CHAPTER XXXVIII. CLOUD.

rtowatchyou,Meess:ImustsendGoton.” “Iforbidit.Letmealone.Keepyourhandoffme,andmylife,andmytroubles.Oh,Madame!inyourhandthereisbothchillandpoison.Youenvenomandyouparalyze.” “WhathaveIdone,Meess?YoumustnotmarryPaul.Hecannotmarry.” “Doginthemanger!”Isaid:forIknewshesecretlywantedhim,andhadalwayswantedhim.Shecalledhim“insupportable:”sherailedathimfora“dévot:”shedidnotlove,butshewantedtomarry,thatshemightbindhimtoherinterest.DeepintosomeofMadame’ssecretsIhadentered—Iknownothow:byanintuitionoraninspirationwhichcametome—Iknownotwhence.Inthecourseoflivingwithhertoo,Ihadslowlylearned,that,unlesswithaninferior,shemusteverbearival.Shewasmyrival,heartandsoul,thoughsecretly,underthesmoothestbearing,andutterlyunknowntoallsaveherandmyself. TwominutesIstoodoverMadame,feelingthatthewholewomanwasinmypower,becauseinsomemoods,suchasthepresent—insomestimulatedstatesofperception,likethatofthisinstant—herhabitualdisguise,hermaskandherdomino,weretomeamerenetworkreticulatedwithholesandIsawunderneathabeingheartless,self-indulgent,andignoble.Shequietlyretreatedfromme:meekandself-possessed,thoughveryuneasy,shesaid,“IfIwouldnotbepersuadedtotakerest,shemustreluctantlyleaveme.”Whichshedidincontinent,perhapsevenmoregladtogetaway,thanIwastoseehervanish. Thiswasthesoleflash-eliciting,truth-extorting,rencontrewhicheveroccurredbetweenmeandMadameBeck:thisshortnight-scenewasneverrepeated.Itdidnotonewhitchangehermannertome.Idonotknowthatsherevengedit.Idonotknowthatshehatedmetheworseformyfellcandour.Ithinkshebuckleredherselfwiththesecretphilosophyofherstrongmind,andresolvedtoforgetwhatitirkedhertoremember.Iknowthattotheendofourmutuallivesthereoccurrednorepetitionof,noallusionto,thatfierypassage. Thatnightpassed:allnights—eventhestarlessnightbeforedissolution—mustwearaway.Aboutsixo’clock,thehourwhichcalledupthehousehold,Iwentouttothecourt,andwashedmyfaceinitscold,freshwell-water.Enteringbythecarré,apieceofmirror-glass,setinanoakencabinet,repeatedmyimage.ItsaidIwaschanged:mycheeksandlipsweresoddenwhite,myeyeswereglassy,andmyeyelidsswollenandpurple. Onrejoiningmycompanions,Iknewtheyalllookedatme—myheartseemeddiscoveredtothem:Ibelievedmyselfself-betrayed.HideouslycertaindiditseemthattheveryyoungestoftheschoolmustguesswhyandforwhomIdespaired. “Isabelle,”thechildwhomIhadoncenursedinsickness,approachedme.Wouldshe,too,mockme! “Quevousêtespale!Vousêtesdoncbienmalade,Mademoiselle!”saidshe,puttingherfingerinhermouth,andstaringwithawistfulstupiditywhichatthemomentseemedtomemorebeautifulthanthekeenestintelligence. Isabelledidnotlongstandaloneintherecommendationofignorance:beforethedaywasover,Igatheredcauseofgratitudetowardsthewholeblindhousehold.Themultitudehavesomethingelsetodothantoreadheartsandinterpretdarksayings.Whowills,maykeephisowncounsel—behisownsecret’ssovereign.Inthecourseofthatday,proofmetmeonproof,notonlythatthecauseofmypresentsorrowwasunguessed,butthatmywholeinnerlifeforthelastsixmonths,wasstillmineonly.Itwasnotknown—ithadnotbeennoted—thatIheldinpeculiarvalueonelifeamongalllives.Gossiphadpassedmebycuriosityhadlookedmeoverbothsubtleinfluences,hoveringalwaysround,hadneverbecomecentreduponme.Agivenorganizationmayliveinafullfever-hospital,andescapetyphus.M.Emanuelhadcomeandgone:Ihadbeentaughtandsoughtinseasonandoutofseasonhehadcalledme,andIhadobeyedhim:“M.PaulwantsMissLucy”—“MissLucyiswithM.Paul”—suchhadbeentheperpetualbulletinandnobodycommented,farlesscondemned.Nobodyhinted,nobodyjested.MadameBeckreadtheriddle:noneelseresolvedit.WhatInowsufferedwascalledillness—aheadache:Iacceptedthebaptism. Butwhatbodilyillnesswaseverlikethispain?Thiscertaintythathewasgonewithoutafarewell—thiscruelconvictionthatfateandpursuingfuries—awoman’senvyandapriest’sbigotry—wouldsuffermetoseehimnomore?Whatwonderthatthesecondeveningfoundmelikethefirst—untamed,tortured,againpacingasolitaryroominanunalterablepassionofsilentdesolation? MadameBeckdidnotherselfsummonmetobedthatnight—shedidnotcomenearme:shesentGinevraFanshawe—amoreefficientagentforthepurposeshecouldnothaveemployed.Ginevra’sfirstwords—“Isyourheadacheverybadto-night?”(forGinevra,liketherest,thoughtIhadaheadache—anintolerableheadachewhichmademefrightfullywhiteintheface,andinsanelyrestlessinthefoot)—herfirstwords,Isay,inspiredtheimpulsetofleeanywhere,sothatitwereonlyoutofreach.Andsoon,whatfollowed—plaintsaboutherownheadaches—completedthebusiness. Iwentup-stairs.PresentlyIwasinmybed—mymiserablebed—hauntedwithquickscorpions.Ihadnotbeenlaiddownfiveminutes,whenanotheremissaryarrived:Gotoncame,bringingmesomethingtodrink.Iwasconsumedwiththirst—Idrankeagerlythebeveragewassweet,butItastedadrug. “Madamesaysitwillmakeyousleep,chou-chou,”saidGoton,asshereceivedbacktheemptiedcup. Ah!thesedativehadbeenadministered.Infact,theyhadgivenmeastrongopiate.Iwastobeheldquietforonenight. Thehouseholdcametobed,thenight-lightwaslit,thedormitoryhushed.Sleepsoonreigned:overthosepillows,sleepwonaneasysupremacy:contentedsovereignoverheadsandheartswhichdidnotache—hepassedbytheunquiet. Thedrugwrought.IknownotwhetherMadamehadoverchargedorunder-chargedthedoseitsresultwasnotthatsheintended.Insteadofstupor,cameexcitement.Ibecamealivetonewthought—toreveriepeculiarincolouring.Agatheringcallranamongthefaculties,theirbuglessang,theirtrumpetsranganuntimelysummons.Imaginationwasrousedfromherrest,andshecameforthimpetuousandventurous.WithscornshelookedonMatter,hermate—“Rise!”shesaid.“Sluggard!thisnightIwillhavemywillnorshaltthouprevail.” “Lookforthandviewthenight!”washercryandwhenIliftedtheheavyblindfromthecasementcloseathand—withherownroyalgesture,sheshowedmeamoonsupreme,inanelementdeepandsplendid. Tomygaspingsensesshemadetheglimmeringgloom,thenarrowlimits,theoppressiveheatofthedormitory,intolerable.Sheluredmetoleavethisdenandfollowherforthintodew,coolness,andglory. ShebroughtuponmeastrangevisionofVilletteatmidnight.Especiallysheshowedthepark,thesummer-park,withitslongalleysallsilent,loneandsafeamongtheselayahugestonebasin—thatbasinIknew,andbesidewhichIhadoftenstood—deep-setinthetree-shadows,brimmingwithcoolwater,clear,withagreen,leafy,rushybed.Whatofallthis?Thepark-gateswereshutup,locked,sentinelled:theplacecouldnotbeentered. Coulditnot?Apointworthconsideringandwhilerevolvingit,Imechanicallydressed.Utterlyincapableofsleepingorlyingstill—excitedfromheadtofoot—whatcouldIdobetterthandress? Thegateswerelocked,soldierssetbeforethem:wasthere,then,noadmissiontothepark? Theotherday,inwalkingpast,Ihadseen,withoutthenattendingtothecircumstance,agapinthepaling—onestakebrokendown:Inowsawthisgapagaininrecollection—sawitveryplainly—thenarrow,irregularaperturevisiblebetweenthestemsofthelindens,plantedorderlyasacolonnade.Amancouldnothavemadehiswaythroughthataperture,norcouldastoutwoman,perhapsnotMadameBeckbutIthoughtImight:IfanciedIshouldliketotry,andoncewithin,atthishourthewholeparkwouldbemine—themoonlight,midnightpark! Howsoundlythedormitoryslept!Whatdeepslumbers!Whatquietbreathing!Howverystillthewholelargehouse!Whatwasthetime?Ifeltrestlesstoknow.Therestoodaclockintheclassebelow:whathinderedmefromventuringdowntoconsultit?Bysuchamoon,itslargewhitefaceandjetblackfiguresmustbevividlydistinct. Asforhindrancetothisstep,thereofferednotsomuchasacreakinghingeoraclickinglatch.OnthesehotJulynights,closeaircouldnotbetolerated,andthechamber-doorstoodwideopen.Willthedormitory-plankssustainmytreaduntraitorous?Yes.Iknowwhereveraboardisloose,andwillavoidit.TheoakstaircasecreakssomewhatasIdescend,butnotmuch:—Iaminthecarré. Thegreatclasse-doorsarecloseshut:theyarebolted.Ontheotherhand,theentrancetothecorridorstandsopen.Theclassesseemtomythought,greatdrearyjails,buriedfarbackbeyondthoroughfares,andforme,filledwithspectralandintolerableMemories,laidmiserableamongsttheirstrawandtheirmanacles.Thecorridoroffersacheerfulvista,leadingtothehighvestibulewhichopensdirectuponthestreet. Hush!—theclockstrikes.Ghostlydeepasisthestillnessofthisconvent,itisonlyeleven.Whilemyearfollowstosilencethehumofthelaststroke,Icatchfaintlyfromthebuilt-outcapital,asoundlikebellsorlikeaband—asoundwheresweetness,wherevictory,wheremourningblend.Oh,toapproachthismusicnearer,tolistentoitalonebytherushybasin!Letmego—oh,letmego!Whathinders,whatdoesnotaidfreedom? There,inthecorridor,hangsmygarden-costume,mylargehat,myshawl.Thereisnolockonthehuge,heavy,porte-cochèrethereisnokeytoseek:itfastenswithasortofspring-bolt,nottobeopenedfromtheoutside,butwhich,fromwithin,maybenoiselesslywithdrawn.CanImanageit?Ityieldstomyhand,yieldswithpropitiousfacility.Iwonderasthatportalseemsalmostspontaneouslytounclose—IwonderasIcrossthethresholdandsteponthepavedstreet,wonderatthestrangeeasewithwhichthisprisonhasbeenforced.ItseemsasifIhadbeenpioneeredinvisibly,asifsomedissolvingforcehadgonebeforeme:formyself,Ihavescarcemadeaneffort. QuietRueFossette!Ifindonthispavementthatwanderer-wooingsummernightofwhichImusedIseeitsmoonovermeIfeelitsdewintheair.ButhereIcannotstayIamstilltoonearoldhaunts:socloseunderthedunge