Within an Inch of His Life Part 59

Jacques de Boiscoran tried to overcome the discouragement which well-nigh mastered him, and said,--

"It was on the 2d September, 1867, that the Countess Claudieuse for the first time entered this house in Pa.s.sy, which I had purchased and furnished for her; and during the five weeks which she spent in Paris, she came almost every day, and spent several hours there.

"At her father's house she enjoyed absolute and almost uncontrolled independence. She left her daughter--for she had at that time but one child--with her mother, the Marchioness de Ta.s.sar; and she was free to go and to come as she liked.

"When she wanted still greater freedom, she went to see her friend in Fontainebleau; and every time she did this she secured twenty-four or forty-eight hours over and above the time for the journey. I, for my part, was as perfectly free from all control. Ostensibly, I had gone to Ireland; in reality, I lived in Vine Street.

"These five weeks pa.s.sed like a dream; and yet I must confess, the parting was not as painful as might have been supposed. Not that the bright prism was broken; but I always felt humiliated by the necessity of being concealed. I began to be tired of these incessant precautions; and I was quite ready to give up being Sir Francis Burnett, and to resume my ident.i.ty.

"We had, besides, promised each other never to remain a month without seeing each other, at least for a few hours; and she had invented a number of expedients by which we could meet without danger.

"A family misfortune came just then to our a.s.sistance. My father's eldest brother, that kind uncle who had furnished me the means to purchase my house in Pa.s.sy, died, and left me his entire fortune. As owner of Boiscoran, I could, henceforth, live as much as I chose in the province; and at all events come there whenever I liked, without anybody's inquiring for my reasons."

XIV.

Jacques de Boiscoran was evidently anxious to have done with his recital, to come to that night of the fire at Valpinson, and to learn at last from the eminent advocate of Sauveterre what he had to fear or to hope. After a moment's silence, for his breath was giving out, and after a few steps across his cell, he went on in a bitter tone of voice,--

"But why trouble you with all these details, Magloire? Would you believe me any more than you do now, if I were to enumerate to you all my meetings with the Countess Claudieuse, or if I were to repeat all her most trifling words?

"We had gradually learnt to calculate all our movements, and made our preparations so accurately, that we met constantly, and feared no danger. We said to each other at parting, or she wrote to me, 'On such a day, at such an hour, at such a place;' and however distant the day, or the hour, or the place, we were sure to meet. I had soon learned to know the country as well as the cleverest of poachers; and nothing was so useful to us as this familiarity with all the unknown hiding-places.

The countess, on her side, never let three months pa.s.s by without discovering some urgent motive which carried her to Roch.e.l.le, to Angouleme, or to Paris; and I was there to meet her. Nothing kept her from these excursions; even when indisposed, she braved the fatigues of the journey. It is true, my life was well-nigh spent in travelling; and at any moment, when least expected, I disappeared for whole weeks. This will explain to you that restlessness at which my father sneered, and for which you, yourself, Magloire, used to blame me."

"That is true," replied the latter. "I remember."

Jacques de Boiscoran did not seem to notice the encouragement.

"I should not tell the truth if I were to say that this kind of life was unpleasant to me. Mystery and danger always add to the charms of love.

The difficulties only increased my pa.s.sion. I saw something sublime in this success with which two superior beings devoted all their intelligence and cleverness to the carrying-on of a secret intrigue. The more fully I became aware of the veneration with which the countess was looked up to by the whole country, the more I learned to appreciate her ability in dissembling and her profound perversity; and I was all the more proud of her. I felt the pride setting my cheeks aglow when I saw her at Brechy; for I came there every Sunday for her sake alone, to see her pa.s.s calm and serene in the imposing security of her lofty reputation. I laughed at the simplicity of all these honest, good people, who bowed so low to her, thinking they saluted a saint; and I congratulated myself with idiotic delight at being the only one who knew the true Countess Claudieuse,--she who took her revenge so bravely in our house in Pa.s.sy!

"But such delights never last long.

"It had not taken me long to find out that I had given myself a master, and the most imperious and exacting master that ever lived. I had almost ceased to belong to myself. I had become her property; and I lived and breathed and thought and acted for her alone. She did not mind my tastes and my dislikes. She wished a thing, and that was enough. She wrote to me, 'Come!' and I had to be instantly on the spot: she said to me, 'Go!'

an I had to leave at once. At first I accepted these evidences of her despotism with joy; but gradually I became tired of this perpetual abdication of my own will. I disliked to have no control over myself, to be unable to dispose of twenty-four hours in advance. I began to feel the pressure of the halter around my neck. I thought of flight. One of my friends was to set out on a voyage around the world, which was to last eighteen months or two years, and I had an idea of accompanying him. There was nothing to retain me. I was, by fortune and position, perfectly independent. Why should I not carry out my plan?

"Ah, why? The prism was not broken yet. I cursed the tyranny of the countess; but I still trembled when I heard her name mentioned. I thought of escaping from her; but a single glance moved me to the bottom of my heart. I was bound to her by the thousand tender threads of habit and of complicity,--those threads which seem to be more delicate than gossamer, but which are harder to break than a s.h.i.+p's cable.

"Still, this idea which had occurred to me brought it about that I uttered for the first time the word 'separation' in her presence, asking her what she would do if I should leave her. She looked at me with a strange air and asked me, after a moment's hesitation,--

"'Are you serious? Is it a warning?'

"I dared not carry matters any farther, and, making an effort to smile, I said,--

"'It is only a joke.'

"'Then,' she said, 'let us not say any thing more about it. If you should ever come to that, you would soon see what I would do.'

"I did not insist; but that look remained long in my memory, and made me feel that I was far more closely bound than I had thought. From that day it became my fixed idea to break with her."

"Well, you ought to have made an end of it," said Magloire.

Jacques de Boiscoran shook his head.

"That is easily said," he replied. "I tried it; but I could not do it. Ten times I went to her, determined to say, 'Let us part;' and ten times, at the last moment, my courage failed me. She irritated me. I almost began to hate her; but I could not forget how much I had loved her, and how much she had risked for my sake. Then--why should I not confess it?--I was afraid of her.

"This inflexible character, which I had so much admired, terrified me; and I shuddered, seized with vague and sombre apprehensions, when I thought what she was capable of doing. I was thus in the utmost perplexity, when my mother spoke to me of a match which she had long hoped for. This might be the pretext which I had so far failed to find.

At all events, I asked for time to consider; and, the first time I saw the countess again, I gathered all my courage, and said to her,--

"'Do you know what has happened? My mother wants me to marry.'

"She turned as pale as death; and looking me fixedly in the eyes, as if wanting to read my innermost thoughts, she asked,--

"'And you, what do you want?'

"'I,' I replied with a forced laugh,--'I want nothing just now. But the thing will have to be done sooner or later. A man must have a home, affections which the world acknowledges'--

"'And I,' she broke in; 'what am I to you?'

"'You,' I exclaimed, 'you, Genevieve! I love you with all the strength of my heart. But we are separated by a gulf: you are married.'

"She was still looking at me fixedly.

"'In other words,' she said, 'you have loved me as a pastime. I have been the amus.e.m.e.nt of your youth, the poetry of twenty years, that love-romance which every man wants to have. But you are becoming serious; you want sober affections, and you leave me. Well, be it so.

But what is to become of me when you are married?'

"I was suffering terribly.

"'You have your husband,' I stammered, 'your children'--

"She stopped me.

"'Yes,' she said. 'I shall go back go live at Valpinson, in that country full of a.s.sociations, where every place recalls a rendezvous. I shall live with my husband, whom I have betrayed; with daughters, one of whom--That cannot be, Jacques.'

"I had a fit of courage.

"'Still,' I said, 'I may have to marry. What would you do?'

"'Oh! very little,' she replied. 'I should hand all your letters to Count Claudieuse.'"

During the thirty years which he had spent at the bar, M. Magloire had heard many a strange confession; but never in his life had all his ideas been overthrown as in this case.

"That is utterly confounding," he murmured.

But Jacques went on,--

"Was this threat of the countess meant in earnest? I did not doubt it; but affecting great composure, I said,--