CHAPTER XXXV

CONFESSIONS

The engraver and his daughter were deeply affected by the recital of M. de Hansfeld. The pity of Bertha was excited by the painful situation of a man compelled like Arnold to struggle between his love for his wife and the horrible suspicions he entertained of her murderous intentions towards himself; there seemed to her a singular resemblance in the sorrows of the unhappy husband and her own; both were chained for life to objects wholly unworthy of their affections, and henceforward they must each drag on a weary existence, consuming their days in vain regrets or futile hopes. Still Bertha admitted to herself that her own burden was considerably lightened, since she had met in the preserver of her father a man who had inspired her with a sympathy as sincere as it was pure and innocent.

She neither sought nor desired greater happiness than that of frequently seeing Arnold, and of hearing him converse with Pierre Raimond in a style and manner so winningly cheerful and gay, yet replete with tasteful observations on the literature of the day, as well as on every other subject indicative of an expansive and cultivated mind. We shall not allude to the exquisite delight with which, after Arnold had taken his departure, Bertha listened to the warm and energetic praises of the old engraver concerning the wonderful talent of Arnold, who, in Pierre Raimond's estimation, was one of the most learned, scientific, intelligent individuals, it had ever been his lot to meet.

The day following that in which Iris had held the conversation with her mistress we have just related, M. de Brévannes, irritated by the all-absorbing passion which engrossed his thoughts, as well as by many other causes of extreme anxiety, had resumed his brutal treatment of his wife, whose presence became more and more insupportable to him, persuaded as he was that once freed from his marriage-bonds, he should have both more leisure and better facilities for completing his affair with Madame de Hansfeld, even on the morning of the very day of which we are speaking he had compelled his poor suffering wife to endure a fresh scene of violence and abuse. The time was past when Bertha would have received these reproaches with floods of bitter tears; on the contrary, her heart smote her for finding such ready consolation in the hope and prospect of finding Arnold as usual awaiting her arrival at her father's humble but happy home. Banishing from her mind all recollection of the unkindness she had just experienced, Bertha hastened with eager delight to refresh her worn and wearied spirits in the society of the two persons dearest to her upon earth.

Great was the joy of old Pierre at the unexpected entrance of his daughter, the following day having been the one arranged between them, when last they parted, for her next visit.

"Welcome, my child!" cried the old man, tenderly caressing her, "this is a pleasure I had not ventured to promise myself before to-morrow; but I see--I see--some fresh outbreak of cruel tyranny. Well! never mind, since the brutal treatment of that man who daily cares less and less about you enables you to visit your old father more frequently, I find my dislike to him considerably decrease, and if you are not happy, at least you are no longer absolutely wretched; that is something towards a cure, and I do not despair of seeing you again happy. But what an old fool I am to let you know all the foolish fancies that come into my head at times!"

"No, no, dear father! it is very good and kind of you to try and cheer me up by hopes for the future; tell me, then, what you venture to expect may one day happen to render us both happy?"

"Why, my beloved daughter, it is this, that, finding your husband allow you uncontrolled permission to pass half your time with me, I live in hopes that he may be induced to grant you permission to reside here entirely."

"Oh! no, father: I dare not think of such a thing! he knows too well what happiness it would give me."

"Perhaps you are right; but imagine what would be my delight if such a blessing were granted to my prayers. But, alas! he only can bring about this desirable arrangement, the power of separating rests with him; and as our laws stand, a poor wife has no refuge from the thousand tortures the cruelty and neglect of her husband may inflict upon her: she must bear all--suffer all--while he, armed with absolute power, may crush her spirit to the dust with impunity. If I may venture to say so much to you, my child, it is my idea that this bad man has some new and disgraceful passion for another; his increased brutality, his desire to keep me at a distance, all conspire to make me believe it is so; and in that case he will be but too ready to grant a separation which will be as congenial with his desires as yours! What do we want of him! From the time in which you resumed giving music-lessons you have been unable to accept half the pupils offered; you your small earnings will satisfy all our humble wants; you will re-establish yourself in your old familiar apartment, our friend Arnold will come and visit us daily; what on earth can we wish for more?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing, dearest father! but this dream is too delightful to be realised!"

"Once more, I say, who knows what may be in store for us? And, although, my child, I well know your attachment for your old father, still the company of one of my time of life is not fitted to form the sole society of a young creature like you; and I should have felt some remorse in accepting your devoted affection. But now that we have Don 'Raphael' Arnold to occasionally enliven our solitude," continued Pierre Raimond, smiling and talking of him, "Bertha, see what a reward is reaped by those who cherish pure and virtuous feelings, and possess honour and integrity; but for the profound esteem which unites us three together, and gives so great a charm to our intimacy, how large a portion of happiness would be lost to each, had I believed Arnold capable of entertaining a criminal passion for you, and basely trampling under foot the sacred relations of _benefactor_ and _benefited_, it would have deprived him of that friendship on our part which is as essential to his happiness as to our own!"

At this moment a knock was heard at the door of the engraver.

"Come in!" cried the old man.

The door opened, and Arnold appeared.

"Why, we are in luck's way to-day!" exclaimed Pierre Raimond; "first my daughter, then you agreeably surprise me by your presence. But what has occurred? are you not well? you appear thoughtful, dejected, absorbed in some painful idea."

"Yes, indeed, M. Arnold," added Bertha, "you do look very different from your usual cheerful appearance, and you are so silent, too! Has any fresh trouble reached you? Some fresh source of disquietude probably on account of your wife?"

Arnold started, smiled sadly, and then replied,--

"You are right, I am disturbed, and it is on my wife's account!"

"How?" exclaimed Pierre Raimond, indignantly; "does the wretched woman even presume so far as to look up after your--what shall I call it?--weakness; oh! then this time shew neither pity nor compassion, crimes such as hers deserve no mercy. Have a care that you do not carry your generosity rather too far; there is a dangerous gulf intermediate between a magnanimous forbearance towards our enemies, and a culpable indifference towards the wicked, whose misdeeds merit condign chastisement."

The utter prostration of bodily powers seemed to prevent M. de Hansfeld from making any attempt to interrupt Pierre Raimond, but when he had ceased speaking, the prince said mournfully,--

"My wife is not guilty! while I have deceived you greatly, by introducing myself into your family under a false name: candour and honesty alike call for this avowal!"

"What is this I hear?" exclaimed the old man, suddenly rising from his chair.

Pale and terrified, Bertha gazed on M. de Hansfeld with painful anxiety, from him to her father, but the features of the old man wore an expression of gloomy sternness that made her quickly turn away her eyes.

"Explain yourself, sir!" said the engraver, coldly; "it is impossible for me to attempt to find any excuse for your conduct until I have heard the whole of your reasons for acting as you have done."

"I will reveal every thing; deign, however, to bear in mind that I am in no way compelled to make my present avowal; and my sole reason for so doing is that I may remain worthy of your friendship."

"After so base a deception? hope it not, sir!"

"Be kind enough to hear my exculpation, it may probably induce you to view my offence with greater indulgence. When chance enabled me to offer you my assistance, which was afterwards so more than repaid by your humane intervention in my behalf, and that I was, during my temporary loss of consciousness, transported into your dwelling, my first impulse was to declare to you my real name; but at the very instant the words were on my lips, your daughter entered."

"And how could that prevent you following out your intention?"

"Because I recognised her!"

"Me?" exclaimed Bertha.

"Observe, I knew her only by sight," resumed Arnold; "a few evenings previously I had met your daughter at the Théâtre François: her name was pronounced in my presence, and subsequently I heard a just eulogium passed on the stern but noble pride of her father."

"You will be pleased, sir, to dispense with praise, either false or real, on the present occasion," interrupted Pierre Raimond impatiently.

"I offer them not as my words, or with any intention of conciliating you by flattery; but in order better to explain the reason of my concealing my title--since fate has thought proper that I should bear one."

"No matter, sir, what might have been your motives, you have very skilfully succeeded in deceiving the confidence of an old man and the simplicity of a young woman. I beg to congratulate you on your great success!"

"I was wrong; I seek not to deny so much; but, at least, listen to my explanation of why I did not announce my name and rank. Aware of your antipathy for certain classes of society, I was apprehensive that my position in life would prove an obstacle to the acquaintance I so much desired to cultivate with you."

"Doubtless with the equally honourable idea of seducing my daughter, and abusing the most sacred of all obligations--the gratitude of one who has been served towards his benefactor. Oh! you, and such as you belong to, are ever the same!" cried Pierre Raimond, with increasing bitterness. Then, after a momentary pause, he indignantly exclaimed, "And, not many instants ere you entered, was I discoursing with my daughter upon the charm of that noble confidence inspired by mutual esteem, and which so firmly knits together in bonds of tender friendship all faithful, upright hearts."

"Alas!" said Bertha, in low and tearful accents to the prince, "you little know the pain you have occasioned both my father and myself by your disingenuous conduct; for my father had so perfect a confidence in your honour and truth!"

"I am aware I merit all your reproaches, but remember I come voluntarily to encounter them."

"Who then are you, sir?" inquired old Pierre.

"The Prince de Hansfeld," replied Arnold, dejectedly, and looking downwards as if ashamed so to style himself.

"And you inhabit the Hôtel Lambert close by?"

"The Prince de Hansfeld!" repeated Bertha, with an astonishment mingled with compassionate interest and terror.

"In relating to you, under a feigned name, the fatal consequences of my marriage, my recital was strictly true in all save the name. Convinced at that period of the culpability of my wife--more especially after the last attempt I told you of--I had determined to make her quit France for ever. I should this very day have spread the report that I was about to depart with her, and entirely giving up the Hôtel Lambert. Carefully preserving the disguise beneath which I had formed friendships so dear and precious, I desired to live obscurely, or rather happily, in some retreat adjoining whatever retirement you should select. My ambition aimed at nothing beyond the enjoyment of your society, and the drawing still closer the bonds of our union; but these sweet dreams I am compelled to resign. When I left you yesterday I entered the apartments of Madame de Hansfeld, and provoked to find she had not commenced the preparations for her journey, exasperated equally by the positive refusal she gave to quitting Paris, I at length found courage to utter the fearful charge my tongue had hitherto refused to utter."

"And then you found she was not guilty," exclaimed Bertha. "Ah, my own heart told me such crimes were utterly impossible!"

"It was indeed so," replied M. de Hansfeld. "My wife justified herself with dignified frankness; the reasons by which she sought to vindicate herself appeared to me abundantly convincing; and an old servant, in whom I place the utmost confidence, confirmed my impression of its being utterly impossible for Madame de Hansfeld to have committed any of the three attempts upon my life. I can scarcely describe to you the contrary feelings by which I was agitated upon making this discovery; sometimes I applauded myself for having (in spite of the apparently most positive proofs of guilt) listened to the secret voice that whispered she was innocent; then I keenly reproached myself for the accusations and inconsistencies which must have tortured and perplexed my unfortunate wife, changing thereby the slender love she had ever borne me to aversion, if not to downright hatred. I reflected upon the misery my hateful suspicions must have caused her, and I felt that I had much to expiate, much for which to endeavour to obtain pardon. Still my self-upbraiding feelings failed to rekindle my affection for my wife. No! that passion was for ever extinguished amid the whirlwind of continual doubts and apprehensions in which I had lived; but for the very reason that I loved her no longer, I felt myself the more called upon to lavish on her my utmost care and attention. And now we come to the reason of my being here to reveal to you a circumstance of which I might, had I so wished, have kept you ever ignorant. But I considered it as base and dishonourable to create for myself, out of events which I now know so utterly false, an interest which might have served to cement still closer the bonds of affection which united us. Many a time have I been on the point of revealing to you my real name and station, but the fear of exciting your anger by this tardy confession has always restrained me. You now know all. Again I repeat I seek not to extenuate my fault or deny its turpitude; but take into consideration how much I had to endure, and how heavenly and soothing to my wounded heart was the gentle consolation I found here; you will then, perhaps, feel inclined to pardon me for having trembled at the bare apprehension of losing such happiness."

Pierre Raimond remained mute and pensive while M. de Hansfeld was thus speaking; by degrees the expression of bitter wrath faded from his harsh features, and just before Arnold had quite ceased, the old engraver looked earnestly towards his daughter, accompanying his regard with a movement of the head indicative of his approbation. Bertha, with downcast eyes, sat plunged in the deepest melancholy; she knew her father too well to expect that, after the prince's confession, he would admit him again to his house; and thus she saw torn from her the only charm which had enabled her to support her sufferings; the idea was too painful for her gentle nature to struggle against, and she resigned herself to utter hopelessness and despair. After a few instants' silence, Pierre Raimond extended his hand to M. de Hansfeld, saying,--

"You are right--quite right! you triumph even over my prejudices, since you nobly and voluntarily undertake a sacrifice--which may cost you much, but which must cost us more!"

"I must not hope to see you again?" inquired Arnold, sorrowfully.

"Impossible! to receive into my house the man who had saved my life, and even contract with him a degree of intimacy, warranted by the supposed equality of our conditions, was natural enough; relying, too, on the noble integrity of his heart and honourable principles, I might even blamelessly have sanctioned the brotherly affection he evinced for my child; but all that is at an end. A poor artisan like myself is not a befitting companion for a prince; neither can my daughter take his hand with an innocent freedom as she did at our last meeting; she can no longer dare to claim a sister's right to welcome one whom Providence has placed in a sphere so different from ours. No, no: I may pardon the artifice you employed to obtain our friendship--but I should be applauding and commending you for it were I henceforward to permit a continuance of your visits."

"I beseech you to believe----"

"I am fully aware how painful will be your separation from us; not, however, more so than it will be to us."

"Oh no!" murmured Bertha, unable to restrain her tears.

"But," resumed Pierre Raimond, "you can seek consolation in the pleasures which your rank and fortune can afford."

"The pleasures! alas, do you believe what you say!"

"Well, then, we will change the word, and say the duties it has pleased Providence to impose on you; you have to endeavour to erase from the mind of your wife all the pain you have made her suffer, and that to a generous mind is an occupation at once grand and noble. But what means have we of filling up the void left in our hearts by this sudden breaking off of an intimacy we delighted in? So long as this poor girl is permitted to remain with me I shall regret you less poignantly; but when I am left to myself----. My child had even become more indifferent to the many causes of unhappiness her home supplied, from the soothing pleasure and calm enjoyment she experienced in her visits here. And now what is left her? Nothing but vain regrets for a past happiness it would, perhaps, have been far better she had never known."

"Dearest father," replied Bertha, "do not afflict yourself for me; I will try and submit as I ought to this painful separation from our valued friend; besides, shall I not still have you to love and cherish?"

"True, my child; and I promise you that though he," added the old man, extending his hand to Arnold, who warmly pressed it between his own, "be no longer present to our view, he shall still live in our memories; and that we will never meet without at least mentioning his name."

"Then take courage, Monsieur Arnold," said Bertha, striving to smile even amid her fast-falling tears, "you hear what my father says--we shall never cease to cherish you in our recollections; and very, very often talk of you, and of the happy hours we have passed together. And now farewell! in this world farewell for ever!"

The violent emotion of M. de Hansfeld almost overpowered him; in a broken voice he at length contrived to murmur,--

"Adieu! dear and estimable friend and sister, adieu for ever! but oh, believe----"

Here, however, further utterance was denied him; his sobs burst forth with overwhelming force, and he hastily covered his face with his hands.

"You see," said he, after a momentary silence, during which he had succeeded in partly repressing his agitation, and addressing Pierre Raimond, who was contemplating him with deep sorrow, "still the same weak, feebleminded creature as ever; how must I sink in the estimation of one of your stern, rigid character!"

But without replying to this remark, Pierre Raimond abruptly exclaimed,--

"But, merciful heavens! now I consider, your wife's innocence of the frightful crime imputed to her is happily proved,--of that there is no doubt. But the pertinacity with which your life has been so repeatedly placed in danger; some one must be guilty of all this. At Trieste, or here, I should say it might have been effected by strangers; but while you were travelling, staying for the night merely at an inn, it appears to me it must have been the work of some person in your establishment, or at least a very singular concurrence of circumstances must exist."

"I have also asked myself the same question, but it is a mystery which resists every attempt I can make to solve it. While travelling we were accompanied but by three persons, an old servant who brought me up, a young female received into the family by Madame de Hansfeld from motives of compassion, and my _chasseur_, who also acted as courier, and had been a very long while in my service. To suspect my worthy old Frantz or a young girl of seventeen years of age would be preposterous; there is no one left, then, who could by probability have committed the crime but the _chasseur_. Now, though a most excellent and devoted servant, the unfortunate fellow is so extremely stupid and slow of imagination that it is even more impossible it could have been he than either Frantz or the young companion of my wife."

"Still, so great a persistance in these murderous attempts proves----"

"Stay, my worthy friend; the unjust suspicions I have already entertained have cost me too dear, and occasioned too much grief to myself and others for me to venture again to affix blame to any one except on certain grounds."

"But these attacks speak with a startling reality; there is no mistaking their import; and what if they are repeated?"

"I shall rejoice if it be so; that which yesterday I dreaded and sought to avoid, to-day I desire and court."

"Ah, Monsieur Arnold! if your life is valueless to yourself, do you owe nothing to the friends who would survive to lament your loss? And you do not intend making any efforts to discover the vile perpetrators of this shameful machination?"

"None whatever! why should I? am I not now here to say, _Farewell for ever?_"

And with these words M. de Hansfeld quitted the room in a state of mind bordering on desperation.