Part 16 (1/2)
”In any case I will not be the one to celebrate such an absurd and deplorable union,” cried the abbe. ”You, the wife and the slave of this Hamstringer! Edmee, you said just now that you would no more endure the violence of a lover than a husband's blow.”
”You think the he would beat me?”
”If he did not kill you.”
”Oh, no,” she replied, in a resolute tone, with a wave of the knife, ”I would kill him first. When Mauprat meets Mauprat . . .!”
”You can laugh, Edmee? O my G.o.d! you can laugh at the thought of such a match! But, even if this man had some affection and esteem for you, think how impossible it would be for you to have anything in common; think of the coa.r.s.eness of his ideas, the vulgarity of his speech. The heart rises in disgust at the idea of such a union. Good G.o.d! In what language would you speak to him?”
Once more I was on the point of rising and falling on my panegyrist; but I overcame my rage. Edmee began to speak, and I was all ears again.
”I know very well that at the end of three or four days I should have nothing better to do than cut my own throat; but since sooner or later it must come to that, why should I not go forward to the inevitable hour? I confess that I shall be sorry to leave life. Not all those who have been to Roche-Mauprat have returned. I went there not to meet death, but to betroth myself to it. Well, then, I will go on to my wedding-day, and if Bernard is too odious, I will kill myself after the ball.”
”Edmee, your head seems full of romantic notions at present,” said the abbe, losing patience. ”Thank G.o.d, your father will never consent to the marriage. He has given his word to M. de la March, and you too have given yours. This is the only promise that is valid.”
”My father would consent--yes, with joy--to an arrangement which perpetuated his name and line directly. As to M. de la March, he will release me from any promise without my taking the trouble to ask him; as soon as he hears that I pa.s.sed two hours at Roche-Mauprat there will be no need of any other explanation.”
”He would be very unworthy of the esteem I feel for him, if he considered your good name tarnished by an unfortunate adventure from which you came out pure.”
”Thanks to Bernard,” said Edmee; ”for after all I ought to be grateful to him; in spite of his reservations and conditions, he performed a great and inconceivable action, for a Hamstringer.”
”G.o.d forbid that I should deny the good qualities which education may have developed in this young man; and it may still be possible, by approaching him on this better side of his, to make him listen to reason.”
”And make him consent to be taught? Never. Even if he should show himself willing, he would no more be able than Patience. When the body is made for an animal life, the spirit can no longer submit to the laws of the intellect.”
”I think so too; but that is not the point. I suggest that you should have an explanation with him, and make him understand that he is bound in honour to release you from your promise and resign himself to your marriage with M. de la Marche. Either he is a brute unworthy of the slightest esteem and consideration, or he will realize his crime and folly and yield honestly and with a good grace. Free me from the vow of secrecy to which I am bound; authorize me to deal plainly with him and I will guarantee success.”
”And I--I will guarantee the contrary,” said Edmee. ”Besides, I could not consent to this. Whatever Bernard may be, I am anxious to come out of our duel with honour; and if I acted as you suggest, he would have cause to believe that up to the present I have been unworthily trifling with him.”
”Well, there is only one means left, and that is to trust to the honour and discretion of M. de la Marche. Set before him the details of your position, and then let him give the verdict. You have a perfect right to intrust him with your secret, and you are quite sure of his honour. If he is coward enough to desert you in such a position, your remaining resource is to take shelter from Bernard's violence behind the iron bars of a convent. You can remain there a few years; you can make a show of taking the veil. The young man will forget you, and they will set you free again.”
”Indeed, that is the only reasonable course to take, and I had already thought of it; but it is not yet time to make the move.”
”Very true; you must first see the result of your confession to M. de la Marche. If, as I make no doubt, he is a man of mettle, he will take you under his protection, and then procure the removal of this Bernard, whether by persuasion or authority.”
”What authority, abbe, if you please?”
”The authority which our customs allow one gentleman to exercise over his equal--honour and the sword.”
”Oh, abbe! You too, then are a man with a thirst for blood. Well, that is precisely what I have hitherto tried to avoid, and what I will avoid, though it cost me my life and honour. I do not wish that there should be any fight between these two men.”
”I understand: one of the two is very rightly dear to you. But evidently in this duel it is not M. de la Marche who would be in danger.”
”Then it would be Bernard,” cried Edmee. ”Well, I should hate M. de la Marche, if he insisted on a duel with this poor boy, who only knows how to handle a stick or a sling. How can such ideas occur to you, abbe?
You must really loathe this unfortunate Bernard. And fancy me getting my husband to cut his throat as a return for having saved my life at the risk of his own. No, no; I will not suffer any one either to challenge him, or humiliate him, or persecute him. He is my cousin; he is a Mauprat; he is almost a brother. I will not let him be driven out of this home. Rather I will go myself.”
”These are very generous sentiments, Edmee,” answered the abbe. ”But with what warmth you express them! I stand confounded; and, if I were not afraid of offending you, I should confess that this solicitude for young Mauprat suggests to me a strange thought.”
”Well, what is it, then?” said Edmee, with a certain brusqueness.
”If you insist, of course I will tell you: you seem to take a deeper interest in this young man than in M. de la Marche, and I could have wished to think otherwise.”