Chapter XXVI: A Nocturnal Visit to the White House

To recompense himself for a whole day passed without seeing Isaure, Edouard rose with the dawn; and while everybody was asleep in the château, he was already on his way into the mountains. He had told his friend that he would not come to see her for a day, and the girl had answered affectionately: "I shall think all day long of nothing but the next day."

So he urged his horse, in order to be with her the sooner, for he had no doubt that she shared his impatience.

He reached the little valley at last; he fastened his horse and walked toward the cottage. He was surprised to find that Isaure was not at her window to watch for him; it was her habit to sit there every morning; and after a day of separation, should she not desire to see him even sooner?

He knocked at the cottage door; Vaillant barked and soon the door was opened. Isaure appeared before her lover, but she did not rush into his arms; pleasure and love no longer seemed to animate her, and instead of receiving him with the sweet smile to which he was accustomed, she lowered her eyes, as she said sadly:

"Is it you?"

"Yes, it is I," he replied, struck by the change in Isaure’s manner. "Didn’t you expect me?"

"Oh, yes, I felt sure that you would come."

"What is the matter, Isaure? What has happened to you? What has taken place here in the short time since I left you? For heaven’s sake, answer me."

Isaure seated herself in the living-room, and answered with a sigh:

"Nothing has taken place, nothing has happened to me."

"You are deceiving me, Isaure, you are not the same as usual. This depression, the tears which I still see in your eyes--Do you think that I can misunderstand them? Do you seek to deceive your lover? the man who adores you? Speak, I demand it! I implore you! What is this new mystery? Does it mean that you no longer love me?"

"Oh! I shall always love you," said Isaure, looking up at Edouard, with eyes filled with tears; "yes, always; although I have been told that I was doing wrong, that I was making a great mistake, to love you and to listen to you."

"Who has told you that?" cried Edouard.

"Oh! do not be angry, I implore you. Alas! it would do no good. My friend, forgive me for having inspired love in your heart; it was not my fault; but since I cannot be your wife, since we must renounce all the happiness which we had promised ourselves, forget me. I shall always love you; that will be henceforth my only sentiment, my only thought, my only comfort!"

The tears which flowed from the girl’s eyes seemed to bear witness to the sincerity of her grief. But Edouard, intensely excited, sprang to his feet and walked away from her, exclaiming:

"You say that you still love me, and yet you will not be mine! When, forgetting what so many people in society take for their rule of conduct, I determined to give you my name, to call you my wife, to live for you alone, someone forbids you to love me, to listen to me; and instantly you change your manner toward me, instantly you determine to cease to see me, and I must needs renounce my dearest hopes! No, you do not love me; if you shared my love, you would care more for me than for anybody else. But, mademoiselle, what power over you has this person to whom you sacrifice me? It is not your father; you have told me several times that you had no parents. By what right does this person, who keeps out of sight so mysteriously, pretend to separate you from me? Where is this person--whom I would see, know, and speak to?"

"No, no! do not think of it," cried Isaure. "Oh! I beg you, if you still love me, do not try to make that person’s acquaintance--he does not wish, has never wished to be known, to be seen."

"_He_ does not wish," said Edouard angrily. "Very good! it is a man; you have betrayed yourself!"

"Betrayed myself!" replied Isaure, raising her lovely eyes, streaming with tears, to heaven; "what harm is there in its being a man?"

"Who is this man? What power has he over you?"

"Who he is, I do not myself know; but he has the strongest, the most sacred rights over me--those of gratitude. It is to him that I owe everything."

"That you owe everything! what? were you not adopted and brought up by the honest peasants who lived in this house? Was it not to them alone that you owe gratitude?"

"Oh, no! it was not to them alone. Those good people who lived here loved me dearly, I know; but when they took me into their family, and treated me as their own daughter, they simply obeyed the orders of the man whom I must obey to-day! I am doing wrong even now in telling you all this; he forbade me to do it."

"When a man has only honorable intentions, he does not conceal himself thus, he does not envelop himself with so much mystery; and if this person desires only your happiness, why does he forbid you to love me, to become my wife?"

"Your wife! No, he told me that I could never be any man’s wife, that I must not see you any more, must not receive you here; he said also that that would make people think ill of me. Alas! I did not know that it was wrong to love to be with you."

"And you will obey this order, which parts us?"

"I must; do not be angry with me, Edouard. The man who separates us is terribly distressed to make me unhappy, for he is very kind, and he loves me dearly."

"This is too much!" said Edouard, striding angrily from the cottage; "you pity, you love another; and as the reward of my love, to pay me for not acting as so many men would have done in my place, you request me never to come again; ah! I must be a great fool to continue to love you. Adieu! you shall be gratified, you shall see me no more!"

"Edouard! Edouard! do you leave me like this?" cried Isaure, who had followed the young man out of the cottage. But Edouard was no longer listening to her. Beside himself with rage and jealousy, he had remounted his horse, and was galloping back to the château.

The whole party was at that moment assembled in the salon, except Monsieur Férulus, who had received orders to leave the château, with only twenty-four hours in which to make his preparations, and who was then in the library, where he was packing up the volumes which he had brought to the château, and consigning to the devil Monsieur de la Roche-Noire’s new wife.

Alfred was with the family in the salon, with his eyes fixed smilingly on Robineau, who seemed more timid than ever with his wife, and more humble with his father-in-law.

Edouard was too excited to go to the salon; he went to his own room and sent word secretly to Alfred to join him there.

Alfred immediately complied with his friend’s wish. Edouard’s pallor and agitation attracted his attention the moment he caught sight of him; he ran to his side, seized his hand, and pressing it affectionately, said to him:

"What has happened? tell me!"

Edouard could not reply at once, his grief choked his utterance; he tried to speak, but his heart was too full; at last he threw himself into his friend’s arms, stammering:

"My dear Alfred, you sacrificed your love for Isaure to me; you desired that I should be happy; you saw my extreme passion for that girl. Well! to reward my love, she refuses to see me again. I must abandon all hope of marrying her. When I forget that she is only a peasant, nameless, penniless, it is she who refuses to be mine!"

"Who told you that?"

"She herself; I left her only a moment ago."

"What reasons does she give you?"

"The obedience which she owes to a man who forbids her to see me again."

"Then I was not misinformed," cried Alfred, after a moment.

"What? what do you mean?"

"Listen! two nights ago, when I went to examine the old tower, I did find someone there--that vagabond whom we have met so often in the mountains; he declared that he had made his way into the château at night for the purpose of speaking to me secretly, and he told me that Isaure was unworthy of your love, that he had been suspicious of her conduct for a long time, and that he had at last acquired the certainty that she went to the White House at night, to see a man who had just arrived there."

"The traitor! She goes to see him at night; and to think that I respected her sincerity, her innocence, and was afraid of offending her delicacy! Ah! my friend, these women! Oh! I am suffocating, I cannot stand it; I have a weight at my heart which oppresses me, which is killing me!"

"Come, come, Edouard, be a man; be yourself; does a woman who betrays us deserve that we should regret her?"

"Ah! my friend, I have not your temperament; but why have you concealed from me what you had learned?"

"I wished to be certain, before causing you pain; I had my reasons for doubting the veracity of the wretch’s story, he seemed to take so much delight in slandering that girl; and I fear even now----"

"What! when she herself told me that she would not see me any more, because some insolent villain has forbidden her to? And you think that I will suffer such an outrage? No, I will make this man’s acquaintance. I will see my rival, and he shall have my life, or I will have his."

"Calm yourself, Edouard, reflect before----"

"Reflection is useless; I am determined to fight with the man who has stolen Isaure’s heart from me."

"Who has stolen it from you! That is not quite fair; consider that it is you rather, who have stolen it from him. This man knew Isaure before you did; if anyone has a right to complain, is it not he?"

"Yes, that man knew Isaure; but before he returned to this place, she loved me--at least she swore that she did; every day she seemed to see me with greater pleasure, to part from me with greater regret. It is only since the return of this unknown protector that she spurns me, that she wishes to see me no more. So you see that it is he who has stolen the woman I love from me, it is he who wrecks my life."

"I see that it is utterly impossible to make a man who is in love listen to reason!"

"My friend, my mind is made up; to-night I shall seek out my rival, and he must give Isaure up to me, or take my life."

"Give Isaure up to you! What! are you still willing to give her your name?"

"I do not know what I am willing to do; my blood is boiling, my head is on fire. Ah! Alfred, may you never know the torments of jealousy! Argue with me no more; I will listen to nothing until I have satisfied my rage. To-night we will go together to the White House. That is where I shall find this man, who surrounds himself with so much mystery. I have relied upon you to go with me, to be my second. However, if you disapprove of my resolution, I will go alone."

"What! I desert you at such a moment! No, my dear Edouard, I will go with you. I shall take my pistols; do you take your weapons too. We will leave the château on foot, at eight o’clock; we shall be there at ten, which is early enough. Now let me return to the salon."

"Make my apologies for not appearing; say that I am indisposed; it would be impossible for me to be with people now in whose presence I must constrain myself."

Alfred pressed his friend’s hand and did not insist upon remaining with him; for he knew that in great grief there are times when even words of comfort are unwelcome. He returned to the company and announced that Edouard was not feeling well. The absence of one of the young men, and the depression and absent-mindedness of Alfred did not tend to enliven the dinner on the day following the wedding, during which Robineau, having had the misfortune to say, rubbing his hands: "I flatter myself that I shall not sleep alone to-night!" received a sharp reprimand from Monsieur de la Pincerie concerning the freedom of his manners; and Madame de la Roche-Noire manifested a sulky manner during the rest of the meal.

In the evening, the whist table was prepared; as they no longer had Monsieur Férulus to make a fourth, because he would have been very sorry to do anything agreeable to the marquis during his last evening at the château, they suggested to Alfred that he should take his place; but he announced that he felt tired and would withdraw early. Thereupon Monsieur de la Pincerie took his two daughters into the game, and they played a family bouillotte, at which Mignon considered himself very skilful, because he said "I pass" before looking at his cards. At eight o’clock, leaving Robineau in an altercation with his father-in-law and his wife over a bad play that he had made, Alfred left the salon, went to his room, took his weapons and his cloak, because it was a damp and cold evening, and then joined Edouard, who was impatiently pacing his room, awaiting his friend.

"Here I am," said Alfred.

"Let us go then," replied Edouard shortly, "it is quite time."

"Why are we going on foot?"

"It seems to me that we are less likely to be seen, that they will not hear us coming. Who knows that the man whom I wish to discover may not have spies posted on the road, to give him warning of a surprise?"

"All right, let us go on foot; perhaps the walk and the cool night air will calm you a little."

Edouard did not reply, but took his pistols, put on his cloak, and went downstairs. The two young men bade the concierge open the gate for them, and Alfred put a gold piece in his hand, to bribe him to sit up for their return, which could hardly take place until late at night. They left the château, and by the pale light of the moon, which showed itself at intervals from behind the clouds, they took the road leading into the mountains.

Edouard walked in silence, and at a rapid pace. Alfred dared not interrupt his reflections, but contented himself with glancing from time to time at the cliffs and mountains which surrounded them. That night excursion reminded him of their journey to La Roche-Noire; he thought of their hilarity at that time, and sighed as he reflected how soon the happiness which the future promised had disappeared.

After walking more than a league and a half without stopping, and when they were only a short distance from the little valley, Alfred said to his friend:

"Let us rest a moment and take breath; perhaps the man whom you seek will not be at the White House so early."

"Very well," said Edouard, "let us rest here."

And he sat down beside Alfred on a boulder. As he continued to sit in silence, Alfred took his hand, and said to him:

"My dear Edouard, you must admit that we are great fools, to take so much trouble for a girl,--a very pretty girl, I admit; but there are so many others whom we do not even know!"

"Alfred, it is possible that this is folly, rank madness; I realize fully that I should do better to forget Isaure, to despise her; but, my dear friend, every day we persevere in things, although we know that we are doing wrong. As I have told you, you do not feel love as I do, and it is very lucky for you! You loved Isaure passionately; but as soon as you made up your mind to sacrifice that love to me, you were able to put her adored image from your thoughts, and you will agree that in a few days it presented itself much less often. I loved Isaure without manifesting it so plainly; but it is a sentiment which will end only with my life. May I not have long to suffer thus!--Come, the time is passing, and I am in haste to arrive."

Edouard rose, they walked on, and in ten minutes went down into the valley. There Edouard was obliged to stop; he was trembling from head to foot, he could hardly breathe, and he was almost forced to lean upon Alfred’s arm to keep himself from falling.

"Wait, wait," he said; "the sight of this place makes me ill. Forgive me, dear Alfred, for all the trouble that I am giving you."

Alfred made no other response than pressing his friend’s hand, and they soon resumed their walk; but they did not notice that the man with the knotted stick, who had stopped a short distance away, was now dogging their footsteps, taking pains to keep constantly in the shadow.

"Let us go first to her house; we will find out if she is still at home," said Edouard.

They walked silently, trying to make as little noise as possible, and soon reached the cottage; they saw a light in the room on the first floor, the window was open, and from a distance they saw Isaure in that room.

"She is there!" said Edouard in a low voice.

"Yes," replied Alfred, "and she is alone."

"She is doing nothing, she seems lost in thought; see how lovely she is still, Alfred!"

"Why, my dear friend, women are not less pretty for being unfaithful. Sometimes they seem even prettier."

"She rises, she walks to Vaillant and pats him; look,--one would say that she was weeping. Ah! my friend, if I did not hold myself back, I should rush in and throw myself at her feet."

"Wait, she is coming to the window; let us hide behind these trees."

Isaure came to the window, and looked at the White House.

"It is there, it is always there that her eyes turn," said Edouard sorrowfully. "Madman that I am! I believed that she was thinking of me."

Ten minutes passed, during which Isaure stood at the window, and the young men, stationed behind some trees, did not lose sight of her or of the White House. At the end of that time, a light appeared in a window of that mysterious house.

"That is the signal that she was waiting for, no doubt," said Edouard.

And, in fact, the girl instantly left the window, disappeared from her room and soon stole softly out of the cottage. Edouard gripped his friend’s arm fiercely; he could not speak, but he followed every movement that Isaure made. She, after locking her door, darted swiftly into the field, and crossing it at a rapid pace, soon reached the entrance to the White House, and glided furtively through the door, which closed behind her.

The young men followed her, watched her enter the house, and stopped a few steps away.

"There is no more doubt," said Edouard in a gloomy voice; "she is there with my rival! Ah! I am going----"

"What are you going to do?" said Alfred, holding Edouard back; "knock at that door? make an uproar? They will not admit you, and besides you will not find out anything more. Would it not be better to wait until she comes out? Perhaps the man who is in there will accompany her; suppose we could see them, hear them, unobserved! There will still be time enough to challenge your rival; as he is here, he cannot escape you."

"Yes, yes, you are right," said Edouard; "let us wait, I will try to be strong enough."

"See, let us take our places under this clump of trees. We shall be just opposite the door, and no one can see us. Come."

Alfred led Edouard under the trees, which were some forty yards from the White House. There they crouched in the darkest spot, and waited in silence until the door opposite them was opened. A quarter of an hour passed in this painful suspense; Edouard was frantic with impatience and jealousy; but the desire to acquire proofs of Isaure’s treachery gave him strength to resist the violent impulses of his heart. Suddenly they heard a slight noise; it did not come from the White House, however, but from behind the young men.

"I heard something," said Edouard.

"Yes, I thought that I did, too."

"Can it be that we are not alone here?"

They looked carefully all about them, but could see no one. At that moment, the moon, coming out from behind the clouds, enabled them to distinguish objects very plainly, and Edouard shuddered as he heard the door open.

"Here they are!" he said.

Isaure came out first; she was followed by a man of tall stature, wrapped in an ample coat, and with a round hat pulled low over his eyes. They stood in the shadow cast by the house, and in a moment the girl said in a sad tone:

"Adieu, my friend; adieu, I will go home. You will not scold me any more, will you? He will not come again; I have told him that I could not receive him any more."

The man who was with Isaure answered too low for them to hear, as he escorted her toward her house. Edouard followed them, keeping out of sight in the shadow, while Alfred remained under the trees, in front of the house, to cut off the stranger’s retreat.

Soon Isaure and her companion stopped; he took the young girl in his arms and kissed her affectionately. At that sight, Edouard, in a frenzy, started to rush toward them; but Isaure was already tripping lightly toward the cottage, while the other person strode rapidly toward the White House, along the edge of the clump of trees which concealed Alfred from his sight. At that moment, the moon, shining full in the face of the person walking toward him, enabled Alfred to examine him at his ease; and instead of stopping him and preventing him from returning to the White House, Alfred remained absolutely motionless on the spot where he stood. Meanwhile, Edouard hastened after the man with whom he was burning to fight; but he only saw him reënter the house, the door of which closed upon him.

"What!" he said to Alfred, "he passed in front of you and you did not stop him? You did not prevent him from escaping from my wrath? I can no longer doubt Isaure’s perfidy, that man took her in his arms! Ah! he must pay for his good fortune with his life! Yes, if he refuse to open the door, though I have to scale the walls or break the windows, he shall not escape me!"

And Edouard was already rushing toward the house, pistol in hand, when Alfred, rousing himself from the stupor which had taken possession of him, hurried after him, grasped his arm and held him back, crying:

"Edouard, do not think of fighting that man, I implore you! it cannot be!"

"What! not think of revenging myself? Did you come with me for the purpose of talking to me like this? Let me go!"

"No, I entreat you! in the name of our friendship, put down those weapons, which horrify me!"

"What is the meaning of the interest which that man arouses in you? Ah! for my part, I feel that I detest him, that I abhor him! and in his blood----"

"Wretched man, what are you saying?--It is my father!"

"Your father!" cried Edouard, upon whom those words produced the effect of a thunderbolt; while the vagabond, a short distance away, repeated in a hollow voice, "his father"; then strode rapidly away, and disappeared under the trees.

After a silence of several moments, Edouard, who seemed not to recover his wits until then, handed the pistols to Alfred, saying:

"Here, take them, take these weapons away from me! You are right, I cannot fight with him!"

Leaving Edouard no time to change his mind, Alfred took his arm and led him hurriedly away from the White House.