The Maid of Honour Volume I Part 7

The dream was interrupted in this wise. On a certain stormy evening the abbe had laid down his book. The chevalier reclined in his chair, gulping in stentorous slumber, while Gabrielle sat listening to the saddest sound in the world--the soughing of the winter wind. At her feet lay Pharamond with flushed face, excited by the story he had been reading--that of Francesca da Rimini.

"That pig will die in a fit," he remarked presently, with a glance of scorn at his brother, who lay with his back to them in gurgling unconsciousness; "and the sooner the better, for then we shall be alone."

"_That day they read no more!_" Ah me, what a tale it is, old as the hills but ever new!

A silence. Gabrielle too was reflecting on the story of Francesca.

"An all-devouring consuming love. Tell me, Gabrielle, is it a curse or a blessing?"

"That depends," replied the other, slowly, "whether it be pure or not.

The condition of real love implies abnegation of self in favour of the one who is loved."

"Too cold a view of it for me," returned the abbe. "I belong to the south, where it burns and scorches. I believe that illicit love is best. Poor Gabrielle! Ignorant sleeping princess, yet awaiting the awakening kiss! How strange, that one so beautiful should never have felt the divine breath! Clovis could not love. He is too selfish. With that brute snoring there, the G.o.d-like sentiment rises no higher than the l.u.s.t of the uncultured savage."

Tears welled into the eyes of Gabrielle. "I take it," she murmured, "that the reason love is so often a curse lies in its inequality, since it is given to no couple to love with equal fervour."

Under influence of the reading and of the abbe's words, old yearnings had sprung newly into life again which she had deemed dead. Alas! If the affection of Clovis had been as true and staunch as hers, how unclouded a career would have been theirs. Illicit love, he had dared to say--this insidious Pharamond! No; never--never that! She sighed, and with chin on hand, gazed into the fire. It was mere idle prate.

Men of a poetic turn run into such extremes.

How beautiful she looked in the warm fitful glow in a plain sacque of palest rose, her hair loosely gathered to display to advantage the poise of the graceful head. What a perfect neck and shoulder, and how exquisitely modelled an arm. One hand lay carelessly upon her lap. It was as though he saw that shapely arm for the first time. The blood surging to his brain, the abbe bent down and impressed a burning kiss on it.

Goaded by circ.u.mstances--an irresistible temptation--he had betrayed himself. Well! Why not now as well as later? On the whole, he was rather glad to have been drawn out of his usual caution.

Rising from the cus.h.i.+ons to his knees, he pressed another kiss upon her shoulder, and whispered with hot and labouring breath, which seemed to burn the skin--"Gabrielle--my Gabrielle--my own, spite all; it is I who am to teach you the love that maddens and entrances."

Bewildered by the suddenness of the act, crimson to the roots of her fair hair, Gabrielle sank panting, speechless, against the carven oak-panel--till, feeling a hand gliding round her waist, she writhed out of the embrace, and, revolted, half-choked, with swimming head, staggered to her feet.

"You too!" she faltered faintly, glancing from one brother to the other in fear. "Oh, Pharamond! You must be insane! You did not know what you were doing!"

"Did I not? Hush. Why wake that idiot?" whispered the abbe, striving, as he clung, to wreathe again about her arm his trembling sinuous fingers. "I know right well what I have done, and glory in it since I have made you my own. On the first evening that I set eyes on your l.u.s.trous beauty, I swore that some day you should be mine. That day is come; you are hemmed round. Others want you, but not so much as I; and when I say _I will_, all must give way to that! I hold you in my hand as I might a fluttering bird just caught. Aha! How the poor heart beats. Be calm; oh, heart of mine! I can be patient and wait until the bird shall cease to struggle, and will like you all the better for the fluttering!"

Gabrielle's blood chilled in growing horror, and she endeavoured to recoil, as he approached. Now she understood the strange expression that he wore sometimes. Her chosen counsellor had been slowly winding a limed thread about her limbs which should hold her fast--a helpless victim to his unhallowed pa.s.sions--ere she knew that she was bound.

Fool! Vain, wicked fool! Could one so astute have so completely missed the key to the situation? She adored the husband who, in her ignorance and inexperience, she deemed a demiG.o.d. To her he was a genius of whom she was unworthy. Here was her s.h.i.+eld of unsullied steel, and brilliant, cynical Pharamond, who saw through and despised Clovis, guessed nothing of its existence.

Then, as thought swiftly followed thought in tumultuous wave, it fell on her with a numb dead weight of misgiving, how much this discovery might mean to her. What would she do without the abbe's help? With terror, she realized now as she looked steadily at him, that this was no wild impulse borne of chance, to be condoned and forgotten like that of the chevalier, but the result of a deep-laid scheme. She could see before her an obstinate man whose will was iron and scruples nil, who had resolved some day to s.n.a.t.c.h what she had not to give. To whom in so strange an extremity could she turn for help? Wringing her hands together, she moaned out, "I am alone, without a friend!"

"Not so!" the abbe whispered, edging nearer. "Trust to me in this as in other matters, for I know best, and you will thank me--oh, how much. Are not you to learn and I to teach? I hold the clue of the mystery, which is still veiled to you. Learn love from me--burning, devouring love; and for the first time you will know happiness."

"Another step and I will wake the chevalier!" Gabrielle faltered, wrapping round her a poor tattered shred of s.h.i.+vering dignity.

Pharamond laughed his long sweet laugh of rippling music, which now caused Gabrielle to shudder.

"Awake him? Do!" gibed he, "or shall I? Look at his bull neck and broad fat back! He is not yours, for he is mine, though he would have been yours if you had wished it. Why not admit the truth in order that you may know me? It will save useless trouble. I loyally allowed him as my elder the first chance, on condition that if he failed the prize should be left to me. Ha, ha! Awake him by all means, that I may bid him remove his carcase. It c.u.mbers the ground! Pah! What a pig-like snore!"

Again, though she had retreated, with feet faltering among the draperies, to an extreme corner behind the cus.h.i.+ons, Gabrielle felt the wreathing arm stealing round her waist.

"Pharamond!" she pleaded huskily, exhausted. "To yourself and me be merciful, and you will have my earnest prayers----"

"Would you usurp my functions?" whispered the abbe in mischief.

The marquise pushed him from her with a strength wrung from indignation. "For the sake of all of us, go for a time," she murmured.

"In the name of honest womanhood and vain regret--go! that this folly may be forgotten. I will try to forget. Go! and I swear to you that no word of it shall pa.s.s my lips."

"How little you know me," scoffed the abbe, disdaining for the time to press her further. "Have you not learnt yet, that what I will is done?

Awake the pig there, and ask if it is not so. What I have resolved upon, I do. You are mine--all mine--whether you like it or not; now or a little later!"

"Then I must seek refuge with my husband."

"If you accuse me, he will not believe you. The influence over him that you awkwardly threw away, I gained. How ill you've played your cards, most charming woman! He is a weak man who must be led by some one--it might have been by _you_. Come, say the word, and you shall lead him yet; or, rather, we will together."

Gabrielle looked again into the abbe's face (which was so terribly close to hers), then at that of his sleeping brother, who had turned in uneasy slumber. How could she have been deceived so long?

Sensuality on both masks--the one, gross and altogether earthy; the other, marked by flashes of sly eyes and twists of thin lips that were not well to look upon, for that second mask was transparent, and the devil was peering through.

"I will give you time to think," proceeded the abbe, "since, though the moment is propitious, you are not in the mood for wooing. Here is a rebus. Your fate is in my hand, yet in your own. According as you decide, you will find in me the most devoted servant or the most implacable enemy. The love of us southerners is not far removed from hate. According as you act, you may bask in its beams or be scorched into a cinder; hence it is to be feared and respected."

Pressing so close to her that she could feel the pulsations of his breast, he added in low accents that cut into her heart like steel, "Be well advised, and comprehend the truth. Your life hangs in the balance for happiness or misery. Consider, and choose wisely, for this is the critical time on which your fate depends."

Then, opening the door with a bow whose distinction would have done honour to Trianon, he stood aside to let the lady pa.s.s into her bedchamber. Closing the door again, he knit his brows and bit his nails while contemplating the sleeping chevalier. "A trifle premature, that's all," he muttered; "no harm done, for all her sweeping pride.

Well-meaning, vacillating women are like satin-skinned horses in the arena--all the better for a touch of the lash. It is written, my mission is to teach her _love_, and I will do it thoroughly from my own point of view--of course. She is inexperienced, and proud, and empty. If the fruit's not ripe, I've time to wait for it to mellow.

Perhaps, who knows? I may, should she be restive, be forced to crush her pride. A pity! for it would be a charm removed. Perchance I shall only squeeze firmly, without crus.h.i.+ng it. The snaring of a bird that is shy, whose plumage must not be injured! Shall it be tamed by kindness, or the reverse? A problem, this, that Time's slow fingers must unravel. The key to it is patience--most valuable of virtues!" He stood long, pondering as he surveyed his sleeping brother. It was as if he sought some luminous answer in those puffed and stolid features.

Next morning, Gabrielle appeared at dejeuner with pallid cheeks and red eyes, under whose lids there glinted a ray of apprehension. That Clovis's two half-brothers should both have developed, without encouragement, so ill-omened a pa.s.sion! What had the future in store for a helpless woman as the upshot of so perilous a dilemma? Was it not, after all, an ugly dream--a hideous nightmare born of Erebus, that had been routed by healthful morning? Having eaten his fill, Clovis was placidly sipping claret, and forming a mimic tub out of bread-crusts. The round visage of the chevalier was as expressionless as usual.

Upon the entrance of the chatelaine, the abbe had risen to close the door with nimblest alacrity and deftest grace, and had led her to the table with ceremoniously respectful finger-tips. The evil expression was gone. Glancing nervously at him, she saw nothing but a polished bonhomie veneered with distant and deferential kindliness. He deplored her looks with ready grief, but added, for consolation, that a washed rose revives in suns.h.i.+ne, and becomes more fragrant for the shower.

"She mopes for lack of proper exercise," he exclaimed, with a gentle headshake of reproach. "Let us make a little party, and make a raid on Montbazon."

Clovis, busy with the bread-crusts, remarked somewhat tartly that he was much occupied, as they ought all to know; that the others had better go without him; whereupon Gabrielle turned pale. Ride with the two brothers, whose overweening and importunate affection she had so recently repulsed!

"I vow," cried facetious Pharamond, "that our Gabrielle is growing delicate. She who was wont to be active objects to exercise.

Decidedly, my Clovis, we must set the miraculous tub agoing for the benefit of your delightful wife."

CHAPTER VIII.

A NEW ARRIVAL.

Our dear marquise--as you have realised ere this--satisfied the desire of the eye in all ways, for, combined with beauty of feature and of colour, was the suave sweetness of expression that is bred of the domestic virtues. Had she been an abbess the odour of her sanct.i.ty would have penetrated down to us in many a miraculous legend, and her carved simulacrum would have stood in many a niche and sculptured frieze along with those of other privileged young ladies. But she could not guide a husband who needed a bridle rein, neither could she decipher rebuses. The eccentric conduct of the versatile and too inflammable abbe completely mystified her. Why had he in the firelight resembled a satyr, to become in the morning so meek, and mild, and saint-like? Perhaps her prayers had been answered and, seeing the error of his ways, he had repented ere it was too late. It is disconcerting when an amorous and fervid swain inflicts burning kisses on your skin, and next day forgets the transgression. In the case of Pharamond a marvel must have been worked, for never by wink of eyelid did he attempt to recall his untoward proceedings during the storm.

The episode was washed clean away by the snowdrift. He was alert, and lively, and amiable, as heretofore; always active in performing little services, inventing some new comfort or pleasure, rallying the dull, sympathizing with the weary. He knew better than to sit glum and mumchance like the chevalier. Betrayed into error, he had accepted rebuff like a gentleman, and by a marked increase of respect was trying to win forgiveness. This was quite as it should be, and there was no more to be said. And so, the clouds that threatened being dissipated, the months of winter rolled away in so uniform a sequence that their gla.s.sy flow seemed as if it must run for ever.

The marquis, influenced probably by his repentant brother, was amiable enough. The two talked Mesmer all day long; formed plans for mutual a.s.sistance: held lengthy conferences in the study, which always had, now the satisfying result of improving Clovis's temper. The first primrose had just emerged from its bed when the abbe announced one day the portentous fact that the marquis was packing his valise.

"Packing his valise! Tired of the dulness of Lorge?" Gabrielle felt a tinge of sadness at the thought. Why not have let things be? If there was to be a change, would it be for better or worse?

"How silly you are!" observed Clovis, cheerfully, remarking her wistful look. "Are we limpets glued to a rock? I am about to make a little journey, quite a short one--the effect of which in the future may transfigure the countenance of earth."