"Nothing, dear girl;bitcoin usd wykres you put your hand on my wound, that is all.
"Mademoiselle,--I beg pardon, madame,--I carried you in my arms whenI was a child. When I was a girl you toddled at my side, and heldmy gown, and lisped my name, and used to put your little arms roundmy neck, and kissed me, you would; bitcoin kaufen forumand if ever I had the least painor sickness your dear little face would turn as sorrowful, and allthe pretty color leave it for Jacintha; and now you are in trouble,in sore trouble, yet you turn away from me, you dare not trust me,that would be cut in pieces ere I would betray you. Ah,mademoiselle, you are wrong. The poor can feel: they have all seentrouble, and a servant is the best of friends where she has theheart to love her mistress; and do not I love you? Pray do not turnfrom her who has carried you in her arms, and laid you to sleep uponher bosom, many's and many's the time."Josephine panted audibly. She held out her hand eloquently toJacintha, but she turned her head away and trembled.Jacintha cast a hasty glance round the room. Then she trembled tooat what she was going to say, and the effect it might have on theyoung lady. As for Josephine, terrible as the conversation hadbecome, she made no attempt to evade it: she remained perfectlypassive. It was the best way to learn how far Jacintha hadpenetrated her secret, if at all.
Jacintha looked fearfully round and whispered in Josephine's ear,"When the news of Colonel Raynal's death came, you wept, but thecolor came back to your cheek. When the news of his life came, youturned to stone. Ah! my poor young lady, there has been morebetween you and THAT MAN than should be. Ever since one day you allwent to Frejus together, you were a changed woman. I have seen youlook at him as--as a wife looks at her man. I have seen HIM"--"Hush, Jacintha! Do not tell me what you have seen: oh! do notremind me of joys I pray God to help me forget. He was my husband,then!--oh, cruel Jacintha, to remind me of what I have been, of whatI am! Ah me! ah me! ah me!""Your husband!" cried Jacintha in utter amazement.Then Josephine drooped her head on this faithful creature'sshoulder, and told her with many sobs the story I have told you.She told it very briefly, for it was to a woman who, though littleeducated, was full of feeling and shrewdness, and needed but thebare facts: she could add the rest from her own heart andexperience: could tell the storm of feelings through which these twounhappy lovers must have passed. Her frequent sighs of pity andsympathy drew Josephine on to pour out all her griefs. When thetale was ended she gave a sigh of relief."It might have been worse: I thought it was worse the more fool I.I deserve to have my head cut off." This was Jacintha's onlycomment at that time.
It was Josephine's turn to be amazed. "It could have been worse?"said she. "How? tell me," added she bitterly. "It would be aconsolation to me, could I see that."Jacintha colored and evaded this question, and begged her to go on,to keep nothing back from her. Josephine assured her she hadrevealed all. Jacintha looked at her a moment in silence."It is then as I half suspected. You do not know all that is beforeyou. You do not see why I am afraid of that old man.""No, not of him in particular.""Nor why I want to keep Mademoiselle Rose from prattling to him?""No. I assure you Rose is to be trusted; she is wise--wiser than Iam.""You are neither of you wise. You neither of you know anything. Mypoor young mistress, you are but a child still. You have a deepwater to wade through," said Jacintha, so solemnly that Josephinetrembled. "A deep water, and do not see it even. You have told mewhat is past, now I must tell you what is coming. Heaven help me!Twill not consent to destroy ALL I love."She then begged hard for leave to send the letter.
Rose gave an impetuous refusal. "What could you say to him? foolishthing, don't you know him, and his vanity? When you had exposedyourself to him, and showed him I had insulted him for you, do youthink he would forgive me? No! this is to make light of my love--tomake me waste the sacrifice I have made. I feel that sacrifice asmuch as you do, more perhaps, and I would rather die in a conventthan waste that night of shame and agony. Come, promise me, no moreattempts of that kind, or we are sisters no more, friends no more,one heart and one blood no more."The weaker nature, weakened still more by ill-health and grief, wasterrified into submission, or rather temporized. "Kiss me then,"said Josephine, "and love me to the end. Ah, if I was only in mygrave!"Rose kissed her with many sighs, but Josephine smiled. Rose eyedher with suspicion. That deep smile; what did it mean? She hadformed some resolution. "She is going to deceive me somehow,"thought Rose.From that day she watched Josephine like a spy. Confidence was gonebetween them. Suspicion took its place.Rose was right in her misgivings. The moment Josephine saw thatEdouard's happiness and Rose's were to be sacrificed for her whomnothing could make happy, the poor thing said to herself, "I CANDIE."And that was the happy thought that made her smile.The doctor gave her laudanum: he found she could not sleep: and hethought it all-important that she should sleep.
Josephine, instead of taking these small doses, saved them all up,secreted them in a phial, and so, from the sleep of a dozen nights,collected the sleep of death: and now she was tranquil. This youngcreature that could not bear to give pain to any one else, preparedher own death with a calm resolution the heroes of our sex have notoften equalled. It was so little a thing to her to strikeJosephine. Death would save her honor, would spare her thefrightful alternative of deceiving her husband, or of telling himshe was another's. "Poor Raynal," said she to herself, "it is socruel to tie him to a woman who can never be to him what hedeserves. Rose would then prove her innocence to Edouard. A fewtears for a weak, loving soul, and they would all be happy andforget her."One day the baroness, finding herself alone with Rose and Dr.Aubertin, asked the latter what he thought of Josephine's state.
"Oh, she was better: had slept last night without her usualnarcotic."The baroness laid down her knitting and said, with much meaning,"And I tell you, you will never cure her body till you can cure hermind. My poor child has some secret sorrow.""Sorrow!" said Aubertin, stoutly concealing the uneasiness thesewords created, "what sorrow?""Oh, she has some deep sorrow. And so have you, Rose.""Me, mamma! what DO you mean?"The baroness's pale cheek flushed a little. "I mean," said she,"that my patience is worn out at last; I cannot live surrounded bysecrets. Raynal's gloomy looks when he left us, after staying butone hour; Josephine ill from that day, and bursting into tears atevery word; yourself pale and changed, hiding an unaccountablesadness under forced smiles-- Now, don't interrupt me. Edouard,who was almost like a son, gone off, without a word, and never comesnear us now.""Really you are ingenious in tormenting yourself. Josephine is ill!Well, is it so very strange? Have you never been ill? Rose ispale! you ARE pale, my dear; but she has nursed her sister for amonth; is it a wonder she has lost color? Edouard is gone ajourney, to inherit his uncle's property: a million francs. Butdon't you go and fall ill, like Josephine; turn pale, like Rose; andmake journeys in the region of fancy, after Edouard Riviere, who istramping along on the vulgar high road."This tirade came from Aubertin, and very clever he thought himself.But he had to do with a shrewd old lady, whose suspicions had longsmouldered; and now burst out. She said quietly, "Oh, then Edouardis not in this part of the world. That alters the case: where IShe?""In Normandy, probably," said Rose, blushing.The baroness looked inquiringly towards Aubertin. He put on aninnocent face and said nothing.
"Very good," said the baroness. "It's plain I am to learn nothingfrom you two. But I know somebody who will be more communicative.Yes: this uncomfortable smiling, and unreasonable crying, andinterminable whispering; these appearances of the absent, anddisappearances of the present; I shall know this very day what theyall mean.""Really, I do not understand you.""Oh, never mind; I am an old woman, and I am in my dotage. For allthat, perhaps you will allow me two words alone with my daughter.""I retire, madame," and he disappeared with a bow to her, and ananxious look at Rose. She did not need this; she clenched herteeth, and braced herself up to stand a severe interrogatory.Mother and daughter looked at one another, as if to measure forces,and then, instead of questioning her as she had intended, thebaroness sank back in her chair and wept aloud. Rose was allunprepared for this. She almost screamed in a voice of agony, "Omamma! mamma! O God! kill me where I stand for making my motherweep!""My girl," said the baroness in a broken voice, and with the mosttouching dignity, "may you never know what a mother feels who findsherself shut out from her daughters' hearts. Sometimes I think itis my fault; I was born in a severer age. A mother nowadays seemsto be a sort of elder sister. In my day she was something more.Yet I loved my mother as well, or better than I did my sisters. Butit is not so with those I have borne in my bosom, and nursed upon myknee."At this Rose flung herself, sobbing and screaming, at her mother'sknees. The baroness was alarmed. "Come, dearest, don't cry likethat. It is not too late to take your poor old mother into yourconfidence. What is this mystery? and why this sorrow? How comesit I intercept at every instant glances that were not intended forme? Why is the very air loaded with signals and secrecy? (Rosereplied only by sobs.) Is some deceit going on? (Rose sobbed.) AmI to have no reply but these sullen sobs? will you really tell menothing?""I've nothing to tell," sobbed Rose.
"Well, then, will you do something for me?"Such a proposal was not only a relief, but a delight to thedeceiving but loving daughter. She started up crying, "Oh, yes,mamma; anything, everything. Oh, thank you!" In the ardor of hergratitude, she wanted to kiss her mother; but the baroness declinedthe embrace politely, and said, coldly and bitterly, "I shall notask much; I should not venture now to draw largely on youraffection; it's only to write a few lines for me."Rose got paper and ink with great alacrity, and sat down allbeaming, pen in hand.The baroness dictated the letter slowly, with an eye gimleting herdaughter all the time.
"Dear--Monsieur--Riviere."The pen fell from Rose's hand, and she turned red and then pale."What! write to him?""Not in your own name; in mine. But perhaps you prefer to give methe trouble.""Cruel! cruel!" sighed Rose, and wrote the words as requested.
The baroness dictated again,--"Oblige me by coming here at your very earliest convenience.""But, mamma, if he is in Normandy," remonstrated Rose, fightingevery inch of the ground."Never you mind where he is," said the baroness. "Write as Irequest.""Yes, mamma," said Rose with sudden alacrity; for she had recoveredher ready wit, and was prepared to write anything, being now fullyresolved the letter should never go."Now sign my name." Rose complied. "There; now fold it, andaddress it to his lodgings." Rose did so; and, rising with acheerful air, said she would send Jacintha with it directly.She was half across the room when her mother called her quietlyback."No, mademoiselle," said she sternly. "You will give me the letter.I can trust neither the friend of twenty years, nor the servant thatstayed by me in adversity, nor the daughter I suffered for andnursed. And why don't I trust you? Because YOU HAVE TOLD ME ALIE."At this word, which in its coarsest form she had never heard fromthose high-born lips till then, Rose cowered like a hare.
"Ay, A LIE," said the baroness. "I saw Edouard Riviere in the parkbut yesterday. I saw him. My old eyes are feeble, but they are notdeceitful. I saw him. Send my breakfast to my own room. I come ofan ancient race: I could not sit with liars; I should forgetcourtesy; you would see in my face how thoroughly I scorn you all."And she went haughtily out with the letter in her hand.Rose for the first time, was prostrated. Vain had been all thisdeceit; her mother was not happy; was not blinded. Edouard mightcome and tell her his story. Then no power could keep Josephinesilent. The plot was thickening; the fatal net was drawing closerand closer.
She sank with a groan into a chair, and body and spirit alikesuccumbed. But that was only for a little while. To thisprostration succeeded a feverish excitement. She could not, wouldnot, look Edouard in the face. She would implore Josephine to besilent; and she herself would fly from the chateau. But, ifJosephine would not be silent? Why, then she would go herself toEdouard, and throw herself upon his honor, and tell him the truth.With this, she ran wildly up the stairs, and burst into Josephine'sroom so suddenly, that she caught her, pale as death, on her knees,with a letter in one hand and a phial of laudanum in the other.
Chapter 24Josephine conveyed the phial into her bosom with wonderful rapidityand dexterity, and rose to her feet. But Rose just saw her concealsomething, and resolved to find out quietly what it was. So shesaid nothing about it, but asked Josephine what on earth she wasdoing.
"I was praying.""And what is that letter?""A letter I have just received from Colonel Raynal."Rose took the letter and read it. Raynal had written from Paris.He was coming to Beaurepaire to stay a month, and was to arrive thatvery day.Then Rose forgot all about herself, and even what she had come for.She clung about her sister's neck, and implored her, for her sake,to try and love Raynal.
Josephine shuddered, and clung weeping to her sister in turn. Forin Rose's arms she realized more powerfully what that sister wouldsuffer if she were to die. Now, while they clung together, Rosefelt something hard, and contrived just to feel it with her cheek.It was the phial.
A chill suspicion crossed the poor girl. The attitude in which shehad found Josephine; the letter, the look of despair, and now thislittle bottle, which she had hidden. WHY HIDE IT? She resolved notto let Josephine out of her sight; at all events, until she had seenthis little bottle, and got it away from her.She helped her to dress, and breakfasted with her in the tapestriedroom, and dissembled, and put on gayety, and made light ofeverything but Josephine's health.
Her efforts were not quite in vain. Josephine became more composed;and Rose even drew from her a half promise that she would giveRaynal and time a fair trial.And now Rose was relieved of her immediate apprehensions forJosephine, but the danger of another kind, from Edouard, remained.
So she ran into her bedroom for her bonnet and shawl, determined totake the strong measure of visiting Edouard at once, or interceptinghim. While she was making her little toilet, she heard her mother'svoice in the room. This was unlucky; she must pass through thatroom to go out. She sat down and fretted at this delay. And then,as the baroness appeared to be very animated, Rose went to thekeyhole, and listened. Their mother was telling Josephine how shehad questioned Rose, and how Rose had told her an untruth, and howshe had made that young lady write to Edouard, etc.; in short, thevery thing Rose wanted to conceal from Josephine.Rose lost all patience, and determined to fly through the room andout before anybody could stop her. She heard Jacintha come in withsome message, and thought that would be a good opportunity to slipout unmolested. So she opened the door softly. Jacintha, itseemed, had been volunteering some remark that was not wellreceived, for the baroness was saying, sharply, "Your opinion is notasked. Go down directly, and bring him up here, to this room."Jacintha cast a look of dismay at Rose, and vanished.Rose gathered from that look, as much as from the words, who thevisitor was. She made a dart after Jacintha. But the room was along one, and the baroness intercepted her: "No," said she, gravely,"I cannot spare you."Rose stood pale and panting, but almost defiant. "Mamma," said she,"if it is Monsieur Riviere, I MUST ask your leave to retire. Andyou have neither love nor pity, nor respect for me, if you detainme.""Mademoiselle!" was the stern reply, "I FORBID you to move. Be goodenough to sit there;" with which the baroness pointed imperiously toa sofa at the other side of the room. "Josephine, go to your room."Josephine retired, casting more than one anxious glance over hershoulder.Rose looked this way and that in despair and terror; but ended bysinking, more dead than alive, into the seat indicated; and even asshe drooped, pale and trembling, on that sofa, Edouard Riviere, wornand agitated, entered the room, and bowed low to them all, without aword.
The baroness looked at him, and then at her daughter, as much as tosay, now I have got you; deceive me now if you can. "Rose, mydear," said this terrible old woman, affecting honeyed accents,"don't you see Monsieur Riviere?"The poor girl at this challenge rose with difficulty, and courtesiedhumbly to Edouard.He bowed to her, and stealing a rapid glance saw her pallor anddistress; and that showed him she was not so hardened as he hadthought.
"You have not come to see us lately," said the baroness, quietly,"yet you have been in the neighborhood."These words puzzled Edouard. Was the old lady all in the dark,then? As a public man he had already learned to be on his guard; sohe stammered out, "That he had been much occupied with publicduties."Madame de Beaurepaire despised this threadbare excuse too much tonotice it at all. She went on as if he had said nothing. "Intimateas you were with us, you must have some reason for deserting us sosuddenly.""I have," said Edouard, gravely."What is it?""Excuse me," said Edouard, sullenly.
"No, monsieur, I cannot. This neglect, succeeding to a somewhatardent pursuit of my daughter, is almost an affront. You shall, ofcourse, withdraw yourself altogether, if you choose. But notwithout an explanation. This much is due to me; and, if you are agentleman, you will not withhold it from me.""If he is a gentleman!" cried Rose; "O mamma, do not you affront agentleman, who never, never gave you nor me any ground of offence.Why affront the friends and benefactors we have lost by our ownfault?""Oh, then, it is all your fault," said the baroness. "I feared asmuch.""All my fault, all," said Rose; then putting her pretty palmstogether, and casting a look of abject supplication on Edouard, shemurmured, "my temper!""Do not you put words into his mouth," said the shrewd old lady.