CHAPTER VIII. THE CONFESSION.
Mdlle. de Cardoville, not wishing to betray the cause of the violentfeelings which agitated her, received M. de Montbron with a feigned andforced gayety. On the other hand, notwithstanding his tact and knowledgeof the world, the count was much embarrassed how to enter upon thesubject on which he wished to confer with Adrienne, and he resolvedto feel his way, before seriously commencing the conversation. Afterlooking at the young lady for some seconds, M. de Montbron shookhis head, and said, with a sigh of regret: "My dear child, I am notpleased."
"Some affair of the heart, or of hearts, my dear count?" returnedAdrienne, smiling.
"Of the heart," said M. de Montbron.
"What! you, so great a player, think more of a woman's whim than a throwof the dice?"
"I have a heavy heart, and you are the cause of it, my dear child."
"M. de Montbron, you will make me very proud," said Adrienne, with asmile.
"You would be wrong, for I tell you plainly, my trouble is caused byyour neglect of your beauty. Yes, your countenance is pale, dejected,sorrowful; you have been low-spirited for the last few days; you havesomething on your mind, I am sure of it."
"My dear M. de Montbron, you have so much penetration, that you may beallowed to fall for once, as now. I am not sad, I have nothing on mymind, and--I am about to utter a very silly piece of impertinence--Ihave never thought myself so pretty."
"On the contrary, nothing could be more modest than such an assertion.Who told you that falsehood? a woman?"
"No; it was my heart, and it spoke the truth," answered Adrienne, with aslight degree of emotion. "Understand it, if you can," she added.
"Do you mean that you are proud of the alteration in your features,because you are proud of the sufferings of your heart?" said M. deMontbron, looking at Adrienne with attention. "Be it so; I am thenright. You have some sorrow. I persist in it," added the count, speakingwith a tone of real feeling, "because it is painful to me."
"Be satisfied; I am as happy as possible--for every instant I takedelight in repeating, how, at my age, I am free--absolutely free!"
"Yes; free to torment yourself, free to be miserable."
"Come, come, my dear count!" said Adrienne, "you are recommencingour old quarrel. I still find in you the ally of my aunt and the Abbed'Aigrigny."
"Yes; as the republicans are the allies of the legitimists--to destroyeach other in their turn. Talking of your abominable aunt, they say thatshe holds a sort of council at her house these last few days, a regularmitred conspiracy. She is certainly in a good way."
"Why not? Formerly, she would have wished to be Goddess of Reason, now,we shall perhaps see her canonized. She has already performed the firstpart of the life of Mary Magdalen."
"You can never speak worse of her than she deserves, my dear child.Still, though for quite opposite reasons, I agreed with her on thesubject of your wish to reside alone."
"I know it."
"Yes; and because I wished to see you a thousand times freer than youreally are, I advised you--"
"To marry."
"No doubt; you would have had your dear liberty, with its consequences,only, instead of Mdlle. de Cardoville, we should have called you MadameSomebody, having found an excellent husband to be responsible for yourindependence."
"And who would have been responsible for this ridiculous husband? Andwho would bear a mocked and degraded name? I, perhaps?" said Adrienne,with animation. "No, no, my dear count, good or ill, I will answer formy own actions; to my name shall attach the reputation, which I alonehave formed. I am as incapable of basely dishonoring a name which isnot mine, as of continually bearing it myself, if it were not held in,esteem. And, as one can only answer for one's own actions, I prefer tokeep my name."
"You are the only person in the world that has such ideas."
"Why?" said Adrienne, laughing. "Because it appears to me horrible,to see a poor girl lost and buried in some ugly and selfish man, andbecome, as they say seriously, the better half of the monster--yes! afresh and blooming rose to become part of a frightful thistle!--Come,my dear count; confess there is something odious in this conjugalmetempsychosis," added Adrienne, with a burst of laughter.
The forced and somewhat feverish gayety of Adrienne contrasted painfullywith her pale and suffering countenance; it was so easy to see that shestrove to stifle with laughter some deep sorrow, that M. de Montbronwas much affected by it; but, dissembling his emotion, he appeared toreflect a moment, and took up mechanically one of the new, fresh-cutbooks, by which Adrienne was surrounded. After casting a careless glanceat this volume, he continued, still dissembling his feelings: "Come, mydear madcap: this is another folly. Suppose I were twenty years old,and that you did me the honor to marry me--you would be called Lady deMontbron, I imagine?"
"Perhaps."
"How perhaps? Would you not bear my name, if you married me?"
"My dear count," said Adrienne, with a smile, "do not let us pursue thishypothesis, which can only leave us--regrets."
Suddenly, M. de Montbron started, and looked at Mdlle, de Cardovillewith an expression of surprise. For some moments, whilst talking toAdrienne, he had mechanically--taken up two or three of the volumesscattered over the couch, and had glanced at their titles in the samecareless manner. The first was the "Modern History of India." Thesecond, "Travels in India." The third, "Letters on India." Muchsurprised, M. de Montbron had continued his investigation, and foundthat the fourth volume continued this Indian nomenclature, being"Rambles in India." The fifth was, "Recollections of Hindostan." Thesixth, "Notes of a Traveller in the East Indies."
Hence the astonishment, which, for many serious reasons, M. de Montbronhad no longer been able to conceal, and which his looks betrayed toAdrienne. The latter, having completely forgotten the presence of theaccusing volumes by which she was surrounded, yielded to a movement ofinvoluntary confusion, and blushed slightly; but, her firm and resolutecharacter again coming to her aid, she looked full at M. de Montbron,and said to him: "Well, my dear count! what surprises you?"
Instead of answering, M. de Montbron appeared still more absorbed inthought, and contemplating the young girl, he could not forbear sayingto himself: "No, no--it is impossible--and yet--"
"It would, perhaps, be indiscreet in me to listen to your soliloquy, mydear count," said Adrienne.
"Excuse me, my dear child; but what I see surprises me so much--"
"And pray what do you see?"
"The traces of so great and novel an interest in all that relates toIndia," said M. de Montbron, laying a slight stress on his words, andfixing a piercing look upon the young girl.
"Well!" said Adrienne, stoutly.
"Well! I seek the cause of this sudden passion--"
"Geographical?" said Mdlle. de Cardoville, interrupting M. de Montbron:"you may find this taste somewhat serious for my age my dear count--butone must find occupation for leisure hours--and then, having a cousin,who is both an Indian and a prince, I should like to know something ofthe fortunate country from which I derive this savage relationship."
These last words were pronounced with a bitterness that was not lost onM. de Montbron: watching Adrienne attentively, he observed: "Meseems,you speak of the prince with some harshness."
"No; I speak of him with indifference."
"Yet he deserves a very different feeling."
"On the part of some other person, perhaps," replied Adrienne, dryly.
"He is so unhappy!" said M, de Montbron, in a tone of sincere pity."When I saw him the other day, he made my heart ache."
"What have I to do with it?" exclaimed Adrienne, with an accent ofpainful and almost angry impatience.
"I should have thought that his cruel torments at least deserved yourpity," answered the count gravely.
"Pity--from me!" cried Adrienne, with an air of offended pride. Thenrestraining herself, she added coldly: "You are jesting, M. de Montbron.It is not in sober seriousness that you ask me to take interest in theam
orous torments of your prince."
There was so much cold disdain in these last words of Adrienne, her paleand agitated countenance betrayed such haughty bitterness, that M. deMontbron said, sorrowfully: "It is then true; I have not been deceived.I, who thought, from our old and constant friendship, that I had someclaim to your confidence have known nothing of it--while you told all toanother. It is painful, very painful to me."
"I do not understand you, M. de Montbron."
"Well then, since I must speak plainly," cried the count, "there is, Isee, no hope for this unhappy boy--you love another."
As Adrienne started--"Oh! you cannot deny it," resumed the count;"your paleness and melancholy for the last few days, your implacableindifference to the prince--all prove to me that you are in love."
Hurt by the manner in which the count spoke of the sentiment heattributed to her, Mdlle. de Cardoville answered with dignifiedstateliness: "You must know, M. de Montbron, that a secret discovered isnot a confidence. Your language surprises me.
"Oh, my dear friend, if I use the poor privilege of experience--if Iguess that you are in love--if I tell you so, and even go so far asto reproach you with it--it is because the life or death of this poorprince is concerned; and I feel for him as if he were my son, for it isimpossible to know him without taking the warmest interest in him."
"It would be singular," returned Adrienne, with redoubled coldness, andstill more bitter irony, "if my love--admitting I were in love--couldhave any such strange influence on Prince Djalma. What can it matter tohim?" added she, with almost agonizing disdain.
"What can it matter to him? Now really, my dear friend, permit me totell you, that it is you who are jesting cruelly. What! this unfortunateyouth loves you with all the blind ardor of a first love--twicehas attempted to terminate by suicide the horrible tortures of hispassion--and you think it strange that your love for another should bewith him a question of life or death!"
"He loves me then?" cried the young girl, with an accent impossible todescribe.
"He loves you to madness, I tell you; I have seen it."
Adrienne seemed overcome with amazement. From pale, she became crimson;as the redness disappeared, her lips grew white, and trembled. Heremotion was so strong, that she remained for some moments unableto speak, and pressed her hand to her heart, as if to moderate itspulsations.
M. de Montbron, almost frightened at the sudden change in Adrienne'scountenance, hastily approached her, exclaiming: "Good heaven, my poorchild! what is the matter?"
Instead of answering, Adrienne waved her hand to him, in sign thathe should not be alarmed; and, in fact, the count was speedilytranquillized, for the beautiful face, which had so lately beencontracted with pain, irony, and scorn, seemed now expressive of thesweetest and most ineffable emotions; Adrienne appeared to luxuriatein delight, and to fear losing the least particle of it; then, asreflection told her, that she was, perhaps, the dupe of illusion orfalsehood, she exclaimed suddenly, with anguish, addressing herself toM. de Montbron: "But is what you tell me true?"
"What I tell you!"
"Yes--that Prince Djalma--"
"Loves you to madness?--Alas! it is only too true."
"No, no," cried Adrienne, with a charming expression of simplicity;"that could never be too true."
"What do you say?" cried the count.
"But that woman?" asked Adrienne, as if the word scorched her lips.
"What woman?"
"She who has been the cause of all these painful struggles."
"That woman--why, who should it be but you?"
"What, I? Oh! tell me, was it I?"
"On my word of honor. I trust my experience. I have never seen so ardentand sincere a passion."
"Oh! is it really so? Has he never had any other love?"
"Never."
"Yet I was told so."
"By whom?"
"M. Rodin."
"That Djalma--"
"Had fallen violently in love, two days after I saw him."
"M. Rodin told you that!" cried M. de Montbron, as if struck with asudden idea. "Why, it is he who told Djalma that you were in love withsome one else."
"I!"
"And this it was which occasioned the poor youth's dreadful despair."
"It was this which occasioned my despair."
"You love him, then, just as he loves you!" exclaimed M. de Montbron,transported with joy.
"Love him!" said Mdlle. de Cardoville. A discreet knock at the doorinterrupted Adrienne.
"One of your servants, no doubt. Be calm," said the count.
"Come in," said Adrienne, in an agitated voice.
"What is it?" said Mdlle. de Cardoville. Florine entered the room.
"M. Rodin has just been here. Fearing to disturb mademoiselle, he wouldnot come in; but he will return in half an hour. Will mademoisellereceive him?"
"Yes, yes," said the count to Florine; "even if I am still here, showhim in by all means. Is not that your opinion?" asked M. de Montbron ofAdrienne.
"Quite so," answered the young girl; and a flash of indignation dartedfrom her eyes, as she thought of Rodin's perfidy.
"Oho! the old knave!" said M. de Montbron, "I always had my doubtsof that crooked neck!" Florine withdrew, leaving the count with hermistress.