CHAPTER XXVI

THE BLACK BOOK

When Iris proposed to Madame de Hansfeld to reply for her to M. de Brévannes on the subject of the interview which was to take place in the Jardin des Plantes, she not only prevented the princess from committing an imprudent act, but, unknown to her mistress, made her an accomplice in a most diabolical project.

Our readers, no doubt, remember a _black book_ of which Iris had spoken to M. de Brévannes, and in which she told him the princess wrote her most secret thoughts almost every day.

Nothing could be more false. Paula had never possessed such a book; but it was important to the plots of Iris that M. de Brévannes should credit the falsehood, and his belief would be confirmed when he recognised, in this book, writing similar to that of the note which Madame de Hansfeld had now sent to him.

The profound dissimulation, the bold and mischievous plotting of Iris may excite some astonishment; and it may be, perhaps, equally difficult to comprehend her savage affection, her intense jealousy which had almost become ferocious monomania.

Unfortunately, the main facts of this tale, the principal features in Iris's character, are perfectly true.

There has been known a young girl, with passions so ardent, so implacable, which she has combined, concentrated in the blind attachment she had for her benefactress, a singular affection which approached filial veneration in its religious devotion, maternal tenderness in its charming and pure familiarity, and love in its vindictive jealousy.

If, in the sequel of this tale, there is detected in Iris a great power of imagination joined to an inventive mind, full of stratagem, adroit, and bold,--if any of her combinations seem worked out with a perfidy and skill most rare in a girl of her age, we repeat that solitude had singularly developed her natural faculties, incessantly devoted to one end, and that, compelled to act alone and beneath the shade of the deepest dissimulation, she held every means good that was likely to bring her to the one concentrated object of her desires,--

_To isolate her mistress from every affection._

To create, as it were, a void around her, and become to her the more necessary as every other attachment failed her.

This last desire of Iris had hitherto been unsatisfied.

There is no doubt that Madame de Hansfeld felt for her companion a real attachment, placed boundless confidence in her, and was invariably kind and affectionate towards her; but this was not sufficient for the heart of Iris.

She experienced the most bitter, painful resentment at what she called a deception; but, as she was unable to hate her mistress, her execration accumulated against those who inspired the princess with the slightest interest.

These explanations are necessary in order to prepare the reader for the events which follow.

In the two interviews, which her first meeting with De Brévannes had procured her, Iris by order of Paula had endeavoured to fathom this man's motives.

Infamous as it was, the calumny he could spread abroad respecting Madame de Hansfeld was much to be dreaded. Raphael had created the infamous falsehood, and why should not the world, or rather De Morville (for he was all the world to Paula), credit it?

Madame de Hansfeld did not know what course to resolve upon. Since she had been enamoured of De Morville, she had hated De Brévannes the more intensely, and thus her indignation and contempt were insufficient to describe the audacity of the latter, when he attempted to obtain an interview with her, through the mediation of Iris, who sagaciously observed to her mistress, that M. de Brévannes's anger might be dangerous, and that thus, instead of exasperating, it was policy to endeavour to get rid of him peaceably. Unfortunately the violent and headstrong love of Bertha's husband would not conform to any management. As we have seen, in his third interview with Iris, he declared positively that he would speak out, if the princess refused him an interview any longer.

Iris had continued to play her double part, in order to increase De Brévannes' confidence, pretending not to be pleased with her mistress in order to remove all suspicion of collusion, and appearing very much flattered at the agreeable gallantries of M. de Brévannes.

She made him believe, moreover, that Madame de Hansfeld seemed to feel for him a sort of anger, mingled with interest--a singular resentment which Iris did not attempt to explain, as she said, for she affected ignorance of what had occurred at Florence between De Brévannes and Paula. Such was the source of the secret hopes of Bertha's husband; hopes arising from his blind self-love, and increased by the treacherous confidence of Iris.

This explained, we will conduct the reader to the small house which De Brévannes rented in the Rue des Martyrs, and of which he now had sole possession.

It was the day after that on which Iris had given him the pretended note from the princess, on receiving which, De Brévannes had ventured for the first time to speak of the _black book_, and his desire to possess it for a moment.

Iris, after innumerable difficulties, had told him, that perhaps it might be possible to abstract the book the next day for a few hours only, when the princess was going to pass the morning with Madame de Lormoy, De Morville's aunt.

M. de Brévannes had requested the young girl to bring the precious volume to the Rue des Martyrs, when he would read it in her presence, and return it to her instantly, with the recompense due to such a service,--a recompense which she resolved to accept, in order that no suspicion of De Brévannes should be excited.

He was thus awaiting Iris in the small saloon to which we have before referred.

If the disposition of De Brévannes be borne in mind,--if his unmoveable obstinacy, his pride, his headstrong passion to succeed in whatever he undertook, be not forgotten,--if his will, his obstinacy, his vanity called into play by a deep and enthusiastic love, against which he had struggled for two years, be remembered, we may conceive with what passionate desire he sought to be beloved by Madame de Hansfeld, a woman so attractive, so envied, so respected.

It was noon. M. de Brévannes was awaiting Iris with great impatience.

Madame Grassot, the guardian of this mysterious dwelling, remained in the upper story. Iris arrived, and De Brévannes ran to meet her.

She affected to be trembling and alarmed, and M. de Brévannes reassured, and led her to the room; she holding in her hand a small album bound in black morocco, and closed with a silver lock. Trembling with delight and impatience at the sight of this book, De Brévannes took from the mantel-piece a ring, with a fine-sized brilliant, which he placed on the finger of Iris in spite of her assumed resistance.

"I pray you, my charming Iris," he said, "accept so trifling a token of my gratitude. This pretty hand has no need of ornament, but it is a souvenir which I entreat you to wear, and you promised you would accept it."

"Yes, I did; but I do not know if I ought--a diamond?"

"What is a diamond? It is the ring I speak of."

"And it is the ring, then, that I accept," replied Iris, with a smile of deep hypocrisy, "since my condition exposes me to certain remunerations."

"If I chose a diamond," said De Brévannes, "it is because I would present you with an emblem of the endurance and purity of my gratitude."

And he put forth his hand to take the black book.

"No, no!" exclaimed Iris, appearing still to struggle with duty; "it is so horrible, I condemn myself for you."

"What harm is done? it is but an indiscretion at worst, my dear Iris; and, as your mistress is so often unjust towards you, it is, on your part, but a small, allowable, even innocent vengeance."

"Oh! I know I am inexcusable; and when you have once read the book, you will forget poor Iris, when you have no further occasion for her. But why should I complain, have you not paid me for my treachery?" she added, with bitterness.

"This little creature is desperately smitten with me," thought De Brévannes, "and how the devil shall I get rid of her? Can she mean, now she has got the ring, not to let me see the book?"

Then he said aloud, with earnestness,--

"You are mistaken, Iris. In the first place, I shall never think I have repaid my obligation to you: have no fear that I shall ever forget you. I wish, for my own peace of mind, that I could; and it requires all the seriousness of the things on which I have to discourse with your mistress in order to make me for a moment forget my love for you, Iris; for I do love you. But we will not refer to that now. There are serious interests at stake. How is your mistress?"

"She has remained dull and pensive ever since she gave you the appointment which you so imperatively demanded."

"She forced me to do so. I was so wretched at her refusal, that I forgot myself so far as to threaten her, which I no longer regret, since it has procured for me what I so much desired both for her interest and mine. But she is dull and pensive, you say?"

"Yes; sometimes she remains for a long time as if completely overwhelmed; then suddenly she rises impetuously and walks up and down for some minutes greatly agitated."

"And to what do you ascribe her state of mind?"

"I know not."

"This book, which you hesitate to confide to me, and which I dare not again ask you for, would inform us."

"Oh, I have no desire to know the princess's secrets. It was to be agreeable to you, and to obey you, that I have brought this book: the key is in the lock, but I have not opened it."

"Well, then, open it now, since what you call a wicked act has been committed, you have only to complete the vast service you have rendered me. Do you still hesitate? I know I have no other right to this kindness on your part, except----"

"There I there! read it directly," said Iris, turning away her head, and handing the album to De Brévannes. "What I am doing is infamous, but I cannot resist the influence you have over me."

"The influence of a firm will," thought De Brévannes, as he quickly unclosed the black book, in which he read what follows, whilst Iris, with her elbow resting on the mantel-piece, her cheek reclining on her hand, and pretending not to be looking at her dupe, was attentively watching him in the glass.