Prince Zilah — Volume 3 by Claretie, Jules, 1840-1913
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Transcript of Prince Zilah — Volume 3 by Claretie, Jules, 1840-1913
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8/14/2019 Prince Zilah Volume 3 by Claretie, Jules, 1840-1913
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PRINCEZILAH
ByJULESCLARETIE
BOOK3.
CHAPTERXXIV
ALITTLEPARISIANROMANCE
TheveryeveningofthedaywhenthepackageoflettershadkilledinAndrasallhappinessandallfaith,theHungarianprincepresentedhimselfintheRued'Aumale,toseekMichelMenko.
Menko!Thatboywhomhehadlovedalmostasabrother,thatmanforwhomhehadhopedagloriousfuture,Michel,MichelMenko,hadbetrayedhim,andstruckhimwiththeperfidyofacoward.Yes,atthedoorofthechurch,whenitwastoolate,orrather,atatimewhentheblowwouldbesurerandthewoundmoredeadly--thenMenkohadsaidtohim:"MydearPrince,thewomanwhomyoulove,thewomanwhomyouhavemarried,hasbeenmymistress.Here,read,seehowshelovedme!"
HadMichelbeenbeforehim,Andraswouldhaveseizedtheyoungmanbythethroat,andstrangledhimonthespot;but,whenhereachedtheRued'Aumale,hedidnotfindMenko.
"TheCountlefttownyesterday,"saidtheservant,inanswertohisquestion.
"Yesterday!Wherehashegone?"
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"TheCountmusthavetakenthesteamerto-dayatHavreforNewYork.TheCountdidnottellusexactlywherehewasgoing,however,buttoAmerica,somewhere.Weonlyknow,thecoachmanPierre,andmyself,thattheCountwillnotreturnagaintoParis.Wearestillinhisservice,however,andaretoawaithisorders."
Hesitatingalittle,theservantadded:
"HaveInotthehonortospeaktoPrinceZilah?"
"Why?"askedAndras.
Thevaletrepliedwithahumblebutverysincereair:
"Because,ifMonseigneurshouldhearfromtheCount,andthereisanyquestionofthepackagewhichItooktoMaisons-LafittethismorningforMonseigneur--"
"Well?"saidAndras.
"MonseigneurwouldgreatlyobligemeifhewouldnotlettheCountknowthatIdidnotfulfilhisorderslastevening."
"Lastevening?Whatdoyoumean?Explainyourself!"saidthePrince,
sternly.
"Whenheleftyesterday,theCountexpresslyorderedmetotakethepackagetoMonseigneurthatveryevening.IbegMonseigneur'spardon;butIhadaninvitationtoawedding,andIdidnotcarryouttheCount'sinstructionsuntilthismorning.But,asMonseigneurwasnotathome,ItookthetraintoMaisons-Lafitte.IhopethatIdidnotarrivetoolate.TheCountwasveryparticularaboutit,andIshouldbeverysorryifmynegligencehasdoneanyharm."
Andraslistened,gazingintentlyuponthefaceoftheservant,whowasalittlediscountenancedbythissilentinquisition.
"SoCountMenkowishedthepackagetobedeliveredtomeyesterday?"
"IbegMonseigneurnottotelltheCountthathewasnotobeyed."
"Yesterday?"repeatedAndras.
"Yes,yesterday,Monseigneur.TheCountdeparted,thinkingitwouldbedone;and,indeed,hehadarighttothinkso.Iamverycareful,Monseigneur,verycareful;andifMonseigneurshouldsomedayhaveneedofa--"
ThePrincestoppedthevaletwithagesture.ItwasrepugnanttoAndrastohavethismanmixedupinasecretofhislife;andsuchasecret!
ButthedomesticwasevidentlyignorantwhatacommissionMenkohadconfidedtohim:inhiseyes,thepackage,containingsuchletters,waslikeanyotherpackage.Andraswaspersuadedofthisbytheattitudeoftheman,humiliatedathavingfailedinhisduty.
Awordmoreexchangedwiththevalet,andAndraswouldhavefelthumiliatedhimself.ButhehadgainedfromtheconversationtheideathatMenkohadnotwishedtoinsulthiminhishappiness,buttorevealalltohimbeforetheceremonyhadyetbeencelebrated.Itwasasatrocious,butnotsocowardly.MenkohadwishedtoattackMarsa,rather
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thanAndras;thiswasvisibleintheexpresscommandsgiventohisvalet.Anduponwhatatriflehaditdepended,whetherthenameofZilahshouldbebornebythiswoman!Uponwhat?Uponaservant'sfeast!Lifeisfullofstrangechances.Thehandsofthatlow-bornvalethadheldforhourshishappinessandhishonor--hishonor,AndrasZilah's--thehonorofallhisrace!
ThePrincereturnedtohishotel,whichhehadleftthatmorningthinkingthathewouldsoonbringtherethewomanhethenadored,butwhomhenowdespisedandhated.Oh!hewouldknowwhereMenkohadgone;himhecouldpunish;asforMarsa,shewasnowdeadtohim.
Butwhere,inthewhirlpooloftheNewWorld,wouldthisMichelMenkodisappear?andhowcouldhefindhim?
Thedayspassed;andZilahhadacquiredalmostthecertaintythatMenkohadnotembarkedatHavre.PerhapshehadnotquittedEurope.Hemight,somedayoranother,inspiteofwhatthevalethadsaid,reappearinParis;andthen--
Meanwhile,thePrinceledthelifeofamanwoundedtotheheart;seekingsolitude,andshuttinghimselfinhishotel,intheRueBalzac,likeawolfinhisden;receivingnoonebutVarhely,andsometimestreatingevenoldYanskicoldly;then,suddenlyemergingfromhisretirement,
andtryingtotakeuphislifeagain;appearingatthemeetingsoftheHungarianaidsociety,ofwhichhewaspresident;showinghimselfattheraces,atthetheatre,orevenatBaronessDinati's;longingtobreakthedullmonotonyofhisnowruinedlife;and,withasortofbravado,lookingsocietyandopinionfullintheface,asiftosurpriseasmileorasneerathisexpense,andpunishit.
Hehad,however,norighttocomplainofthesentimentwhichwasfeltforhim,foreveryonerespectedandadmiredhim.Atfirst,itistrue,society,andinparticularthatsocietyofParisianforeignersinwhichPrinceAndrasmingled,hadtriedtofindoutwhyhehadbrokensosuddenlywiththewomanhehadcertainlymarriedforlove.Publiccuriosity,arousedandexcited,hadsoughttodivinethesecretofthe
romance."Ifitdoesnotgetintothenewspapers,"theysaid,"itwillbefortunate."AndsocietywasevenastonishedthatthejournalshadnotalreadydiscoveredthekeytothisParisianmystery.
Butsociety,afterallasfickleasitiscurious(oneofitslittleviceschasingawaytheother),turnedsuddenlytoanothersubject;forgottheruptureofMarsaandAndras,andsawinZilahonlyasuperiorbeing,whoseloftysoulforcedrespectfromthefrivoloussetaccustomedtolaughateverything.
Aloftysoul,yes,butasoulintorment.Varhelyalone,amongthemall,knewanythingofthesufferingwhichAndrasendured.Hewasnolongerthesameman.Hishandsomeface,withitskindlyeyesandgravesmile,
wasnowconstantlyovershadowed.Hespokeless,andthoughtmore.Onthesubjectofhissadnessandhisgrief,Andrasneverutteredawordtoanyone,noteventohisoldfriend;andYanski,silentfromthedaywhenhehadbeenanunconsciousmessengerofill,hadnotoncemadeanyallusiontothepast.
Althoughheknewnothing,Varhelyhad,nevertheless,guessedeverything,andatonce.TheblowwastoodirectandtoocruellysimplefortheoldHungariannottohaveimmediatelyexclaimed,withrage:
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"Thosewerelove-letters,andIgavethemtohim!IdiotthatIwas!Iheldthoselettersinmyhand;Imighthavedestroyedthem,orcrammedthemonebyonedownMenko'sthroat!Butwhocouldhavesuspectedsuchaninfamy?Menko!Amanofhonor!Ah,yes;whatdoeshonoramounttowhenthereisawomaninquestion?Imbecile!Anditisirreparablenow,irreparable!"
VarhelyalsowasanxioustoknowwhereMenkohadgone.TheydidnotknowattheAustro-Hungarianembassy.Itwasacompletedisappearance,perhapsasuicide.IftheoldHungarianhadmettheyoungman,hewouldatleasthavegottenridofpartofhisbile.Buttheangrythoughtthathe,Varhely,hadbeenassociatedinavilerevengewhichhadtouchedAndras,was,fortheoldsoldier,aconstantcauseforill-humorwithhimself,andathingwhich,inameasure,poisonedhislife.
Varhelyhadlongbeenamisanthropehimself;buthetriedtostruggleagainsthisowntemperamentwhenhesawAndraswrappinghimselfupinbitternessandgloomythoughts.
Littlebylittle,Zilahallowedhimselftosinkintothatstatewherenotonlyeverythingbecomesindifferenttous,butwherewelongforanothersuffering,furtherpain,thatwemayuttermorebittercries,moreirritatedcomplaintsagainstfate.Itseemsthenthateverythingisdarkaboutus,andourendlessnightistraversedbymorbidvisions,and
peopledwithphantoms.Thesickman--fortheonewhosufferssuchtortureissick--wouldwillinglyseekanewsorrow,likethosewoundedmenwho,seizedwithfrenzy,opentheirwoundsthemselves,andirritatethemwiththepointofaknife.Then,misanthropyanddisgustoflifeassumeaphaseinwhichpainisnotwithoutacertaincharm.Thereisaspeciesofvoluptuousnessinthisappetiteforsuffering,andthesuffererbecomes,asitwere,enamoredofhisownagony.
WithZilah,thissadstatewasduetoasortofinsurrectionofhisloyaltyagainstthemanyinfamiestobemetwithinthisworld,whichhehadbelievedtobeonlytoofullofvirtues.
Henowconsideredhimselfanidiot,afool,forhavingallhislife
adoredchimeras,andfollowed,aschildrendopassingmusic,thefanfaresofpoeticchivalry.Yes,faith,enthusiasm,love,weresomanycheats,somanylies.Allbeingswho,likehimself,wereworshippersoftheideal,alldreamersofbetterthings,allloversoflove,wereinevitablydoomedtodeception,treason,andthestupidironiesoffate.And,fullofangeragainsthimself,hispessimismofto-daysneeringathisconfidenceofyesterday,heabandonedhimselfwithdelighttohisbitterness,andhetookkeenjoyinrepeatingtohimselfthatthesecretofhappinessinthislifewastobelieveinnothingexcepttreachery,andtodefendoneselfagainstmenasagainstwolves.
Veryrarely,hisrealfrank,truenaturewouldcometothefore,andhewouldsay:
"Afterall,arethecowardiceofoneman,andthelieofonewoman,tobeconsideredthecrimeofentirehumanity?"
Whyshouldhecurse,hewouldthink,otherbeingsthanMarsaandMenko?Hehadnorighttohateanyoneelse;hehadnoenemythatheknewof,andhewashonoredinParis,hisnewcountry.
Noenemy?No,notone.Andyet,onemorning,withhisletters,hisvaletbroughthimajournaladdressedto"PrinceZilah,"and,on
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unfoldingit,Andras'sattentionwasattractedtotwoparagraphsinthecolumnheaded"EchoesofParis,"whichweremarkedwithared-leadpencil.
Itwasanumberof'L'Actualite',sentthroughthepostbyanunknownhand,andtheredmarkswereevidentlyintendedtopointouttothePrincesomethingofinteresttohimself.
Andrasreceivedfewjournals.Asuddendesireseizedhim,asifhehadapresentimentofwhatitcontained,tocastthisoneintothefirewithoutreadingit.Foramomenthehelditinhisfingersreadytothrowitintothegrate.Thenafewwordsreadbyaccidentinvinciblypreventedhim.
Heread,atfirstwithpoignantsorrow,andthenwithadullrage,thetwoparagraphs,oneofwhichfollowedtheotherinthepaper.
"Asadpieceofnewshascometoourears,"ranthefirstparagraph,"apieceofnewswhichhasafflictedalltheforeigncolonyofParis,andespeciallytheHungarians.ThelovelyandcharmingPrincessZ.,whosebeautywasrecentlycrownedwithagloriouscoronet,hasbeentaken,afteraconsultationoftheprincesofscience(thereareprincesinallgrades),totheestablishmentofDr.Sims,atVaugirard,therivalofthecelebratedasylumofDr.Luys,atIvry.Togetherwiththenumerous
friendsofPrinceA.Z.,wehopethatthesuddenmaladyofthePrincessZ.willbeofshortduration."
SoMarsawasnowthepatient,almosttheprisoner,ofDr.Sims!TheordersofDr.Fargeashadbeenexecuted.Shewasinaninsaneasylum,andAndras,despitehimself,feltfilledwithpityashethoughtofit.
Buttheredmarksurroundedboththisfirst"EchoofParis,"andtheonewhichfollowedit;andZilah,impellednowbyeagercuriosity,proceededwithhisreading.
Butheutteredacryofragewhenhesaw,printedatfulllength,givenovertocommoncuriosity,totheeagernessofthepublicforscandal,and
tothemalignityofblockheads,adirectallusiontohismarriage--worsethanthat,theveryhistoryofhismarriageplacedinanoutrageousmannernexttotheparagraphinwhichhisnamewasalmostopenlywritten.TheeditorofthesocietyjournalpasseddirectlyfromtheinformationinregardtotheillnessofPrincessZ.toanallegoricaltaleinwhichAndrassawthesecretofhislifeandthewoundsofhisheartlaidbare.
ALITTLEPARISIANROMANCELikemostoftheParisianromancesofto-day,thelittleromanceinquestionisanexoticone.Parisbelongstoforeigners.WhentheParisians,whosenamesappearinthechroniclesoffashion,arenotAmericans,Russians,Roumanians,Portuguese,English,Chinese,orHungarians,theydonotcount;theyarenolongerParisians.The
ParisiansofthedayareParisiansofthePrater,oftheNewskiPerspectiveorofFifthAvenue;theyarenolongerpurebloodedParisians.WithintenyearsfromnowtheboulevardswillbesituatedinChicago,andonewillgotopasshiseveningsattheEdenTheatreofPekin.So,thisisthelatestParisianromance:OnceuponatimetherewasinParisagreatlord,aMoldavian,oraWallachian,oraMoldo-Wallachian(inaword,aParisian--aParisianoftheDanube,ifyoulike),whofellinlovewithayoungGreek,orTurk,orArmenian(alsoofParis),asdark-browedasthenight,asbeautifulastheday.Thegreatlordwasofacertainage,that
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is,anuncertainage.ThebeautifulAthenianorGeorgian,orCircassian,wasyoung.Thegreatlordwasgenerallyconsideredtobeimprudent.Butwhatistobedonewhenoneloves?Marryordon'tmarry,saysRabelaisorMoliere.Perhapstheybothsaidit.Well,atallevents,thegreatlordmarried.Itappears,ifwell-informedpeoplearetobebelieved,thatthegreatWallachianlordandthebeautifulGeorgiandidnotpasstwohoursaftertheirmarriagebeneaththesameroof.Theverydayoftheirwedding,quietly,andwithoutscandal,theyseparated,andthereasonofthisrupturehasforalongtimepuzzledParisianhigh-life.Itwasremarked,however,thattheseparationofthenewly-marriedpairwascoincidentwiththedisappearanceofaveryfashionableattachewho,someyearsago,wasoftenseenridingintheBois,andwhowasthenconsideredtobethemostgracefulwaltzeroftheViennese,orMuscovite,orCastiliancolonyofParis.Wemight,ifwewereindiscreet,constructawholedramawiththesethreepeopleforourdramatispersonae,;butwewishtoprovethatreporters(differentinthisfromwomen)sometimesknowhowtokeepasecret.Forthoseladieswhoare,perhaps,stillinterestedinthesilkymoustachesofthefugitiveex-diplomat,wecanadd,however,thathewasseenatBrusselsashorttimeago.Hepassedthroughtherelikeashootingstar.Someonewhosawhimnoticedthathewasratherpale,andthatheseemedtobestillsufferingfromthewoundsreceivednotlongago.AsforthebeautifulGeorgian,theysaysheisindespair
atthedepartureofherhusband,thegreatWallachianlord,who,inspiteofhisill-luck,isreallyaPrinceCharming.
AndrasZilahturnedrapidlytothesignatureofthisarticle.The"EchoesofParis"weresignedPuck.Puck?WhowasthisPuck?Howcouldanunknown,ananonymouswriter,aretailerofscandals,bepossessedofhissecret?ForAndrasbelievedthathissufferingwasasecret;hehadneverhadanideathatanyonecouldexposeittothecuriosityofthecrowd,asthiseditorofL'Actualitehaddone.HefeltanincreasedrageagainsttheinvisibleMichelMenko,whohaddisappearedafterhisinfamy;anditseemedtohimthatthisPuck,thisunknownjournalist,wasanaccompliceorafriendofMichelMenko,andthat,behindthepseudonymofthewriter,heperceivedthehandsomeface,twistedmoustacheandhaughty
smileoftheyoungCount.
"Afterall,"hesaidtohimself,"weshallsoonfindout.MonsieurPuckmustbelessdifficulttounearththanMichelMenko."
Herangforhisvalet,andwasabouttogoout,whenYanskiVarhelywasannounced.
TheoldHungarianlookedtroubled,andhisbrowswerecontractedinafrown.Hecouldnotrepressamovementofangerwhenheperceived,uponthePrince'stable,themarkednumberofL'Actualite.
Varhely,whenhehadanafternoontogetridof,usuallywenttothe
Palais-Royal.Hehadlivedfortwentyyearsnotfarfromthere,inalittleapartmentnearSaint-Roch.Drinkinginthefreshair,underthestripedawningoftheCafedelaRotunde,hereadthejournals,oneaftertheother,orwatchedthesparrowsflyaboutandpeckupthegrainsinthesand.Childrenranhereandthere,playingatball;and,abovethenoiseofthepromenaders,arosethemusicofthebrassband.
ItwaschieflythepoliticalnewshesoughtforintheFrenchorforeignjournals.Heranthroughthemallwithhisnoseinthesheets,whichheheldstraightoutbythewoodenfile,likeaflag.Witharapidglance,
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hefellstraightupontheHungariannameswhichinterestedhim--Deaksometimes,sometimesAndrassy;andfromaGermanpaperhepassedtoanEnglish,Spanish,orItalianone,making,ashesaid,atourofEurope,acquaintedashewaswithalmostallEuropeanlanguages.
AnhourbeforeheappearedatthePrince'shouse,hewasseatedintheshadeofthetrees,scanning'L'Actualite',whenhesuddenlyutteredanoathofanger(anHungarian'teremtete!')ashecameacrossthetwoparagraphsalludingtoPrinceAndras.
Varhelyreadthelinesovertwice,toconvincehimselfthathewasnotmistaken,andthatitwasPrinceZilahwhowasdesignatedwiththeskilfullyveiledinnuendoofanexpertjournalist.Therewasnochancefordoubt;theindistinctnationalityofthegreatlordspokenofthinlyveiledtheMagyarcharacteristicsofAndras,andtheparagraphwhichprecededthe"LittleParisianRomance"wasveryskilfullyarrangedtoletthepublicguessthenameoftheherooftheadventure,whilegivingtotheanecdoterelatedthepiquancyoftheanonymous,thatvelvetmaskofscandal-mongers.
ThenVarhelyhadonlyoneidea.
"Andrasmustnotknowofthisarticle.Hescarcelyeverreadsthejournals;butsomeonemayhavesentthispapertohim."
AndtheoldmisanthropehurriedtothePrince'shotel,thinkingthis:thattherealwaysexistpeoplereadytoforwardparagraphsofthiskind.
Whenheperceived'L'Actualite'uponthePrince'stable,hesawthathissurmisewasonlytoocorrect,andhewasfuriouswithhimselfforarrivingtoolate.
"Whereareyougoing?"heaskedAndras,whowasputtingonhisgloves.
ThePrincetookupthemarkedpaper,foldeditslowly,andreplied:
"Iamgoingout."
"Haveyoureadthatpaper?"
"Themarkedpartofit,yes."
"Youknowthatthatsheetisneverread,ithasnocirculationwhatever,itlivesfromitsadvertisements.Thereisnouseintakinganynoticeofit."
"Iftherewerequestiononlyofmyself,Ishouldnottakeanynoticeofit.ButtheyhavemixedupinthisscandalthenameofthewomantowhomIhavegivenmyname.Iwishtoknowwhodidit,andwhyhedidit."
"Oh!fornothing,forfun!BecausethisMonsieur--howdoeshesignhimself?--Puckhadnothingelsetowriteabout."
"Itiscertainlyabsurd,"remarkedZilah,"toimaginethatamancanliveintheideal.Ateverysteptherealitysplashesyouwithmud."
Ashespoke,hemovedtowardthedoor.
"Whereareyougoing?"askedVarhelyagain.
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"Totheofficeofthisjournal."
"Donotcommitsuchanimprudence.Thearticle,whichhasmadenostirasyet,willbereadandtalkedofbyallParisifyoutakeanynoticeofit,anditwillbeimmediatelycommenteduponbythecorrespondentsoftheAustrianandHungarianjournals."
"Thatmatterslittletome!"saidthePrince,resolutely."Thosepeoplewillonlydowhattheirtradeobligesthemto.But,beforeeverything,Iamresolvedtodomyduty.Thatismypartinthismatter."
"ThenIwillaccompanyyou."
"No,"repliedAndras,"Iaskyounottodothat;butitisprobablethatto-morrowIshallrequestyoutoserveasmysecond."
"Aduel?"
"Exactly."
"WithMonsieur--Puck?"
"Withwhoeverinsultsme.Thenameisperfectlyimmaterial.Butsinceheescapesmeandsheisirresponsible--andpunished--Iregardasan
accompliceoftheirinfamyanymanwhomakesallusiontoitwitheithertongueorpen.And,mydearVarhely,Iwishtoactalone.Don'tbeangry;Iknowthatinyourhandsmyhonorwouldbeasfaithfullyguardedasinmyown."
"Withoutanydoubt,"saidVarhely,inanoddtone,pullinghisroughmoustache,"andIhopetoproveittoyousomeday."
CHAPTERXXV
THEHOMEOF"PUCK"
PrinceZilahdidnotobserveatallthemarkedsignificanceoldYanskigavetothislastspeech.HeshookVarhely'shand,enteredacab,and,castingaglanceatthejournalinhishands,heorderedthecoachmantodrivetotheofficeof'L'Actualite',RueHalevy,neartheOpera.
Thesocietyjournal,whoseaimwasrepresentedbyitstitle,haditsquartersonthethirdfloorinthatsemi-Englishsectionwherebars,excursionagencies,steamboatoffices,andmanufacturersoftravelling-bagsgivetothestreetsasortofBritannicaspect.Theofficeof'L'Actualite'hadonlyrecentlybeenestablishedthere.PrinceZilchreadthenumberoftheroomuponabrasssignandwentup.
Intheouterofficetherewereonlytwoorthreeclerksatworkbehindthegrating.Noneofthesehadtherighttorevealthenameshiddenunderpseudonyms;theydidnotevenknowthem.Zilchperceived,throughanopendoor,thereporters'room,furnishedwithalongtablecoveredwithpens,ink,andpadsofwhitepaper.Thisroomwasempty;thejournalwasmadeupintheevening,andthereporterswereabsent.
"Isthereanyonewhocananswerme?"askedthePrince.
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"Probablythesecretarycan,"repliedaclerk."Haveyouacard,Monsieur?or,ifyouwillwriteyournameuponabitofpaper,itwilldo."
Andrasdidso;theclerkopenedadoorinthecorridoranddisappeared.Afteraminuteortwohereappeared,andsaidtothePrince:
"Ifyouwillfollowme,MonsieurFreminwillseeyou."
Andrasfoundhimselfinthepresenceofapleasant-lookingmiddle-agedman,whowaswritingatamodestdeskwhentheHungarianentered,andwhobowedpolitely,motioninghimtobeseated.
AsZilchsatdownuponthesofa,thereappeareduponthethresholdofadoor,oppositetheonebywhichhehadentered,asmall,dark,elegantlydressedyoungman,whomAndrasvaguelyrememberedtohaveseensomewhere,hecouldnottellwhere.Thenewcomerwasirreproachableinhisappearance,withhisclothesbuiltinthelatestfashion,snowylinen,palegraygloves,silver-headedcane,andasingleeyeglass,danglingfromasilkencord.
HebowedtoZilch,and,goinguptothesecretary,hesaid,rapidly:
"Well!sinceTourillonisaway,IwillreporttheEnghienraces.Iam
goingtherenow.Enghienisn'thighlydiverting,though.Theswellsandtheprettywomensorarelygothere;theydon'taffectEnghienanymore.Butdutybeforeeverything,eh,Fremin?"
"Youwillhavetohurry,"saidFremin,lookingathiswatch,"oryouwillmissyourtrain."
"Oh!Ihaveacarriagebelow."
Heclappedhisconfrereontheshoulder,bowedagaintoZilah,andhurriedaway,whileFremin,turningtothePrince,said:
"Iamatyourservice,Monsieur,"andwaitedforhimtoopenthe
conversation.
ZilahdrewfromhispocketthecopyofL'Actualite,andsaid,veryquietly:
"Ishouldliketoknow,Monsieur,whoismeantinthisarticlehere."
And,foldingthepaper,withthepassagewhichconcernedhimuppermost,hehandedittothesecretary.
Freminglancedatthearticle.
"Yes,Ihaveseenthisparagraph,"hesaid;"butIamentirelyignorant
towhomitalludes.Iamnotevencertainthatitisnotafabrication,inventedoutofwholecloth."
"Ah!"saidZilah."Theauthorofthearticlewouldknow,Isuppose?"
"Itishighlyprobable,"repliedFremin,withasmile.
"Willyoutellme,then,thenameofthepersonwhowrotethis?"
"Isn'tthearticlesigned?"
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"ItissignedPuck.Thatisnotaname."
"Apseudonymisanameinliterature,"saidFremin."Iamoftheopinion,however,thatonehasalwaystherighttodemandtoseeafacewhichiscoveredbyamask.Butthepersonwhomakesthisdemandshouldbepersonallyinterested.Doesthisstory,towhichyouhavecalledmyattention,concernyou,Monsieur?"
"Suppose,Monsieur,"answeredZilah,alittledisconcerted,forheperceivedthathehadtodowithacourteous,well-bredman,"supposethatthemanwhoismentioned,orratherinsulted,here,weremybestfriend.Iwishtodemandanexplanationofthepersonwhowrotethisarticle,andtoknow,also,ifitwasreallyajournalistwhocomposedthoselines."
"Youmean?--"
"Imeanthattheremaybepeopleinterestedinhavingsuchanarticlepublished,andIwishtoknowwhotheyare."
"Youareperfectlyjustified,Monsieur;butonlyonepersoncantellyouthat--thewriterofthearticle."
"Itisforthatreason,Monsieur,thatIdesiretoknowhisname."
"Hedoesnotconcealit,"saidFremin."Thepseudonymisonlydesignedasastimulanttocuriosity;butPuckisacorporealbeing."
"Iamgladtohearit,"saidZilah."Now,willyoubekindenoughtogivemehisname?"
"PaulJacquemin."
Zilahknewthenamewell,havingseenitattheendofareportofhisriverfete;buthehardlythoughtJacquemincouldbesowellinformed.SincehehadlivedinFrance,theHungarianexilehadnotbeenaccustomed
toregardParisasasortofgossipingvillage,whereeverythingisfoundout,talkedover,andcommenteduponwitheagercuriosity,andwhereeveryone'saimistoappeartohavethebestandmostcorrectinformation.
"Imustaskyounow,Monsieur,whereMonsieurPaulJacqueminlives?"
"RueRochechouart,atthecorneroftheRuedelaTourd'Auvergne."
"Thankyou,Monsieur,"saidAndras,rising,theobjectofhiscallhavingbeenaccomplished.
"Onemoment,"saidFremin,"ifyouintendtogoatoncetoMonsieur
Jacquemin'shouse,youwillnotfindhimathomejustnow."
"Whynot?"
"Becauseyousawhimhereafewminutesago,andheisnowonhiswaytoEnghien."
"Indeed!"saidthePrince."Verywell,Iwillwait."
HebadefarewelltoFremin,whoaccompaniedhimtothedoor;and,when
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seatedinhiscarriage,hereadagaintheparagraphofPuck--thatPuck,who,inthecourseofthesamearticle,referredmanytimestothebrilliancyof"ourcolleagueJacquemin,"andcomplacentlycitedthewitticismsof"ourcleverfriendJacquemin."
ZilahrememberedthisJacqueminnow.Itwashewhomhehadseentakingnotesupontheparapetofthequay,andafterwardatthewedding,wherehehadbeenbroughtbytheBaronessDinati.ItwasJacqueminwhowassuchafavoritewiththelittleBaroness;whowasoneofthelicenseddistributorsofcelebrityandquasi-celebrityforallthosewholiveupongossipandforgossip-greatladieswholovetoseetheirnamesinprint,andactresseswildoveranewrole;whowasoneofthechroniclersoffashion,receivedeverywhere,flattered,caressed,petted;whomthePrincehadjustseen,veryelegantwithhisstickandeyeglass,andhiscareless,disdainfulair;andwhohadsaid,likeamanaccustomedtoeverymagnificence,fatiguedwithluxury,blasewithpleasure,andcaringonlyforwhatistrulypschutt(tousethelatestslang):"Prettywomensorarelygothere!"
Zilahthoughtthat,astheBaronesshadaparticularpredilectionforJacquemin,itwasperhapsshe,who,inhergaychatter,hadrelatedthestorytothereporter,andwho,withoutknowingitprobably,assuredlywithoutwishingit,hadfurnishedanarticlefor'L'Actualite'.Inallhonor,JacqueminwasreallythespoiledchildoftheBaroness,the
directoroftheentertainmentsatherhouse.Withalittlemoreconceit,Jacquemin,whowasbynomeanslackinginthatquality,however,mighthavebelievedthattheprettylittlewomanwasinlovewithhim.Thetruthis,theBaronessDinatiwasonlyinlovewiththereporter'sarticles,thosesocietyarticlesinwhichheneverforgother,butpaid,withastringofprintedcompliments,forhischampagneandtruffles.
"Andyet,"thoughtZilah,"no,uponreflection,IamcertainthattheBaronesshadnothingtodowiththisoutrage.Neitherwithintentionnorthroughimprudencewouldshehavegivenanyofthesedetailstothisman."
NowthatthePrinceknewhisrealname,hemighthavesenttoMonsieur
Puck,Varhely,andanotherofhisfriends.Jacqueminwouldthengiveanexplanation;forofreparationZilahthoughtlittle.Andyet,fullofanger,andnothavingMenkobeforehim,helongedtopunishsomeone;hewished,that,havingbeenmadetosuffersohimself,someoneshouldexpiatehispain.Hewouldchastisethisbutterflyreporter,whohaddaredtointerferewithhisaffairs,andwreakhisvengeanceuponhimasifhewerethecowardwhohadfled.And,besides,whoknew,afterall,ifthisJacqueminwerenottheconfidantofMenko?VarhelywouldnothaverecognizedinthePrincethegenerousZilahofformertimes,fullofpity,andreadytoforgiveaninjury.
AndrascouldnotmeetJacqueminthatday,unlesshewaitedforhimattheofficeof'L'Actualite'untiltheraceswereover,andhetherefore
postponedhisintendedinterviewuntilthenextday.
Abouteleveno'clockinthemorning,afterasleeplessnight,hesought-theRueRochechouart,andthehouseFreminhaddescribedtohim.Itwasthere:anoldweather-beatenhouse,withanarrowentranceandacorridor,inthemiddleofwhichflowedadirty,foul-smellingstreamofwater;theroomoftheconciergelookedlikeablackholeatthefootofthestaircase,thebalustersandwallsofwhichwerewetwithmoistureandstreakedwithdirt;ahouseofpoorworking-people,manystorieshigh,andbuiltinthetimewhenthisquarterofPariswasalmosta
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suburb.
Andrashesitatedatfirsttoenter,thinkingthathemustbemistaken.HethoughtoflittleJacquemin,daintyandneatasifhehadjuststeppedoutofabandbox,andhisdisdainfulremarksupontheracesofEnghien,wheretheswellsnolongerwent.Itwasnotpossiblethathelivedhereinthiswretched,shabbyplace.
TheconciergerepliedtothePrince,however,whenheaskedforJacquemin:"Yes,Monsieur,onthefifthfloor,thedoortotheright;"andZilahmountedthedarkstairs.
Whenhereachedthefifthfloor,hedidnotyetbelieveitpossiblethattheJacqueminwholivedtherewastheonehehadseenthedaybefore,theonewhomBaronessDinatipetted,"ourwittycolleagueJacquemin."
Heknocked,however,atthedoorontheright,ashehadbeendirected.Noonecametoopenit;buthecouldhearwithinfootstepsandindistinctcries.Hethenperceivedthattherewasabell-rope,andhepulledit.Immediatelyheheardsomeoneapproachingfromwithin.
Hefeltasingularsensationofconcentratedanger,unitedtoafearthattheJacqueminhewasinsearchofwasnotthere.
Thedooropened,andawomanappeared,young,ratherpale,withprettyblondhair,somewhatdisheveled,anddressedinablackskirt,withawhitedressing-sackthrownoverhershoulders.
Shesmiledmechanicallyassheopenedthedoor,and,asshesawastrangeface,sheblushedcrimson,andpulledhersacktogetherbeneathherchin,fasteningitwithapin.
"MonsieurJacquemin?"saidAndras,takingoffhishat.
"Yes,Monsieur,heliveshere,"repliedtheyoungwoman,alittleastonished.
"MonsieurJacquemin,thejournalist?"askedAndras.
"Yes,yes,Monsieur,"sheansweredwithaproudlittlesmile,whichZilahwasnotslowtonotice.Shenowopenedthedoorwide,andsaid,steppingasidetoletthevisitorpass:
"Willyoutakethetroubletocomein,Monsieur?"Shewasnotaccustomedtoreceivecalls(Jacqueminalwaysmakinghisappointmentsattheoffice);but,asthestrangermightbesomeonewhobroughtherhusbandwork,asshecalledit,shewasanxiousnottolethimgoawaybeforesheknewwhathiserrandwas.
"Pleasecomein,Monsieur!"
ThePrinceentered,and,crossingtheentryintwosteps,foundhimselfinasmalldining-roomopeningdirectlyoutofthekitchen,wherethreetinylittlechildrenwereplaying,theyoungest,whocouldnothavebeenmorethaneighteenmonths,crawlingaboutonthefloor.Upontheraggedoilclothwhichcoveredthetable,Zilahnoticedtwopairsofmen'sgloves,onegray,theotheryellow,andaheapofsoiledwhitecravats.Uponawoodenchair,bytheopendoorofthekitchen,wasatubfullofshirts,whichtheyoungwomanhaddoubtlessbeenwashingwhenthebellrang.
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ThecriesZilahhadheardcamefromthechildren,whowerenowsilent,staringatthetallgentleman,wholookedattheminsurprise.
Theyoungwomanwassmallandverypretty,butwiththepalloroffatigueandoverwork;herlipswerebeautifullychiselled,butalmostcolorless;andshewassothinthatherfigurehadthefrailappearanceofanunformedgirl.
"Willyousitdown,Monsieur?"sheasked,timidly,advancingacane-bottomedchair.
Everythinginthesepoorlodgingswasofthemostshabbydescription.Inacrackedmirrorwithabrokenframewerestuckcardsofinvitation,theatrechecks,andraceticketsadmittingtothegrandstand.UponacheaplittletablewithbrokencornerswasaheapofNewYear'scards,bonbonboxes,andnovelswithsoilededges.Uponthefloor,nearthechildren,weresomeremnantsoftoys;andthecradleinwhichthebabysleptatnightwaspushedintoacornerwithachild'schair,thearmsofwhichweregone.
Zilahwasbothastonishedandpained.Hehadnotexpectedtoencounterthiswretchedplace,thepoorlycladchildren,andthewoman'stimidsmile.
"IsMonsieurJacqueminathome?"heaskedabruptly,desiringtoleaveatonceifthemanwhomhesoughtwasnotthere.
"No,Monsieur;buthewillnotbelongaway.Sitdown,Monsieur,please!"
Sheentreatedsogently,withsuchanuneasyairatthethreateneddepartureofthismanwhohaddoubtlessbroughtsomegoodnewsforherhusband,thatthePrincemechanicallyobeyed,thinkingagainthattherewasevidentlysomemistake,andthatitwasnot,itcouldnotbe,herethatJacqueminlived.
"Isitreallyyourhusband,Madame,whowritesunderthesignatureofPuckin'L'Actualite'?"heasked.Thesameproudsmileappearedagainuponherthin,wanface.
"Yes,Monsieur,yes,itisreallyhe!"shereplied.ShewassohappywheneveranyonespoketoherofherPaul.ShewasinthehabitoftakingcopiesofL'Actualitetotheconcierge,thegrocer,andthebutcher;andshewassoproudtoshowhowwellPaulwrote,andwhatfineconnectionshehad--herPaul,whomshelovedsomuch,andforwhomshesatuplateatnightwhenitwasnecessarytopreparehislinenforsomegreatdinnerorsupperhewasinvitedto.
"Oh!itisindeedhe,Monsieur,"shesaidagain,whileZilahwatchedher
andlistenedinsilence."Idon'tliketohavehimusepseudonyms,ashecallsthem.Itgivesmesomuchpleasuretoseehisrealname,whichisminetoo,printedinfull.Onlyitseemsthatitisbettersometimes.Puckmakespeoplecurious,andtheysay,Whocanitbe?HealsosignedhimselfGavrocheintheRabelais,youknow,whichdidnotlastverylong.Youareperhapsajournalistalso,Monsieur?"
"No,"saidZilah.
"Ah!Ithoughtyouwere!But,afterall,perhapsyouareright.Itisa
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hardprofession,Isometimesthink.Youhavetobeoutsolate.Ifyouonlyknew,Monsieur,howpoorPaulisforcedtoworkevenatnight!Ittireshimso,andthenitcostssomuch.Ibegyourpardonforleavingthosegloveslikethatbeforeyou.Iwascleaningthem.Hedoesnotlikecleanedgloves,though;hesaysitalwaysshows.Well,Iamawoman,andIdon'tnoticeit.AndthenItakesomuchcareofallthat.Itisnecessary,andeverythingcostssodear.YouseeI--Gustave,don'tslapyourlittlesister!younaughtyboy!"
Andgoingtothechildren,hersweet,frankeyesbecomingsadataquarrelbetweenherlittleones,shegentlytookthebabyawayfromtheoldestchild,whocried,andwentintoacornertopout,regardinghismotherwiththesameimpudentairwhichZilahhadperceivedinthecurlofJacquemin'slipswhenthereportercomplainedofthedearthofprettywomen.
"Itiscertainlyveryastonishingthathedoesnotcomehome,"continuedtheyoungwife,excusingtoZilahtheabsenceofherPaul."Heoftenbreakfasts,however,inthecity,atBrebant's.Itseemsthatitisnecessaryforhimtodoso.Yousee,attherestauranthetalksandhearsnews.Hecouldn'tlearnallthatheknowshereverywell,couldhe?Idon'tknowmuchofthingsthatmustbeputinanewspaper."
Andshesmiledalittlesadsmile,makingevenofherhumilityapedestal
forthehusbandsodeeplylovedandadmired.
Zilahwasbeginningtofeelillatease.Hehadcomewithanger,expectingtoencounterthelittlefopwhomhehadseen,andhefoundthishumbleanddevotedwoman,whospokeofherPaulasifshewerespeakingofherreligion,andwho,knowingnothingofthelifeofherhusband,onlylovinghim,sacrificedherselftohiminthisalmostcruelpoverty(astrangecontrasttothelifeofluxuryJacqueminledelsewhere),withtheholytrustofherunselfishlove.
"Doyouneveraccompanyyourhusbandanywhere?"askedAndras.
"I?Oh,never!"shereplied,withasortoffright."Hedoesnotwish
it--andheisright.Yousee,Monsieur,whenhemarriedme,fiveyearsago,hewasnotwhatheisnow;hewasarailwayclerk.Iwasaworking-girl;yes,Iwasaseamstress.Thenitwasallright;weusedtowalktogether,andwewenttothetheatre;hedidnotknowanyone.Itisdifferentnow.Yousee,iftheBaronessDinatishouldseemeonhisarm,shewouldnotbowtohim,perhaps."
"Youaremistaken,Madame,"saidtheHungarian,gently."Youaretheonewhoshouldbebowedtofirst."
Shedidnotunderstand,butshefeltthatacomplimentwasintended,andsheblushedveryred,notdaringtosayanymore,andwonderingifshehadnotchattedtoomuch,asJacqueminreproachedherwithdoingalmost
everyday.
"DoesMonsieurJacquemingooftentothetheatre?"askedAndras,afteramoment'spause.
"Yes;heisobligedtodoso."
"Andyou?"
"Sometimes.Nottothefirstnights,ofcourse.Onehastodress
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handsomelyforthem.ButPaulgivesmetickets,oh,asmanyasIwant!Whentheplaysarenolongerdrawingmoney,Igowiththeneighbors.ButIprefertostayathomeandseetomybabies;whenIamsittinginthetheatre,andtheyareleftinchargeoftheconcierge,Ithink,Supposeanythingshouldhappentothem!Andthatideatakesawayallmypleasure.Still,ifPaulstayedhere--buthecannot;hehashiswritingtodointheevenings.Poorfellow,heworkssohard!Well!"withasigh,"Idon'tthinkthathewillbebackto-day.Thechildrenwilleathisbeefsteak,that'sall;itwon'tdothemanyharm."
Asshespoke,shetooksomepiecesofmeatfromanalmostemptycupboard,andplacedthemonthetable,excusingherselffordoingsobeforeZilah.
Andhecontemplated,withanemotionwhicheverywordofthelittlewomanincreased,thispoor,miserableapartment,wherethewifelived,takingcareofherchildren,whilethehusband,MonsieurPuckorMonsieurGavroche,paradedatthefancyfairsoratthetheatres;figuredattheraces;tastedtheBaronessDinati'swines,caringonlyforJohannisbergwiththeblueandgoldsealof1862;andgavetoPotelandChabot,inhisarticles,lessonsingastronomy.
ThenMadameJacquemin,feelinginstinctivelythatshehadthesympathyofthissad-facedmanwhospoketoherinsuchagentlevoice,relatedherlifetohimwiththeeasyconfidencewhichpoorpeople,whoneverseethe
greatworld,possess.Shetoldhim,withatendersmile,theentirelyParisianidyloftheloveoftheworking-girlforthelittleclerkwholovedhersomuchandwhomarriedher;andoftheexcursionstheyusedtotaketogethertoSaint-Germain,goingthird-class,andeatingtheirdinneruponthegreengrassunderthetrees,andthenenjoyingthefunnydoingsofthepaintedclowns,theilluminations,themusic,andthedancing.Oh!theydancedanddancedanddanced,untilshewassotiredthatshesleptallthewayhomewithherheadonhisshoulder,dreamingofthehappydaytheyhadhad.
"Thatwasthebesttimeofmylife,Monsieur.Wewerenoricherthanwearenow;butweweremorefree.Hewaswithmemore,too:now,hecertainlymakesmeveryproudwithhisbeautifularticles;butIdon't
seehim;Idon'tseehimanymore,anditmakesmeverysad.Oh!ifitwerenotforthat,althoughwearenotmillionaires,Ishouldbeveryhappy;yes,entirely,entirelyhappy."
Therewas,inthesimple,gentleresignationofthispoorgirl,sacrificedwithoutknowingit,suchdevotedloveforthemanwho,inreality,abandonedher,thatPrinceAndrasfeltdeeplymovedandtouched.Hethoughtoftheoneleadingalifeofpleasure,andtheotheralifeoffatigue;ofthishouseholdtouchingononesidepoverty,and,ontheother,wealthandfashion;andhedivined,fromtheinnocentwordsofthisyoungwife,thehardshipsofthishome,halfdesertedbythehusband,andthenervousnessandpeevishnessofJacqueminreturningtothispoorplaceafteranightattherestaurantsoraballatBaroness
Dinati's.HeheardthecuttingvoiceoftheelegantlittlemanwhomhishumblewifecontemplatedwiththeeyesofaHindooadoringanidol;hewaspresent,inimagination,atthosetragicallysorrowfulsceneswhichthewifeborewithhertendersmile,poorwoman,knowingofthelifeofherPaulonlythosedutiesofluxurywhichsheherselfimagined,remainingaseamstressstilltosewthebuttonsontheshirtsandglovesofherhusband,andabsolutelyignorantofalltheentertainmentswhere,inanevening,wouldsometimesbelost,atagameofcards,thewholemonthlysalaryofMonsieurPuck!AndZilahsaidtohimself,thatthiswas,perhaps,thefirsttimethatthiswomanhadeverbeenbroughtin
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contactwithanythingpertainingtoherhusband'sfashionablelife--andinwhatshape?--thatofamanwhohadcometodemandsatisfactionforaninjury,andtosaytoJacquemin:"Ishallprobablykillyou,Monsieur!"
Andgradually,beforethespectacleofthisprofoundlove,ofthishumbleandholydevotionoftheunselfishmartyrwithtimid,wistfuleyes,wholeanedoverherchildren,andsaidtothem,sweetly,"Yes,youarehungry,Iknow,butyoushallhavepapa'sbeefsteak,"whilesheherselfbreakfastedoffalittlecoffeeandacrustofbread,AndrasZilahfeltallhisangerdieaway;andanimmensepityfilledhisbreast,ashesaw,asinavisionofwhatthefuturemighthavebroughtforth,aterriblesceneinthispoorlittlehousehold:thepalefair-hairedwife,alreadywastedandwornwithconstantlabor,leaningoutofthewindowyonder,orrunningtothestairsandseeing,coveredwithblood,wounded,woundedtodeathperhaps,herPaul,whomhe,Andras,hadcometoprovoketoaduel.
Ah!poorwoman!Neverwouldhecausehersuchanguishandsorrow.BetweenhisswordandJacquemin'simpertinentlittleperson,werenowthissad-eyedcreature,andthosepoorlittlechildren,whoplayedthere,forgotten,halfdeserted,bytheirfather,andwhowouldgrowup,Heavenknowshow!
"IseethatMonsieurJacqueminwillnotreturn,"hesaid,risinghurriedly,"andIwillleaveyoutoyourbreakfast,Madame."
"Oh!youdon'ttroublemeatall,Monsieur.Ibegyourpardonagainforhavinggivenmychildrentheirbreakfastbeforeyou."
"Farewell,Madame,"saidAndras,bowingwiththedeepestrespect.
"Then,youarereallygoing,Monsieur?Indeed,Iamafraidhewon'tcomeback.ButpleasetellmewhatIshallsaytohimyourerrandwas.Ifitissomegoodnews,Ishouldbesoglad,soglad,tobethefirsttotellittohim.Youare,perhaps,althoughyousaynot,theeditorofsomepaperwhichisabouttobestarted.Hespoketome,theotherday,ofa
newpaper.Hewouldliketobeadramaticcritic.Thatishisdream,hesays.Isitthat,Monsieur?"
"No,Madame;and,totellyouthetruth,thereisnolongeranyneedformetoseeyourhusband.ButIdonotregretmyvisit;onthecontrary--Ihavemetanoblewoman,andIofferhermydeepestrespect."
Poor,unhappygirl!Shewasnotusedtosuchwords;sheblushinglyfalteredherthanks,andseemedquitegrievedatthedepartureofthisman,fromwhomshehadexpectedsomegoodluckforherhusband.
"ThelifeofParishasitssecrets!"thoughtZilah,asheslowlydescendedthestairs,whichhehadmountedinsuchadifferentframeof
mind,soshortatimebefore.
Whenhereachedthelowerlanding,helookedup,andsawtheblondheadoftheyoungwoman,leaningoverabove,andthelittlehandsofthechildrenclutchingthedamprailing.
ThenPrinceAndrasZilahtookoffhishat,andagainbowedlow.
OnhiswayfromtheRueRochechouarttohishotelhethoughtofthethin,palefaceoftheParisiangrisette,whowouldslowlypineaway,deceived
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anddisdainedbythemanwhosenameshebore.Suchafinename!PuckorGavroche!
"Andshewoulddieratherthansoilthatname.ThisJacqueminhasfoundthispearlofgreatprice,andhiditawayundertheguttersofParis!AndI--Ihaveencountered--what?Amiserablewomanwhobetrayedme!Ah!menandwomenaredecidedlythevictimsofchance;puppetsdestinedtobruiseoneanother!"
Onenteringhishotel,hefoundYanskiVarhelythere,withananxiouslookuponhisruggedoldface.
"Well?"
"Well-nothing!"
AndZilahtoldhisfriendwhathehadseen.
"Adrollcity,thisParis!"hesaid,inconclusion."Iseethatitisnecessarytogoupintothegarretstoknowitwell."
Hetookasheetofpaper,satdown,andwroteasfollows:
MONSIEUR:--YouhavepublishedanarticleinregardtoPrinceAndras
Zilah,whichisanoutrage.AdevotedfriendofthePrincehadresolvedtomakeyoupaydearlyforit;butthereissomeonewhohasdisarmedhim.Thatsomeoneistheadmirablewomanwhobearssohonorablythenamewhichyouhavegivenher,andlivessobravelythelifeyouhavedoomedherto.MadameJacqueminhasredeemedtheinfamyofMonsieurPuck.Butwhen,inthefuture,youhavetospeakofthemisfortunesofothers,thinkalittleofyourownexistence,andprofitbythemorallessongivenyouby--ANUNKNOWN.
"Now,"saidZilah,"besokind,mydearVarhely,astohavethisnotesenttoMonsieurPuck,attheofficeof'L'Actualite'andaskyourdomestictopurchasesometoys,whateverhelikes--hereisthemoney--andtakethemtoMadameJacquemin,No.25RueRochechouart.Threetoys,
becausetherearethreechildren.Thepoorlittlethingswillhavegainedsomuch,atallevents,fromthisoccurrence."
CHAPTERXXVI
"AMIAVENGED?"
Afterthisepisode,thePrincelivedamoresolitaryexistencethanbefore,andtroubledhimselfnofurtherabouttheoutsideworld.Whyshouldhecare,thatsomepenny-alinerhadslippedthoseodiouslines
intoanewspaper?Hissorrowwasnotthepublishingofthetreachery,itwasthetreacheryitself;andhishourlysufferingcausedhimtolongfordeathtoendhistorture.
"AndyetImustlive,"hethought,"iftoexistwithadaggerthroughone'sheartistolive."
Then,toescapefromthepresent,heplungedintothememoriesofthewar,asintoabathofoblivion,astrangeoblivion,wherehefoundallhispatrioticregretsofotherdays.Heread,withspasmodiceagerness,
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thebooksinwhichGeorgeiandKlapka,theactorsofthedrama,presentedtheirexcuses,orpouredforththeircomplaints;anditseemedtohimthathiscountrywouldmakehimforgethislove.
Inthemagnificentpicture-gallery,wherehespentmostofhistime,hiseyesresteduponthebattle-scenesofMatejks,thePolishartist,andthelandscapesofMunkacsy,thatpainterofhisowncountry,whotookhisnamefromthetownofMunkacs,wheretraditionsaysthattheMagyarssettledwhentheycamefromtheOrient,agesago.Thenabitterlongingtookpossessionofhimtobreatheadifferentair,toflyfromParis,andplaceawidedistancebetweenhimselfandMarsa;totakeatriparoundtheworld,wherenewscenesmightsoftenhisgrief,or,betterstill,someaccidentputanendtohislife;and,besides,chancemightbringhimincontactwithMenko.
But,justashewasreadytodepart,asortoflassitudeoverpoweredhim;hefelttheinertsensationofawoundedmanwhohasnotthestrengthtomove,andheremainedwherehewas,sadlyandbitterlywonderingattimesifheshouldnotappealtothecourts,dissolvehismarriage,anddemandbackhisnamefromtheonewhohadstolenit.
Appealtothecourts?Theideaofdoingthatwasrepugnanttohim.What!toheartheproudandstainlessnameoftheZilahsresound,nolongerabovetheclashofsabresandtheneighingoffurioushorses,
butwithinthewallsofacourtroom,andinpresenceofagapingcrowdofsensationseekers?No!silencewasbetterthanthat;anythingwasbetterthanpublicityandscandal.Divorce!Hecouldobtainthat,sinceMarsa,herminddestroyed,waslikeonedead.Andwhatwouldadivorcegivehim?Hisfreedom?Hehaditalready.Butwhatnothingcouldgiveback,washisruinedfaith,hisshatteredhopes,hishappinesslostforever.
AttimeshehadawilddesiretoseeMarsaagain,andventoncemoreuponherhisangerandcontempt.WhenhehappenedtoseethenameofMaisons-Lafitte,hisbodytingledfromheadtofoot,asbyanelectricshock.Maisons!Thesunlitgarden,theshadedalleys,theglowingparterresofflowers,theoldoaks,thewhite-walledvilla,allappearedbeforehim,
brutallydistinct,likealost,orratherpoisoned,Eden!And,besides,she,Marsa,wasnolongerthere;andthethoughtthatthewomanwhomhehadsopassionatelyloved,withherexquisite,flower-likeface,wasshutupamongmaniacsatVaugirard,causedhimtheacutestagony.TheasylumwhichwasMarsa'sprisonwassoconstantlyinhismindthathefeltthenecessityofflight,inordernottoallowhisweaknesstogetthebettorofhim,lestheshouldattempttoseeMarsaagain.
"WhatacowardIam!"hethought.
OneeveningheannouncedtoVarhelythathewasgoingtothelonelyvillaofSainte-Adresse,wheretheyhadsomanytimestogetherwatchedtheseaandtalkedoftheircountry.
"Iamgoingtheretobealone,mydearYanski,"hesaid,"buttobewithyouistobewithmyself.Ihopethatyouwillaccompanyme."
"Mostcertainly,"repliedVarhely.
ThePrincetookonlyonedomestic,wishingtoliveasquietlyandprimitivelyaspossible;butVarhely,reallyalarmedattherapidchangeinthePrince,andtheterriblepallorofhisface,followedhim,hopingatleasttodistracthimandarousehimfromhismorbidnessbytalking
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overwithhimthegreatdaysofthepast,andeven,ifpossible,tointeresthiminthehumblelivesofthefishermenabouthim.
Zilahandhisfriend,therefore,passedlonghoursupontheterraceofthevilla,watchingthesunsetattheirfeet,whilethegrayish-blueseawasenvelopedinaluminousmist,andthefadinglightwasreflectedupontheredwallsandwhiteblindsofthehouses,andtingedwithglowingpurplethedistanthillsofIngouville.
Thiscalm,quietspotgraduallyproduceduponAndrasthesalutaryeffectofabathafteranightoffeverishexcitement.Hisreflectionsbecamelessbitter,and,strangetorelate,itwasrougholdYanskiVarhely,who,byhistendernessandthoughtfulness,ledhisfriendtoamoreresignedframeofmind.
Veryoften,afternightfall,wouldZilahdescendwithhimtotheshorebelow.Thesealayattheirfeetaplainofsilver,andthemoonbeamsdancedoverthewavesinbrokenlinesofluminousatoms;boatspassedtoandfro,theirredlightsflashinglikeglowworms;anditseemedtoAndrasandVarhely,astheyapproachedthesea,recedingoverthewet,gleamingsands,thattheywerewalkinguponquicksilver.
Astheystrolledandtalkedtogetherhere,itseemedtoAndrasthatthisgriefwas,forthemoment,carriedawaybythefresh,saltbreeze;and
thesetwomen,inadifferentmannerbuffetedbyfate,resembledtwowoundedsoldierswhomutuallyaidoneanothertoadvance,andnottofallbythewaybeforethecombatisover.YanskimadespecialeffortstorouseinAndrastheoldmemoriesofhisfatherland,andtoinspireinhimagainhisloveforHungary.
"Ah!Iusedtohavesomanyhopesanddreamsforherfuture,"saidAndras;"butidealistshavenochanceintheworldofto-day;sonowIamamanwhoexpectsnothingoflifeexceptitsending.AndyetIwouldliketoseeonceagainthatoldstonecastlewhereIgrewup,fullofhopes!Hopes?Bah!prettybubbles,thatisall!"
Onemorningtheywalkedalongthecliffs,pastthelowshantiesofthe
fishermen,asfarasHavre;and,astheyweresaunteringthroughthestreetsofthecity,VarhelygraspedthePrince'sarm,andpointedtoanannouncementofaseriesofconcertstobegivenatFrascatibyabandofHungariangipsies.
"There,"hesaid,"youwillcertainlyemergefromyourretreattohearthoseairsoncemore."
"Yes,"repliedAndras,afteramoment'shesitation.
Thateveningfoundhimatthecasino;buthiswoundseemedtoopenagain,andhishearttobegraspedasinanironhand,ashelistenedtotheplaintivecriesandmoansoftheTziganimusic.Hadthestringsofthe
bowsplayedtheseczardasuponhisownsinews,laidbare,hewouldnothavetrembledmoreviolently.Everynoteofthewell-knownairsfelluponhisheartlikeacorrosivetear,andMarsa,inallherdark,tawnybeauty,rosebeforehim.TheTziganiplayednowthewaltzeswhichMarsausedtoplay;thentheslow,sorrowfulplaintofthe"SongofPlevna;"andthentheairofJanosNemeth's,theheart-breakingmelody,tothePrincelikethelamentofhislife:'TheWorldholdsbutOneFairMaiden'.AndateverynotehesawagainMarsa,theoneloveofhisexistence.
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"Letusgo!"hesaidsuddenlytoYanski.
But,astheywereabouttoleavethebuilding,theyalmostranintoalaughing,merrygroup,ledbythelittleBaronessDinati,whoutteredacryofdelightassheperceivedAndras.
"What,you,mydearPrince!Oh,howgladIamtoseeyou!"
Andshetookhisarm,alltheclanwhichaccompaniedherstoppingtogreetPrinceZilah.
"WehavecomefromEtretat,andwearegoingbackthereimmediately.TherewasafairatHavreintheQuartierSaint-Francois,andwehaveeatenupallwecouldlayourhandson,brokenallAuntSally'spipes,andpurchasedallthechinahorrorsandhideouspincushionswecouldfind.Theyarealloverthereinthebreak.WearegoingtorafflethematEtretatforthepoor."
ThePrincetriedtoexcusehimselfandmoveon,butthelittleBaronessheldhimtight.
"Whydon'tyoucometoEtretat?Itischarmingthere.Wedon'tdoanythingbuteatanddrinkandtalkscandal--Oh,yes!Yamadasometimesgivesussomemusic.Comehere,Yamada!"
TheJapaneseapproached,inobediencetohercall,withhiseternalgrinuponhisqueerlittleface.
"MydearPrince,"rattledontheBaroness,"youdon'tknow,perhaps,thatYamadaisthemostParisianofParisians?Uponmyword,theseJapanesearetheParisiansofAsia!JustfancywhathehasbeendoingatEtretat!HehasbeenwritingaFrenchoperetta!"
"Japanese!"correctedYamada,withanapologeticbow.
"Oh,Japanese!ParisianJapanese,then!Atallevents,itisveryfunny,andthetitleisLittleMoo-Moo!Thereisasceneonboarda
flower-deckedboat!Oh,itissoamusing,sooriginal,sonatural!andadelightfulsongforLittleMoo-Moo!"
Then,asZilahglancedatVarhely,uneasy,andanxioustogetaway,theBaronesspuckeredupherrosylipsandsangthestanzasoftheJapanesemaestro.
Why,sungbyJudicorTheo,itwouldcreateafurore!AllPariswouldbesinging.
"Oh,bytheway,"shecried,suddenlyinterruptingherself,"whathaveyoudonetoJacquemin?Yes,myfriendJacquemin?"
"Jacquemin?"repeatedZilah;andhethoughtofthegarretintheRueRochechouart,andthegentle,fairhairedwoman,whowasprobablyatthisverymomentleaningoverthecribsofherlittlechildren--thechildrenofMonsieurPuck,societyreporterof'L'Actualite'
"Yes!Why,Jacqueminhasbecomeasavage;oh,indeed!aregularsavage!IwantedtobringhimtoEtretat;butno,hewouldn'tcome.Itseemsthatheismarried.Jacqueminmarried!Isn'titfunny?Hedidn'tseemlikeamarriedman!Poorfellow!Well,whenIinvitedhim,herefused;andtheotherday,whenIwantedtoknowthereason,heansweredme(that
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iswhyIspeaktoyouaboutit),'AskPrinceZilah'!So,tellmenow,whathaveyoudonetopoorJacquemin?"
"Nothing,"saidthePrince.
"Oh,yes,youhave;youhavechangedhim!He,whousedtogoeverywhereandbesojolly,nowhideshimselfinhisden,andisneverseenatall.Justseehowdisagreeableitis!Ifhehadcomewithus,hewouldhavewrittenanaccountin'L'Actualite'ofLittleMoo-Moo,andYamada'soperettawouldalreadybecelebrated."
"So,"continuedtheBaroness,"whenIreturntoParis,Iamgoingtohunthimup.Areporterhasnorighttomakeabearofhimself!"
"Don'tdisturbhim,ifhecaresforhishomenow,"saidZilah,gravely."Nothingcancompensateforone'sownfireside,ifonelovesandisloved."
AtthefirstwordsofthePrince,theBaronesssuddenlybecameserious.
"Ibegyourpardon,"shesaid,droppinghisarmandholdingouthertinyhand:"pleaseforgivemeforhavingannoyedyou.Oh,yes,Iseeit!Ihaveannoyedyou.Butbeconsoled;wearegoingatonce,andthen,youknow,thatifthereisacreaturewholovesyou,respectsyou,
andisdevotedtoyou,itisthislittleidiotofaBaroness!Goodnight!"
"Good-night'."saidAndras,bowingtotheBaroness'sfriends,YamadaandtheotherParisianexotics.
Gladtoescape,VarhelyandthePrincereturnedhomealongtheseashore.Fragmentsoftheczardasfromtheilluminatedcasinoreachedtheirearsabovetheswishofthewaves.Andrasfeltirritatedandnervous.EverythingrecalledtohimMarsa,andsheseemedtobeoncemoretakingpossessionofhisheart,asavineputsforthfreshtendrilsandclingsagaintotheoakafterithasbeentornaway.
"Shealsosuffers!"hesaidaloud,aftertheyhadwalkedsomedistanceinsilence.
"Fortunately!"growledVarhely;andthen,asifhewishedtoeffacehisharshness,headded,inavoicewhichtrembledalittle:"Andforthatreasonsheis,perhaps,notunworthyofpardon."
"Pardon!"
ThiscryescapedfromZilahinaccentsofpainwhichstruckVarhelylikeaknife.
"Pardonbeforepunishing--theother!"exclaimedthePrince,angrily.
Theother!YanskiVarhelyinstinctivelyclinchedhisfist,thinking,withrage,ofthatpackageofletterswhichhehadheldinhishands,andwhichhemighthavedestroyedifhehadknown.
Itwastrue:howwaspardonpossiblewhileMenkolived?
Nowordmorewasspokenbyeitheruntiltheyreachedthevilla;thenPrinceZilahshookYanski'shandandretiredtohischamber.Lightinghislamp,hetookoutandreadandreread,forthehundredthtime
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perhaps,certainletters--lettersnotaddressedtohim--thoseletterswhichVarhelyhadhandedhim,andwithwhichMichelMenkohadpracticallystruckhimthedayofhismarriage.
Andrashadkeptthem,readingthemoverattimeswithaneagerdesireforfurthersuffering,drinkinginthisspeciesofpoisontoirritatehismentalpainashewouldhaveinjectedmorphinetosootheaphysicalone.Theseletterscausedhimasensationanalogoustothatwhichgivesreposetoopium-eaters,acruelshockatfirst,sharpastheprickofaknife,then,thepainslowlydyingaway,aheavystupor.
ThewholestorywasrevivedintheselettersofMarsatoMenko:--alltheignorant,credulousloveoftheyounggirlforMichel,thenherenthusiasmforloveitself,ratherthanfortheobjectofherlove,andthen,again--forMenkohadreservednothing,butsentalltogether--thebittercontemptofMarsa,deceived,forthemanwhohadliedtoher.
Therewere,inthesenotes,afreshnessofsentimentandayouthfulcredulitywhichproducedtheimpressionofaclearmorninginearlyspring,allthefranknessandfaithofamindignorantofevilanddestituteofguile;then,inthelaterones,thespontaneousoutburstofaheartwhichbelievesithasgivenitselfforever,becauseitthinksithasencounteredincorruptibleloyaltyandundyingdevotion.
Ashereadthemover,Andrasshookwithangeragainstthetwowhohaddeceivedhim;andalso,andinvoluntarily,hefeltanindefined,timidpityforthewomanwhohadtrustedandbeendeceived--apityheimmediatelydroveaway,asifhewereafraidofhimself,afraidofforgiving.
"WhatdidVarhelymeanbyspeakingtomeofpardon?"hethought."AmIyetavenged?"
ItwasthisconstanthopethatthedaywouldcomewhenjusticewouldbemetedouttoMenko'streachery.ThelettersprovedconclusivelythatMenkohadbeenMarsa'slover;buttheyproved,atthesametime,thatMichelhadtakenadvantageofherinnocenceandignorance,andlied
outrageouslyinrepresentinghimselfasfree,whenhewasalreadyboundtoanotherwoman.
AllnightlongAndrasZilahsatthere,inflictingtortureuponhimself,andtakingabitterdelightinhisownsuffering;engravinguponhismemoryeverywordoflovewrittenbyMarsatoMichel,asifhefelttheneedoffreshpaintogivenewstrengthtohishatred.
Thenextmorningatbreakfast,Varhelyastonishedhimbyannouncingthathewasgoingaway.
"ToParis?"
"No,toVienna,"repliedYanski,wholookedsomewhatpalerthanusual.
"Whatanidea!Whatareyougoingtodothere,Varhely?"
"AngeloVallaarrivedyesterdayatHavre.Hesentformetocometohishotelthismorning.Ihavejustbeenthere.Vallahasgivenmesomeinformationinregardtoamatterofinteresttomyself,whichwillrequiremypresenceatVienna.SoIamgoingthere."
PrinceZilahwasintimatelyacquaintedwiththeVallaofwhomVarhely
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spoke;hehadbeenoneofthewitnessesofhismarriage.VallawasaformerministerofManin;and,sincethesiegeofVenice,hehadlivedpartlyinParisandpartlyinFlorence.HewasamanforwhomAndrasZilahhadthegreatestregard.
"Whendoyougo?"askedthePrinceofVarhely.
"Inanhour.IwishtotakethefastmailfromParisthisevening."
"Isitsoverypressing,then?"
"Verypressing,"repliedVarhely."Thereisanothertowhoseearstheaffairmaypossiblycome,andIwishtogetthestartofhim."
"Farewell,then,"saidAndras,considerablysurprised;"comebackassoonasyoucan."
HewasastonishedatthealmostviolentpressureofthehandwhichVarhelygavehim,asifheweredepartingforaverylongjourney.
"Whydidn'tVallacometoseeme?"heasked."HeisoneofthefewIamalwaysgladtosee."
"Hehadnotime.Hehadtobeawayagainatonce,andheaskedmeto
excusehimtoyou."
ThePrincedidnotmakeanyfurtherattempttofindoutwhatwasthereasonofhisfriend'ssuddenflight,forVarhelywasalreadydescendingthestepsofthevilla.
Andrasthenfeltaprofoundsensationofloneliness,andhethoughtagainofthewomanwhomhisimaginationpicturedhaggardandwanintheasylumofVaugirard.
CHAPTERXXVII
"WHATMATTERSITHOWMUCHWESUFFER?"
TwohoursafterVarhelyhadgone,asortoffeverishattractiondrewPrinceAndrastothespotwhere,thenightbefore,hehadlistenedtotheTziganaairs.
Again,butalonethistime,hedrankintheaccentsofthemusicofhiscountry,andsoughttoremembertheimpressionproduceduponhimwhenMarsahadplayedthisairorthatone,thissadsongorthatczardas.Hesawheragainasshestoodonthedeckofthesteamer,watchingthechildrenonthebargeastheythrewherkissesoffarewell.More
troubledthanever,nervousandsuffering,Zilahreturnedhomelateintheafternoon,openedthedeskwherehekeptMarsa'sletters,andonebyone,impelledbysomeinexplicablesentiment,heburnedthem,theflameofthecandledevouringthepaper,whosesubtleperfumemountedtohisnostrilsforthelasttimelikeadyingsigh,whilethewindcarriedoff,throughthewindowintotheinfinite,theblackdustofthosefatefulletters,thoseremnantsofdeadpassionandoflovebetrayed--andthepastwassweptaway.
Thesunwasslowlydescendinginanatmosphereoffire,whiletoward
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HavreasilverymistoverthehillsandshoreheraldedtheapproachofchasteDian'sreign.Thereflectionsofthesunsettingedwithredandorangethefishingboatsfloatingoverthecalmsea,whilealongfierystreakmarkedthewateronthehorizon,growingnarrowerandnarrower,andchangingtoorangeandthentopaleyellowasthediskofthesungraduallydisappeared,andthenightcameon,envelopingthenowinactivecity,andthemanwhowatchedthedisappearanceofthelastfragmentsofadetestedlove,oftheloveofanother,ofalovewhichhadtornandbruisedhisheart.And,strangetosay,forsomeinexplicablereason,PrinceAndrasZilahnowregrettedthedestructionofthoseodiousletters.Itseemedtohim,withasingulardisplacementofhispersonality,thatitwassomethingofhimself,sinceitwassomethingofher,thathehaddestroyed.Hehadhushedthatvoicewhichsaidtoanother,"Iloveyou,"butwhichcausedhimthesamethrillasifshehadmurmuredthewordsforhim.Theywerelettersreceivedbyhisrivalwhichthewindcarriedout,animpalpabledust,overthesea;andhefelt--suchfollyisthehumanheartcapableof--thebitterregretofamanwhohasdestroyedalittleofhispast.
Theshadowscreptoverhimatthesametimethattheycreptoverthesea.
"Whatmattersithowmuchwesuffer,orhowmuchsufferingwecause,"hemurmured,"when,ofallourloves,ourhearts,ourselves,thereremains,afterashortlapseoftime--what?That!"Andhewatchedthelastatom
ofburnedpaperfloatawayinthedeepeningtwilight.
CHAPTERXXVIII
THESTRICKENSOUL
HislonelinessnowweighedheavilyuponAndras.HisnerveswereshakenbythememorieswhichtheczardasoftheTziganimusicianshadevoked;anditseemedtohimthattheplacewasdesertednowthattheyhaddeparted,andVarhelyhadgonewiththem.Intheeternalsymphonyofthe
sea,thelappingofthewavesupontheshingleatthefootoftheterrace,onenotewasnowlacking,theresonantnoteoftheczimbalomyonderinthegardensofFrascati.ThevibrationoftheczimbalomwaslikeacallsummoninguptheimageofMarsa,andthisimagetookinvinciblepossessionofthePrince,who,withasortofsorrowfulangerwhichheregardedashatred,triedinvaintodriveitaway.
WhatwastheuseofremainingatSainte-Adresse,whenthememorieshesoughttofleecametofindhimthere,andsinceMarsa'spresencehaunteditasifshehadlivedtherebyhisside?
HequittedHavre,andreturnedtoParis;buttheveryeveningofhisreturn,inthebustleandmovementoftheChamps-Elysees,thelongavenue
dottedwithlights,theflaminggas-jetsofthecafeconcerts,theburstsofmusic,hefoundagain,asiftheTziganawerecontinuallypursuinghim,thesamephantom;despitethenoiseofpeopleandcarriagesupontheasphalt,theechoesofthe"SongofPlevna,"playedquitenearhimbysomeHungarianorchestra,reachedhimasupontheseashoreatHavre;andhehastenedbacktohishotel,toshuthimselfup,tohearnothing,seenothing,andescapefromthefantastic,hauntingpursuitofthisinevitablevision.
Hecouldnotsleep;feverburnedinhisblood.Herose,andtriedto
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"Thedoctor,"saidAndras,calmly,"wouldlike--yourniecetoseemeagain?"
"Yes,yes;andspeaktoyou.Yousee,youaretheonlyoneforwhom--"
ThePrinceinterruptedtheGeneral,whoinstantlybecameasmuteasifhewereinthepresenceoftheCzar.
"Itiswell.ButwhatDoctorFargeasasksofmewillcausemeintensesuffering."
Vogotzinedidnotopenhislips.
"Seeheragain?Hewishestoreviveallmysorrow,then!"
Vogotzinewaited,motionlessasifonparade.
Afteramomentortwo,Andrassayingnomore,theGeneralthoughtthathemightspeak.
"Iunderstand.Iknewverywellwhatyouranswerwouldbe.Itoldthedoctorso;buthereplied,'Itisaquestionofhumanity.ThePrincewillnotrefuse.'"
FargeasmusthaveknownPrinceZilah'scharacterwellwhenheusedthewordhumanity.ThePrincewouldnothaverefusedhispitytothelowestofhumanbeings;andso,nevermindwhathissufferingsmightbe,ifhispresencecoulddoanygood,hemustobeythedoctor.
"WhendoesDoctorFargeaswishmetogo?"
"Wheneveryouchoose.ThedoctorisjustnowatVaugirard,onavisittohiscolleague,and--"
"Donotletuskeephimwaiting!"
Vogotzine'seyesbrightened.
"Thenyouconsent?Youwillgo?"
Hetriedtouttersomewordofthanks,butAndrascuthimshort,saying:
"Iwillorderthecarriage."
"Ihaveacarriage,"saidVogotzine,joyously."Wecangoatonce."
Zilahwassilentduringthedrive;andVogotzinegazedsteadilyoutofthewindow,withoutsayingaword,asthePrinceshowednodesiretoconverse.
Theystoppedbeforeahighhouse,evidentlybuiltinthelastcentury,andwhichwasprobablyformerlyaconvent.TheGeneraldescendedheavilyfromthecoupe,rangthebell,andstoodasidetoletZilahpassbeforehim.
ThePrince'semotionwasbetrayedinacertainstiffnessofdemeanor,andinhisslowwalk,asifeverymovementcosthimaneffort.Hestrokedhismoustachemechanically,andglancedaboutthegardentheywerecrossing,asifheexpectedtoseeMarsaatonce.
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Dr.FargeasappearedverymuchpleasedtoseethePrince,andhethankedhimwarmlyforhavingcome.Athin,light-hairedman,withapensivelookandsuperbeyes,accompaniedFargeas,andthephysicianintroducedhimtothePrinceasDr.Sims.
Dr.Simssharedtheopinionofhiscolleague.Havingtakentheinvalidaway,andseparatedherfromeverythingthatcouldrecallthepast,thephysiciansthought,that,bysuddenlyconfrontingherwithapersonsodeartoherasPrinceZilah,theshockandemotionmightrouseherfromhermorbidstate.
FargeasexplainedtothePrincewhyhehadthoughtitbesttotransporttheinvalidfromMaisons-LafittetoVaugirard,andhethankedhimforhavingapprovedofhisdetermination.
ZilahnoticedthatFargeas,inspeakingofMarsa,gavehernonameortitle.Withhisusualtact,thedoctorhaddivinedtheseparation;andhedidnotcallMarsathePrincess,but,intonesfullofpity,spokeofherastheinvalid.
"Sheisinthegarden,"saidDr.Sims,whenFargeashadfinishedspeaking."Willyouseehernow?"
"Yes,"saidthePrince,inavoicethattrembledslightly,despitehis
effortstocontrolit.
"Wewilltakealookatherfirst;andthen,ifyouwillbesokind,showyourselftohersuddenly.Itisonlyanexperimentwearemaking.Ifshedoesnotrecognizeyou,herconditionisgraverthanIthink.Ifshedoesrecognizeyou,well,Ihopethatweshallbeabletocureher.Come!"
Dr.SimsmotionedthePrincetoprecedethem.
"ShallIaccompanyyou,gentlemen?"askedVogotzine.
"Certainly,General!"
"Yousee,Idon'tlikelunatics;theyproduceasingulareffectuponme;theydon'tinterestmeatall.Butstill,afterall,sheismyniece!"
Andhegaveasharppulltohisfrock-coat,ashewouldhavetightenedhisbeltbeforeanassault.
Theydescendedashortflightofsteps,andfoundthemselvesinalargegarden,withtreesacenturyold,beneathwhichwereseveralmenandwomenwalkingaboutorsittinginchairs.
Alarge,newbuilding,onestoryhigh,appearedatoneendofthegarden;inthiswerethedormitoriesofDr.Sims'spatients.
"Arethosepeopleinsane?"askedZilah,pointingtothepeacefulgroups.
"Yes,"saidDr.Sims;"itrequiresastretchoftheimaginationtobelieveit,doesitnot?Youcanspeaktothemaswepassby.Allthesehereareharmless."
"Shallwecrossthegarden?"
"Ourinvalidisbelowthere,inanothergarden,behindthathouse."
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Ashepassedby,Zilahglancedcuriouslyatthesepoorbeings,whobowed,orexchangedafewwordswiththetwophysicians.Itseemedtohimthattheyhadthehappylookofpeoplewhohadreachedthedesiredgoal.Vogotzine,coughingnervously,keptclosetothePrinceandfeltveryillatease.Andras,onthecontrary,foundgreatdifficultyinrealizingthathewasreallyamonglunatics.
"See,"saidDr.Sims,pointingoutanoldgentleman,dressedinthestyleof1840,likeanold-fashionedlithographofabeauofthetimeofGavarni,"thatmanhasbeenmorethanthirty-fiveyearsintheinstitution.Hewillnotchangethecutofhisgarments,andheisverycarefultohavehistailormakehisclothesinthesamestylehedressedwhenhewasyoung.Heisveryhappy.HethinksthatheistheenchanterMerlin,andhelistenstoVivian,whomakesappointmentswithhimunderthetrees."
Astheypassedtheoldman,hisneckimprisonedinahighstock,hissurtoutcutlongandverytightinthewaist,andhistrousersveryfullaboutthehipsandverycloseabouttheankles,hebowedpolitely.
"Good-morning,DoctorSims!Good-morning,DoctorFargeas!"
Then,asthedirectoroftheestablishmentapproachedtospeak,heplaced
afingeruponhislips:
"Hush,"hesaid."Sheisthere!Don'tspeak,orshewillgoaway."AndhepointedwithasortofpassionatevenerationtoanelmwhereVivianwasshutup,andwhenceshewouldshortlyemerge.
"Poordevil!"murmuredVogotzine.
ThiswasnotwhatZilahthought,however.Hewonderedifthishappyhallucinationwhichhadlastedsomanyyears,theseeternallove-sceneswithVivian,love-sceneswhichnevergrewstale,despitetheyearsandthewrinkles,werenottheidealformofhappinessforabeingcondemnedtothisearth.Thispoeticalmonomaniaclivedwithhisdreamsrealized,
finding,inanasylumofVaugirard,allthefascinationsandchimerasoftheBretonlandofgoldenblossomsandpinkheather,alltheintoxicating,languorouscharmoftheforestofBroceliande.
"HehaswithinhisgraspwhatShakespearewascontentonlytodreamof.Insanityis,perhaps,simplytheidealrealized:"
"Ah!"repliedDr.Fargeas,"buttherealneverlosesitsgrip.Whydoesthismonomaniacpreserveboththegarmentsofhisyouth,whichpreventhimfromfeelinghisage,andthedreamofhislife,whichconsoleshimforhislostreason?Becauseheisrich.Hecanpaythetailorwhodresseshim,therentofthepavilionheinhabitsbyhimself,andthespecialservantswhoservehim.Ifhewerepoor,hewouldsuffer."
"Then,"saidZilah,"thequestionofbreadcomesupeverywhere,evenininsanity."
"Andmoneyisperhapshappiness,sinceitallowsofthepurchaseofhappiness."
"Oh!"saidthePrince,"forme,happinesswouldbe--"
"What?"
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"Forgetfulness."
AndhefollowedwithhiseyesVivian'slover,whonowhadhiseargluedtothetrunkofthetree,andwaslisteningtothevoicewhichspokeonlytohim.
"Thatmanyonder,"saidDr.Sims,indicatingaman,stillyoung,whowascomingtowardthem,"isatalentedwriterwhosenovelsyouhavedoubtlessread,andwhohaslostallideaofhisownpersonality.Onceagreatreader,henowholdsallliteratureinintensedisgust;fromhavingwrittensomuch,hehasgrowntohaveaperfecthorrorofwordsandletters,andheneveropenseitherabookoranewspaper.Hedrinksinthefreshair,cultivatesflowers,andwatchesthetrainspassatthefootofthegarden."
"Ishehappy?"askedAndras.
"Veryhappy."
"Yes,hehasdrunkofthewatersofLethe,"rejoinedthePrince.
"Iwillnottellyouhisname,"whisperedDr.Sims,astheman,athin,dark-haired,delicate-featuredfellow,approachedthem;"but,ifyou
shouldspeaktohimandchancetomentionhisname,hewouldrespond'Ah!yes,Iknewhim.Hewasamanoftalent,muchtalent.'Thereisnothinglefttohimofhisformerlife."
AndZilahthoughtagainthatitwasafortunatelottobeattackedbyoneofthesecerebralmaladieswheretheentirebeing,withitsburdenofsorrows,isplungedintothedeep,darkgulfofoblivion.
Thenoveliststoppedbeforethetwophysicians.
"Themid-daytrainwasthreeminutesandahalflate,"hesaid,quietly:"Imentionthefacttoyou,doctor,thatyoumayhaveitattendedto.Itisaveryseriousthing;forIaminthehabitofsettingmywatch
bythattrain."
"Iwillseetoit,"repliedDr.Sims."Bytheway,doyouwantanybooks?"
Inthesamequiettonetheotherresponded:
"Whatfor?"
"Toread."
"Whatistheuseofthat?"
"Oranynewspapers?Toknow--"
"Toknowwhat?"heinterrupted,speakingwithextremevolubility."No,indeed!Itissogoodtoknownothing,nothing,nothing!Dothenewspapersannouncethattherearenomorewars,nomorepoverty,illness,murders,envy,hatredorjealousy?No!Thenewspapersdonotannouncethat.Then,whyshouldIreadthenewspapers?Good-day,gentlemen."
ThePrinceshudderedatthebitterlogicofthismadman,speakingwith
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theshrilldistinctnessoftheinsane.ButVogotzinesmiled.
"Why,theseidiotshaverathergoodsense,afterall,"heremarked.
Whentheyreachedtheendofthegarden,Dr.Simsopenedagatewhichseparatedthemalefromthefemalepatients,andAndrasperceivedseveralwomenwalkingaboutinthealleys,someofthemalone,andsomeaccompaniedbyattendants.Inthedistance,separatedfromthegardenbyaditchandahighwall,wastherailway.
Zilahcaughthisbreathasheenteredtheenclosure,wheredoubtlessamongthefemaleformsbeforehimwasthatoftheonehehadloved.HeturnedtoDr.Simswithanxiouseyes,andasked:
"Isshehere?"
"Sheishere,"repliedthedoctor.
ThePrincehesitatedtoadvance.Hehadnotseenhersincethedayhehadfelttemptedtokillherasshelayinherwhiterobesathisfeet.Hewonderedifitwerenotbettertoretracehisstepsanddeparthastilywithoutseeingher.
"Thisway,"saidFargeas."Wecanseethroughthebusheswithoutbeing
seen,canwenot,Sims?"
"Yes,doctor."
Zilahresignedhimselftohisfate;andfollowedthephysicianswithoutsayingaword;hecouldhearthepantingrespirationofVogotzinetrudgingalongbehindhim.AllatoncethePrincefeltasensationasofaheavyhandrestinguponhisheart.Fargeashadexclaimed:
"Theresheis!"
Hepointed,throughthebranchesofthelilac-bushes,totwowomenwhowereapproachingwithslowsteps,onealight-hairedwomaninanurse's
dress,andtheotherinblackgarments,asifinmourningforherownlife,Marsaherself.
Marsa!ShewascomingtowardZilah;inamoment,hewouldbeabletotouchher,ifhewished,throughtheleaves!EvenVogotzineheldhisbreath.
ZilaheagerlyquestionedMarsa'sface,asiftoreadthereonasecret,todecipheraname--Menko'sorhisown.Herexquisite,delicatefeatureshadtherigidityofmarble;herdarkeyeswerestaringstraightahead,liketwospotsoflight,wherenothing,nothingwasreflected.Zilahshudderedagain;shealarmedhim.
Alarmandpity!Helongedtothrustasidethebushes,andhastenwithextendedarmstowardthepalevisionbeforehim.Itwasasifthemovingspectreofhislovewerepassingby.But,withastrongeffortofwill,heremainedmotionlesswherehewas.
OldVogotzineseemedveryillatease.Dr.Fargeaswasverycalm;and,afteraquestioningglanceathiscolleague,hesaiddistinctlytothePrince:
"Nowyoumustshowyourself!"
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Thephysician'sorder,farfromdispleasingZilah,waslikemusicinhisears.Hewasbeginningtodoubt,if,afterall,Fargeasintendedtoattempttheexperiment.Helonged,withkeendesire,tospeaktoMarsa;toknowifhislook,hisbreath,likeapuffofwindoverdyingashes,wouldnotrekindleasparkoflifeinthosedull,glassyeyes.
Whatwasshethinkingof,ifshethoughtatall?Whatmemoryvacillatedtoandfrointhatvacantbrain?Thememoryofhimself,orof--theother?Hemustknow,hemustknow!
"Thisway,"saidDr.Sims."Wewillgototheendofthealley,andmeetherfacetoface."
"Courage!"whisperedFargeas.
Zilahfollowed;and,inafewsteps,theyreachedtheendofthealley,andstoodbeneathaclumpofleafytrees.ThePrincesaw,comingtohim,withaslowbutnotheavystep,Marsa--no,anotherMarsa,thespectreorstatueofMarsa.
FargeasmadeasigntoVogotzine,andtheRussianandthetwodoctorsconcealedthemselvesbehindthetrees.
Zilah,tremblingwithemotion,remainedaloneinthemiddleofthewalk.
ThenursewhoattendedMarsa,haddoubtlessreceivedinstructionsfromDr.Sims;for,assheperceivedthePrince,shefellbacktwoorthreepaces,andallowedMarsatogoonalone.
Lostinherstupor,theTziganaadvanced,herdarkhairruffledbythewind;and,stillbeautifulalthoughsothin,shemovedon,withoutseeinganything,herlipsclosedasifsealedbydeath,untilshewasnotthreefeetfromZilah.
Hestoodwaiting,hisblueeyesdevouringherwithalook,inwhichthereweremingledlove,pity,andanger.WhentheTziganareachedhim,and
nearlyranintohiminherslowwalk,shestoppedsuddenly,likeanautomaton.Theinstinctofanobstaclebeforeherarrestedher,andshestoodstill,neitherrecoilingnoradvancing.
Afewstepsaway,Dr.FargeasandDr.Simsstudiedherstonylook,inwhichtherewasasyetneitherthoughtnorvision.
Stillenvelopedinherstupor,shestoodthere,hereyesriveteduponAndras.Suddenly,asifaninvisibleknifehadbeenplungedintoherheart,shestartedback.Herpalemarblefacebecametransfigured,andanexpressionofwildterrorsweptacrossherfeatures;shakingwithanervoustrembling,shetriedtocallout,andashrillcry,whichrenttheair,burstfromherlips,halfopen,likethoseofatragicmask.
Hertwoarmswerestretchedoutwiththehandsclasped;and,fallinguponherknees,she--whoselightofreasonhadbeenextinguished,whoforsomanydayshadonlymurmuredthesad,singingrefrain:"Idonotknow;Idonotknow!"--faltered,inavoicebrokenwithsobs:"Forgive!Forgive!"
Thenherfacebecamelivid,andshewouldhavefallenbackunconsciousifZilahhadnotstoopedoverandcaughtherinhisarms.
Dr.Simshastenedforward,and,aidedbythenurse,relievedhimofhis
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burden.
PoorVogotzinewasaspurpleasifhehadhadastrokeofapoplexy.
"But,gentlemen,"saidthePrince,hiseyesburningwithhottears,"itwillbehorribleifwehavekilledher!"
"No,no,"respondedFargeas;"wehaveonlykilledherstupor.Nowleavehertous.AmInotright,mydearSims?Shecanandmustbecured!"
CHAPTERXXIX
"LETTHEDEADPASTBURYITSDEAD"
PrinceAndrashadheardnonewsofVarhelyforalongtime.HeonlyknewthattheCountwasinVienna.
Yanskihadtoldthetruthwhenhesaidthathehadbeensummonedawaybyhisfriend,AngeloValla.
Theywereverymuchastonished,attheAustrianministryofforeign
affairs,toseeCountYanskiVarhely,who,doubtless,hadcomefromParistoasksomefavoroftheminister.TheAustriandiplomatssmiledastheyheardthenameoftheoldsoldierof'48and'49.So,thefamousfusionofpartiesproclaimedin1875continued!Everydaysomesulkerofformertimesralliedtothestandard.HerewasthisVarhely,who,atonetime,ifhehadsetfootinAustria-Hungary,wouldhavebeenspeedilycastintotheCharlesbarracks,thejailofpoliticalprisoners,nowsendinginhiscardtotheministeroftheEmperor;anddoubtlesstheministerandtheoldcommanderofhussarswould,someevening,togetherpledgethenewstarofHungary,inabeakerofrosyCrement!
"Thesearequeerdayswelivein!"thoughttheAustriandiplomats.
Theminister,ofwhomYanskiVarhelydemandedanaudience,hisExcellencyCountJosefLadany,hadformerlycommandedalegionofMagyarstudents,greatlyfearedbythegrenadiersofPaskiewisch,inHungary.ThesoldiersofJosefLadany,afterthreateningtomarchuponVienna,hadmanytimesheldincheckthegrenadiersandCossacksofthefield-marshal.Spiritedandenthusiastic,hisfairhairfloatingabovehisyouthfulforeheadlikeanaureole,Ladanymadewarlikeapatriotandapoet,recitingtheversesofPetoefiaboutthecamp-fires,andsettingoutforbattleasforaball.Hewasmagnificent(Varhelyrememberedhimwell)attheheadofhisstudents,andhisfloating,yellowmoustacheshadcausedtheheartofmorethanonelittleHungarianpatriottobeatmorequickly.
Varhelywouldexperiencerealpleasureinmeetingoncemorehisoldcompanioninarms.Herememberedoneafternooninthevineyards,whenhishussars,despitetheobstaclesofthevinesandtheirregularground,hadextricatedLadany'slegionfromtheattackoftworegimentsofRussianinfantry.JosephLadanywass