Chapter 9

Enter _Monica_ and _Bertrand_.

_Mon._ In truth, sir, I have told you every circumstance I know concerning my poor lodger. But wherefore so particular in your inquiries?

_Bert._ Trust me, I have important motives for my curiosity. Seventeen years ago, I think you said: and in the woods near _Albi_?

_Mon._ Ay, ay, I was accurate both in time and place.

_Bert._ Every incident concurs. Gracious heaven! should it prove--my good woman, I suspect this unfortunate person is known to me; bring me directly to the sight of her!

_Mon._ Hold! sir, I must know you better first. I fear me, this poor creature has been hardly dealt with; who knows, but you may be her enemy?

_Bert._ No, no, her friend; her firm and faithful friend: suspence distracts me: lead me to her presence instantly!

_Mon._ Well, well, truly, sir! you look and speak like an honest gentleman; but tho' I consent, I doubt whether my lodger will receive you; her mind is ill at ease for visitors. All last night I overheard her pacing up and down her chamber, moaning piteously and talking to herself; towards day-break, all became quiet, then I peeped thro' the crevice of her door and saw that she was writing. I never knew her write before, I knocked for admittance, but she prayed me not to interrupt her for another hour.

_Bert._ Does she still keep her chamber?

_Mon._ She has not quitted it this morning--hark! I think I hear her stir, (_goes to the stair-foot and looks up_) ay! her door now stands open, place yourself just here, and you may view her plainly without being seen yourself; her face is turned towards us, but her eyes are fixed upon a writing in her hands.

[_Bertrand_ looks for a moment to satisfy his doubts, then rushes forward and casts himself upon his knee transportedly.]

_Bert._ She lives! Eternal mercy! thanks! thanks!

_Mon._ Holy St. Dennis! the sight of her has strangely moved you: collect yourself, I pray, she comes towards us.

_Bert._ Oh! let me cast myself before her feet!

_Mon._ (_restraining him_) Hold, sir! whatever be your business, I beseech you to refrain a little, I must prepare her for your appearance, her spirits cannot brook surprise, back! back!

[_Bertrand_ withdraws, and _Eugenia_ descends the stair with a folded paper in her hand--she appears to struggle with emotion, and running towards _Monica_, casts her arms passionately around her.]

_Eug._ My kind mother! this is perhaps our last embrace; we must part.

_Mon._ Part! my child! what mean you?

_Eug._ Ah! it is my fate, my cruel unrelenting fate that drives me from you, from the last shelter and the only friend I yet retain on earth.

_Mon._ Explain yourself; I cannot comprehend.

_Eug._ Mother! I have an enemy, a dreadful one. Seventeen years have veil'd me from his hate in vain: those years have wasted the victim's form, but the persecutor's heart remains unchanged: my retreat is discovered: the wretches who were here last night too surely recognized me; soon they may return, and force me; oh! thought of horror. No, no, here I dare not stay.

_Mon._ My poor innocent! whither would you go?

_Eug._ To the woods and caves from which you rescued me. Mother, the wilderness must be my home again. I fly to wolves and vultures to escape from man! Receive this paper, 'tis the written memoir of my wretched life; read it when I am gone: my head burned and my hand trembled while I traced those characters: yet 'tis a faithful history. Mother! I dare not thank your charity, but heaven will remember it hereafter: bestow upon me one embrace, and then let me depart in silence.

(_Monica_ gives a sign to _Bertrand_ to advance.)

_Mon._ Yet hold some moments; a stranger has been inquiring here this morning who describes himself your friend.

_Eug._ Ah! no, no: the tomb long since has covered all my friends; 'tis some wily agent of my foe! Ah! forbid him mother; let him not approach me.

_Mon._ 'Tis too late; he is already in the house.

_Eug._ Where?

(_Monica_ points, and _Eugenia's_ eyes following her direction, rest upon the prostrate figure of _Bertrand_, who has placed himself in a posture of supplication, and concealed his face with his hands.)

_Eug._ (_gazing intensely with apprehension._) Speak! you kneel and still are silent. Ah! what would you require of me?

_Bert._ (_uncovering his face without raising his eyes_) Pardon! pardon!

_Eug._ (_shrieking and flying_) Ah! Bertrand.

_Bert._ (_catching her mantle_) Stay! angel of mercy, stay and hear me. He that was your scourge now yields himself your slave: a wretched penitent despairing man lies humbled in the dust before you, and implores for pardon.

_Eug._ (_pauses--presses her crucifix to her lips, and then replies with fervor._) Yes! charity and peace to all! Nay, heaven forgive thee, sinful man, I never will accuse thee at its bar.

_Bert._ Angel! my actions better than my prayers may plead with heaven for mercy: the cruel wrongs that I have offered, yet in part may be atoned--lady, I come to serve and save you.

_Eug._ Ah! to what fresh terrors am I yet devoted?

_Bert._ Might we converse without a witness? in your ear only dare I breathe my purpose.

_Mon._ Nay, I will not be an eaves-dropper: my child you do not fear this person now? I'll leave you with him--nay, 'tis best--perchance he comes indeed with service. My blessings go with you, stranger, if you mean her fairly, but if you wrong or play her false, a widow's curse fall heavy on your death-bed. [_Exit up the staircase._

(A pause of mutual agitation.)

_Eug._ Speak! man of terrors--say what has the persecuted and undone Eugenia yet to dread?

_Bert._ The baron Longueville--

_Eug._ That fiend!

_Bert._ He now is in the neighbourhood; as yet he dreams not that you live: but accident this very hour might betray you to his knowledge. Lady! I possess the means. O blessed chance! to shield you from his malice.

_Eug._ And wilt thou; O! wilt thou, Bertrand, at last extend a pitying arm to raise the wretch, thy former hate had stricken to the ground? I have been despoiled of fortune, fame, and health: my brain has been distracted by thy cruelty: yet now preserve me from this worst extreme of fate: let me not die the slave of Longueville, all my injuries, all my sufferings are forgotten, and this one gracious act shall win thy pardon for a thousand sins.

_Bert._ Lady! my o'er weighed conscience heaves impatiently to cast its load. (_sinks on his knee_) Lo! at your injured feet I kneel, and solemnly pronounce a vow, the tyrant Longueville shall mar your peace no more.

[The cottage-door silently opens, and _Sanguine_ looks in--he makes a sign to _Longueville_ who follows, and they glide to the further end of the cottage unperceived; where they remain in anxious observation of the characters in front.]

_Eug._ Rise! your penitence wears nature's stamp, and I believe it honest.

_Bert._ Oh! lady, your words redeem me from despair: but say, to ease a heart that aches with wonder: say, by what prodigy you 'scaped the flames of that tremendous night, when all believed you perished?

_Eug._ (_shuddering._) Ah! what hast thou said? my dream of confidence dissolves, and now I turn from thee again with horror! Again I view thy murderous poniard reared to strike! Again my wounded infant shrieks upon my bosom, and the fiery gulf yawns redly at my feet! begone? begone! for now I hate thee!

_Bert._ Ah, not to me--to Longueville ascribe the horrors of that night. (_Aside_) What shall I say? I dare not own to her that De Valmont lives. Hear me, lady; scarce was your lord's untimely fall reported, when the cruel Longueville in secret plotted to remove his infant heir, the only bar that held him from a rich succession; by hellish means he won me to his cause: _his_ hand it was that oped the castle gates at midnight to the foe, and when the fierce Huguenots rushed shouting through the halls, still _his_ hand it was that fired the chamber where you slept in peace: to save your child you rushed distracted to the rampart's edge; just as I followed to complete my prey, a falling turret crossed my path, and presently the general fabric sank in ruin.

_Eug._ A wayward destiny that night was mine; at once both saved and lost! a hidden passage dug beneath the rampart, twining through many a cavern'd maze, at distance opened to the woods. I reached the secret entrance of that pass, just as the turret fell and screened me from pursuit. Concealing darkness wrapt my flying steps: the roar of death sank far behind, and ere the dawn, in safety with my child, I gained the forest.

_Bert._ Your child! eternal powers! the infant then escaped my blow.

_Eug._ Thy dagger's point twice scarred his innocent hand, but failed to reach the life. (_Bertrand gesticulates his transport_) A sanguine cross indelibly remained; but nature and his mother's tears assuaged the pain. Charitable foresters, ignorant of our rank, relieved our wants and changed our robes for rustic weeds; thus disguised, my infant in my arms, on foot I travelled far and long, seeking ever by the loneliest paths, to reach my sovereign's court, and at the throne of power implore for justice.

_Bert._ O! does the infant yet survive? Speak, lady! bless me with those words--he lives.

_Eug._ No, Bertrand, no; fortune but mocked me with a moment's hope to curse me deeper still through ages of despair. In vain I snatched my darling boy from poniard and from flame: when way-lost in the wilderness, but for a moment did I quit my treasure, the mazes of the wood ensnared my step: the fever of my body rushed upon my brain: I wandered, never to return; while my forsaken infant--he perished, Bertrand. Ah! my brain begins to burn afresh! mark me, he perished terribly: inquire not further.

_Bert._ (_deeply affected._) Thou suffering excellence! be witness heaven! the monster that I was, no longer has a life; thy tears have drowned it quite, and now it strangely melts in pity and remorse. Come, lady, let me bestow thee in a safe retreat: the hoarded wages of my sinful youth, I'll use as offerings to redeem thy peace: far hence in foreign lands a certain refuge waits our flight, and there secure from Longueville--

[The _Baron_ suddenly stands before them in the centre: _Eugenia_ shrieks and _Bertrand_ stands aghast and trembles.]

_Bert._ Undone forever?

_Long._ (_furiously to Sanguine_) Guard well the door--let not a creature enter or depart.

[_Sanguine_ advances by his direction. _Eugenia_ flies by the stairs to the upper chamber. _Longueville_, after a short pause of indecisive passion, draws a poniard and seizes upon _Bertrand_.]

_Long._ Wretch!

_Bert._ Strike! yes, deep in this guilty bosom, strike at once, and rid me of despair.

_Long._ Thou double traitor! thy perjuries now meet their just reward. Tremble at impending death.

_Bert._ No; I have not feared to live in vice, and will not shrink at least to die for virtue.

_Long._ (_throwing him off._) No; I will not take the wretched forfeit: thou'rt spared from hate, not pity; I gave thee back thy life, but I will study punishments, to make the boon a curse unutterable.

_Bert._ Tyrant, I defy thy vengeance to increase my torments; the innocent, I pledged myself to save, already stands devoted to destruction, and the measure of my anguish and despair is full.

_Long._ (_to Sanguine_) Sanguine, ascend the stair, and force that wretched woman to my presence.

_Bert._ Hold, hold, my lord! recal those threatning words. O God! what damning crime is in your thoughts? pause--yet for a moment, pause, ere you barter to the fiend your soul for ages. Omnipotence hath interposed with miracles and still preserved you from the guilt you sought, your conscience yet is undefiled with blood.

_Long._ Away! my purpose is resolved.

_Bert._ Will you then reject the mercy Heaven extends? (_kneels and catching his cloak._) Hear me, my lord; nay, for your own eternal being, hear me; as you now deal with this afflicted innocent, even so, hereafter, shall the God of judgment deal with you.

_Long._ I brave the peril, (_call aloud_) hasten, Sanguine, produce my victim.

_Bert._ (_Desperately._) Cover me mountains! hide me from the sun! (_He casts himself upon the ground._)

(_Sanguine_ returns precipitately from above.)

_Sang._ My lord, one fatal moment has undone your scheme, the female has escaped.

_Long._ Villain! escaped.

_Bert._ (_raising himself in frantic joy._) Ha!

_Sang._ I found the casement of the upper chamber open, some twisted linen fastened to the bar, nearly reached to the ground without, and proved the method of her flight; a beldame who must have aided her escape, remains alone above, (_turning towards the window_,) ha! I catch a female figure darting through the trees at a distance; she runs with lightning speed,--now--she turns towards the castle.

_Long._ Distraction! if she gains the castle, I am lost forever; pursue! pursue!

[_Longueville_ and _Sanguine_ rush out.

_Bert._ (_Vehemently._) Guardians of innocence, direct her steps! [_He follows them._