Now, as a few days of sunshine had favoured us with very mild weather, my houris did not fail to go and stroll about the lawns. Naturally enough they attracted the attention of some indiscreet persons whose curiosity had been quickened by the apparent mystery of this closed house, and by all the gossip in the neighbourhood about "the Turk." It also happens that the house adjoining mine is tenanted by the colonel, whence it results that from morn to eve, there is a constant coming and going of sergeant-majors, lieutenants and captains, who rival one another in casting fascinating glances upon this corner of Mahomet's paradise.
I must do my houris the justice to say that they do not show themselves unveiled; still I will leave you to imagine the agitation which they cause among the whole regimental staff.
All this was certainly but an inconvenience which pure chance threw in my way, amid my methodical experiments with the new manners and customs of which I wish to show the superiority. It would not have been fitting for a sincere psychologist to convert a purely adventitious difficulty into a defeat; and the removal of my harem would have furnished a specious argument for some detractor of my doctrines who would not have failed to seize hold of this slight practical obstacle in order to raise a controversy. Then, too, I should have been violating human dignity and confessing the fragility of my system of social renovation if I had so lowered myself as to completely sequestrate the women after the fashion of some vile Asiatic satrap.
To be brief, I stood firm; and I conscientiously instructed Mohammed, who was already alarmed, not to interfere with the freedom of their diversions in the garden.
Being confident in the healthy effects of an application of the immortal principles, I had ceased to busy myself about this affair, when, as I arrived in the evening three days ago, I saw Mohammed hasten to me, looking scared. With signs of acute emotion, he begged of me to hear him privately, having an important communication to make.
I entered his room where I invited him to unbosom himself.
He then informed me—in a tone of genuine despair, I will admit—that the honour of the harem and also his own were terribly compromised. In point of fact, he had during the day surprised Zouhra at her window corresponding by signs with a young and superb nobleman who had come to one of the windows of the neighbouring house. This audacious lover, judging by his military uniform, bedizened with gold lace, must at the least be amuchiror general.
Had a thunderbolt fallen at Mohammed's feet it certainly would not have caused him greater consternation. The unfortunate fellow did not seem to doubt for one moment what punishment awaited him. But I reassured him, for as you may well suppose, with my system this useless practice is destined to disappear as being superfluous: the dignified position of eunuch not being compatible with our laws. However, under the circumstances, I did not think that I could dispense with opening a serious inquiry concerning this offence which, according to Mohammed, had been perpetrated repeatedly for some days past. Even letters, thrown over the walls, had been exchanged.
On the morrow then, I repaired to the house before the hour usually selected for this correspondence, and placing myself on the upper floor, I waited, screened by a curtain, thanks to which I could watch the manoeuvres of the accomplices, at my ease. Mohammed was moaning like a fallen man, deprived of his grandeur and dishonoured. I soon saw Zouhra appear, charmingly adorned and carrying a nosegay in her hand; but the other window, which had been indicated to me, remained unoccupied. After ten minutes or so she became restless and began to pace up and down her room in a way that conclusively proved her impatience.
Provided with a good opera-glass I carefully watched her goings-on.
Nearly half an hour elapsed. There was still nobody at the other window. Mohammed, who became more and more downcast, was beginning to fear that he would be unable to prove to me the full extent of my disgrace, when suddenly the swift approach of my houri to her window betokened something fresh. She lowered her nosegay by way of saluting, and my glasses were at once turned to the direction in which she was darting her glances.
On the third floor of the colonel's house I could see a splendid drum-major in full uniform, with large epaulets, his chest bedizened with broad gold braid and his hand resting upon his heart. As the room was not high enough to accommodate the lofty plume towering above his bearskin, my rival was leaning half out of the window, and his tricolour insignium seemed to pierce the sky.
I remained dazzled at the sight of him: he glistened like the sun!
With Zouhra it had been love at first sight. The pantomimic business gradually began on both sides; on the girl's part it was naïve and still restrained; on the drum-major's, ardent and passionate, though now and then he struck a contemplative attitude. He showed her a letter and she showed him another one, which she held in readiness. The sight made a flush rise to Mohammed's brow.
In presence of such avowals doubt was no longer possible. The drum-major soon became emboldened and raised the tips of his fingers to his lips. His kisses journeyed through space; and then with his hands clasped he begged of Zouhra to return them.
I must confess that the wretched girl defended herself for a few minutes with bashful reserve. But she was so pressed and implored that at last I saw her weaken, and anxious and hesitating, she yielded.
I was betrayed!
Mohammed sank down, uttering a plaintive moan. For my own part I thought of my uncle's misfortune. Was it fate?
However, my uncle is not the only man who comes from Marseilles; I also come from that city, and although I am merely his nephew, I have at times enough of his hot disposition to feel as he felt after similar strokes of fate. Having been drawn into his irregular orbit, passing through the same phases as he passed through, I must expect that nothing will ever happen to me in the same way as it would happen to others, himself excepted. Thus the similarity of our adventures—the drum-major in my case taking the place of my uncle's Jean Bonaffé,—ought not to have surprised me; it should have been foreseen like a philosophical contingency previously inscribed in the book of destiny. And, indeed, to tell the truth, I should have considered the slightest departure from the precise law of fate illogical.
However, I was either in a bad disposition of mind or I had been too suddenly and speedily awakened from the presumptuous quietude into which I had sunk, for I will admit to you that on thinking over my case, I experienced at the moment a singular feeling of astonishment.
Horns are like teeth, a witty woman once said: they hurt while they are coming, but afterwards one manages to put up with them!
True as this remark of an experienced person may be, yet having my own ideas as to these vain appendages which I could not prevent from sprouting; and being, moreover, sufficiently provided with proofs which I had duly weighed, my first idea was to dart head first athwart this intrigue in which my dishonour was a certainty. Leaving Mohammed upon the divan where he had stranded, I hastened by way of the stairs to the guilty creature's room.
I softly opened the closed door, stepped gently over the carpet, and approached her from behind in time to catch her just as she had one hand on her heart and the other on her lips.
She gave a little shriek, while the drum-major, on seeing me appear so suddenly, made a gesture of despair. Then he drew back with such haste that his plume caught against the wall above the window, with the result that his bearskin was knocked off, and turning a sommersault fell into the courtyard.
Zouhra thereupon gave another shriek.
All this had occurred with the rapidity of a flash of lightning. My rival, closing his window, had disappeared like a jack-in-the-box.
We were alone.
"Ah! ha!" I then said to the unworthy creature, "so this is your conduct——"
She answered nothing; she still hoped, no doubt, that she would be able to deny the facts, with the brazen assurance of the woman who, although surprised in the act, puts on a grand air, and waxes wrathful as at an insult.
"Who was that man up there," I resumed, "with whom you were corresponding?"
"A man!" she finally answered with her strong Turkish accent which I will spare you. "I don't know what you mean—I don't know any men—I have never seen any!"
"But he was at that window—there."
"Well, what does that prove?" she retorted. "Does that concern me? Can I prevent people from coming to their windows?"
"No, but when they are there you might prevent yourself from making signs to them; and especially from returning the kisses they send to you."
"Signs, I? I made signs!" she exclaimed. "Ah! that is really too bad! Who do you take me for then?"
"Why, I surprised you, and I stayed your hand when you had your fingers raised to your lips."
"Well, can't I put my fingers to my lips now? What, am I not to have the right to make a gesture, without accounting for it, without being insulted? Did any one ever see a woman treated in such an odious fashion? Well, tie me up then!"
You are acquainted with women's tactics, my dear Louis: they are always the same in such cases. I put a stop to it all after letting her deny the facts.
"Come, come," I said to her. "This is not the time for you to play the part of a persecuted victim. For the last half hour I have been watching you from behind those curtains. I saw everything—with my opera-glass," I added, showing her the glass in proof of my assertion.
Struck by this victorious demonstration she stood there in consternation. For a moment I enjoyed the effect I had produced and then continued:
"I saw the letter which he showed you, and the one which you have in your pocket—I can still see a bit of it peeping out."
On hearing this she became very red; and with incredible swiftness drew forth the incriminating missive, which she tore into a hundred pieces.
"All right," said I. "It would seem then that you had written something very compromising to that soldier, whom you have never met and whom you don't know."
"It was a letter for the modiste," she replied with assumed indignation.
"Yes, and you no doubt wanted him to deliver it," I retorted in an ironical strain.
This last bitter dart went home and set her beside herself. She assumed a superb attitude.
"I shall not give you any explanation," she said. "Believe whatever you please. Do whatever you choose. As for myself, I know what I have to do now. Since I am spied upon and treated in this fashion I have had enough of leading such a life—I prefer to put an end to it at once!"
"And how do you purpose putting an end to it?" I resumed. "It will perhaps be necessary to consult me a little bit on that subject."
"But you are neither my husband nor my brother, my dear fellow," she exclaimed in the most airy way imaginable, "and I don't suppose that you are going to talk to me any more of those stupid Turkish rights. We are in Paris and I know that I am free!"
"Well, where will your freedom take you?"
"Oh! don't worry yourself about me—I should not have any trouble to secure a husband. Do you imagine, my dear fellow, that I should be embarrassed to find aposition?"
This characteristic word showed me that she was far more completely initiated than I had suspected.
"And you expect," I retorted, "to obtain thispositionfrom that fine nobleman, eh?"
These disdainful words exasperated her; she lost all self-restraint and burnt her ships.
"That fine nobleman is a duke!" she exclaimed vehemently. "I will not allow you to insult him. And since you dare to threaten me, I will tell you that I love him and that he adores me, and that he offers to marry me and promises me every bliss—"
In spite of my misfortune I could not help laughing at this fiery indignant declaration to which Zouhra's Turkish accent imparted an irresistibly comic effect. My gaiety brought her anger to a climax.
Frenzied, decided upon everything, she darted to a chiffonier, drew out an illuminated card, upon which two doves were pecking one another, and threw it at me with a queenly air, exclaiming:
"There, my dear fellow you will see if I still have any need of you!"
I picked up the card and read what was written upon it:
LEDUC (D'ARPAJON),Drum-Major of the 79th Regt. of the Line.To the divine ZOUHRA—Everlasting Love!
It would be useless for me to describe to you the end of the scene.
When I had laughed enough, I allowed myself the delightful pleasure of undeceiving my faithless houri by explaining to her her unfortunate mistake as to the rank of her conqueror, whom she had mentally endowed with a fortune in keeping with the height of his plume.[1]I destroyed her dream of every bliss by reducing it to so much bliss as was procurable with a full pay of a franc and a halfper diem.
[1]Zouhra with her imperfect knowledge of French had concluded that Leduc (D'Arpajon) meant "the Duke of Arpajon"—whereas, in reality, Leduc, a single word, was the drum-major's name; D'Arpajon implying that he came from, or belonged to, the little market town of Arpajon, not far from Paris.—Trans.
As I made these crushing revelations you might have seen her gradually sinking and collapsing, with her pretty purple lips just parted, and her gazelle's eyes staring with frightened astonishment. She was the picture of consternation.
All at once she darted towards me and abruptly caught me in her arms.
"Ah! it is you that I love!—you that I love!" she exclaimed in a pathetic tone amid her transports.
I had some difficulty in releasing myself from her passionate embrace; still I eventually succeeded in doing so, but only to confront a fresh crisis of despair, whereupon I immediately confided Zouhra to the care of her maids.
Then, without any further explanations, which would have been superfluous, I withdrew.
Of course I am perfectly aware that you will try to derive from this mishap some argument intended to triumph over my discomfiture.
I would have you remark, however, that you have no right to seize upon a general fact—for infidelity is inherent in woman's nature—and draw deductions respecting my particular case. All that you can reasonably conclude is that the man who has four wives is bound to be deceived four times as often as the man who has but one wife.
That is certainly a weighty argument, I confess.
However all that may be, my misfortune having been made evident to me, and Zouhra being banished from my heart, it was necessary that I should come to a decision with regard to her.
The most simple course was to consult my uncle; his own experience in a similar mishap pointed him out as the best of advisers.
He listened to me, stroking his beard with the somewhat derisive phlegm of a practical man, who is not sorry to find that he has some companions in misfortune. It even seemed to me that I could detect a touch of malicious satisfaction, as if he still resented my conduct as an heir.
When I had finished he quietly remarked:
"What an old stupid you are! You should have let her get married without saying anything! In that way you would have saved us the expense of sending her back home again."
"Well, unfortunately it's too late now for that, uncle," I answered.
To be brief, as the Turkish law does not allow the desertion or dismissal of a cadine unless she be provided for, Zouhra is to be exiled to Rhodes. The pasha has established there for his own use, a kind of Botany Bay, which is a place both of retirement and rustication for his invalided wives who have lost their freshness with age. The place is an old abbey with spacious gardens planted with mimosas and orange trees, and was purchased by auction for some ten thousand francs. The island is delightful, and provisions are to be had there for nothing, according to what my uncle tells me. Judge for yourself: fowls cost twopence each, and everything else is to be had at correspondingly low prices. There are already eleven women there, and it does not cost more than nine thousand francs a year to keep them all on a proper footing, including the board and wages of their servants.
Find me among our own boasted institutions any one to be compared with that of my uncle—an institution established to provide for similar contingencies, and the arrangements of which are equally good.
For the last three days that unworthy girl Zouhra has been on her way to Rhodes.
Well, what does that matter? I admit that I have only three wives left, that's all. And what of that? Is it fitting that you, my dearest friend, should try to make me feel ashamed of it?
While exercising your facetiousness, it seems to me that you especially level your irony at certain other worries necessarily occasioned by the position of Kondjé-Gul and what you call the wooing of the "fierce Kiusko." Ye Gods! so I have a rival. Really, you make me laugh!
I fancy, however, that all this will inevitably end in a duel between us, which indeed, as time goes on, seems to me quite unavoidable.
One evening when I arrived rather late at Téral House by reason of one of those tedious dinners with which Anna Campbell's leaves-out were celebrated, I found Kondjé-Gul quite downcast, and her eyes red with crying. I had left her a few hours before in the best of spirits, and delighted about a pretty little pony which I had given her in the morning, and which we had been trying. Surprised and alarmed at such a sudden grief as she evinced, and which had caused her to shed tears, I anxiously questioned her about it.
Directly I began speaking to her I saw that she wanted to conceal from me the cause of her affliction: but I pressed her.
"No, it's nothing," she said, "only a story which mamma told me."
But when she tried to smile, a sob broke out from her lips, and, bursting into tears, she threw her arm round my neck, nestling her head on my bosom.
"Good heavens! what's the matter, dear?" I exclaimed, quite alarmed. "Tell me all about it, I entreat you. What has happened? And why are you crying like this?"
She could not answer me. Her bosom heaved, and she seized my hand and covered it with kisses, as if in order to demonstrate her love for me in the midst of her distress.
I succeeded in calming her; and then, making her sit down by my side, with her hands in mine, I pressed her to confess her troubles to me. Her hesitation increased my alarm: she turned her eyes away from me, and I could see that she feared to reply to me. At last, quite frantic with anxiety, I resorted to my marital authority.
Then, with childlike submission, she related to me the following strange story, which filled me with astonishment.
After luncheon her mother had joined her in the drawing-room, when in the course of a general conversation she began to speak about their native country and their family, and about the pleasure it would be for them to revisit them after so long an absence. Kondjé-Gul let her go on in this strain, thinking that she was just indulging in one of those dreams of a far-off future which the imagination is fond of cherishing, however impossible their realisation may be. But soon she was very much surprised by noticing that her mother was discussing this scheme as one which might be carried out at an early date. She then questioned her about it. At last, after a lot of fencing, Madame Murrah informed her that she had learnt a marriage was arranged between me and Anna Campbell, who had been betrothed to me for a long while past; also that this marriage would take place in six months' time, and that I should have to go away with my wife the day after the wedding.
The end of all these arrangements would be the abandonment of Kondjé-Gul.
I was dismayed by this unexpected revelation. The plan of my marriage with Anna had remained a family secret, known only to my uncle, to herself, to my aunt, and to me. How had it got to Madame Murrah's ears? I was unable to conceal my uneasiness.
"But this marriage is true then?" continued my poor Kondjé with an anxious look in my face.
"Nothing is true but our love!" I replied, distressed by her fears; "nothing is true but this, that I mean to love you always, and always to live with you as I do now."
"But this marriage?" she again repeated.
It was impossible for me to escape any longer from the necessity of making a confession which I had intended to have prepared her for later on.
"Listen, my darling," I said, taking her by the hands, "and above all things trust me as you listen to me! I love you, I love no one but you; you are my wife, my happiness, my life. Do you believe me?"
"Yes, dear, I believe you. But what about her?" she added in a tremble. "What about Anna Campbell? Are you going to marry her?"
"Come," I said, wishing to begin by soothing her fears; "if, as so often happens in your own country, I were obliged, if only in order to assure our own happiness, to make another marriage, would not you understand that this was only a sacrifice which I owed to my uncle if he required it of me—a family arrangement, in fact, which could not separate us from each other? What have you to fear so long as I only love you? Did you trouble yourself about Hadidjé or Zouhra?"
"Oh, but they were not Christians! Anna Campbell would be your real wife; and your religion and laws would enjoin you to love her."
"No," I exclaimed, "neither my religion nor my laws could change my heart or undo my love for you. It is my duty to protect your life and make it a happy one; for are not you also my wife? Why should you alarm yourself about an obligation of mine which, if we lived in your country, would not disturb your confidence in me? Anna Campbell is not really in love with me: we are only like two friends, prepared to unite with each other in a conventional union, such as you may see many a couple around us enter upon—an association of fortunes, in which the only personal sentiments demanded are reciprocal esteem. My dear girl, what is there to be jealous of? Don't you know that you will always be everything to me?"
Poor Kondjé-Gul listened to these somewhat strange projects without the least idea of opposing them. Still under the yoke of her native ideas, those Oriental prejudices in which she had been brought up were too deeply grafted in her mind to permit of her being rapidly converted by acquaintance with our sentiments and usages—very illogical as they often appeared to her mind—to a different view of woman's destiny. According to her laws and her religion, I was her master. She could never have entertained the possibility of her refusing to submit to my will; but I could see by the tears in her eyes that this very touching submission and resignation on her part was simply due to her devoted self-control, and that she suffered cruelly by it.
"Come, why do you keep on crying?" I continued, drawing her into my arms. "Do you doubt my love, dear?"
"Oh, no!" she replied quickly. "How could I mistrust you?"
"Well, then, away with those tears!"
"Yes," she said, giving me a kiss, "you are right, dear: I am very silly! What can you expect of me? I am still half a barbarian, and am rather bewildered with all I have learnt from you. There are still some things in my nature which I can't understand. Why it is that I feel more jealous of Anna Campbell than I was of Hadidjé, of Nazli, or of Zouhra, I can't tell you; but I am afraid—she is a Christian, and perhaps you will love her better than me. I feel that the laws and customs of your country will recover their hold over you and will separate us. That odious law which you once told me of, which would enfranchise me, so you said, and make me my own mistress if I desired to leave you, often comes back to my mind like a bad dream. It seems to me that this imaginary liberty, which I don't want at any price, would become a reality if you get married."
I reassured her on this point. There is a much more persuasive eloquence in the heart than in the vain deductions of logic. During this extraordinary scene, in which my poor Kondjé-Gul's mind was alarmed by the conflict going on between her own beliefs and what she knew of our society, I was quite sincere in my illusions concerning the moral compromise which, I fancied, was imposed upon me as an absolute duty. Singular as it may all appear to you, I had already been subjected too long to the influence of the harem not to have become gradually permeated by the Oriental ideas. The tie which bound me to Kondjé-Gul had acquired a kind of sacred and legitimate character in my eyes.
However this may have been, her revelation disclosed an impending danger. It was clear to me that the news of the marriage arranged between Anna Campbell and myself could only have reached Madame Murrah through Kiusko. His relationship with my aunt had made him a member of our family, and he had been acquainted with our projects. I could easily understand that his jealous instincts had penetrated one side of the secret between Kondjé and myself. He had at least guessed that she loved me, and that I was an obstacle to the attainment of his desires. He was following up his object. He wished to destroy Kondjé-Gul's hopes in advance, by showing her that I was engaged to marry another.
With my present certitude of his mean devices, I began to wonder whether everything had been already let out through slips of the tongue made by Madame Murrah, in the course of those interviews which he had obtained with her either by chance or by appointment. For several days past I fancied I had remarked in him an increased reserve of manner. It was possible that, being convinced now of the futility of his hopes, his only object henceforth was to revenge himself on his rival by at least disturbing his feeling of security.
Yes! you are quite right: I love her! Why should you imagine I would wish to deny it, or dissemble it as a weakness? Did I ever tell you that the consequence of indulgence in the pleasures of harem loves would be to drown the heart, the soul, and the aspirations towards the ideal for the sole advantage of the senses? Where you seem to see the defeat of one vanquished, I find the triumph of my happiness and the enchantment of a dream which I am realizing during my waking hours. Compare with this secret and charming bond of union which attaches me to Kondjé-Gul, the prosaic and vulgar character of those common intrigues which one cynically permits the whole world to observe, or of those illicit connections which the hypocritical remnant of virtue with us constrains us to conceal, like crimes, in the darkness. Deceptive frenzies they are, the enjoyment of which always involves of necessity the degradation of the woman and the contempt of the lover! You may preach and dogmatise as much as you like in your endeavours to uphold the superiority of our habits over those of the East, which you declare to be barbarous; you will never succeed in doing anything more than entangling yourself in your own paradox.
The fact is that in the refined epoch, so-called, in which we live, every description of non-legitimized union in love becomes a libertinage, and the woman who abandons herself to it becomes a profane idol. Whether she be a duchess, or a foolish maid, you may write verses over her fall, but you cannot forget it. The worm is in the fruit. My love for Kondjé-Gul knows no such shame, and needs no guilty excuses. Proud of her slavish submission, she can love me without derogating in the least from her own self-respect. In Kondjé's eyes, her tender embraces are legitimate, her glory is the conquest of my heart. I am her master, and she abandons herself to me without transgressing any duty. Being a daughter of Asia, she fulfils her destiny according to the moral usages and the beliefs of her native land: to these she remains faithful in loving me: her religion has no different rule, her virtue no different law.
That is why I love her, and why my heart is possessed by such a frank and open loyalty towards her. You speak to me about the future, and ask me what will happen when the time comes for my marriage to Anna Campbell? Well, the future is still in the distance, my dear fellow; when it comes upon me we will see what I will do! Meanwhile I love and content myself with loving!
Will that satisfy you? Oh yes, I confess my errors, I abjure my pagan vanities, and my sultanic principles. I give up Mahomet! I have found my Damascus road. True love has manifested itself to me in all its glory, shining through the clouds; it has inspired me with its grace, and my false idols lie prostrate in the dust——Would you like me to make you a present of my harem? If this offer suits you, send me a line, and I will forward what remains of it to you with all despatch: you shall then give it my news, for it is six weeks now since I have seen my two sultanas. Only make haste—in eight days' time they are to return to Constantinople. The blessings of civilization are decidedly banes to these little animals. Liberty in Paris would soon ruin them. I have provided for them, and am sending them away.
I mention all this to show you in what happiness I bask. Reassured by my affection, and confident in the future, my Kondjé-Gul has recovered that sweet serenity which makes our love such a delicious dream. As the fierce Kiusko is now unmasked, we laugh at his foolish plots as you may well imagine!
My aunt Gretchen van Cloth is in Paris!
Well, why do you assume your facetious tone on reading that? I know you and can guess your thoughts.
After all, Barbassou is a pasha, is it still necessary to remind you of that?
Well, the other day my uncle informed me that he would take me home to dine with him. I repaired to the boulevard at the appointed hour and we started in his brougham for Passy. On the way he told me what it was necessary I should know. We reached a rather nice looking house in the Rue Raynouard, from which you can see the boats floating down the Seine. There is a railing and a little garden in front. On hearing our footsteps, a young lady whom I at once recognised, from the recollections of my childhood, hurried to the door.
"Kiss your aunt," my uncle said to me: and I did as I was told.
We then entered a modest little drawing-room, the commonplace aspect of which, reminding one of furnished apartments, was improved by its general neatness and by a few bunches of flowers displayed in sundry odd vases. Three youngsters, the smallest of whom was between three and four years old, were eating bread and butter there. My uncle saluted each of them with a hurried kiss, and then they ran off to their nurse.
My aunt Gretchen is just reaching her thirty-fourth birthday. She confesses to her age. If she did not come from Amsterdam she ought to have been born there. She has blossomed like a flower among the tulips, and she looks like a Rubens, in that painter's more sober style, as in the portrait of the Friesland woman, with the prim pink and white flesh of the healthful natures of the North. You realise that good blood flows quietly and temperately beneath the pleasantly plump charms of this worthy Dutchwoman, who claims only her due, but is desirous of getting it. And she does get it. She has luxuriant light chestnut hair, and a very attractive face with the smiling, placid, and even somewhat simple expression of a good housewife, who is as expert in bringing up her children as in making pastry and pineapple jam. Being of a gay and amiable disposition, she greeted her husband with the ordinary, hearty affection of a woman who has never been a widow. After bringing him his foxskin cap she established him in a comfortable arm-chair, and then mixed his absinthe for him. I guessed that the captain was returning to old habits, with the dignified composure which he displays in everything.
They began to talk in Dutch, and as I looked at them without understanding it, my uncle said to me:
"Your aunt tells me that her kitchen range is too small to make any goodsoufflés, and it worries her on your account."
"Oh! my aunt is too kind to disturb herself about such a trifling matter," I replied; "the pleasure I feel in seeing her again amply compensates me for this slight mishap."
"Well, instead of thesoufflésyou shall have somewafelenand somepoffertjes!" quickly rejoined my aunt with her kindly smile.
I remarked that she spoke French much better than formerly. However, probably on account of her voyages with the captain, who recruited his crews at Toulon, her Dutch accent has now become a Provençal one.
The dinner was delightful, substantial and plentiful, like the charms of my aunt, who was victorious along the whole line, and notably with the spicy sauce of agebakken schol, which was excellently baked.
The conversation was simple and of a free and easy character, my uncle talking with all the freedom of a man who has a quiet conscience. He was as much at his ease in his Dutch household as any good citizen could be, and I perceived that my aunt knew absolutely nothing about him, unless it were the important position that he occupied in the spice trade. She gave him some news about the great doings of the Van Hutten firm of Rotterdam and Antwerp, in which he seemed to take a particular interest. It seems, too, that Peter van Schloss, junior, is married to a young lady of Dordrecht, who presented him with twins after six months of matrimony, a circumstance which my uncle found very natural. Old Joshua Schlittermans, having been utterly ruined by the failure of Gannton Brothers of New York, has now taken to drink.
When the coffee was served (Dirkie had brought it from Amsterdam, purchasing it on the Damplaatz, at the corner of Kalver Straat), my aunt filled a long porcelain pipe which my uncle took from her hands and lighted, puffing out clouds of smoke, with the serene gravity of some worthy burgomaster at home. We drank some schiedam and two sorts of dry curaçoa. While my aunt sat knitting at the table she questioned me as to my occupations, asking me if I were working in my uncle's establishment; and upon my replying affirmatively to her, she gave me some very good advice, telling me to be very industrious so that I might take my uncle's place later on.
At half-past ten we rose from table and went into the drawing-room. Dirkie got everything ready for a game of dominoes, and they began to play in the Dutch fashion. My uncle kept the markers, and noted the points made: he himself speedily scored between three and four hundred, and then, feeling satisfied with his success, he said:
"Well, give us a little music!"
My aunt did not require any pressing, but went to the piano in a very good-humoured manner. She opened the top so that the instrument might give out a louder sound, then passed behind and arranged everything; and suddenly I heard the splendid introduction of Haydn's seventh symphony inF majorbursting forth, while my aunt turned the handle with rare skill and gracefulness. (I recognised the superb instrument mentioned in the fourth legacy of the famous will.)
I must admit that if my aunt played the minuet rather quickly, she executed theandantein a very delicate style, and thescherzoand thefinalewere both dashed off in a spirited way. At the last chord, I applauded with sincere enthusiasm.
"She plays very well, doesn't she?" my uncle quietly asked me, in a modest tone. "You, who are a connoisseur—"
"Oh! she plays perfectly," I rejoined, without stinting my praise.
"And besides she puts expression into it," he resumed. "One can see that she feels what she plays."
My aunt kissed him for this compliment, which he paid her with the gravest assurance.
"Ah! you are still a flatterer!" she said to him.
As may readily be guessed, some of Strauss's waltzes and two or three polkas followed the classical symphonies, together with the overtures of "Don Giovanni" and "Fra Diavolo." It was really a perfect concert till midnight. But by that time my aunt's plump arm being somewhat tired it was necessary to bring the entertainment to a close.
Now, my dear fellow, I am not one of those who give way to the stupid prejudices of our foolish traditions; still less am I one of those who seek to evade frivolous objections, or fight shy of plain and open discussion. I have myself officially abandoned polygamy, that is true—but you are meditating another attack upon my uncle—I see it and I feel it—and from the depths of your troglodytic intellect you intend to drag out some commonplace hackneyed argument accompanied by frivolous sarcasms, and directed, not at the point in question, but all round it. As you are even incapable of understanding your own so-called virtue in its true and primitive sense, you will no doubt repeat your usual stupid remarks, denouncing my uncle's conduct as scandalous.
Let us go straight to the moral point, without haggling over words. My uncle, who has the advantage of being a Turk, distributes himself between his two wives, like a worthy husband faithful to his duty. Do you presume to blame him? In that case what have you to say to our friends A. B. C. D. E. F. (I spare you the rest of the alphabet, and it is understood that the reader and present company are excepted), our friends, I say, who deceive their wives for the sake of hussies who have several protectors, as they are well aware? It is not a question here of fighting on behalf of the holy shrine of monogamy. With how many faithful, irreproachable husbands are you acquainted? Those hussies are mistresses, you will say to me! I know it: that is to say, they are females who belong to everybody. The question is settled: my uncle is a virtuous man by the side of our friends. As he is incapable of such vulgar and promiscuous intrigues he has a supplementary household, that is all! Like the prudent traveller who is acquainted with the length of the journey he judiciously prepares relays.
Compare that family gathering at my aunt Van Cloth's with those unhealthy stolen pleasures of debauched husbands who feel ashamed and tremble with the fear of being surprised. My uncle is a patriarch and takes no part in the licentiousness of our times. So much for this subject.
I have just received a most unforeseen blow, my dear Louis, and even while I write have scarcely recovered from the alarm of a horrible machination from which we were only saved by a miracle.
I told you about my poor Kondjé-Gul's passing grief on account of her mother's foolish ideas. Reassured as to the future by my vows and promises, she was too amenable to my influence to refuse to submit to a trial which I was forced by duty to prepare her for. Proud at the thought that she was sacrificing her jealousy for me, sacrificing herself for my happiness, her tears having been dried up by my kisses, I found her the day after this cruel blow to her heart as expansive and confiding as if no cloud had darkened our sky.
But a very few days after I was quite surprised to observe a sort of melancholy resignation about her. I attributed this trouble to some of the childish worries which her mother's temper occasionally gave her. However, after several days had passed like this, I came to the conclusion that the cause of her sadness must be something more than a transitory one, and that she was harassed by some new grief which even my presence was not sufficient to dissipate. By her replies to me, which seemed to be pervaded by more than usual tenderness, I judged that—in her fear of alarming me, no doubt,—she wished to conceal from me the real cause of her anxiety.
One evening at one of our little parties at the Montagues, which had begun as a concert, but was converted by us, in our gay and sociable mood, into a dance, Maud had trotted me off to make up a quadrille. Kondjé-Gul, who, as you know, never dances, had withdrawn into the boudoir adjoining the drawing-room, where she was looking through the albums. I suspected nothing, and was engaged in a frivolous conversation with Maud, when from where I stood, through the glass partition which separated the two rooms, I noticed Kiusko come and sit down by her side. It was natural enough that, seeing her alone, he considered himself bound not to leave her so, for that might have looked like a want of politeness on his part. It seemed to me, moreover, from their faces, that their conversation was upon indifferent topics, and was being conducted in that tone of ordinary friendliness which was usual between them.
He was turning over the pages of an album as he talked to her. I had no reason to pay much attention to thistête-à-tête, and was not even intending to follow it, but once, near the end of the quadrille, my eyes being again turned by chance in Kondjé-Gul's direction, I saw her rise up all of a sudden, as if something that Daniel had said had excited her suddenly. I thought I saw her blush, raising her head proudly and answering him in an offended tone.
The dance being now over, I left Maud, and, agitated by an anxious kind of feeling, walked up to the boudoir. They were standing up, and Kiusko's back being turned to the door, he did not see me enter. Kondjé-Gul saw me and said:
"André, come and give me your arm!"
At this unusually bold request, Daniel could not repress a gesture of astonishment, and cast a bewildered glance at me. I advanced, and she seized my arm with a convulsive movement, and addressed herself to my rival:
"This is the second time, sir, that you have declared your love to me. Let me tell you why I decline it: I am the slave of Monsieur André de Peyrade, and I love him!"
If a thunderbolt had fallen at Daniel's feet, it could not have startled him more than this. He turned so pale that I thought he was going to faint. He gazed at both of us with a desperate and ferocious look, as if some terrible thought was revolving in his mind. His features were contracted into such a savage expression that I instinctively placed myself between him and Kondjé-Gul. But, all at once, frightened no doubt at his own passion, he gave one glance of despair and rage, and fled from the room. Kondjé-Gul was all of a tremble.
"What has happened, then?" I asked her.
"I will tell you all about it," she answered, in a voice still quivering with emotion. "I am going home with my mother. Come after us as soon as we are off."
Half an hour later I joined Kondjé-Gul again at her house. She had sent Fanny out of the room, and was waiting for me. When she saw me, she threw her arm round my neck, and the long pent-up tears seemed to start from her eyes like a fountain.
"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, "what is it, then?"
And taking her on my knees like a child, I held her in my arms; but she soon recovered her energy.
"Listen, dear," she said in a firm voice, "you must forgive me for what I have just done: you must forgive me for having concealed my thoughts and my troubles from you, even at the risk of distressing you."
"I forgive you, everything," I answered immediately, "go on, tell me quickly."
"Well, then! For a whole week I have been deceiving you," she continued, "by telling you that I had no troubles, and that I did not know the cause of that sadness which I could not conceal from you. I was afraid of making you angry with my mother, by confessing to you that it was she who was tormenting me."
"Your mother!" I exclaimed: "and what had she to say to you, then?"
"You shall hear all," she said, with animation, "for I must justify myself for having kept a secret from you. I daresay you remember," she continued, "that a fortnight ago she spoke to me about your marriage, telling me that you were going to leave me."
"Yes, yes, I understand," I said. "What then?"
"My mother had made me promise to keep this revelation a secret, because it was necessary, so she said, that Count Kiusko should not suspect that we loved each other. She said that he had expressly attributed my refusal to become his wife to some hope which I doubtless entertained of marrying you."
"Well, go on; tell me what has occurred since."
"You know the state of trouble you found me in that night. I could not hold back my tears, and you commanded me to tell you all. At last you reassured me with so much warmth of feeling, that after that I did not believe anyone but you. Quite happy at the thought of sacrificing myself to your will, and to your peace of mind, I left off thinking about my alarms, and regretted them as an insult to our love; I repeated to my mother all your kind promises, and thought that I had set her mind at rest. Imagine my astonishment at hearing her, a few days afterwards, return to the subject: she had seen the count again, who had declared that your uncle would disinherit you if you did not carry out his wishes."
"And did you believe all that?"
"No," she replied promptly, "for you had not told me so! But then my mother, seeing that I would only believe you, changed her tactics: she spoke about Count Kiusko, his wealth, and his love for me."
"She did that, did she?"
"Oh, forgive her!" she continued; "she gets anxious both on my account and her own. She is alarmed about the future, and fancies she sees me deserted by you! Well, it was simply a cruel struggle for me, in which my heart could not betray you. I suffered through it, and that's all! But three days ago, I don't know what can have passed during your aunt's party, my mother, on our way home, said to me in a decided manner that she had resolved 'to live no longer among the infidels,' and intended 'to return to the land of the Faithful, in order to expiate the great wrong she had committed by living here.'
"I was dismayed at this resolution of hers. As she based it upon our faith, I could not oppose her, for that would have been a sacrilege, but I could at least invoke her affection for me, and entreat her not to leave. Then, while I was on my knees before her, and was kissing her and crying, she startled me by saying: 'You shall not leave me; for, when I go, I shall take you away with me'!"
"Why, she must be crazy!" I exclaimed.
"Well, dear," added Kondjé-Gul, "you can easily understand what a thunderbolt this was to me! I felt it so painfully that I nearly swooned away. My mother was alarmed and called for Fanny. The next day, I attempted to prevail upon her to change her mind, declaring that it would kill me to be separated from you. I thought I had mollified her, for she kissed me and said that all she cared about was my happiness. But this evening, while we were in the carriage on our way to Suzannah's, she spoke again to me about Count Kiusko. I have a presentiment that the greatest enemy to our love and happiness is that man; and that he it is who has been influencing my mother, hoping, no doubt, that when separated from you I should no longer be able to resist her wishes.
"Well, you know the rest, I had gone into the boudoir while you were dancing, when the count came and sat down by my side.—'Is it true that you are going away?' he said to me, after a minute or so. 'Who could make you believe such a thing?' I replied coldly. 'Why, something your mother told me which seemed to imply it.' I remained silent—he did not venture to follow up the subject, and said nothing more for a few minutes. I kept my eyes on a book which I was looking through, for I felt that his eyes were fixed upon me. 'Perhaps you will regret André a little,' he continued, 'but what can you do? He is not free,—and besides, do you suppose he would have loved you?'
"At this question, the cruel irony of which wounded me to the quick, I was possessed by some mad impulse, I raised my head and replied to him in such a scornful tone that he rose up in confusion. Just then you came in. I wished to overwhelm him with my contempt so as to destroy all further hopes he might cherish. You know what I said—"
"And quite right, too! For it was necessary to put a stop to his nonsense. I will attend to it."
"But what if my mother wants to separate us?"
"Your mother, indeed!" I exclaimed; "your mother who sold you, abandoned you to the life of a slave, do you think she can come and claim the rights which she has thrown away?"
"Can you defend me against her, then?"
"Yes, dear, I will defend you," I exclaimed in a passion, "and now set your mind at ease. There is a miserable plot at the bottom of all this, which I intend demolishing. When I leave you I am going to Count Kiusko, and I assure you that he sha'n't trouble you any more: after that I shall see your mother."
"Good heavens!" said Kondjé-Gul, "are you going to fight him?"
"No, no," I answered with a laugh, in order to remove her fears; "but you must understand that it is necessary for me to have an explanation with him."
In the morning I returned home and arranged all my affairs ready for any eventuality; then when all was in order I went after two of my friends, and asked them to hold themselves ready to act as my seconds in an affair which I might be compelled by grave circumstances to settle that very day. Having obtained their promise to do so, I proceeded to Kiusko's in the Rue de l'Elysée.
When I arrived at his house, I saw from the windows being open that he was up. A footman, who knew me, was standing under the peristyle. He told me that he did not think his master would see anyone then. I gave him my card and instructed him to send it up at once to the count. In a minute or two after he returned and asked me to come up to his master's private room: he showed me into a little smoking-room adjoining the bedroom, to which the count's intimate friends only are admitted. I had hardly entered it when Daniel appeared; he was dressed in a Moldavian costume which he uses as a dressing-gown.
"Hullo, here's our dear friend André!" he said when he saw me, in such an indifferent tone that I could detect in it the intentional affectation of a calmness to which his pale countenance gave the lie.
Still he did not hold out his hand to me, nor did I proffer mine; he sat down, indicating to me an arm-chair on the other side of the fire-place.
"What good fortune has brought you here so early this morning?" he continued, taking a few puffs at his cigar.
"Why, I should have thought you expected to see me," I replied, looking him straight in the face.
He returned my look with a smile.
"I expected you, without expecting you, as they say."
By the peculiar tone in which he uttered these words, I could see that he was determined to make me take the initiative in the matter upon which I had come.
"Very well!" I said, wishing to show him that I guessed his mind. "I will explain myself."
"I am all attention, my dear fellow," he answered.
"I have come to speak to you," I continued drily, "about Mademoiselle Kondjé-Gul Murrah, and about what passed yesterday between her and you."
"Ah, yes! I understand: you are referring to the somewhat severe lecture which I drew upon myself, and to the confidential communication she made me."
"Precisely so," I added; "you could not sum up the two points better than you have done: a lecture, and a confidence. Now as one outcome of the second point is that I am responsible for all Mademoiselle Murrah's acts, I have come to place myself at your command respecting the lecture she thought fit to give you."
"What nonsense, my dear fellow!" he exclaimed, puffing a cloud of smoke into the air. "After all I only had what I deserved, for I can only blame my own presumption. Besides the very anger of such a charming young lady is a favour to the man who incurs it, so that my only regret is that I offended her. I should therefore really laugh at myself to think that I could hold you responsible for this little incident: nay, I will go so far as to say that, strictly speaking, I should owe you an apology for what you might be justified in complaining of as an act of disloyalty between friends, but for the fact that I can plead as my excuse the complete ignorance in which you left me of certain mysterious relations. You must know very well that a simple word from you, my relative, myfriend, would have made me stop short on the brink of the precipice."
I appreciated the reproachful irony concealed in this last sentence; but I had gone too far to trouble myself about remorses of conscience regarding him.
"So then," I replied, "you have nothing to say, no satisfaction to demand of me in respect to this lecture?"
"None whatever, my dear fellow!" he answered, in the same easy tone which he had preserved all along. "And I may add that there could be nothing more ridiculous than a quarrel between two friends like you and me upon such a matter!"
"Let's think no more about it then!" I continued, imitating his composure. "Since you take it so good-naturedly, I sha'n't press it. But, having settled this first point, it remains now for us to discuss what you have termed theconfidence."
At this he could not repress a slight gesture. His dark eye flashed up, but for a moment only: he was soon quite calm again.
"Ah, yes!" he said carelessly; "now we've come to the second point."
"This is the point of importance for me," I added; "and I am going to ask you, on my side, what you propose to do after this revelation?"
"I must compliment you, my dear fellow, for upon my word it's a most wonderful romance. Do you really mean to say that this beautiful young lady whom we have all been admiring from a distance, fascinated by her charms, and who like a young queen has been starring it in the most aristocratic drawing-rooms of your society, exciting enthusiastic praise wherever she goes,—that she is your slave?—You must admit that no mortal man could help envying you!"
"Do your compliments," I continued, "imply an engagement, on your part, to abandon importunities, which you now recognise to be useless?"
"Oh, indeed!" he exclaimed, with a laugh; "so you're going to ask me now to makemyconfession?"
Exasperated by this imperturbable composure of his, which I could not break down, I again looked him straight in the face, and asked—
"Do you mean to say you refuse to understand me?"
"No, my good sir!" he answered, resuming his peculiar smile, "I understand you perfectly well; you want to pick a quarrel with me, or to force me to demand satisfaction from you for a matter to which I do not attach as much importance as you do. Between ourselves, a duel would be an act of folly."
"Do you understand, at any rate," I retorted, "that I forbid your ever presenting yourself before Mademoiselle Kondjé-Gul Murrah again?"
"Fie! my dear fellow! What do you take me for? After such an astonishing confession on her part, I should prove myself deficient in the most ordinary discretion, if I did not henceforth spare her my presence; so you may set your mind at ease on that point."
"Do you also imply by this evasive answer that you will abandon certain plots with her mother, which I might describe in terms that would not please you?"
"Corbleu!I should be too heavily handicapped in such a game, you must admit. Nor do I think that the good lady would be of much service to me, from what I know of her. Moreover," he added, "you have made me your confidences, as a friend, and, late though they arrive, I shall feel bound by them henceforth, if only on the ground of the mutual consideration, which, in grave circumstances, relations owe to each other."
The idea, then, occurred to me of provoking him in another way; but I clearly realised that, as he was playing such a perfidious part, it would be dangerous for me to commit this imprudence.
"Come, my dear Daniel," I said, as I rose from my chair, "at any rate, I can see that you have a very good-natured disposition."
"Of course I have," he replied; "and yet there are people who accuse me of evil designs."
The most formidable perils are those which you feel darkly conscious of, without being able to discern either the enemy or the snare. This interview with Kiusko left almost an impression of terror on my mind. Knowing him to be as brave as I did, I felt convinced that his insensibility to my insults could only be due to the calculated calm of an implacable will, which was pursuing its object, whether of love, of vengeance, or of hatred, with all the energy of desperation.
Notwithstanding the humiliations he had undergone, I made sure that he had by no means given up the game. He meant to have Kondjé-Gul, even if he had to capture her forcibly, and to carry her off as his prey. When I considered his sinister calm, which seemed to be abiding its opportunity, I wondered whether we were not already threatened by some secret machinations on his part.
Still I was not the man to be overcome by childish panics; so I soon got over this transitory feeling of alarm. I knew that after all we were so unequally matched, that I need not seriously fear his success. However determined Kiusko might be not to abandon the cowardlyrôlehe had assumed, I felt sure that an open affront at the club would compel him to fight.
Feeling reassured by this consideration, I decided to be guided in my action by the result of the interview which I was going to have with Kondjé-Gul's mother. It was necessary for me to commence by putting a stop to the foolish proceedings of this woman, who was perhaps acting unintentionally as Kiusko's accomplice in schemes the object of which she could not foresee. It was eleven o'clock, an hour at which I knew I should find her alone, while Kondjé-Gul was taking her lessons: I went accordingly to Téral House.
When I arrived a carriage was coming in and drawing up under the portico. I saw Madame Murrah get out of it. She could not avoid showing some annoyance on observing me. Rather surprised at her taking such an early drive, I asked her to go into the drawing-room. She went there before me, and, seeing me take an arm-chair, she sat down on the divan in her usual indolent manner, and waited to hear what I had to say.
The scene which I am now going to relate to you, my dear Louis, was certainly, according to our ideas, a remarkable one. I tell it you just as it happened; but you must not forget that, for the Circassian woman, there was nothing in it which was out of conformity with her principles and the ideas of her race.
"I have come to talk with you," I said, "upon a serious subject, the importance of which perhaps you do not comprehend; for, without intending it, you are causing Kondjé-Gul a great deal of trouble."
"How am I causing my daughter trouble?" she answered, as if she had been trying to understand.
"By continually telling her that I am going to leave her in order to get married,—by telling her that you wish to go away, and have even decided to take her with you. She is of course alarmed by all these imaginary anxieties."
"If it is so decreed by Allah!" she said quietly, "who shall prevent it?"
I had been expecting denials and subterfuges. This fatalistic utterance, without answering my reproaches, took me quite aback and made me tremble.
"But," I replied in a severe tone, "Allah could not command you to bring unhappiness to your daughter."
"As you are going to be married——"
"What matters my marriage?" I answered. "It cannot in any way affect Kondjé-Gul's happiness! She knows that I love her, and that she will always retain the first place in my affections."
Madame Murrah shook her head for a minute in an undecided manner. The argument which I had employed was a most simple one.
At last she said: "Your wife will be an infidel; and, according to your laws, she will be entitled to demand my daughter's dismissal."
Dumb-founded at hearing her raise such objections, when I had fancied that I only needed to express my commands, I gazed at her in complete astonishment.
"But my wife will never know Kondjé-Gul!" I exclaimed. "She will live in her own home, and Kondjé-Gul will live here, so that nothing will be changed so far as we are concerned."
Upon this reasoning of mine, which I thought would seem decisive to her, the Circassian reflected for a moment as if embarrassed as to how she should answer me. But suddenly, just when I thought she was convinced, she said:
"All that you have said would be very true, if we were in Turkey; but you know better than I do that in your country, your religion does not permit you to have more than one wife."
"But," I exclaimed, more astounded than ever at her language, "do you suppose, then, that Kondjé-Gul could ever doubt my honour or my fidelity?"
"My daughter is a child, and believes everything," she continued. "But, for my own part, I have consulted a lawyer, and have been informed that according to your law she has become as free as a Frenchwoman, and has lost all her rights ascadinewhich she would have enjoyed in our country. Moreover I am informed that you can abandon her without her being able to claim any compensation from you."
I was struck dumb by this bold language and the expression with which it was accompanied. This was no longer the apathetic Oriental woman whose obedience I thought I commanded like a master. I had before me another woman whose expression was thoughtful and decided—I understood it all.
"While informing you that your daughter is free," I said, changing my own tone of voice, "this lawyer no doubt informed you also, that you could marry her to Count Kiusko?"
"Oh, I knew that before!" she replied, smiling.
"So you have been deceiving me these two months past, by leaving me to believe that you had answered him with a refusal?"
"It was certainly necessary to prevent you from telling him what he now knows.—The silly girl told him everything yesterday."
"How do you know that?"
I saw her face redden.
"I know it. That's enough!" she replied defiantly.
Feeling certain that Kondjé-Gul had not told her anything of the incident of the day before, I divined that she had just left Kiusko's, where she had been, no doubt, during our interview.
"May I ask you, then, what you propose to do, now that Count Kiusko knows everything?" I continued, controlling my anger.
"I shall do what my daughter's happiness impels me to do. You cannot marry her without being obliged to give up your uncle's fortune. If Count Kiusko should persist in wishing to make her his wife, knowing all the circumstances that he now does, you can understand that I, as her mother, could not but approve of a marriage which would assure her such a rich future."
At this I could no longer restrain myself, but exclaimed:
"Oh, indeed! Do you imagine I shall let you dispose of her like that, without defending her?"
"No, of course, I know all this.—And that's the very point upon which I consulted a counsel; but, according to what he has advised me, I should like to ask what authority you can claim over my daughter? What rights can you set up against mine?"
"Well, I should like to remind you also that I can ruin your comfortable expectations by killing Count Kiusko," I said, quite beside myself with rage.
"If so it is written!" she rejoined in a calm voice.
Exasperated by her fatalistic imperturbability, I felt moved by some furious and violent impulse. I got up from my chair to calm myself. I could see that for two months past I had been duped by this woman, who had been pursuing with avidity a vision of unexpected fortune, and that nothing could now divert her from this pursuit. I felt myself caught in their abominable toils.
Sitting motionless on her divan, with her hands folded over her knees, she regarded me in silence.
"Well!" I said, coming close to her again, "I can see that your maternal solicitude is all a question of money. For what sum will you sell me your daughter a second time, and go back to live by yourself in the East?"
She hesitated a moment, and then she said:
"I will tell you in a week's time."
By her deceitful looks I judged that she still placed some hope in Kiusko, and that she probably wished to wait until she could make sure about it, one way or the other—but from motives of discretion I held my tongue, and took leave of her.