White Lies

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  Edouard, the moment his temper cooled, became very sad. He longed to befriends again with Rose, but did not know how. His own pride heldhim back, and so did his fear that he had gone too far, and that hisoffended mistress would not listen to an offer of reconciliation fromhim. He sat down alone now to all his little meals. No sweet, mellowvoices in his ear after the fatigues of the day. It was a dismal changein his life.

  At last, one day, he received three lines from Josephine, requesting himto come and speak to her. He went over directly, full of vague hopes. Hefound her seated pale and languid in a small room on the ground floor.

  "What has she been doing to you, dear?" began she kindly.

  "Has she not told you, Madame Raynal?"

  "No; she is refractory. She will tell me nothing, and that makes me fearshe is the one in fault."

  "Oh! if she does not accuse me, I am sure I will not accuse her. I daresay I am to blame; it is not her fault that I cannot make her love me."

  "But you can. She does."

  "Yes; but she loves others better, and she holds me out no hope it willever be otherwise. On this one point how can I hope for your sympathy;unfortunately for me you are one of my rivals. She told me plainly shenever could love me as she loves you."

  "And you believed her?"

  "I had good reason to believe her."

  Josephine smiled sadly. "Dear Edouard," said she, "you must not attachso much importance to every word we say. Does Rose at her age knoweverything? Is she a prophet? Perhaps she really fancies she will alwayslove her sister as she does now; but you are a man of sense; you oughtto smile and let her talk. When you marry her you will take her to yourown house; she will only see me now and then; she will have you and youraffection always present. Each day some new tie between you and her. Youtwo will share every joy, every sorrow. Your children playing at yourfeet, and reflecting the features of both parents, will make you one.Your hearts will melt together in that blessed union which raises earthso near to heaven; and then you will wonder you could ever be jealous ofpoor Josephine, who must never hope--ah, me!"

  Edouard, wrapped up in himself, mistook Josephine's emotion at thepicture she had drawn of conjugal love. He soothed her, and vowed uponhis honor he never would separate Rose from her.

  "Madame Raynal," said he, "you are an angel, and I am a fiend. Jealousymust be the meanest of all sentiments. I never will be jealous again,above all, of you, sweet angel. Why, you are my sister as well as hers,and she has a right to love you, for I love you myself."

  "You make me very happy when you talk so," sighed Josephine. "Peace ismade?"

  "Never again to be broken. I will go and ask her pardon. What is thematter now?"

  For Jacintha was cackling very loud, and dismissing with ignominy twobeggars, male and female.

  She was industry personified, and had no sympathy with mendicity. Invain the couple protested, Heaven knows with what truth, that they werenot beggars, but mechanics out of work. "March! tramp!" was Jacintha'sleast word. She added, giving the rein to her imagination, "I'll loosethe dog." The man moved away, the woman turned appealingly to Edouard.He and Josephine came towards the group. She had got a sort of largehood, and in that hood she carried an infant on her shoulders. Josephineinspected it. "It looks sickly, poor little thing," said she.

  "What can you expect, young lady?" said the woman. "Its mother had torise and go about when she ought to have been in her bed, and now shehas not enough to give it."

  "Oh, dear!" cried Josephine. "Jacintha, give them some food and a nicebottle of wine."

  "That I will," cried Jacintha, changing her tone with courtier-likealacrity. "I did not see she was nursing."

  Josephine put a franc into the infant's hand; the little fingers closedon it with that instinct of appropriation, which is our first and oftenour last sentiment. Josephine smiled lovingly on the child, and thechild seeing that gave a small crow.

  "Bless it," said Josephine, and thereupon her lovely head reared itselflike a snake's, and then darted down on the child; and the young noblekissed the beggar's brat as if she would eat it.

  This won the mother's heart more than even the gifts.

  "Blessings on you, my lady!" she cried. "I pray the Lord not to forgetthis when a woman's trouble comes on you in your turn! It is a smallchild, mademoiselle, but it is not an unhealthy one. See." Inspectionwas offered, and eagerly accepted.

  Edouard stood looking on at some distance in amazement, mingled withdisgust.

  "Ugh!" said he, when she rejoined him, "how could you kiss that nastylittle brat?"

  "Dear Edouard, don't speak so of a poor little innocent. Who would pitythem if we women did not? It had lovely eyes."

  "Like saucers."

  "Yes."

  "It is no compliment when you are affectionate to anybody; you overflowwith benevolence on all creation, like the rose which sheds its perfumeon the first-comer."

  "If he is not going to be jealous of me next," whined Josephine.

  She took him to Rose, and she said, "There, whenever good friendsquarrel, it is understood they were both in the wrong. Bygones are to bebygones; and when your time comes round to quarrel again, please consultme first, since it is me you will afflict." She left them together, andwent and tapped timidly at the doctor's study.

  Aubertin received her with none of that reserve she had seen in him. Heappeared both surprised and pleased at her visit to his little sanctum.He even showed an emotion Josephine was at a loss to account for. Butthat wore off during the conversation, and, indeed, gave place to a sortof coldness.

  "Dear friend," said she, "I come to consult you about Rose and Edouard."She then told him what had happened, and hinted at Edouard's one fault.The doctor smiled. "It is curious. You have come to draw my attention toa point on which it has been fixed for some days past. I am preparing acure for the two young fools; a severe remedy, but in their case a sureone."

  He then showed her a deed, wherein he had settled sixty thousand francson Rose and her children. "Edouard," said he, "has a good place. He isactive and rising, and with my sixty thousand francs, and a little purseof ten thousand more for furniture and nonsense, they can marry nextweek, if they like. Yes, marriage is a sovereign medicine for both ofthese patients. She does not love him quite enough. Cure: marriage. Heloves her a little too much. Cure: marriage."

  "O doctor!"

  "Can't help it. I did not make men and women. We must take human natureas we find it, and thank God for it on the whole. Have you nothing elseto confide to me?"

  "No, doctor."

  "Are you sure?"

  "No, dear friend. But this is very near my heart," faltered Josephine.

  The doctor sighed; then said gently, "They shall be happy: as happy asyou wish them."

  Meantime, in another room, a reconciliation scene was taking place, andthe mutual concessions of two impetuous but generous spirits.

  The baroness noticed the change in Josephine's appearance.

  She asked Rose what could be the matter.

  "Some passing ailment," was the reply.

  "Passing? She has been so, on and off, a long time. She makes me veryanxious."

  Rose made light of it to her mother, but in her own heart she grew moreand more anxious day by day. She held secret conferences with Jacintha;that sagacious personage had a plan to wake Josephine from her deathlylanguor, and even soothe her nerves, and check those pitiable fitsof nervous irritation to which she had become subject. Unfortunately,Jacintha's plan was so difficult and so dangerous, that at first eventhe courageous Rose recoiled from it; but there are dangers that seem todiminish when you look them long in the face.

  The whole party was seated in the tapestried room: Jacintha was there,sewing a pair of sheets, at a respectful distance from the gentlefolks,absorbed in her work; but with both ears on full cock.

  The doctor, holding his glasses to his eye, had just begun to read outthe Moniteur.

  The baroness sat close t
o him, Edouard opposite; and the young ladieseach in her corner of a large luxurious sofa, at some little distance.

  "'The Austrians left seventy cannon, eight thousand men, and threecolors upon the field. Army of the North: General Menard defeated theenemy after a severe engagement, taking thirteen field-pieces and aquantity of ammunition.'"

  The baroness made a narrow-minded renmark. "That is always the way withthese journals," said she. "Austrians! Prussians! when it's Egypt onewants to hear about."--"No, not a word about Egypt," said the doctor;"but there is a whole column about the Rhine, where Colonel Dujardinis--and Dard. If I was dictator, the first nuisance I would put downis small type." He then spelled out a sanguinary engagement: "eightthousand of the enemy killed. We have some losses to lament. ColonelDujardin"--

  "Only wounded, I hope," said the baroness.

  The doctor went coolly on. "At the head of the 24th brigade made abrilliant charge on the enemy's flank, that is described in the generalorder as having decided the fate of the battle."

  "How badly you do read," said the old lady, sharply. "I thought he wasgone; instead of that he has covered himself with glory; but it is allour doing, is it not, young ladies? We saved his life."

  "We saved it amongst us, madame."

  "What is the matter, Rose?" said Edouard.

  "Nothing: give me the salts, quick."

  She only passed them, as it were, under her own nostrils; then heldthem to Josephine, who was now observed to be trembling all over. Rosecontrived to make it appear that this was mere sympathy on Josephine'spart.

  "Don't be silly, girls," cried the baroness, cheerfully; "there isnobody killed that we care about."

  Dr. Aubertin read the rest to himself.

  Edouard fell into a gloomy silence and tortured himself about Camille,and Rose's anxiety and agitation.

  By and by the new servant brought in a letter. It was the long-expectedone from Egypt.

  "Here is something better than salts for you. A long letter, Josephine,and all in his own hand; so he is safe, thank Heaven! I was beginningto be uneasy again. You frightened me for that poor Camille: but thisis worth a dozen Camilles; this is my son; I would give my old lifefor him."--"My dear Mother--('Bless him!'), my dear wife, and my dearsister--('Well! you sit there like two rocks!')--We have just gaineda battle--fifty colors. ('What do you think of that?') All the enemy'sbaggage and ammunition are in our hands. ('This is something likea battle, this one.') Also the Pasha of Natolie. ('Ah! the Pasha ofNatolie; an important personage, no doubt, though I never had the honorof hearing of him. Do you hear?--you on the sofa. My son has capturedthe Pasha of Natolie. He is as brave as Caesar.') But this success isnot one of those that lead to important results ('Never mind, a victoryis a victory'), and I should not wonder if Bonaparte was to dash homeany day. If so, I shall go with him, and perhaps spend a whole day withyou, on my way to the Rhine."

  At this prospect a ghastly look passed quick as lightning between Roseand Josephine.

  The baroness beckoned Josephine to come close to her, and read her whatfollowed in a lower tone of voice.

  "Tell my wife I love her more and more every day. I don't expect as muchfrom her, but she will make me very happy if she can make shift to likeme as well as her family do."--"No danger! What husband deserves to beloved as he does? I long for his return, that his wife, his mother, andhis sister may all combine to teach this poor soldier what happinessmeans. We owe him everything, Josephine, and if we did not love him, andmake him happy, we should be monsters; now should we not?"

  Josephine stammered an assent.

  "NOW you may read his letter: Jacintha and all," said the baronessgraciously.

  The letter circulated. Meantime, the baroness conversed with Aubertin inquite an undertone.

  "My friend, look at Josephine. That girl is ill, or else she is going tobe ill."

  "Neither the one nor the other, madame," said Aubertin, looking hercoolly in the face.

  "But I say she is. Is a doctor's eye keener than a mother's?"

  "Considerably," replied the doctor with cool and enviable effrontery.

  The baroness rose. "Now, children, for our evening walk. We shall enjoyit now."

  "I trust you may: but for all that I must forbid the evening air to oneof the party--to Madame Raynal."

  The baroness came to him and whispered, "That is right. Thank you. Seewhat is the matter with her, and tell me." And she carried off the restof the party.

  At the same time Jacintha asked permission to pass the rest of theevening with her relations in the village. But why that swift, quiveringglance of intelligence between Jacintha and Rose de Beaurepaire when thebaroness said, "Yes, certainly"?

  Time will show.

  Josephine and the doctor were left alone. Now Josephine had noticed theold people whisper and her mother glance her way, and the whole womanwas on her guard. She assumed a languid complacency, and by way ofshield, if necessary, took some work, and bent her eyes and apparentlyher attention on it.

  The doctor was silent and ill at ease.

  She saw he had something weighty on his mind. "The air would have doneme no harm," said she.

  "Neither will a few words with me."

  "Oh, no, dear friend. Only I think I should have liked a little walkthis evening."

  "Josephine," said the doctor quietly, "when you were a child I savedyour life."

  "I have often heard my mother speak of it. I was choked by the croup,and you had the courage to lance my windpipe."

  "Had I?" said the doctor, with a smile. He added gravely, "It seems thenthat to be cruel is sometimes kindness. It is the nature of men to lovethose whose life they save."

  "And they love you."

  "Well, our affection is not perfect. I don't know which is most toblame, but after all these years I have failed to inspire you withconfidence." The doctor's voice was sad, and Josephine's bosom panted.

  "Pray do not say so," she cried. "I would trust you with my life."

  "But not with your secret."

  "My secret! What secret? I have no secrets."

  "Josephine, you have now for full twelve months suffered in body andmind, yet you have never come to me for counsel, for comfort, for an oldman's experience and advice, nor even for medical aid."

  "But, dear friend, I assure you"--

  "We DO NOT deceive our friend. We CANNOT deceive our doctor."

  Josephine trembled, but defended herself after the manner of her sex."Dear doctor," said she, "I love you all the better for this. Yourregard for me has for once blinded your science. I am not so robust asyou have known me, but there is nothing serious the matter with me. Letus talk of something else. Besides, it is not interesting to talk aboutone's self."

  "Very well; since there is nothing serious or interesting in your case,we will talk about something that is both serious and interesting."

  "With all my heart;" and she smiled with a sense of relief.

  But the doctor leaned over the table to her, and said in a cautious andmost emphatic whisper, "We will talk about YOUR CHILD."

  The work dropped from Josephine's hands: she turned her face wildly onAubertin, and faltered out, "M--my child?"

  "My words are plain," replied he gravely. "YOUR CHILD."

  When the doctor repeated these words, when Josephine looking in his facesaw he spoke from knowledge, however acquired, and not from guess, sheglided down slowly off the sofa and clasped his knees as he stood beforeher, and hid her face in an agony of shame and terror on his knees.

  "Forgive me," she sobbed. "Pray do not expose me! Do not destroy me."

  "Unhappy young lady," said he, "did you think you had deceived me, orthat you are fit to deceive any but the blind? Your face, your anguishafter Colonel Dujardin's departure, your languor, and then your suddenrobustness, your appetite, your caprices, your strange sojourn atFrejus, your changed looks and loss of health on your return! Josephine,your old friend has passed many an hour thinking of you, divining yourfolly, following your
trouble step by step. Yet you never invited him toaid you."

  Josephine faltered out a lame excuse. If she had revered him less shecould have borne to confess to him. She added it would be a relief toher to confide in him.

  "Then tell me all," said he.

  She consented almost eagerly, and told him--nearly all. The old man wasdeeply affected. He murmured in a broken voice, "Your story is the storyof your sex, self-sacrifice, first to your mother, then to Camille, nowto your husband."

  "And he is well worthy of any sacrifice I can make," said Josephine."But oh, how hard it is to live!"

  "I hope to make it less hard to you ere long," said the doctor quietly.He then congratulated himself on having forced Josephine to confide inhim. "For," said he, "you never needed an experienced friend more thanat this moment. Your mother will not always be so blind as of late.Edouard is suspicious. Jacintha is a shrewd young woman, and veryinquisitive."

  Josephine was not at the end of her concealments: she was ashamed to lethim know she had made a confidant of Jacintha and not of him. She heldher peace.

  "Then," continued Aubertin, "there is the terrible chance of Raynal'sreturn. But ere I take on me to advise you, what are your own plans?"

  "I don't know," said Josephine helplessly.

  "You--don't--know!" cried the doctor, looking at her in utter amazement.

  "It is the answer of a mad woman, is it not? Doctor, I am little better.My foot has slipped on the edge of a precipice. I close my eyes, and letmyself glide down it. What will become of me?"

  "All shall be well," said Aubertin, "provided you do not still love thatman."

  Josephine did not immediately reply: her thoughts turned inwards. Thegood doctor was proceeding to congratulate her on being cured of a fatalpassion, when she stopped him with wonder in her face. "Not love him!How can I help loving him? I was his betrothed. I wronged him in mythoughts. War, prison, anguish, could not kill him; he loved me so. Hestruggled bleeding to my feet; and could I let him die, after all? CouldI be crueller than prison, and torture, and despair?"

  The doctor sighed deeply; but, arming himself with the necessaryresolution, he sternly replied, "A woman of your name cannot vacillatebetween love and honor; such vacillations have but one end. I will notlet you drift a moral wreck between passion and virtue; and that is whatit will come to if you hesitate now."

  "Hesitate! Who can say I have hesitated where my honor was concerned?You can read our bodies then, but not our hearts. What! you see me sopale, forlorn, and dead, and that does not tell you I have bid Camillefarewell forever? That we might be safer still I have not even told himhe is a father: was ever woman so cruel as I am? I have written him butone letter, and in that I must deceive him. I told him I thought I mightone day be happy, if I could hear that he did not give way to despair. Itold him we must never meet again in this world. So now come what will:show me my duty and I will do it. This endless deceit burns my heart.Shall I tell my husband? It will be but one pang more, one blush morefor me. But my mother!" and, thus appealed to, Dr. Aubertin felt, forthe first time, all the difficulty of the situation he had undertaken tocure. He hesitated, he was embarrassed.

  "Ah," said Josephine, "you see." Then, after a short silence, she saiddespairingly, "This is my only hope: that poor Raynal will be longabsent, and that ere he returns mamma will lie safe from sorrow andshame in the little chapel. Doctor, when a woman of my age formssuch wishes as these, I think you might pity her, and forgive herill-treatment of you, for she cannot be very happy. Ah me! ah me! ahme!"

  "Courage, poor soul! All is now in my hands, and I will save you," saidthe doctor, his voice trembling in spite of him. "Guilt lies in theintention. A more innocent woman than you does not breathe. Two courseslay open to you: to leave this house with Camille Dujardin, or todismiss him, and live for your hard duty till it shall please Heaven tomake that duty easy (no middle course was tenable for a day); of thesetwo paths you chose the right one, and, having chosen, I really thinkyou are not called on to reveal your misfortune, and make those unhappyto whose happiness you have sacrificed your own for years to come."

  "Forever," said Josephine quietly.

  "The young use that word lightly. The old have almost ceased to use it.They have seen how few earthly things can conquer time."

  He resumed, "You think only of others, Josephine, but I shall thinkof you as well. I shall not allow your life to be wasted in a needlessstruggle against nature." Then turning to Rose, who had glided into theroom, and stood amazed, "Her griefs were as many before her child wasborn, yet her health stood firm. Why? because nature was on her side.Now she is sinking into the grave. Why? because she is defying nature.Nature intended her to be pressing her child to her bosom day and night;instead of that, a peasant woman at Frejus nurses the child, and themother pines at Beaurepaire."

  At this, Josephine leaned her face on her hands on the doctor'sshoulder. In this attitude she murmured to him, "I have never seen himsince I left Frejus." Dr. Aubertin sighed for her. Emboldened by this,she announced her intention of going to Frejus the very next day tosee her little Henri. But to this Dr. Aubertin demurred. "What,another journey to Frejus?" said he, "when the first has already rousedEdouard's suspicions; I can never consent to that."

  Then Josephine surprised them both. She dropped her coaxing voice andpecked the doctor like an irritated pigeon. "Take care," said she,"don't be too cruel to me. You see I am obedient, resigned. I have givenup all I lived for: but if I am never to have my little boy's arms roundme to console me, then--why torment me any longer? Why not say to me,'Josephine, you have offended Heaven; pray for pardon, and die'?"

  Then the doctor was angry in his turn. "Oh, go then," said he, "go toFrejus; you will have Edouard Riviere for a companion this time. Yourfirst visit roused his suspicions. So before you go tell your motherall; for since she is sure to find it out, she had better hear it fromyou than from another."

  "Doctor, have pity on me," said Josephine.

  "You have no heart," said Rose. "She shall see him though, in spite ofyou."

  "Oh, yes! he has a heart," said Josephine: "he is my best friend. Hewill let me see my boy."

  All this, and the tearful eyes and coaxing yet trembling voice, washard to resist. But Aubertin saw clearly, and stood firm. He put hishandkerchief to his eyes a moment: then took the pining young mother'shand. "And, do you think," said he, "I do not pity you and love yourboy? Ah! he will never want a father whilst I live; and from this momenthe is under my care. I will go to see him; I will bring you news, andall in good time; I will place him where you shall visit him withoutimprudence; but, for the present, trust a wiser head than yours orRose's; and give me your sacred promise not to go to Frejus."

  Weighed down by his good-sense and kindness, Josephine resisted nolonger in words. She just lifted her hands in despair and began to cry.It was so piteous, Aubertin was ready to yield in turn, and consent toany imprudence, when he met with an unexpected ally.

  "Promise," said Rose, doggedly.

  Josephine looked at her calmly through her tears.

  "Promise, dear," repeated Rose, and this time with an intonation sofine that it attracted Josephine's notice, but not the doctor's. It wasfollowed by a glance equally subtle.

  "I promise," said Josephine, with her eye fixed inquiringly on hersister.

  For once she could not make the telegraph out: but she could see it wasplaying, and that was enough. She did what Rose bid her; she promisednot to go to Frejus without leave.

  Finding her so submissive all of a sudden, he went on to suggest thatshe must not go kissing every child she saw. "Edouard tells me he sawyou kissing a beggar's brat. The young rogue was going to quiz you aboutit at the dinner-table; luckily, he told me his intention, and Iwould not let him. I said the baroness would be annoyed with youfor descending from your dignity--and exposing a noble family tofleas--hush! here he is."

  "Tiresome!" muttered Rose, "just when"--

  Edouard came forward with a half-vexed fac
e.

  However, he turned it off into play. "What have you been saying to her,monsieur, to interest her so? Give me a leaf out of your book. I needit."

  The doctor was taken aback for a moment, but at last he said slyly, "Ihave been proposing to her to name the day. She says she must consultyou before she decides that."

  "Oh, you wicked doctor!--and consult HIM of all people!"

  "So be off, both of you, and don't reappear before me till it issettled."

  Edouard's eyes sparkled. Rose went out with a face as red as fire.

  It was a balmy evening. Edouard was to leave them for a week the nextday. They were alone: Rose was determined he should go away quite happy.Everything was in Edouard's favor: he pleaded his cause warmly: shelistened tenderly: this happy evening her piquancy and archness seemedto dissolve into tenderness as she and Edouard walked hand in hand underthe moon: a tenderness all the more heavenly to her devoted lover, thatshe was not one of those angels who cloy a man by invariable sweetness.

  For a little while she forgot everything but her companion. In that softhour he won her to name the day, after her fashion.

  "Josephine goes to Paris with the doctor in about three weeks," murmuredshe.

  "And you will stay behind, all alone?"

  "Alone? that shall depend on you, monsieur."

  On this Edouard caught her for the first time in his arms.

  She made a faint resistance.

  "Seal me that promise, sweet one!"

  "No! no!--there!"

  He pressed a delicious first kiss upon two velvet lips that in theirinnocence scarcely shunned the sweet attack.

  For all that, the bond was no sooner sealed after this fashion, than thelady's cheek began to burn.

  "Suppose we go in NOW?" said she, dryly.

  "Ah, not yet."

  "It is late, dear Edouard."

  And with these words something returned to her mind with its full force:something that Edouard had actually made her forget. She wanted to getrid of him now.

  "Edouard," said she, "can you get up early in the morning? If you can,meet me here to-morrow before any of them are up; then we can talkwithout interruption."

  Edouard was delighted.

  "Eight o'clock?"

  "Sooner if you like. Mamma bade me come and read to her in her roomto-night. She will be waiting for me. Is it not tiresome?"

  "Yes, it is."

  "Well, we must not mind that, dear; in three weeks' time we are to havetoo much of one another, you know, instead of too little."

  "Too much! I shall never have enough of you. I shall hate the nightwhich will rob me of the sight of you for so many hours in thetwenty-four."

  "If you can't see me, perhaps you may hear me; my tongue runs by nightas well as by day."

  "Well, that is a comfort," said Edouard, gravely. "Yes, little quizzer,I would rather hear you scold than an angel sing. Judge, then, whatmusic it is when you say you love me!"

  "I love you, Edouard."

  Edouard kissed her hand warmly, and then looked irresolutely at herface.

  "No, no!" said she, laughing and blushing. "How rude you are. Next timewe meet."

  "That is a bargain. But I won't go till you say you love me again.

  "Edouard, don't be silly. I am ashamed of saying the same thing sooften--I won't say it any more. What is the use? You know I love you.There, I HAVE said it: how stupid!"

  "Adieu, then, my wife that is to be."

  "Adieu! dear Edouard."

  "My hus--go on--my hus--"

  "My huswife that shall be."

  Then they walked very slowly towards the house, and once more Rose leftquizzing, and was all tenderness.

  "Will you not come in, and bid them 'good-night'?"

  "No, my own; I am in heaven. Common faces--common voices would bring medown to earth. Let me be alone;--your sweet words ringing in my ear. Iwill dilute you with nothing meaner than the stars. See how bright theyshine in heaven; but not so bright as you shine in my heart."

  "Dear Edouard, you flatter me, you spoil me. Alas! why am I not moreworthy of your love?"

  "More worthy! How can that be?"

  Rose sighed.

  "But I will atone for all. I will make you a better--(here shesubstituted a full stop for a substantive)--than you expect. You willsee else."

  She lingered at the door: a proof that if Edouard, at that particularmoment, had seized another kiss, there would have been no very violentopposition or offence.

  But he was not so impudent as some. He had been told to wait tillthe next meeting for that. He prayed Heaven to bless her, and so theaffianced lovers parted for the night.

  It was about nine o'clock. Edouard, instead of returning to hislodgings, started down towards the town, to conclude a bargain with theinnkeeper for an English mare he was in treaty for. He wanted herfor to-morrow's work; so that decided him to make the purchase. Inpurchases, as in other matters, a feather turns the balanced scale. Hesauntered leisurely down. It was a very clear night; the full moon andthe stars shining silvery and vivid. Edouard's heart swelled with joy.He was loved after all, deeply loved; and in three short weeks he wasactually to be Rose's husband: her lord and master. How like a heavenlydream it all seemed--the first hopeless courtship, and now the weddingfixed! But it was no dream; he felt her soft words still murmur music athis heart, and the shadow of her velvet lips slept upon his own.

  He had strolled about a league when he heard the ring of a horse's hoofscoming towards him, accompanied by a clanking noise; it came nearer andnearer, till it reached a hill that lay a little ahead of Edouard; thenthe sounds ceased; the cavalier was walking his horse up the hill.

  Presently, as if they had started from the earth, up popped betweenEdouard and the sky, first a cocked hat that seemed in that light to becut with a razor out of flint; then the wearer, phosphorescent here andthere; so brightly the keen moonlight played on his epaulets and steelscabbard. A step or two nearer, and Edouard gave a great shout; it wasColonel Raynal.

  After the first warm greeting, and questions and answers, Raynal toldhim he was on his way to the Rhine with despatches.

  "To the Rhine?"

  "I am allowed six days to get there. I made a calculation, and found Icould give Beaurepaire half a day. I shall have to make up for it byhard riding. You know me; always in a hurry. It is Bonaparte's faultthis time. He is always in a hurry too."

  "Why, colonel," said Edouard, "let us make haste then. Mind they goearly to rest at the chateau."

  "But you are not coming my way, youngster?"

  "Not coming your way? Yes, but I am. Yours is a face I don't see everyday, colonel; besides I would not miss THEIR faces, especially thebaroness's and Madame Raynal's, at sight of you; and, besides,"--and theyoung gentleman chuckled to himself, and thought of Rose's words, "thenext time we meet;" well, this will be the next time. "May I jump upbehind?"

  Colonel Raynal nodded assent. Edouard took a run, and lighted like amonkey on the horse's crupper. He pranced and kicked at this unexpectedaddition; but the spur being promptly applied to his flanks, he boundedoff with a snort that betrayed more astonishment than satisfaction, andaway they cantered to Beaurepaire, without drawing rein.

  "There," said Edouard, "I was afraid they would be gone to bed; and theyare. The very house seems asleep--fancy--at half-past ten."

  "That is a pity," said Raynal, "for this chateau is the stronghold ofetiquette. They will be two hours dressing before they will come out andshake hands. I must put my horse into the stable. Go you and give thealarm."

  "I will, colonel. Stop, first let me see whether none of them are up,after all."

  And Edouard walked round the chateau, and soon discovered a light at onewindow, the window of the tapestried room. Running round the otherway he came slap upon another light: this one was nearer the ground. Anarrow but massive door, which he had always seen not only locked butscrewed up, was wide open; and through the aperture the light of acandle streamed out and met the moonlight
streaming in.

  "Hallo!" cried Edouard.

  He stopped, turned, and looked in.

  "Hallo!" he cried again much louder.

  A young woman was sleeping with her feet in the silvery moonlight, andher head in the orange-colored blaze of a flat candle, which rested onthe next step above of a fine stone staircase, whose existence was nowfirst revealed to the inquisitive Edouard.

  Coming plump upon all this so unexpectedly, he quite started.

  "Why, Jacintha!"

  He touched her on the shoulder to wake her. No. Jacintha was sleeping asonly tired domestics can sleep. He might have taken the candle and burnther gown off her back. She had found a step that fitted into the smallof her back, and another that supported her head, and there she was fastas a door.

  At this moment Raynal's voice was heard calling him.

  "There is a light in that bedroom."

  "It is not a bedroom, colonel; it is our sitting-room now. We shall findthem all there, or at least the young ladies; and perhaps the doctor.The baroness goes to bed early. Meantime I can show you one of ourdramatis personae, and an important one too. She rules the roost."

  He took him mysteriously and showed him Jacintha.

  Moonlight by itself seems white, and candlelight by itself seems yellow;but when the two come into close contrast at night, candle turns areddish flame, and moonlight a bluish gleam.

  So Jacintha, with her shoes in this celestial sheen, and her face inthat demoniacal glare, was enough to knock the gazer's eye out.

  "Make a good sentinel--this one," said Raynal--"an outlying picket forinstance, on rough ground, in front of the enemy's riflemen."

  "Ha! ha! colonel! Let us see where this staircase leads. I have an ideait will prove a short cut."

  "Where to?"

  "To the saloon, or somewhere, or else to some of Jacintha's haunts.Serve her right for going to sleep at the mouth of her den."

  "Forward then--no, halt! Suppose it leads to the bedrooms? Mind thisis a thundering place for ceremony. We shall get drummed out of thebarracks if we don't mind our etiquette."

  At this they hesitated; and Edouard himself thought, on the whole, itwould be better to go and hammer at the front door.

  Now while they hesitated, a soft delicious harmony of female voicessuddenly rose, and seemed to come and run round the walls. The menlooked at one another in astonishment; for the effect was magical. Thestaircase being enclosed on all sides with stone walls and floored withstone, they were like flies inside a violoncello; the voices rang above,below, and on every side of the vibrating walls. In some epochs spiritsas hardy as Raynal's, and wits as quick as Riviere's, would have fledthen and there to the nearest public, and told over cups how they hadheard the dames of Beaurepaire, long since dead, holding their revel,and the conscious old devil's nest of a chateau quivering to the ghostlystrains.

  But this was an incredulous age. They listened, and listened, anddecided the sounds came from up-stairs.

  "Let us mount, and surprise these singing witches," said Edouard.

  "Surprise them! what for? It is not the enemy--for once. What is thegood of surprising our friends?"

  Storming parties and surprises were no novelty and therefore no treat toRaynal.

  "It will be so delightful to see their faces at first sight of you. Ocolonel, for my sake! Don't spoil it by going tamely in at the frontdoor, after coming at night from Egypt for half an hour."

  Raynal grumbled something about its being a childish trick; but toplease Edouard consented at last; only stipulated for a light: "orelse," said he, "we shall surprise ourselves instead with a broken neck,going over ground we don't know to surprise the natives--our skirmishersgot nicked that way now and then in Egypt."

  "Yes, colonel, I will go first with Jacintha's candle." Edouard mountedthe stairs on tiptoe. Raynal followed. The solid stone steps did notprate. The men had mounted a considerable way, when puff a blast of windcame through a hole, and out went Edouard's candle. He turned sharplyround to Raynal. "Peste!" said he in a vicious whisper. But the otherlaid his hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Look to the front." Helooked, and, his own candle being out, saw a glimmer on ahead. Hecrept towards it. It was a taper shooting a feeble light across a smallaperture. They caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a small apartment.Yet Edouard recognized the carpet of the tapestried room--which was avery large room. Creeping a yard nearer, he discovered that it was thetapestried room, and that what had seemed the further wall was only thescreen, behind which were lights, and two women singing a duet.

  He whispered to Raynal, "It is the tapestried room."

  "Is it a sitting-room?" whispered Raynal.

  "Yes! yes! Mind and not knock your foot against the wood."

  And Raynal went softly up and put his foot quietly through the aperture,which he now saw was made by a panel drawn back close to the ground;and stood in the tapestried chamber. The carpet was thick; the voicesfavored the stealthy advance; the floor of the old house was like arock; and Edouard put his face through the aperture, glowing all overwith anticipation of the little scream of joy that would welcome hisfriend dropping in so nice and suddenly from Egypt.

  The feeling was rendered still more piquant by a sharp curiosity thathad been growing on him for some minutes past. For why was this passageopened to-night?--he had never seen it opened before. And why wasJacintha lying sentinel at the foot of the stairs?

  But this was not all. Now that they were in the room both men becameconscious of another sound besides the ladies' voices--a very peculiarsound. It also came from behind the screen. They both heard it, andshowed, by the puzzled looks they cast at one another, that neithercould make out what on earth it was. It consisted of a succession oflittle rustles, followed by little thumps on the floor.

  But what was curious, too, this rustle, thump--rustle, thump--fellexactly into the time of the music; so that, clearly, either the rustlethump was being played to the tune, or the tune sung to the rustlethump.

  This last touch of mystery inflamed Edouard's impatience beyond bearing:he pointed eagerly and merrily to the corner of the screen. Raynalobeyed, and stepped very slowly and cautiously towards it.

  Rustle, thump! rustle, thump! rustle, thump! with the rhythm ofharmonious voices.

  Edouard got his head and foot into the room without taking his eye offRaynal.

  Rustle, thump! rustle, thump! rustle, thump!

  Raynal was now at the screen, and quietly put his head round it, and hishand upon it.

  Edouard was bursting with expectation.

  No result. What is this? Don't they see him? Why does he not speak tothem? He seems transfixed.

  Rustle, thump! rustle, thump; accompanied now for a few notes by onevoice only, Rose's.

  Suddenly there burst a shriek from Josephine, so loud, so fearful, thatit made even Raynal stagger back a step, the screen in his hand.

  Then another scream of terror and anguish from Rose. Then a fainter cry,and the heavy helpless fall of a human body.

  Raynal sprang forward whirling the screen to the earth in terribleagitation, and Edouard bounded over it as it fell at his feet. He didnot take a second step. The scene that caught his eye stupefied andparalyzed him in full career, and froze him to the spot with amazementand strange misgivings.