Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 15 (39 page)

 
          
“I
am not what you think me, sir, and your generous sympathy comes too late. I was
a widow; for the husband whose misfortune should have made his name sacred even
to you died three years ago—I am a wife, happy in the love doubt could not
estrange or time destroy. Your dark designs have failed, and for every year of
needless separation we forgive you, since it renders our affection doubly
strong, our union doubly blessed. Your absence at Mme. Steinburg’s side removed
the only barrier that could have kept us still asunder. Let me thank both of
those false friends for the one kind deed that crowned our happiness. Gustave
has left your punishment to me. See! It is this.”

 
          
With
a gesture of impassioned grace she threw herself upon my breast, and looking
out from that fond shelter with a countenance all radiant with love, and pride,
and joy, she cried, “Go! We pity you, and from the fullness of our bliss we
pardon all.”

           
She had avenged us well, for in the
glance my proud eyes met, I read passion, humiliation, and despair, as Louis
gazed upon us for a moment, and then vanished, the last cloud that dimmed our
sky.

 
          
Paris
lay behind us, and we stood on the green
terrace looking over the fair domain now so full of peace and promise to our
eyes.

 
          
Remembering
the look of hopeless anguish that had stirred the face I loved in that same
spot so long ago, I looked down to read its lineaments afresh.

 
          
It
was there, close beside me, bright with happiness, and beautiful with the
returning bloom that banished its former pensive charm. Trust spoke in the
clinging touch upon my arm, joy beamed in the blithe smile of her lips, and
love sat like a glory in her tender eyes.

 
          
She
met my glance, and with a sudden impulse folded her hands, saying softly, “The
shadow has departed, Gustave, never to return, and I am free at last. May I be
truly grateful for my happy
lot.
”

 
          
“No,
dearest Mathilde, you are a captive still, not to duty, but to love, whose
thralldom shall be to you as light as the fetter I now bind you with.” And as I
spoke I clasped a slender chain of gold upon the fair arm where for nine bitter
years lay the weight of that steel bracelet.

 
 
          
AS
we rolled along, I scanned my companion covertly, and saw much / \ to interest
a girl of seventeen. My uncle was a handsome man, with all the polish of
foreign life fresh upon him; yet it was neither comeliness nor graceful ease
which most attracted me; for even my inexperienced eye caught glimpses of
something stern and somber below these external charms, and my long scrutiny
showed me the keenest eye, the hardest mouth, the subtlest smile I ever saw—a
face which in repose wore the look that comes to those who have led lives of
pleasure and learned their emptiness. He seemed intent on some thought that
absorbed him, and for a time rendered him forgetful of my presence, as he sat
with folded arms, fixed eyes, and restless lips. While I looked, my own mind
was full of deeper thought than it had ever been before; for I was recalling,
word for word, a paragraph in that half-read letter:

 
          
At
eighteen Sybil is to marry her cousin, the compact having been made between my
brother and myself in their childhood. My son is with me now, and I wish them
to be together during the next few months, therefore my niece must leave you
sooner than l at first intended. Oblige me by preparing her for an immediate
and final separation, but leave all disclosures to me, as 1
prefer
the girl to remain ignorant of the matter for the present.

 
          
That
displeased me. Why was I to remain ignorant of so important an affair? Then I
smiled to myself, remembering that I did know, thanks to the willful curiosity
that prompted me to steal a peep into the letter that Mme. Bernard had pored
over with such an anxious face. I saw only a single paragraph, for my own name
arrested my eye; and, though wild to read all, I had scarcely time to whisk the
paper back into the reticule the forgetful old soul had left hanging on the arm
of her chair. It was enough, however, to set my girlish brain in
a ferment
, and keep me gazing wistfully at my uncle,
conscious that my future now lay in his hands; for I was an orphan and he my
guardian, though I had seen him but seldom since I was confided to Madame a six
years’ child.

 
          
Presently
my uncle became cognizant of my steady stare, and returned it with one as
steady for a moment, then said, in a low, smooth
tone, that
ill accorded with the satirical smile that touched his lips, “I am a dull
companion for my little niece. How shall I provide her with pleasanter
amusement than counting my wrinkles or guessing my thoughts?”

 
          
I
was a frank, fearless creature, quick to feel, speak, and act, so I answered
readily, “Tell me about my cousin Guy. Is he as handsome, brave, and clever as
Madame says his father was when a boy?”

 
          
My
uncle laughed a short laugh, touched with scorn, whether for Madame, himself,
or me I could not tell, for his countenance was hard to read.

 
          
“A
girl’s question and artfully put; nevertheless I shall not answer it, but let
you judge for yourself.”

 
          
“But,
sir, it will amuse me and beguile the way. I feel a little strange and forlorn
at leaving
Madame,
and talking of my new home and
friends will help me to know and love them sooner. Please tell me, for I’ve had
my own way all my life, and can’t bear to be crossed.”

 
          
My
petulance seemed to amuse him, and I became aware that he was observing me with
a scrutiny as keen as my own had been; but I smilingly sustained it, for my
vanity was pleased by the approbation his eye betrayed. The evident interest he
now took in all I said and did was sufficient flattery for a young thing,
who
felt her charms and longed to try their power.

 
          
“I,
too, have had my own way all my life; and as the life is double the length, the
will is double the strength of yours, and again I say no. What next,
mademoiselle?”

 
          
He
was blander than ever as he spoke, but I was piqued, and resolved to try
coaxing, eager to gain my point, lest a too early submission now should mar my
freedom in the future.

 
          
“But
that is ungallant, Uncle, and I still have hopes of a kinder answer, both
because you are too generous to refuse so small a favor to your ‘little niece,’
and because she can be charmingly wheedlesome when she likes. Won’t you say yes
now, Uncle?” And pleased with the daring of the thing, I put my arm about his
neck, kissed him daintily, and perched myself upon his knee with most audacious
ease.

 
          
He
regarded me mutely for an instant, then, holding me fast, deliberately returned
my salute on lips, cheeks, and forehead, with such warmth that I turned scarlet
and struggled to free myself, while he laughed that mirthless laugh of his till
my shame turned to anger, and I imperiously commanded him to let me go.

 
          
“Not yet, young lady.
You came here for your own pleasure,
but shall stay for mine, till I tame you as I see you must be tamed. It is a
short process with me, and I possess experience in the work; for Guy, though by
nature as wild as a hawk, has learned to come at my call as meekly as a dove.
Chut! What a little fury it is!”

 
          
I
was just then; for exasperated at his coolness, and quite beside myself, I had
suddenly stooped and bitten the shapely white hand that held both my own. I had
better have submitted; for slight as the foolish action was, it had an influence
on my afterlife as many another such has had. My uncle stopped laughing, his
hand tightened its grasp, for a moment his cold eye glittered and a grim look
settled round the mouth, giving to his whole face a ruthless expression that
entirely altered it. I felt perfectly powerless. All my little arts had failed,
and for the first time I was mastered. Yet only physically; my spirit was
rebellious still. He saw it in the glance that met his own, as I sat erect and
pale, with something more than childish anger. I think it pleased him, for
swiftly as it had come the dark look passed, and quietly, as if we were the
best of friends, he began to relate certain exciting adventures he had known
abroad, lending to the picturesque narration the charm of that peculiarly
melodious voice, which soothed and won me in spite of myself, holding me intent
till I forgot the past; and when he paused I found that I was leaning
confidentially on his shoulder, asking for more, yet conscious of an
instinctive distrust of this man whom I had so soon learned to fear yet fancy.

 
          
As
I was recalled to myself, I endeavored to leave him; but he still detained me,
and, with a curious expression, produced a case so quaintly fashioned that I
cried out in admiration, while he selected two cigarettes, mildly aromatic with
the herbs they were composed of, lit them, offered me one, dropped the window,
and leaning back surveyed me with an air of extreme enjoyment, as I sat meekly
puffing and wondering what prank I should play a part in next. Slowly the
narcotic influence of the herbs diffused itself like a pleasant haze over all
my senses; sleep, the most grateful, fell upon my eyelids, and the last thing I
remember was my uncles face dreamily regarding me through a cloud of fragrant smoke.
Twilight wrapped us in its shadows when I woke, with the night wind blowing on
my forehead, the muffled roll of wheels sounding in my ear, and my cheek
pillowed upon my uncle’s arm. He was humming a French chanson about “love and
wine, and the
Seine
tomorrow!” I listened till I caught the
air, and presently joined him, mingling my girlish treble with his flutelike
tenor. He stopped at once and, in the coolly courteous tone I had always heard
in our few interviews, asked if I was ready for lights and home.

 
          
“Are
we there?” I cried; and looking out saw that we were ascending an avenue which
swept up to a pile of buildings that rose tall and dark against the sky, with
here and there a gleam along its gray front.

 
          
“Home
at last, thank heaven!” And springing out with the agility of a young man, my
uncle led me over a terrace into a long hall, light and warm, and odorous with
the breath of flowers blossoming here and there in graceful groups. A civil,
middle-aged maid received and took me to my room, a bijou of a place, which
increased my wonder when told that my uncle had chosen all its decorations and
superintended their arrangement. “He understands women,” I thought, handling
the toilet ornaments, trying luxurious chair and lounge, and ending by slipping
my feet into the scarlet-and-white Turkish slippers, coquettishly turning up
their toes before the fire. A few moments I gave to examination, and, having
expressed my satisfaction, was asked by my maid if I would be pleased to dress,
as “the master” never allowed dinner to wait for anyone. This recalled to me
the fact that I was doubtless to meet my future husband at that meal, and in a
moment every faculty was intent upon achieving a grand toilette for this first
interview. The maid possessed skill and taste, and I a wardrobe lately
embellished with Parisian gifts from my uncle which I was eager to display in
his honor.

 
          
When
ready, I surveyed myself in the long mirror as I had never done before, and saw
there a little figure, slender, yet stately, in a dress of foreign fashion,
ornamented with lace and carnation ribbons which enhanced the fairness of neck
and arms, while blond hair, wavy and golden, was gathered into an antique knot
of curls behind, with a carnation fillet, and below a blooming dark-eyed face,
just then radiant with girlish vanity and eagerness and hope.

 
          
“I’m
glad I’m pretty!”

 
          
“So am I, Sybil.”

 
          
I
had unconsciously spoken aloud, and the echo came from the doorway where stood
my uncle, carefully dressed, looking comelier and cooler than ever. The
disagreeable smile flitted over his lips as he spoke, and I started,
then
stood abashed, till beckoning, he added in his most

 
          
courtly
manner, “You were so absorbed in the contemplation
of your charming self that Janet answered my tap and took herself away unheard.
You are mistress of my table now. It waits; will you come down?” With a last
touch to that unruly hair of mine, a last, comprehensive glance and shake, I
took the offered arm and rustled down the wide staircase, feeling that the
romance of my life was about to begin. Three covers were laid, three chairs
set, but only two were occupied, for no Guy appeared. I asked no questions,
showed no surprise, but tried to devour my chagrin with my dinner, and exerted
myself to charm my uncle into the belief that I had forgotten my cousin. It was
a failure, however, for that empty seat had an irresistible fascination for me,
and more than once, as my eye returned from its furtive scrutiny of napkin,
plate, and trio of colored glasses, it met my uncle’s and fell before his
penetrative glance. When I gladly rose to leave him to his wine—for he did not
ask me to remain—he also rose, and, as he held the door for me, he said, “You
asked me to describe your cousin. You have seen one trait of his character
tonight; does it please you?”

 
          
I
knew he was as much vexed as I at Guy’s absence, so quoting his own words, I
answered saucily, “Yes, for I’d rather see the hawk free than coming tamely at
your call, Uncle.”

 
          
He
frowned slightly, as if unused to such liberty of speech, yet bowed when I
swept him a stately little curtsy and sailed away to the drawing room,
wondering if my uncle was as angry with me as I was with my cousin. In solitary
grandeur I amused myself by strolling through the suite of handsome rooms henceforth
to be my realm, looked at myself in the long mirrors, as every woman is apt to
do when alone and in costume, danced over the mossy carpets, touched the grand
piano, smelled the flowers, fingered the ornaments on etagere and table, and
was just giving my handkerchief a second drench of some refreshing perfume from
a filigree flask that had captivated me when the hall door was flung wide, a
quick step went running upstairs, boots tramped overhead, drawers seemed
hastily opened and shut, and a bold, blithe voice broke out into a hunting song
in a tone so like my uncle’s that I involuntarily flew to the door, crying,
“Guy is come!”

 
          
Fortunately
for my dignity, no one heard me, and hurrying back I stood ready to skim into a
chair and assume propriety at a minute’s notice, conscious, meanwhile, of the
new influence which seemed suddenly to gift the silent house with vitality, and
add the one charm it needed—that of cheerful companionship. “How will he meet
me? And how shall I meet him?” I thought, looking up at the bright-faced boy,
whose portrait looked back at me with a mirthful light in the painted eyes and
a trace of his
fathers
disdainful smile in the curves
of the firm-set lips. Presently the quick steps
came
flying down again, past the door, straight to the dining room opposite, and, as
I stood listening with a strange flutter at my heart, I heard an imperious
young voice say rapidly, “Beg pardon, sir, unavoidably detained. Has she comer5
Is
she bearable?”