Clermont/Chapter 8
CHAP. VIII.
His cheeks, where love with beauty glow'd,
A deadly pale o'ercast;
So fades the fresh rose in its prime
At the appointed time, Madame Chatteneuf and her daughter came to the chateau; nor did M. Chalons forget his invitation; but he was a much more welcome visitant to the Countess than to Madeline, as his presence restrained her conversation with Olivia, from whom she imagined, if he was not by, she should hear something of de Sevignie. They walked about the lawn before dinner; and while he stopped to make some observations on a distant prospect of the Alps to the elder ladies, she and Olivia rambled on.
"Well, my dear (said the latter when they had got a sufficient distance not to be overheard), our ball the other evening was delightful; there was only one person that appeared dejected at it; and who that person was, and why dejected, I dare say you can guess."
"Impossible," (said Madeline, while a rosy blush at the same moment declared her consciousness of the object.)
"Poor de Sevignie (resumed Olivia), expected to have met you; and, in consequence of his disappointment, neither danced, talked, or did any thing like himself the whole evening."
It was this expectation then perhaps, thought Madeline, which prevented his coming the other morning. The idea was too pleasing to be rejected; and every shadow of uneasiness vanished from her mind. Dinner was served at an earlier hour than usual; and soon after they had taken coffee, the Countess bade them adieu, the road between the town and the chateau being extremely lonesome.
She tenderly embraced Madeline at parting; and said, as she gave up one of her highest sources of pleasure in resigning her company, she could not wonder if she soon recalled her.
"Remember (cried Madame Chatteneuf), whenever you desire her return, you must come for her yourself; for, of our own accord, we cannot relinquish her society."
Pleased with the idea of soon beholding de Sevignie, and still more pleased at being able to account in any kind of satisfactory manner for his conduct, Madeline was unusually animated, and chatted with almost as much vivacity as the little voluble Olivia, who, on reaching home, proposed a walk upon the ramparts of the town, the fashionable promenade of the place. Thither they all accordingly repaired, except Madame Chatteneuf, who felt somewhat fatigued. The sun was already set, and all was soft, serene and lovely: beneath the ramparts lay a delicious plain, scattered over with clumps of thick and spreading trees, a few neat cottages, and groups of cattle now reposing in sweet tranquillity. The river, that flowed in beautiful meanders through the plain, had already assumed the sable hue of evening, and thus heightened the brilliancy of the stars it reflected. The majestic Alps bounded the prospect, their feet hid in gloomy shadows, and their summits just beginning to be touched by the beams of a rising moon, which, as it ascended higher in the horizon, partly dissipated those shadows, and revealed in some degree, the romantic recesses they had concealed.
The company were just beginning to leave the ramparts; but the fineness of the night prevented Olivia and her companions from following their example, and they were soon the only party on them. As they proceeded, admiring the sublime and beautiful prospect they beheld, which touched their hearts with a kind of pensive pleasure, they nearly overtook a gentleman who walked before them, with downcast looks and folded arms, as if in deep and melancholy meditation: his air, his figure, had a strong resemblance to de Sevignie's; and Madeline was almost convinced it was him; but she feared saying so, lest she should betray the agitation the idea had excited. Olivia, however, free from all such emotion, instantly declared it was him; and, quickening her pace, found she was not mistaken. He started at the sound of her voice, and betrayed the greatest confusion while attempting, vainly attempting, to return her raillery: he caught a glimpse of Madeline, who had hitherto stood rather behind her friend: again he started; and, leaving unfinished what he was saying to Olivia, he took the trembling hand of Madeline with one equally tremulous, exclaiming, "This is indeed an unexpected pleasure." The soft beam which stole from her eye at that moment, convinced M. Chalons, who watched her with the most critical attention, that the fate of her heart was already decided; and he rejoiced at having made the discovery ere his own affections were more entangled, resolving from that period to pay her no other attentions than what common politeness demanded, that the world might have no reason to rank him in the list of unfortunate lovers.
De Sevignie appeared no longer dejected; his eyes sparkled with their wonted fire; and he was able to answer the raillery of Mademoiselle Chatteneuf with his accustomed spirit. He accepted her invitation to supper; and never had minutes been so delightful to Madeline as those she passed at it. In his looks, as well as words, there was a tenderness, whenever he addressed her, which convinced her of his sincerity. "The tongue (said she to herself), might be taught the language of deceit, but the eyes could never be instructed in it; they have ever been famed for telling truth."
The next morning after breakfast, she and Olivia walked out for the purpose of seeing some of the town, and purchasing some things which she wanted to wear at a large party to which she was to be taken in the evening, and which the Countess had amply given her the means of procuring. They had not proceeded far ere they met de Sevignie.
"Well you are a good creature (said Olivia), for I presume you are coming to pay your devoirs at our house, as I meet you in the high road to it." He made no reply; and she continued, "you shall not however be disappointed of the pleasure of our company; we are going to take a ramble, and will permit you to be our escort."
"Your permission honours me (said he); but I am unfortunately prevented by very particular business from availing myself of it."
"Go, go; you are a shocking creature I declare (cried Olivia); this business is the same with that which prevented your waiting on Mademoiselle Clermont the other morning according to your promise." His letter had been shown, and the reason of it explained to Olivia and her mother.
De Sevignie coloured highly, and looked confused. "You speak sometimes from supposition I fancy," said he to Olivia.
"Not now I can assure (replied she); I know very well that what you have just said to me, is a mere pretext as well as what you wrote to Mam'selle Clermont the other morning."
"Well, allowing that you are right (cried he), what can you infer from my trying to avoid her company and yours? but that I am sensible of the danger I run in being with either; and that, unlike your military heroes, I rather fly from it than brave it."
"You should always have that apprehension of danger about you then (said Olivia), and not ask a lady's permission to wait upon her, and then send a frivolous excuse."
"We are not always collected (cried he), and the reflection of the morning often destroys the resolution of the night." He then bowed and walked away.
The solemn accent in which he had delivered the last words shocked Madeline as much as the alteration in his looks and manner had already done; he was pale and languid; and his eyes, instead of anxiously seeking, assiduously avoided her; while a cool salutation was the only notice he took of her.
"De Sevignie is really one of the most altered beings within those few days I ever knew (said Olivia, as they pursued their way); his conduct is really quite incomprehensible: was he an unfortunate lover, one might be able to account for it; but of that (continued she, looking archly at Madeline), there is little danger."
The pale cheeks of Madeline were instantly crimsoned over; and the distress and confusion she betrayed, precluded all farther raillery from Olivia.
In pity to her companion, who she saw scarcely able to stand, she hastened their return home; and, hoping solitude would enable her to recruit her spirits, under the pretext of dressing, proposed retiring to their respective chambers; a proposal which, as she imagined, was eagerly embraced.
The moment Madeline was alone, the tears, which pride had suppressed in the presence of Olivia, burst forth: but while she wept the alteration in the conduct of de Sevignie, her heart secretly applauded it as a convincing proof of his honour and sensibility. "Either his reason or his situation does not sanction his attachment to me (said she), and he thus delicately, thus feelingly tries to suppress mine by remitting his attentions.
"Never does he now address me with tenderness, but when we accidentally meet, as if thrown off his guard at those moments by surprise: for whenever a meeting might be expected, he shuns it with anxiety; and if it does take place, treats me with the coldest indifference. Oh, let me (she continued), aid his efforts; let me endeavour to expel from my heart an attachment which, it is evident, can only end in unhappiness. Nor is it my own peace alone I shall consider by doing so; no, the peace of my father, dearer to me than life, is also concerned. I promised to my benevolent friend to resist the indulgence of feelings which had a tendency to embitter my tranquillity, and I will not wilfully violate that promise;—no, ye dear and revered preceptors of my youth! ye who, like benignant spirits, have watched over your Madeline, she will not make so ill a return to your care as to yield herself unresistingly a victim to sorrow—if she cannot attain, she will at least try to be deserving of the felicity you wish her!" She sighed heavily as she spoke; certain that that felicity never now could be hers; and that her efforts to conquer her attachment would be vain; when, at the very moment she wished to make them, the object of it was raised higher than ever in her estimation.
She thought not of dressing till Mademoiselle Chatteneuf tapped at her door to know if she was ready: she opened it with much confusion; and, apologizing for her tardiness, hurried on her clothes, and was soon able to attend her to dinner.
The entertainment to which they went in the evening, was pretty much in the stile of that given by Madame Chatteneuf: all the officers and most of the fashionable people in town were assembled; but de Sevignie was not to be seen; his absence did not surprise, but it pained Madeline; she was sure ere she went, that he would not be present, from a fear of meeting her; and she sighed to think a sad necessity existed for his wishing to avoid her. She would not have danced, but from a fear of appearing particular if she refused. Her partner was a stranger; for though M. Chalons was present, he did not, in conformity to his resolution, attempt to engage her; he sought, indeed, to avoid as much as possible the fascination of her looks, which had already made too deep, and, he feared, too lasting an impression on his heart.
The next morning she went with her friends in their coach to pay visits, and take a survey of the town; and the charms of their conversation, joined to the novelty of every thing she saw, insensibly beguiled her sadness. A select party assembled at dinner; de Sevignie was invited, but sent an excuse; the first, Olivia said, they had ever received from him, though they had frequently asked him, as he was not only a favourite of hers, but of her mother.