Chapter VIII: Part 8

At this period I seemed to grow in my own eyes. Whether it was the work of God, of Leoni, or of love, a vigorous mind developed and took possession of my feeble body. Every day I felt a world of new thoughts come to life within me. A word from Leoni gave birth to more sentiments than all the frivolous talk I had heard all my life. He observed my progress and was elated and proud over it. He sought to hasten it and brought me books. My mother looked at the gilt covers, the vellum and the pictures. She hardly glanced at the titles of the works which were destined to play havoc with my head and my heart. They were beautiful and pure books, almost all stories of women written by women: _Valérie_, _Eugène de Rothelin_, _Mademoiselle de Clermont_, _Delphine_. These touching and impassioned narratives, these glimpses of what was to me an ideal world, elevated my mind, but they devoured it. I became romantic, the most deplorable character that a woman can have.

VI

Three months had sufficed to bring about this metamorphosis. I was on the eve of marrying Leoni. Of all the documents he had promised to furnish, his certificate of birth and his patents of nobility alone had come to hand. As for the proofs of his wealth, he had written for them to another lawyer, and they had not arrived. He manifested extreme irritation and regret at this delay, which caused a further postponement of our wedding. One morning he came to our house with an air of desperation. He showed us an unstamped letter, which he had just received, he said, by a special messenger. This letter informed him that his man of business was dead, and that his successor, having found his papers in great disorder, had a difficult task before him to arrange them, that he asked a further delay of one or two weeks before he could furnish _his lordship_ with the documents he required. Leoni was frantic at this mischance; he would die of impatience and disappointment, he said, before the end of that frightful fortnight. He threw himself down in a chair and burst into tears.

No, do not smile, Don Aleo, they were not pretended tears. I gave him my hand to console him; I felt that it was wet with tears, and, moved by a thrill of sympathy, I too began to sob.

My poor mother could not stand it. She ran, weeping, to seek my father in his shop.--"It is hateful tyranny," she said, bringing him to where we were. "See those two unhappy children! how can you refuse to make them happy, when you see what they suffer? Do you want to kill your daughter out of respect for an absurd formality? Won't those papers arrive just as surely and be just as satisfactory after they have been married a week? What are you afraid of? Do you take our dear Leoni for an impostor? Can't you see that your insisting on having evidence of his fortune is insulting to him and cruel to Juliette?"

My father, bewildered by these reproaches, and above all else by my tears, swore that he had never dreamed of being so exacting, and that he would do whatever I wished. He kissed me a thousand times and talked to me as people talk to a child of six when they yield to his whims, to be rid of his shrieks. My aunt appeared on the scene and talked less tenderly. She even reproved me in a way that hurt me.--"A virtuous, well-bred young woman," she said, "ought not to show so much impatience to belong to a man."--"It's easy to see," said my mother, altogether out of patience, "that you never had the chance to belong to one."--My father could not endure any lack of consideration for his sister. He leaned toward her view, and remarked that our despair was mere childishness, that a week would soon pass. I was mortally wounded by the suspicion that I was impatient, and I tried to restrain my tears; but Leoni's exerted a magical influence over me, and I could not do it. Thereupon he rose, with moist eyes and glowing cheeks, and with a smile overflowing with hope and affection, went to my aunt, took her hands in one of his, my father's in the other, and fell on his knees, beseeching them not to stand in the way of his happiness any longer. His manner, his tone, his expression had an irresistible power; moreover, it was the first time that my aunt had ever seen a man at her feet. Every trace of resistance was overcome. The banns were published, all the preliminary formalities were gone through; our marriage was appointed for the following week, regardless of the arrival of the papers.

The following day was Mardi Gras. Monsieur Delpech was to give a magnificent party, and Leoni had asked us to dress in Turkish costumes; he made a charming sketch in water-color, which our dress-makers copied almost perfectly. Velvet, embroidered satin and cashmere were not spared. But the quantity and beauty of our jewels were what assured us an indisputable triumph over all the other costumes at the ball. Almost all the contents of my father's shop were made use of; we had nets and aigrettes of diamonds, bouquets beautifully mounted in stones of all colors. My waist, and even my shoes, were embroidered with rare pearls; a rope of pearls, of extraordinary beauty, served me as a girdle and fell to my knees. We had great pipes and daggers studded with sapphires and diamonds. My whole costume was worth at least a million.

Leoni accompanied us, dressed in a superb Turkish costume. He was so handsome and so majestic in that garb that people stood on benches to see him pass. My heart beat violently, I was filled to bursting with a pride that was almost delirium. My own costume was, as you can imagine, the last thing in my mind. Leoni's beauty, his success, his superiority to all the others, the sort of worship that was paid him--and it was all mine, all at my feet! that was enough to intoxicate an older brain than mine. It was the last day of my splendor! By what a world of misery and degradation have I paid for those empty triumphs!

My aunt, dressed as a Jewess, accompanied us, carrying fans and boxes of perfume. Leoni, who was determined to win her friendship, had designed her costume so artistically that he had almost given a touch of poetry to her serious, wrinkled face. She, too, was intoxicated, poor Agathe! Alas! what does a woman's common-sense amount to?

We had been there two or three hours. My mother was dancing and my aunt gossiping with the superannuated females who compose what is called in France the tapestry of a ball-room. Leoni was seated by my side and talking to me in an undertone with a passion of which every word kindled a spark in my blood. Suddenly his voice died on his lips; he became pale as death, as if he had seen a ghost. I followed the direction of his terrified glance and saw, a few steps away, a person the sight of whom was distasteful to myself: it was a young man named Henryet, who had made me an offer of marriage the year before. Although he was rich and of an honorable family, my mother had not deemed him worthy of me, and had dismissed him on the pretext of my extreme youth. But, at the beginning of the following year, he had renewed his offer with much persistence, and it had been currently reported in the city that he was madly in love with me. I had not deigned to take any notice of him, and my mother, who considered him too simple and too ordinary, had put an end to his assiduities rather abruptly. He had manifested more grief than anger, and had started immediately for Paris. Since then my aunt and my young friends had reproached me somewhat for my indifference with respect to him. He was, they said, a most excellent young man, thoroughly educated, and of a noble character. These reproaches had disgusted me. His unexpected appearance in the midst of the happiness I was enjoying with Leoni was most unpleasant to me, and had the effect upon me of a new reproof. I turned my face away and pretended not to have seen him, but the strange glance he bestowed upon me did not escape me. Leoni hastily grasped my arm, and asked me to come and take an ice in the next room; he added that the heat was distressing to him and made him nervous. I believed him, and thought that Henryet's glance expressed nothing more than jealousy. We went into the gallery. There were few people there, and I walked back and forth for some time, leaning on Leoni's arm. He was agitated and preoccupied. I manifested some uneasiness thereat, and he answered that it was not worth talking about; that he simply did not feel perfectly well.

He was beginning to recover himself when I saw that Henryet had followed us. I could not help showing my annoyance.

"Upon my word that man follows us like remorse," I whispered to Leoni. "Is it really a man? I can almost believe that it is a soul in distress returned from the other world."

"What man?" said Leoni, with a start. "What's his name? where is he? what does he want of us? do you know him?"

I told him in a few words what had happened, and begged him not to seem to notice Henryet's absurd actions. But Leoni did not reply; and I felt his hand, which held mine, become cold as death. A convulsive shudder passed through his body, and I thought that he was going to faint; but it was all over in an instant.

"My nerves are horribly upset," he said. "I believe that I shall have to go to bed; my head is on fire, and this turban weighs a hundred pounds."

"_O mon Dieu_!" said I, "if you go now, this night will seem interminable to me, and the party stupid beyond endurance. Go into some more retired room and try taking off your turban for a few moments; we will ask for a few drops of ether to quiet your nerves."

"Yes, you are right, my dear, good Juliette, my angel. There's a boudoir at the end of the gallery, where we probably shall be alone; a moment of rest will cure me."

As he spoke, he led me hastily in the direction of the boudoir; he seemed to fly rather than walk. I heard steps coming after us. I turned and saw Henryet coming nearer and nearer and looking as if he were pursuing us. I thought that he had gone mad. The terror which Leoni could not hide put the finishing touch to the confusion of my ideas. A superstitious fear took possession of me; my blood congealed as in a nightmare; and it was impossible for me to take another step. At that moment Henryet overtook us and laid a hand, which seemed to me metallic, on Leoni's shoulder. Leoni stood still, as if struck by lightning, and nodded his head affirmatively, as if he had divined a question or an injunction in that terrifying silence. Thereupon Henryet walked away, and I felt that I could move my feet once more. I had the strength to follow Leoni into the boudoir, where I fell on an ottoman, as pale and terror-stricken as he.

VII

He remained some time thus; then, suddenly collecting his strength, he threw himself at my feet.

"Juliette," he said, "I am lost unless you love me to frenzy."

"O heaven! what does that mean?" I cried wildly, throwing my arms around his neck.

"And you do not love me that way!" he continued, in an agony of despair. "I am lost, am I not?"

"I love you with all the strength of my heart!" I cried, weeping. "What must I do to save you?"

"Ah! you would never consent!" he replied, with a discouraged air. "I am the most miserable of men; you are the only woman I have ever loved, Juliette, and when I am on the point of possessing you, my heart, my life, I lose you forever! I have no choice but to die."

"_Mon Dieu! mon Dieu_!" I cried; "can't you speak? can't you tell me what you expect of me?"

"No, I cannot speak," he replied; "a ghastly secret, a frightful mystery overhangs my whole life, and I can never disclose it to you. To love me, to go with me, to comfort me, you would need to be more than a woman, more than angel, perhaps!"

"To love you! to go with you!" I repeated. "Shall I not be your wife in a few days? You have but a word to say; however great my sorrow and that of my parents, I will follow you to the end of the world, if it is your will."

"Is that true, O my Juliette?" he cried in a transport of joy; "you will go with me? you will leave everything for me? Very well; if you love me as much as that, I am saved! Let us go, let us go at once!"

"What! can you think of such a thing, Leoni? Are we married?" said I.

"We cannot marry," he replied shortly, in a firm voice.

I was stricken dumb.

"And if you will not love me, if you will not fly with me," he continued, "I have but one course to take; that is, to kill myself."

He said this in such a determined tone that I shuddered from head to foot.

"In heaven's name what is happening to us?" I said; "is this a dream? Who can prevent our marrying, when everything is decided, when you have my father's word?"

"A word from the man who is in love with you, and who is determined to prevent you from being mine."

"I hate him and despise him!" I cried. "Where is he? I propose to make him feel the shame of such cowardly persecution and such a detestable vengeance. But how can he injure you, Leoni? are you not so far above his attacks that with a word you can pulverize him? Are not your virtue and your strength as pure and unassailable as gold? O heaven! I understand; you are ruined! the papers you have been expecting bring only bad news. Henryet knows it and threatens to tell my parents. His conduct is infamous; but have no fear, my parents are kind, they adore me; I will throw myself at their feet, I will threaten to go into a convent; you can appeal to them again as you did yesterday and you will persuade them, you may be sure. Am I not rich enough for two? My father will not choose to condemn me to die of grief; my mother will intercede for me. We three together shall be stronger than my aunt to argue with him. Come, don't be distressed, Leoni, this cannot part us, it is impossible. If my parents should prove to be as sordid as that, then I would fly with you."

"Let us fly then at once," said Leoni with an air of profound gloom; "for they will be inflexible. There is something in addition to my ruin, something infernal, which I cannot tell you. Are you kind? Are you the woman I have dreamed of and thought I had found in you? Are you capable of heroism? Do you understand great things, boundless devotion? Tell me, Juliette, tell me, are you simply an amiable, pretty woman from whom I shall part with regret, or are you an angel whom God has sent to me to save me from despair? Do you feel that there is something noble in sacrificing yourself for one you love? Does not your heart swell at the thought of holding in your hands a man's life and destiny and in consecrating your whole being to him? Ah! if only we could change our rôles! if I were in your place! With what joy, with what bliss I would sacrifice to you all my affections, all my duties!"

"Enough, Leoni!" I replied, "you drive me wild with your words. Mercy, mercy for my poor mother, for my poor father, for my honor! You wish to ruin me----"

"Ah! you think of all those people!" he cried, "and not of me! You weigh the sorrow of your parents, and you do not deign to put mine in the balance! You do not love me!"

I hid my face in my hands, I appealed to God, I listened to Leoni's sobs; I thought that I was going mad.

"Very well! you will have it so," I said, "and you have the power; speak, tell me what you wish, and I must obey you; have you not my mind and my will at your disposal?"

"We have very few minutes to lose," replied Leoni. "We must be away from here in an hour, or your flight will have become impossible. There is a vulture's eye hovering over us; but if you consent, we will find a way to outwit him. Do you consent? do you consent?"

He pressed me frantically in his arms. Cries of agony escaped from his breast. I answered yes without knowing what I was saying.

"Well, then, go back at once to the ball-room," he said, "and show no excitement. If anybody questions you, say that you have been a little indisposed; but don't let them take you home. Dance if you must. Above all things, if Henryet speaks to you, don't irritate him; remember that for another hour my fate is in his hands. An hour hence I will come back in a domino. I will have this bit of ribbon in my hood. You will recognize it, won't you? You will go with me, and above all else, you will be calm, impassive. You must think of all this; do you feel that you are strong enough?"

I rose and pressed my hands against my throbbing heart. My throat was on fire, my cheeks were burning with fever. I was like a drunken man.

"Come, come," he said to me; with that he pushed me into the ball-room and disappeared. My mother was looking for me. I could detect her anxiety in the distance, and to avoid her questions I hurriedly accepted an invitation to dance.

I danced, and I have no idea how I kept from falling when the dance was at an end, I had made such a mighty effort to get through it. When I returned to my place my mother was already on the floor, waltzing. She had seen me dancing, so her mind was at rest, and she began to enjoy herself once more. My aunt, instead of questioning me about my absence, scolded me. I preferred that, for I was not called upon to answer and to lie. One of my friends asked me with a terrified air what the matter was with me and why I had such a distressed expression on my face. I answered that I had just had a violent fit of coughing.--"You must rest," she said, "and not dance any more."

But I had decided to avoid my mother's glance; I was afraid of her anxiety, her affection and my remorse. I spied her handkerchief, which she had left on the bench; I picked it up, put it to my face, and, covering my mouth with it, devoured it with convulsive kisses. My friend thought that I was coughing again, for I pretended to cough. I did not know how to pass that fatal hour, barely half of which had dragged away. My aunt noticed that I was very hoarse and said that she was going to urge my mother to go home. I was terrified by that threat and instantly accepted another invitation. When I was in the midst of the dancers, I noticed that I had accepted an invitation to waltz. Like almost all girls, I never waltzed; but, when I recognized in the man who already had his arm about me the sinister face of Henryet, terror prevented my refusing. He led me away and the rapid movement took away the last remnant of my reasoning power. I asked myself if all that was taking place about me were not a vision; if I were not lying in bed with the fever, rather than whirling about in a waltz, like a mad woman, with a man whom I held in horror. And then I remembered that Leoni would soon come for me. I looked at my mother, who seemed to fly through the circle of dancers, so light of foot and heart was she. I said to myself that it was impossible, that I could not leave my mother thus. I felt that Henryet was holding my very tight in his arms and that his eyes were devouring my face, which was turned toward his. I came very near shrieking and flying from him. But I remembered Leoni's words: "My fate is in his hands for another hour." So I resigned myself. We stopped for a moment. He spoke to me. I did not hear what he said, but answered with a wild sort of smile. At that moment I felt something brush against my bare arms and shoulders. I had no need to turn for I recognized the almost imperceptible breathing of Leoni. I asked to be taken back to my place. Another moment and Leoni, in a black domino, offered me his hand. I went with him. We glided through the crowd, we escaped, by some miracle, the jealous surveillance of Henryet and of my mother's eyes, for she was looking for me again. The very audacity with which I left the ball-room in the presence of five hundred witnesses, to fly with Leoni, prevented my flight from being noticed. We passed through the throng in the dressing-rooms. Some people who were getting their cloaks recognized us and were astonished to see me going down the stairs without my mother, but they also were going away and so would not report what they had seen in the ball-room.

When we reached the courtyard, Leoni, dragging me behind him, rushed to a side gate not used by carriages. We ran a short distance along a dark street; the door of a post-chaise opened, Leoni lifted me in, wrapped me in a huge fur cloak, pulled a travelling cap over my head, and in the twinkling of an eye Monsieur Delpech's brilliantly lighted house, the street and the city disappeared behind us.

We travelled twenty-four hours without once leaving the carriage. At each relay-house, Leoni raised the window a little, put his arm outside, tossed the postilions four times their pay, hurriedly withdrew his arm and closed the window. I scarcely thought of complaining of fatigue or hunger; my teeth were clenched, my nerves tense; I could neither shed a tear nor say a word. Leoni seemed more disturbed by the fear of being pursued than by my suffering and grief.

We halted near a château a short distance from the road. We rang at a garden gate. A servant opened the gate after we had waited a long while. It was two o'clock in the morning. When he finally appeared, grumbling, he put his lantern to Leoni's face; he had no sooner recognized him than he lost himself in apologies and led us to the house. It seemed deserted and ill-kept. Nevertheless I was shown to a fairly comfortable chamber. In a moment a fire was lighted, the bed prepared, and a woman came to undress me. I had fallen into a sort of idiocy. The heat of the fire revivified me somewhat, and I discovered that I was in a night-dress, with my hair unbound, alone with Leoni; but he paid no attention to me; he was busy packing in a box the magnificent costume, the pearls and diamonds in which we were both arrayed a moment before. The jewels that Leoni wore belonged for the most part to my father. My mother, determined that his costume should not be less gorgeous than ours, had taken them from the shop and lent them to him without saying anything about it. When I saw all that wealth packed into a box, I was mortally ashamed of the species of theft we had committed, and I thanked Leoni for thinking about returning them to my father. I don't know what answer he made; he told me that I had four hours to sleep and begged me to make the best of them, without anxiety or grief. He kissed my bare feet and left me. I had not the courage to go to bed; I slept in an arm-chair by the fire. At six o'clock in the morning they came and woke me, brought me some chocolate and men's clothes. I breakfasted and dressed myself with resignation. Leoni came for me, and before daybreak we left that mysterious house, of which I have never known the name or the precise location or the owner; and the same is true of many other houses, some handsome and some wretched, which were thrown open to us, in all countries and at all hours, at the bare mention of Leoni's name.

As we rode on, Leoni recovered his usual serenity of manner and spoke to me with all his former affection. Enslaved and bound to him by a blind passion, I was an instrument whose every chord he played upon at will. If he was pensive I became melancholy; if he was cheerful, I forgot all my sorrows and all my remorse to smile at his jests; if he was passionate, I forgot the weariness of my brain and the exhaustion caused by weeping; I recovered strength enough to love him and to tell him of my love.

VIII

We arrived at Geneva, where we remained only long enough to rest. We soon travelled into the interior of Switzerland and there laid aside all fear of pursuit and discovery. Ever since our departure, Leoni's only thought had been to make his way with me to some peaceful rural retreat, there to live on love and poetry in a never-ending tête à-tête. That delicious dream was realized. We found in one of the valleys near Lago Maggiore one of the most picturesque of chalets in a fascinating situation. At a very small expense we had it arranged conveniently inside, and we hired it at the beginning of April. We passed there six months of intoxicating bliss, for which I shall thank God all my life, although He has made me pay very dear for them. We were absolutely alone and cut off from all relations with the world. We were served by a young couple, good-humored, sturdy country people, who added to our contentment by the spectacle of that which they enjoyed. The woman did the housework and the cooking, the husband drove to pasture a cow and two goats, which composed all our live stock, milked and made the cheese. We rose early, and, when the weather was fine, breakfasted a short distance from the house, in a pretty orchard, where the trees, abandoned to the hand of nature, put forth dense branches in every direction, less rich in fruit than in flowers and foliage. Then we went out to drive in the valley or climbed some mountain. We gradually adopted the habit of taking long excursions, and every day discovered some new spot. Mountainous countries have the peculiar charm that one can explore them for a long time before one becomes acquainted with all their beauties and all their secrets. When we went on our longest excursions, Joanne, our light-hearted major-domo, attended us with a basket of provisions, and nothing could be more delightful than our lunches on the grass. Leoni was easily satisfied except as to what he called the refectory. At last, when we had found a little verdure-clad shelf half-way down the slope of some deep gorge, sheltered from wind and sun, with a lovely view, and a brook close at hand sweetened by aromatic plants, he would himself arrange the repast on a white napkin spread on the ground. He would send Joanne to pick strawberries and plunge the wine into the cool water of the stream. He would light a spirit lamp and cook fresh eggs. By the same process I used to make excellent coffee after the cold meat and fruit. In this way we had something of the enjoyments of civilization amid the romantic beauties of the desert.

When the weather was bad, as was often the case in the early spring, we lighted a huge fire to keep the dampness from our little dwelling of fir; we surrounded ourselves with screens which Leoni sawed out, put together and painted with his own hand. We drank tea; and while he smoked a long Turkish pipe I read to him. We called those our Flemish days; while they were less exciting than the others, they were perhaps even pleasanter. Leoni had an admirable talent for apportioning the time so as to make life easy and agreeable. In the morning he would exert his mind to lay out a scheme for the day and arrange our occupations for the different hours; and when it was done he would come and submit it to me. I always found it admirable, and we always adhered strictly to it. In this way, ennui, which always pursues recluses and even lovers in their tête-à-têtes, never came near us. Leoni knew all that must be avoided and all that must be looked after to maintain mental tranquillity and bodily well-being. He would give me directions in his adroitly affectionate way; and, being as submissive to him as a slave to his master, I never opposed a single one of his washes. He said, for instance, that the exchange of thoughts between two people who love each other is the sweetest thing imaginable, but that it may become the greatest curse if it is abused. So he regulated the hours of our interviews and the places where they were to be held. We worked all day; I looked after the housekeeping; I prepared dainty dishes for him or folded his linen with my own hands. He was extremely sensible of such petty refinements of luxury, and found them doubly precious in our little hermitage. He, on his side, provided for all our needs and remedied all the inconveniences of our isolation. He had a little knowledge of all sorts of trades; he did cabinet work, he put on locks, he made partitions with wooden frames and painted paper panels, he prevented chimneys from smoking, he grafted fruit trees, he diverted the course of a stream, so that we had a supply of cool water near the house. He was always busy about something useful, and he always did it well. When these more important duties were performed, he painted in water-colors, composed lovely landscapes from the sketches we had made in our albums during our walks. Sometimes he wandered about the valley alone, making verses, and hurried home to repeat them to me. He often found me in the stable with my apron full of aromatic herbs of which the goats were very fond. My two lovely pets ate from my lap. One was pure white, without a speck: her name was _Snow_; she had a gentle, melancholy air. The other was yellow like a chamois, with black beard and legs. She was very young, with a wild, saucy face; we called her _Doe_. The cow's name was _Daisy_. She was red, with black stripes running transversely, like a tiger. She would put her head on my shoulder; and when Leoni found me so, he called me his Virgin at the Manger. He would toss me his album and dictate his verses, which were almost always addressed to me. They were hymns of love and happiness which seemed sublime to me, and which must have been sublime. I would weep silently as I wrote them down; and when I had finished, "Well," Leoni would say, "do you think they are pretty bad?" At that I would raise my tear-stained face to his; he would laugh and kiss me with the keenest delight.

Then he would sit down on the sweet-smelling hay and read me poems in other languages, which he translated with incredible rapidity and accuracy. Meanwhile I was spinning in the half-light of the stable. One must be familiar with the exquisite cleanliness of Swiss stables to understand our choosing ours for our salon. It was traversed by a swift mountain stream which washed it clean every moment, and which rejoiced our ears with its gentle plashing. Tame pigeons drank at our feet, and under the little arch through which the stream entered, saucy sparrows hopped in to bathe and steal a few wisps of hay. It was the coolest spot in warm days, when all the windows were open, and the warmest on cold days, when the smallest cracks were stuffed with straw and furze. Leoni, when tired of reading, would often fall asleep on the freshly-cut grass, and I would leave my work to gaze at that beautiful face, which the serenity of sleep made even nobler than before.

During these busy days we talked little, although almost always together; we would exchange an occasional loving word or caress and encourage each other in our work. But when the evening came, Leoni became indolent in body and mentally active. Those were the hours when he was most lovable, and he reserved them for the outpouring of our affection. Fatigued, but not unpleasantly, by his day's work, he would lie on the moss at my feet, in a lonely spot near the house, on the slope of the mountain. From there we would behold the gorgeous sunset, the melancholy fading away of the daylight, the grave and solemn coming of the night. We knew the moment when all the stars would rise, and over which peak each of them would begin to shine. Leoni was thoroughly familiar with astronomy, but Joanne, too, knew that science of the shepherds after his manner, and he gave the stars other names, often more poetic and more expressive than ours. When Leoni had amused himself sufficiently with his rustic pedantry, he would send him away to play the _Ranz des Vaches_ on his reed-pipe at the foot of the mountain. The shrill notes sounded indescribably sweet in the distance. Leoni would fall into a reverie which resembled a trance; and then, when it was quite dark, when the silence of the valley was no longer broken by aught save the plaintive cry of some cliff-dwelling bird, when the fireflies lighted their lamps in the grass about us and a soft breeze sighed through the firs over our heads, Leoni would seem to wake suddenly from a dream, as if to another life. His heart would take fire, his passionate eloquence would overflow my heart. He would talk to the skies, the wind, the echoes, to all nature with enthusiastic fervor; he would take me in his arms and overwhelm me with delirious caresses; then he would weep with love on my bosom, and, growing calmer, would talk to me in the sweetest, most intoxicating words.

Oh! how could I have failed to love that unequalled man, in his good and in his evil days? How lovable he was then! how beautiful! how becoming the sunburn was to his manly face, and with what profound respect it avoided the broad white forehead over the jet-black, eyebrows! How well he knew how to love and to tell his love! What a genius he had for arranging life and making it beautiful! How could I have failed to have blind confidence in him? How could I have failed to accustom myself to absolute submission to him? All that he did, all that he said, was good and wise and noble. He was generous, sensitive, refined, heroic; he took pleasure in relieving the destitution or the infirmities of the poor who knocked at our door. One day he jumped into a stream, at the risk of his life, to save a young shepherd; one night he wandered through the snowdrifts, surrounded by the most awful dangers, to assist some travellers who had lost their way and whose cries of distress we had heard. Oh! how, how could I have distrusted Leoni? how could I have conceived any dread of the future? Do not tell me again that I am credulous and weak; the most strong-minded of women would have been subjugated forever by those six months of love. As for myself, I was absolutely enslaved; and my cruel remorse for having abandoned my parents, the thought of their grief, grew fainter day by day, and, finally, vanished almost entirely. Oh! how great was that man's power!

Juliette paused and fell into a melancholy reverie. A clock in the distance struck twelve. I suggested that she should rest. "No," said she, "if you are not tired of listening to me, I prefer to go on. I feel that I have undertaken a task that will be very painful for my poor heart, and that when I have finished I shall neither feel nor remember anything for several days. I prefer to make the most of the strength I have to-day."

"Yes, you are right, Juliette," I said. "Tear the steel from your breast, and you will be better afterward. But tell me, my poor child, how it was that Henryet's strange conduct at the ball and Leoni's craven submission at a glance from him did not leave a suspicion, a fear in your mind?"

"What could I fear?" replied Juliette. "I knew so little of the affairs of life and the baseness of society that I utterly failed to understand that mystery. Leoni had told me that there was a terrible secret. I imagined a thousand romantic catastrophes. It was the fashion then in books to introduce characters burdened by the most extraordinary and improbable maledictions. Plays and novels alike teemed with sons of headsmen, heroic spies, virtuous murderers and felons. One day I read _Frederick Styndall_, another day, Cooper's _Spy_ fell into my hands. Remember that I was a mere child, and that my mind was far behind my heart in my passion. I fancied that society, being unjust and stupid, had placed Leoni under its ban for some sublime imprudence, some involuntary offence, or as the result of some savage prejudice. I will even admit that my poor girlish brain found an additional attraction in that impenetrable mystery, and that my woman's heart took fire at the opportunity of adventuring its entire destiny to repair a noble and poetic misfortune."

"Leoni probably detected that romantic tendency and played upon it?" I said.

"Yes," she replied, "he did. But if he took so much trouble to deceive me, it was because he loved me, because he was determined to have my love at any price."

We were silent for a moment; then Juliette resumed her narrative.

IX

The winter came at last; we had made our plans to endure all its rigors rather than abandon our dear retreat. Leoni told me that he had never been so happy, that I was the only woman he had ever loved, that he was ready to renounce the world in order to live and die in my arms. His taste for dissipation, his passion for gambling--all had vanished, forgotten forever. Oh! how grateful I was to see that man, who shone so in society and was so flattered and courted, renounce without regret all the intoxicating joys of a life of excitement and festivities, to shut himself up with me in a cottage! And be sure, Don Aleo, that Leoni was not deceiving me at that time. While it is true that he had very strong reasons for keeping out of sight, it is none the less certain that he was happy in his retreat, and that he loved me there. Could he have feigned that perfect serenity during six whole months, unchanged for a single day? And why should he not have loved me? I was young and fair, I had left everything for him and I adored him. Understand, I am no longer under any delusion as to his character; I know everything and I will tell you the whole truth. His character is very ugly and very beautiful; very vile and very grand; when one has not the strength to hate the man, one must needs love him and become his victim.

But the winter began so fiercely that our residence in the valley became extremely dangerous. In a few days the snow reached the level of our chalet; it threatened to bury it and to cause our deaths by starvation. Leoni insisted on remaining; he wanted to lay in a stock of provisions and defy the enemy; but Joanne assured him that we should inevitably be lost if we did not beat a retreat at once; that such a winter had not been seen for ten years, and that when the thaw came the chalet would be swept away like a feather by the avalanches, unless Saint Bernard and Our Lady of the Snow-drifts should save it by a miracle.

"If I were alone," said Leoni, "I would wait for a miracle and laugh at the snow-drifts; but I have no courage when you share my dangers. We will go away to-morrow."

"We must do it," I said; "but where shall we go? I shall be recognized and betrayed very soon; I shall be compelled by force to return to my parents."

"There are a thousand ways of eluding men and laws," replied Leoni with a smile; "we can surely find one; don't be alarmed; the whole world is at our disposal."

"And where shall we begin?" I asked, forcing myself to smile too.

"I don't know yet," he replied, "but what does it matter? we shall be together; where can we be unhappy?"

"Alas!" said I, "shall we ever be so happy as we have been here?"

"Do you want to stay here?"

"No," I replied, "we should be happy no longer; in presence of danger, we should always be alarmed for each other."

We made preparations for our departure. Joanne passed the day clearing the path by which we were to go. During the night I had a strange experience, upon which I have feared, many times since then, to meditate.

In the midst of a sound sleep I suddenly felt very cold and woke up. I felt for Leoni at my side, but he was not there; his place was cold, and the bedroom door was ajar, admitting a current of ice-cold air. I waited a few moments, but, as Leoni did not return, I began to be alarmed, so I rose and hastily dressed myself. Even then I waited before making up my mind to go out, reluctant to allow myself to be governed by any mere childish anxiety. But he did not appear; an invincible terror seized upon me, and I went out, scantily clad, with the thermometer fifteen degrees below freezing. I was afraid that Leoni might have gone to assist some poor creatures who were lost in the snow, as had happened a few nights before, and I was determined to follow and find him. I called Joanne and his wife; they were sleeping so soundly that they did not hear me. Thereupon, almost frantic with dread, I went to the edge of the little palisaded platform which surrounded the chalet and saw a faint light twinkling on the snow some distance away. I fancied that I recognized the lantern that Leoni carried on his relief expeditions. I ran toward it as rapidly as the snow would allow me, sinking in up to my knees. I tried to call him, but the cold made my teeth chatter, and the wind, which blew in my face, intercepted my voice. At last I came near to the light and could see Leoni distinctly; he was standing on the spot where I had first seen him, holding a spade. I approached still nearer, the snow deadening the sound of my footsteps, and finally stood almost beside him, unseen by him. The light was enclosed in its metal cylinder and shone through a slit on the opposite side from me, directly upon him.

I saw then that he had shovelled away the snow and dug into the earth; he was up to his knees in a hole he had made.

This strange occupation, at such an hour and in such severe weather, gave me an absurd fright. Leoni seemed to be in extraordinary haste. From time to time he glanced uneasily about; I crouched behind a rock for I was terrified by the expression of his face. It seemed to me that he would kill me if he should find me there. All the fanciful, foolish stories I had read, all the strange conjectures I had made concerning his secret, recurred to my mind; I believed that he had come there to dig up a corpse, and I almost fainted. I was somewhat reassured when I saw him, after digging a little longer, take a box from the hole. He scrutinized it closely, looked to see if the lock had been forced, then placed it on the edge of the hole and began to throw back the earth and snow, taking little pains to conceal the traces of his operation.

When I saw that he was ready to return to the house with his box, I was terribly afraid that he would discover my imprudent curiosity, and I fled as swiftly as I could. I made haste to throw my wet clothes into a corner and go back to bed, resolved to pretend to be fast asleep when he returned; but I had plenty of time to recover from my emotion, for it was more than half an hour before he reappeared.

I lost myself in conjectures concerning that mysterious box, which must have been buried on the mountain since our arrival, and was destined to accompany us, either as a talisman of safety or as an instrument of death. It seemed to me unlikely that it contained money; for it was of considerable size and yet Leoni had lifted it with one hand and without apparent effort. Perhaps it contained papers upon which his very existence depended. What impressed me most strongly was the idea that I had seen the box before; but it was impossible for me to remember when or where. This time its shape and color were engraved on my memory as if by a sort of fatal necessity. I had it before my eyes all night, and in my dreams I saw a multitude of strange objects come out of it: sometimes cards cut into curious shapes, sometimes bloody weapons; sometimes flowers, feathers and jewels; and sometimes bones, snakes, bits of gold, iron chains and anklets.

I was very careful not to question Leoni or to let him suspect my discovery. He had often said to me that on the day that I discovered his secret all would be at an end between us; and although he thanked me on his knees for believing blindly in him, he often gave me to understand that the slightest curiosity on my part would be distasteful to him. We started the next morning on mules, and travelled by post from the nearest town all the way to Venice.

There we alighted at one of those mysterious houses which Leoni seemed to have at his disposal in all countries. This one was dark, dilapidated and hidden away, as it were, in a deserted quarter of the city. He told me that it belonged to a friend of his who was absent; he begged me to try to put up with it for a day or two, adding that there were important reasons why he could not show himself in the city at once, but that, in twenty-four hours at the latest, I should be provided with suitable lodgings and should have no reason to complain of life in his native place.

We had just breakfasted in a cold, damp room, when a shabbily dressed man, with a disagreeable face and a sickly complexion, made his appearance, observing that Leoni had sent for him.

"Yes, yes, my dear Thaddeus," Leoni replied, hastily leaving the table; "I am glad to see you; let us go into another room and not bore madame with business matters."

An hour later Leoni came and kissed me; he seemed excited, but satisfied, as if he had won a victory.

"I must leave you for a few hours," he said; "I am going to have your new home made ready; we shall sleep there to-morrow night."

X

He was away all day. The next day he went out early. He seemed very busy; but he was in a more cheerful mood than I had yet seen him. That gave me courage to endure the tedium of another twelve hours and dispelled the melancholy impression that cold and silent house produced upon me. In the afternoon I tried to distract my thoughts by going over it; it was very old; some remnants of antiquated furniture, tattered hangings, and several pictures half consumed by rats attracted my attention; but an object even more interesting to me turned my thoughts in another direction.

As I entered the room where Leoni had slept, I saw the famous box on the floor; it was open and entirely empty. An enormous weight was lifted from my mind. The unknown dragon confined in that box had taken flight! the terrible destiny which it had seemed to me to forebode no longer weighed upon us!--"Well, well," I said to myself with a smile, "Pandora's box is empty; hope has remained behind for me."

As I was about to leave the room, I placed my foot on a small bit of cotton wool which had been left lying on the floor with some crumpled tissue paper. I felt something hard and stooped mechanically to pick it up. My fingers felt the same hard substance through the cotton, and on pulling it apart I found a pin made of several large diamonds, which I at once recognized as belonging to my father, and which I had worn on the evening of the last ball, to fasten a scarf on my shoulder. This incident made such an impression on me that I thought no more of the box or of Leoni's secret. I was conscious of nothing but a vague feeling of uneasiness concerning the jewels I had carried with me in my flight, and to which I had not since given even a thought, supposing that Leoni had sent them back at once. The possibility that that had not been done was horrible to me; and as soon as Leoni returned I asked him ingenuously:

"My dear, you didn't forget to send back my father's diamonds after we left Brussels, did you?"

Leoni looked at me with a strange expression. He seemed to be trying to read in the lowest depths of my soul.

"Why don't you answer?" I said; "what is there so surprising in my question?"

"What the devil does it mean?" he replied calmly.

"It means that I went into your room to-day, and found this on your floor. Thereupon I feared that, in the excitement of our flight and the confusion of our travels, you might have forgotten to send back the other jewels. For my own part, I hardly reminded you of it; my brain was in such a whirl."

As I concluded, I handed him the pin. I spoke so naturally and was so far from dreaming of suspecting him, that he saw it at once; and, taking the pin with the utmost calmness, he said:

"_Parbleu_! I don't know what this means. Where did you find it? Are you sure that it belonged to your father and was not left behind here by the people who occupied the house before us?"

"Oh! yes," said I, "here is an almost imperceptible mark near the fastening; it's my father's private mark. With a magnifying-glass you can see his cipher."

"Very good," he replied; "then the pin must have been left in one of our trunks, and I suppose I dropped it this morning when shaking some of my clothes. Luckily it's the only piece of jewelry we brought away by accident; all the rest was placed in charge of a reliable man and addressed to Delpech, who must have turned it over to your family. I don't believe that it is worth while to return this; it would excite your mother's grief anew for very little money."

"It is worth at least ten thousand francs," I said.