to your vanity; but you shall not enjoy your triumph long;from henceforth I renounce you and your favour--from this day I willnever set eyes on you again. Rose! for the last time I call you by thatdear name; Rose! for the last time, Farewell!"
She tried the old conquering glance once more, but it failed. She evenpressed his hand, and bade him wait and see the Prince on his return,but in vain. For the time, her power was gone. With lips compressed,and face as white as ashes, Victor strode from the room. In less thanfive minutes he was mounted, and galloping furiously off in thedirection of Edeldorf.
Princess Vocqsal was a sad coquette, but sh
e was a woman after all. Shewent to the window, and gazed wistfully after the horseman's figure asit disappeared amongst the acacias.
"Alas!" she thought, "poor Victor, it is too late now! So gallant, soloving, and so devoted. Ten years ago I had a heart to give, and youshould have had it then, wholly and unreservedly; but now--what am Inow? Oh that I could but be as I was then! Too late! too late!"
Her _femme-de-chambre_ attributed Madame's _migraine_ entirely to theweather and the dulness of the country, so different from Paris, or evenVienna; for that domestic at once perceived her mistress's eyes were redwith weeping, when she went to dress. But sal volatile and rouge,judiciously applied, can work wonders. The Princess never looked morebrilliant than when she descended to dinner, and she sat up and finishedher French novel that night before she went to bed.
Victor must have been half-way home when, leaning on his sister's arm, Icrept out into the garden to enjoy an hour of fresh air and sunshine inthe company of my sedulous nurse and charming companion. Valerie and Ihad spent the morning together, and it had passed like a dream. She hadmade my breakfast, which she insisted on giving me in truly Britishfashion, and poured out my tea herself, as she laughingly observed,"_comme une meess Anglaise_." She had played me her wild Hungarian airson the pianoforte, and sung me her plaintive national songs, withsweetness and good-humour. She had even taught me a new and intricatestitch in her embroidery, and bent my stubborn fingers to the task withher own pretty hands; and now, untiring in her care and kindness, shewas ready to walk out with me in the garden, and wait upon all my whimsand fancies as a nurse does for a sick child. I could walk at last withno pain, and but little difficulty. Had I not been so well taken careof, I think I should have declared myself quite recovered; but when youhave a fair round arm to guide your steps, and a pair of soft eyes tolook thrillingly into yours--as day after day a gentle voice entreatsyou not to hurry your convalescence and "attempt to do too much," it isa great temptation to put off as long as possible the evil hour when youmust declare yourself quite sound again, and begin once more to walkalone.
So Valerie and I paced up and down the garden, and drank in new life atevery pore in the glad sunshine and the soft balmy air.
It was one of those days which summer seems to have forgotten, and whichwe so gladly welcome when we find it at the close of autumn. A warm,mellow sunshine brightened the landscape, melting in the distance intothat golden haze which is so peculiarly the charm of this time of year:while the fleecy clouds, that seemed to stand still against the clearsky, enhanced the depth and purity of that wondrous, matchless blue.Not a breath stirred the rich yellow leaves dying in masses on thetrees; and the last rose of the garden, though in all the bloom ofmaturity, had shed her first petal, and paid her first tribute to decay.Valerie plucked it, and gave it me with a smile, as we sat down upon alow garden seat at one extremity of the walk. I thanked her, and, Iknow not why, put it to my lips before I transferred it to thebuttonhole of my coat. There was a silence of several minutes.
I broke it at last by remarking "that I should soon be well now, andmust ere long bid adieu to Edeldorf."
She started as though I had interrupted a train of pleasant thoughts,and answered, with some commonplace expression of regret and hope, that"I would not hurry myself;" but I thought her voice was more constrainedthan usual, and she turned her head away as she spoke.
"Valerie," I said--and this was the first time I had ever called her byher Christian name--"it is no use disguising from oneself an unpleasanttruth: my duty, my character, everything bids me leave my happy lifehere as soon as I am well enough. You may imagine how much I shallregret it, but you cannot imagine how grateful I feel for all yourkindness to me. Had you been my sister, you could not have indulged memore. It is not my nature to express half I feel, but believe me, thatwherever I go, at any distance of time or place, the brightest jewel inmy memory will be the name of the Comtesse de Rohan."
"You called me Valerie just now," said she, quickly.
"Well, of Valerie, then," I replied. "Your brother is the oldest friendI have--older even than poor Bold." That sagacious dog had lain down atour feet, and was looking from one to the other with a ludicrousexpression of wistful gravity, as if he could not make it all out. Whyshould he have reminded me at that instant so painfully of the gloriousstruggle for life and death in Beverley mere? That face! that face!would it never cease to haunt me with its sweet, sad smile? "Yes,Valerie," I proceeded, "that he should have received me as a brother isonly what I expected, but your unwearying kindness overpowers me.Believe me, I feel it very deeply, and I shall leave you, oh! with suchregret!"
"And we too shall regret you very much," answered Valerie, with flushedcheeks and not very steady tones. "But can you not stay a little longer?your health is hardly re-established, though your wound is healed,and--and--it will be very lonely when you are gone."
"Not for you," I replied; "not for the young Comtesse de Rohan (well,Valerie, then), admired and sought after by all. Beautiful anddistinguished, go where you will, you are sure to command homage andaffection. No, it is all the other way, _I_ shall be lonely, if youlike."
"Oh, but men are so different," said she, with a glance from under thoselong, dark eyelashes. "Wherever they go they find so much to interest,so much to occupy them, so much to do, so many to love."
"Not in my case," I answered, rather pursuing my own train of thoughtsthan in reply to my companion. "Look at the difference between us. Youhave your home, your brother, your friends, your dependants, all who canappreciate and return your affection; whilst I, I have nothing in theworld but my horses and my sword."
She looked straight into my face, a cloud seemed to pass over herfeatures, and she burst into tears. In another moment she was sobbingon my breast as if her heart would break.
A horse's hoofs were heard clattering in the stable yard, and as Victor,pale and excited, strode up the garden, Valerie rushed swiftly into thehouse.