The Maid of Honour (Historical Novel). Wingfield Lewis
she murmured. "In the name of honest womanhood and vain regret--go! that this folly may be forgotten. I will try to forget. Go! and I swear to you that no word of it shall pass my lips."
"How little you know me," scoffed the abbé, disdaining for the time to press her further. "Have you not learnt yet, that what I will is done? Awake the pig there, and ask if it is not so. What I have resolved upon, I do. You are mine--all mine--whether you like it or not; now or a little later!"
"Then I must seek refuge with my husband."
"If you accuse me, he will not believe you. The influence over him that you awkwardly threw away, I gained. How ill you've played your cards, most charming woman! He is a weak man who must be led by some one--it might have been by you. Come, say the word, and you shall lead him yet; or, rather, we will together."
Gabrielle looked again into the abbé's face (which was so terribly close to hers), then at that of his sleeping brother, who had turned in uneasy slumber. How could she have been deceived so long? Sensuality on both masks--the one, gross and altogether earthy; the other, marked by flashes of sly eyes and twists of thin lips that were not well to look upon, for that second mask was transparent, and the devil was peering through.
"I will give you time to think," proceeded the abbé, "since, though the moment is propitious, you are not in the mood for wooing. Here is a rebus. Your fate is in my hand, yet in your own. According as you decide, you will find in me the most devoted servant or the most implacable enemy. The love of us southerners is not far removed from hate. According as you act, you may bask in its beams or be scorched into a cinder; hence it is to be feared and respected."
Pressing so close to her that she could feel the pulsations of his breast, he added in low accents that cut into her heart like steel, "Be well advised, and comprehend the truth. Your life hangs in the balance for happiness or misery. Consider, and choose wisely, for this is the critical time on which your fate depends."
Then, opening the door with a bow whose distinction would have done honour to Trianon, he stood aside to let the lady pass into her bedchamber. Closing the door again, he knit his brows and bit his nails while contemplating the sleeping chevalier. "A trifle premature, that's all," he muttered; "no harm done, for all her sweeping pride. Well-meaning, vacillating women are like satin-skinned horses in the arena--all the better for a touch of the lash. It is written, my mission is to teach her love, and I will do it thoroughly from my own point of view--of course. She is inexperienced, and proud, and empty. If the fruit's not ripe, I've time to wait for it to mellow. Perhaps, who knows? I may, should she be restive, be forced to crush her pride. A pity! for it would be a charm removed. Perchance I shall only squeeze firmly, without crushing it. The snaring of a bird that is shy, whose plumage must not be injured! Shall it be tamed by kindness, or the reverse? A problem, this, that Time's slow fingers must unravel. The key to it is patience--most valuable of virtues!" He stood long, pondering as he surveyed his sleeping brother. It was as if he sought some luminous answer in those puffed and stolid features.
Next morning, Gabrielle appeared at déjeuner with pallid cheeks and red eyes, under whose lids there glinted a ray of apprehension. That Clovis's two half-brothers should both have developed, without encouragement, so ill-omened a passion! What had the future in store for a helpless woman as the upshot of so perilous a dilemma? Was it not, after all, an ugly dream--a hideous nightmare born of Erebus, that had been routed by healthful morning? Having eaten his fill, Clovis was placidly sipping claret, and forming a mimic tub out of bread-crusts. The round visage of the chevalier was as expressionless as usual.
Upon the entrance of the chatelaine, the abbé had risen to close the door with nimblest alacrity and deftest grace, and had led her to the table with ceremoniously respectful finger-tips. The evil expression was gone. Glancing nervously at him, she saw nothing but a polished bonhomie veneered with distant and deferential kindliness. He deplored her looks with ready grief, but added, for consolation, that a washed rose revives in sunshine, and becomes more fragrant for the shower.
"She mopes for lack of proper exercise," he exclaimed, with a gentle headshake of reproach. "Let us make a little party, and make a raid on Montbazon."
Clovis, busy with the bread-crusts, remarked somewhat tartly that he was much occupied, as they ought all to know; that the others had better go without him; whereupon Gabrielle turned pale. Ride with the two brothers, whose overweening and importunate affection she had so recently repulsed!
"I vow," cried facetious Pharamond, "that our Gabrielle is growing delicate. She who was wont to be active objects to exercise. Decidedly, my Clovis, we must set the miraculous tub agoing for the benefit of your delightful wife."
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