Volume III Part 78 (1/2)
”New causes of fear!”
”For you.”
”For me?”
”You have confessed to us but half your troubles, my poor child.”
”Be so kind as to explain yourself, my father,” said Fleur-de-Marie, blus.h.i.+ng.
”Now I can do it; I could not sooner, not knowing how much you despaired of your fate. Listen, my beloved daughter! You believe yourself, or rather, you are, very unhappy. When, at the beginning of our conversation, you spoke to me of the hopes which remained to you, I understood--my heart was broken, for I was to part with you forever--that I was to see you shut yourself up in a cloister--to see you descend living to a tomb. Is it your wish to enter a convent?”
”Father!”
”My child, is this true?”
”Yes, if you will permit me to do it,” replied Fleur-de-Marie, with a stifled voice.
”Leave us!” cried Clemence.
”The Abbey of Saint Hermangilda is very near Gerolstein. I shall often see you and father.”
”Do you consider that such vows are eternal, my dear child? you are only eighteen years old, and perhaps some day--”
”Oh, I shall never repent the resolution I have taken. I shall never find repose and forgetfulness but in the solitude of the cloister, if you, my father, and you my second mother, continue your affection to me.”
”The duties and consolations of a religious life might, indeed,” said Rudolph, ”if they could not heal, at least calm, the sorrows of your poor depressed and distracted spirit. And though half the happiness of my life is the forfeit, I may perhaps approve your resolution. I know what you suffer, and I do not say that renouncing the world may not be the fatally logical end of your sorrowful existence.”
”What, you also, Rudolph?” cried Clemence.
”Permit me, my dear, to express all my thoughts,” replied Rudolph. Then, addressing his daughter, ”But before taking this last determination, we must examine if there may not be other prospects for the future, more agreeable to your wishes and ours. In this case, I should not regard any sacrifice, if I could secure you such a future existence.”
Fleur-de-Marie and Clemence started with surprise. Rudolph continued, fixing his eyes on his daughter, ”What do you think of your cousin Henry?”
After a moment of hesitation, she threw herself weeping into the arms of the prince.
”You love him, my poor child?”
”You never asked me, father,” replied Fleur-de-Marie, drying her tears.
”My dear, we were not deceived,” said Clemence.
”So you love him,” added Rudolph, taking his daughter's hands in his own, ”you love him well, my dear child?”
”Oh, if you knew,” replied Fleur-de-Marie, ”how much it has cost me to hide from you the sentiment as soon as I discovered it in my heart--alas, at the least question from you, I should have owned everything. But shame restrained me, and would always have restrained me.”
”And do you think that Henry knows your love for him?” said Rudolph.
”Great Heaven, father, I do not think so,” cried Fleur-de-Marie, in terror.
”And do you think he loves you?”
”No, father, no--oh, I hope not--he would suffer too much.”