CHAPTER XII.

ed,howdreadfultofindalumpofwaxandwoodlaidinmybosom,ahalfidiotclaspedinmyarms,andtorememberthatIhadmadeofthismyequal—nay,myidol—toknowthatImustpasstherestofmydrearylifewithacreatureincapableofunderstandingwhatIsaid,ofappreciatingwhatIthought,orofsympathizingwithwhatIfelt!“Now,ZoraideReuter,”thoughtI,“hastact,CARACTERE,judgment,discretionhassheheart?Whatagood,simplelittlesmileplayedaboutherlipswhenshegavemethebranchoflilacs!Ihavethoughthercrafty,dissembling,interestedsometimes,itistruebutmaynotmuchthatlookslikecunninganddissimulationinherconductbeonlytheeffortsmadebyablandtempertotraversequietlyperplexingdifficulties?Andastointerest,shewishestomakeherwayintheworld,nodoubt,andwhocanblameher?Evenifshebetrulydeficientinsoundprinciple,isitnotratherhermisfortunethanherfault?ShehasbeenbroughtupaCatholic:hadshebeenbornanEnglishwoman,andrearedaProtestant,mightshenothaveaddedstraightintegritytoallherotherexcellences?SupposingsheweretomarryanEnglishandProtestanthusband,wouldshenot,rational,sensibleassheis,quicklyacknowledgethesuperiorityofrightoverexpediency,honestyoverpolicy?Itwouldbeworthaman’swhiletotrytheexperimentto-morrowIwillrenewmyobservations.SheknowsthatIwatchher:howcalmsheisunderscrutiny!itseemsrathertogratifythanannoyher.”Hereastrainofmusicstoleinuponmymonologue,andsuspendedititwasabugle,veryskilfullyplayed,intheneighbourhoodofthepark,Ithought,oronthePlaceRoyale.Sosweetwerethetones,sosubduingtheireffectatthathour,inthemidstofsilenceandunderthequietreignofmoonlight,Iceasedtothink,thatImightlistenmoreintently.Thestrainretreated,itssoundwaxedfainterandwassoongonemyearpreparedtoreposeontheabsolutehushofmidnightoncemore.No.Whatmurmurwasthatwhich,low,andyetnearandapproachingnearer,frustratedtheexpectationoftotalsilence?Itwassomeoneconversing—yes,evidently,anaudible,thoughsubduedvoicespokeinthegardenimmediatelybelowme.Anotheransweredthefirstvoicewasthatofaman,thesecondthatofawomanandamanandawomanIsawcomingslowlydownthealley.Theirformswereatfirstinshade,Icouldbutdiscernaduskoutlineofeach,butarayofmoonlightmetthemattheterminationofthewalk,whentheywereundermyverynose,andrevealedveryplainly,veryunequivocally,Mdlle.ZoraideReuter,arm-in-arm,orhand-in-hand(Iforgetwhich)withmyprincipal,confidant,andcounsellor,M.FrancoisPelet.AndM.Peletwassaying— “Aquanddonclejourdesnoces,mabien-aimee?” AndMdlle.Reuteranswered— “Mais,Francois,tusaisbienqu’ilmeseraitimpossibledememarieravantlesvacances.” “June,July,August,awholequarter!”exclaimedthedirector.“HowcanIwaitsolong?—Iwhoamready,evennow,toexpireatyourfeetwithimpatience!” “Ah!ifyoudie,thewholeaffairwillbesettledwithoutanytroubleaboutnotariesandcontractsIshallonlyhavetoorderaslightmourningdress,whichwillbemuchsoonerpreparedthanthenuptialtrousseau.” “CruelZoraide!youlaughatthedistressofonewholovesyousodevotedlyasIdo:mytormentisyoursportyouscruplenottostretchmysoulontherackofjealousyfor,denyitasyouwill,Iamcertainyouhavecastencouragingglancesonthatschool-boy,Crimsworthhehaspresumedtofallinlove,whichhedarednothavedoneunlessyouhadgivenhimroomtohope.” “Whatdoyousay,Francois?DoyousayCrimsworthisinlovewithme?” “Overheadandears.” “Hashetoldyouso?” “No—butIseeitinhisface:heblusheswheneveryournameismentioned.”AlittlelaughofexultingcoquetryannouncedMdlle.Reuter’sgratificationatthispieceofintelligence(whichwasalie,by-the-by—Ihadneverbeensofargoneasthat,afterall).M.Peletproceededtoaskwhatsheintendedtodowithme,intimatingprettyplainly,andnotverygallantly,thatitwasnonsenseforhertothinkoftakingsucha“blanc-bec”asahusband,sinceshemustbeatleasttenyearsolderthanI(wasshethenthirty-two?Ishouldnothavethoughtit).Iheardherdisclaimanyintentionsonthesubject—thedirector,however,stillpressedhertogiveadefiniteanswer. “Francois,”saidshe,“youarejealous,”andstillshelaughedthen,asifsuddenlyrecollectingthatthiscoquetrywasnotconsistentwiththecharacterformodestdignityshewishedtoestablish,sheproceeded,inademurevoice:“Truly,mydearFrancois,IwillnotdenythatthisyoungEnglishmanmayhavemadesomeattemptstoingratiatehimselfwithmebut,sofarfromgivinghimanyencouragement,IhavealwaystreatedhimwithasmuchreserveasitwaspossibletocombinewithcivilityaffiancedasIamtoyou,Iwouldgivenomanfalsehopesbelieveme,dearfriend.”StillPeletutteredmurmursofdistrust—soIjudged,atleast,fromherreply. “Whatfolly!HowcouldIpreferanunknownforeignertoyou?Andthen—nottoflatteryourvanity—Crimsworthcouldnotbearcomparisonwithyoueitherphysicallyormentallyheisnotahandsomemanatallsomemaycallhimgentleman-likeandintelligent-looking,butformypart—” Therestofthesentencewaslostinthedistance,asthepair,risingfromthechairinwhichtheyhadbeenseated,movedaway.Iwaitedtheirreturn,butsoontheopeningandshuttingofadoorinformedmethattheyhadre-enteredthehouseIlistenedalittlelonger,allwasperfectlystillIlistenedmorethananhour—atlastIheardM.Peletcomeinandascendtohischamber.Glancingoncemoretowardsthelongfrontofthegarden-house,Iperceivedthatitssolitarylightwasatlengthextinguishedso,foratime,wasmyfaithinloveandfriendship.Iwenttobed,butsomethingfeverishandfieryhadgotintomyveinswhichpreventedmefromsleepingmuchthatnight.