The Marquise of O and Other Stories (10 page)

Meanwhile Count F—, detained in Naples by unavoidable duties, had written for the second time to the Marquise urging her to consider that unusual circumstances might arise which would make it desirable for her to abide by the tacit undertaking she had given him. As soon as he had succeeded in declining his further official journey to Constantinople, and as soon as his other business permitted, he at once left Naples and duly arrived in M— only a few days later than the date on which he had said he would do so. The Commandant received him with an air of embarrassment,
said that he was about to leave the house on urgent business, and asked his son to entertain the Count in the meantime. The latter took him to his room and, after greeting him briefly, asked him whether he already knew about what had happened in the Commandant's house during his absence. The Count, turning pale for a moment, answered that he did not. The Marquise's brother thereupon informed him of the disgrace which his sister had brought upon the family, and narrated the events with which our readers are already acquainted. The Count struck his forehead with his hand and exclaimed, quite forgetting himself: ‘Why were so many obstacles put in my way! If the marriage had taken place, we should have been spared all this shame and unhappiness!' The Commandant's son, staring at him wide-eyed, asked him whether he was so crazy as to want to be married to so contemptible a person. The Count replied that she was worth more than the whole of the world which despised her; that he for his part absolutely believed her declaration of innocence; and that he would go that very day to V— and renew his offer to her. So saying he at once picked up his hat and left, after bidding farewell to the Commandant's son, who concluded that he must have taken leave of his senses.

Taking a horse he galloped out to V—. When he had dismounted at the gate and was about to enter the forecourt, the porter told him that her ladyship was not at home to anyone. The Count inquired whether these instructions, issued presumably to keep away strangers, also applied to a friend of the family, to which the man answered that he was not aware of any exceptions to them; and he then almost at once inquired, in a rather dubious manner, whether the gentleman were not perhaps Count F–? The Count, after glancing at him sharply, answered that he was not; then turning to his servant, but speaking loudly enough for the other man to hear, he said that in these circumstances he would lodge at an inn and announce himself to
her ladyship in writing. But as soon as he was out of the porter's sight he turned a corner and slipped quietly round the wall of an extensive garden which lay behind the house. By a door which he found unlocked he entered the garden, walked through it along the paths, and was just about to ascend the terrace to the rear of the house when in an arbour at one side of it he caught sight of the Marquise, her figure charmingly and mysteriously altered, sitting busily working at a little table. He approached her in such a manner that she could not notice him until he was standing at the entrance to the arbour, three short steps from her feet. ‘Count F—!' she exclaimed as she looked up, blushing scarlet with surprise. The Count smiled, and remained standing motionless in the entrance for some moments; then, with a show of affection sufficiently modest not to alarm her, he sat down at her side, and before she could make up her mind what to do in so strange a situation, he put his arm gently and lovingly around her waist. ‘But Count, how is this possible, where have you –' began the Marquise, and then shyly cast down her eyes. ‘From M—,' said the Count, pressing her very gently to him. ‘I found a back door open and came through it into your garden; I felt sure you would forgive me for doing so.' ‘But when you were in M— did they not tell you – ?' she asked, still motionless in his arms. ‘Everything, dearest lady,' replied the Count. ‘But fully convinced of your innocence –' ‘What!' cried the Marquise, rising to her feet and trying to free herself from him, ‘and despite that you come here?' ‘Despite the world,' he went on, holding her fast, ‘and despite your family, and even despite your present enchanting appearance' – at which words he ardently kissed her breast. ‘Go away!' she exclaimed, but he continued: ‘– as convinced, Giulietta, as if I were omniscient, as if my own soul were living in your body.' The Marquise cried: ‘Let me go!' ‘I have come,' he concluded, still without releasing her, ‘to repeat my proposal and to receive, if you will accept it,
the bliss of paradise from your hand.' ‘Let me go immediately!' she cried, ‘I order you to let me go!', and freeing herself forcibly from his embrace she started away from him. ‘Darling! adorable creature!' he whispered, rising to his feet again and following her. ‘You heard me!' cried the Marquise, turning and evading him. ‘One secret, whispered word!' said the Count, hastily snatching at her smooth arm as it slipped from him. 'I
do not want to hear
anything,' she retorted, violently pushing him back; then she fled up on to the terrace and disappeared.

He was already half-way up to her, determined at all costs to get a hearing, when the door was slammed in his face, and in front of his hurrying steps he heard the bolt rattle as with distraught vehemence she pushed it home. He stood for a moment undecided what to do in this situation, considering whether he should climb in through a side window which was standing open, and pursue his purpose until he had achieved it; but although it was in every sense difficult for him to desist, it did now seem necessary to do so, and bitterly vexed with himself for letting her slip from his arms, he retreated from the terrace, left the garden, and went to find his horse. He felt that his attempt to pour out his heart to her in person had failed forever, and rode slowly back to M—, thinking over the wording of a letter which he now felt condemned to write. That evening, as he was dining in a public place, very much out of humour, he met the Marquise's brother, who at once asked him whether he had successfully made his proposal in V—. The Count answered curtly that he had not, and felt very much inclined to dismiss his interlocutor with some bitter phrase; but for the sake of politeness he presently added that he had decided to write the lady a letter, which would soon clarify the issue. The Commandant's son said he noticed with regret that the Count's passion for his sister was driving him quite out of his mind. He must, however, assure the Count that she was already on her way to making
a different choice; so saying he rang for the latest newspapers and gave the Count the sheet in which was inserted his sister's advertisement appealing to the father of her child. The Count flushed suddenly as he read it; conflicting emotions rushed through him. The Marquise's brother asked him if he did not think that she would find the person she was looking for. ‘Undoubtedly!' answered the Count, with his whole mind intent on the paper, greedily devouring the meaning of the announcement. Then, after folding it up and stepping over to the window for a moment, he said: ‘Now everything is all right! Now I know what to do!' He then turned round, and after courteously asking the Commandant's son whether they would soon meet again, he took his leave of him and departed, quite reconciled to his lot.

Meanwhile some very animated scenes had taken place at the Commandant's house. His wife was in a state of extreme vexation at her husband's destructive vehemence and at her own weakness in allowing him to overrule her objections to his tyrannical banishment of their daughter. When she heard the pistol shot in his bedroom and saw her daughter rushing out of it she had fainted away; she had, to be sure, soon recovered herself, but all the Commandant did when she came to her senses was to apologize for causing her this unnecessary alarm, and throw the discharged pistol down on to a table. Later, when it was proposed to claim custody of their daughter's children, she timorously ventured to declare that they had no right to take such a step; in a voice still weak from her recent swoon, she touchingly implored him to avoid violent scenes in the house; but the Commandant, not answering her, had merely turned foaming with rage to his son and ordered him: ‘Go to her! and bring them back here!' When Count F—'s second letter arrived, the Commandant had ordered that it should be sent out to the Marquise at V—; the messenger afterwards reported that she had simply laid it on one side
and dismissed him. Her mother, to whom so much in this whole affair was incomprehensible, more particularly her daughter's inclination to get married again and to someone totally indifferent to her, tried vainly to initiate a discussion of this point. Each time she did so the Commandant requested her to be silent, in a manner more like an order than a request; on one such occasion he removed from the wall a portrait of his daughter that was still hanging there, declaring that he wished to expunge her completely from his memory; he no longer, he said, had a daughter. Then the Marquise's strange advertisement was published. The Commandant had handed the paper containing it to his wife, who read it with absolute amazement and went with it to her husband's rooms, where she found him working at a table, and asked him what on earth he thought of it. The Commandant continuing to write, said: ‘Oh, she is innocent!' ‘What!' exclaimed his wife, astonished beyond measure, ‘innocent?' ‘She did it in her sleep,' said the Commandant, without looking up. ‘In her sleep!' replied his wife. ‘And you are telling me that such a monstrous occurrence –' ‘Silly woman!' exclaimed the Commandant, pushing his papers together and leaving the room.

On the next day on which news was published the Commandant's wife, seated with her husband at breakfast, was handed a news-sheet which had just arrived not yet dry from the printers, and in it she read the following answer: 'If the Marquise of O— will be present at II o'clock on the morning of the 3rd of — in the house of her father Colonel G—, the man whom she wishes to trace will there cast himself at her feet.'

The Colonel's wife became speechless before she had even read halfway through this extraordinary insertion; she glanced at the end, and handed the sheet to the Commandant. The latter read it through three times, as if he could not believe his own eyes. 'Now tell me, in heaven's name, Lorenzo,' cried his wife, ‘what do you make of that?' ‘Why,
the infamous woman!' replied the Commandant, rising from the table, ‘the sanctimonious hypocrite! The shamelessness of a bitch coupled with the cunning of a fox and multiplied tenfold are as nothing to hers! So sweet a face! Such eyes, as innocent as a cherub!' And nothing could calm his distress. ‘But if it is a trick,' asked his wife, ‘what on earth can be her purpose?' ‘Her purpose?' retorted the Colonel. ‘She is determined to force us to accept her contemptible pretence. She and that man have already learnt by heart the cock-and-bull story they will tell us when the two of them appear here on the third at eleven in the morning. And I shall be expected to say: “My dear little daughter, I did not know that, who could have thought such a thing, forgive me, receive my blessing, and let us be friends again.” But I have a bullet ready for the man who steps across my threshold on the third! Or perhaps it would be more suitable to have him thrown out of the house by the servants.' His wife, after a further perusal of the announcement in the paper, said that if she was to believe one of two incomprehensible things, then she found it more credible that some extraordinary quirk of fate had occurred than that a daughter who had always been so virtuous should now behave so basely. But before she had even finished speaking, her husband was already shouting: ‘Be so good as to hold your tongue! I cannot bear,' he added, leaving the room, ‘even to hear this hateful matter mentioned.'

A few days later the Commandant received a letter from the Marquise referring to the second announcement, and most respectfully and touchingly begging him, since she had been deprived of the privilege of setting foot in his house, to be so kind as to send whoever presented himself there on the morning of the third out to her estate at V—. Her mother happened to be present when the Commandant received this letter, and she noticed by the expression on his face that his feelings had become confused; for if the whole thing was indeed a trick, what motive was he to impute to
her now, since she seemed to be making no sort of claim to his forgiveness? Emboldened by this, she accordingly proposed a plan which her heart, troubled by doubts as it was, had for some time been harbouring. As her husband still stared expressionlessly at the paper, she said that she had an idea. Would he allow her to go for one or two days out to V–? She undertook to devise a situation in which the Marquise, if she really knew the man who had answered her advertisement as if he were a stranger, would undoubtedly betray herself, even if she was the world's most sophisticated deceiver. The Commandant, with sudden violence, tore his daughter's letter to shreds, and replied to his wife that, as she well knew, he wished to have nothing whatever to do with its writer, and absolutely forbade her mother to enter into any communication with her. He sealed up the torn pieces in an envelope, wrote the Marquise's address on it, and returned it to the messenger as his answer. His wife, inwardly exasperated by this headstrong obstinacy which would destroy any possibility they had of clearing the matter up, now decided to carry out her plan against her husband's will. On the very next morning, while the Commandant was still in bed, she took one of his grooms and drove with him out to V—. When she reached the gate of her daughter's country house, the porter told her that his orders were to admit no one to her ladyship's presence. The Commandant's wife replied that she knew of these orders, but that he was nevertheless to go and announce the wife of Colonel G—. To this the man answered that it would be useless to do so, since his mistress was receiving no one, and there were no exceptions. The Commandant's wife answered that she would be received by his mistress, as she was her mother; would he therefore be good enough to do his errand without further delay. But scarcely had the man, still predicting that this mission would be fruitless, entered the house than the Marquise was seen to emerge from it and come in haste to the gate, where she
fell on her knees before her mother's carriage. The latter, assisted by her groom, stepped down from it, and in some emotion raised her daughter from the ground. The Marquise, quite overwhelmed by her feelings, bowed low over her mother's hand to kiss it; then, shedding frequent tears, she very respectfully conducted her through the rooms of her house and seated her on a divan. ‘My dearest mother!' she exclaimed, still standing in front of her and drying her eyes, ‘to what happy chance do I owe the inexpressible pleasure of your visit?' Her mother, taking her affectionately by the hand, said that she must tell her she had simply come to ask her forgiveness for the hard-hearted way in which she had been expelled from her parents' house. ‘Forgiveness!' cried the Marquise, and tried to kiss her hand. But her mother, withdrawing her hand, continued: ‘For not only did the recently published answer to – your advertisement convince myself and your father of your innocence, but I have also to tell you that the man in question, to our great delight and surprise, has already presented himself at our house yesterday.' ‘
Who
has already –?' asked the Marquise, sitting down beside her mother, ‘
what
man in question has presented himself –?' And her face was tense with expectation. Her mother answered: ‘The man who wrote that reply, he himself in person, the man to whom your appeal was directed.' ‘Well, then,' said the Marquise, with her breast heaving in agitation, ‘who is he?' And she repeated: ‘Who is he?' ‘That,' replied her mother, ‘is what I should like you to guess. For just imagine: yesterday, as we were sitting at tea, and in the act of reading that extraordinary newspaper announcement, a man with whom we are quite intimately acquainted rushed into the room with gestures of despair and threw himself down at your father's feet, and presently at mine as well. We had no idea what to make of this and asked him to explain himself. So he said that his conscience was giving him no peace, it was he who had so shamefully deceived our daughter; he could not
but know how his crime was judged, and if retribution was to be exacted from him for it, he had come to submit himself to that retribution.' ‘But who? who? who?' asked the Marquise. ‘As I told you,' continued her mother, ‘an otherwise well-brought-up young man whom we should never have considered capable of so base an act. But my dear daughter, you must not be alarmed to hear that he is of humble station, and quite lacks all the qualifications that a husband of yours might otherwise be expected to have.' ‘Nevertheless, my most excellent mother,' said the Marquise, ‘he cannot be wholly unworthy, since he came and threw himself at your feet before throwing himself at mine. But who? who? please tell me
who!
' ‘Well,' replied her mother, ‘it was Leopardo, the groom from Tyrol whom your father recently engaged, and whom as you may have noticed I have already brought with me to present to you as your fiancé.' ‘Leopardo, the groom!' cried the Marquise, pressing her hand to her forehead with an expression of despair. ‘Why are you startled?' asked her mother. ‘Have you reasons for doubting it?' ‘How? where? when?' asked the Marquise in confusion. ‘That,' answered her mother, ‘is something he wishes to confess only to you. Shame and love, he told us, made it impossible for him to communicate these facts to anyone except yourself. But if you like we will open the anteroom, where he is waiting with a beating heart for the outcome, and then I shall leave you together, and you will see whether you can elicit his secret from him.' ‘Oh, God in heaven!' cried the Marquise: ‘it did once happen that I had fallen asleep in the mid-day heat, on my divan, and when I woke up I saw him walking away from it!' Her face grew scarlet with shame and she covered it with her little hands. But at this point her mother fell to her knees before her. ‘Oh, Giulietta!' she exclaimed, throwing her arms round her. ‘oh, my dear excellent girl! And how contemptible of me!' And she buried her face in her daughter's lap. The Marquise gasped in consternation: ‘What is the matter, mother?'
‘For let me tell you now,' continued her mother, ‘that nothing of what I have been saying to you is true; you are purer than an angel, you radiate such innocence that my corrupted soul could not believe in it, and I could not convince myself of it without descending to this shameful trick.' ‘My dearest mother!' cried the Marquise, full of happy emotion, and stooped down to her, trying to raise her to her feet. But her mother said: ‘No, I shall not move from your feet, you splendid, heavenly creature, until you tell me that you can forgive the baseness of my behaviour.' ‘Am
I
to forgive you!' exclaimed her daughter. ‘Please rise, I do implore you –' ‘You heard me,' said the Commandant's wife. ‘I want to know whether you can still love me, whether you can still respect me as sincerely as ever?' ‘My adored mother!' cried the Marquise, now kneeling before her as well, ‘my heart has never lost any of its respect and love for you. Under such extraordinary circumstances, how was it possible for anyone to trust me? How glad I am that you are convinced that I have done nothing wrong!' ‘Well, my dearest child,' said her mother, standing up with her daughter's assistance, ‘now I shall love and cherish you. You shall have your confinement in my house; and I shall treat you with no less tenderness and respect than if we had reason to expect your baby to be a young prince. I shall never desert you now as long as I live. I defy the whole world; I
want
no greater honour than your shame – if only you will love me again, and forget the hard-hearted way in which I rejected you!' The Marquise tried to comfort her with endless caresses and assurances, but evening fell and midnight struck before she had succeeded. Next day, when the old lady had recovered a little from her emotion, which had made her feverish during the night, the mother, daughter and grandchildren drove back in triumph, as it were, to M—. Their journey was a very happy one, and they joked about the groom Leopardo as he sat in front of them driving the carriage: the Marquise's mother said she
noticed how her daughter blushed every time she looked at his broad shoulders, and the Marquise, reacting half with a sigh and half with a smile, answered: ‘I wonder after all who the man will be who turns up at our house on the morning of the third!' Then, the nearer they got to M—, the more serious their mood became again, in anticipation of the crucial scenes that still awaited them. As soon as they had arrived at the house, the Commandant's wife, concealing her plans, showed her daughter back to her old rooms, and told her to make herself comfortable; then, saying that she would soon be back, she slipped away. An hour later she returned with her face very flushed. ‘Why, what a doubting Thomas!' she said, though she seemed secretly delighted, ‘what a doubting Thomas! Didn't I need a whole hour by the clock to convince him! But now he's sitting there weeping.' ‘Who?' asked the Marquise. ‘He himself,' answered her mother. ‘Who else but the person with the most cause for it!' ‘Surely not my father?' exclaimed the Marquise. ‘Weeping like a child,' replied her mother. ‘If I had not had to wipe the tears out of my own eyes, I should have burst out laughing as soon as I got outside the door.' ‘And all this on my account?' asked her daughter, rising to her feet, ‘and you expect me to stay here and –?' ‘You shall not budge!' said her mother. ‘Why did he dictate that letter to me!
He
shall come here to
you
, or
I
shall have no more to do with him as long as I live.' ‘My dearest mother –' pleaded the Marquise, but her mother interrupted her. ‘I'll not give way! Why did he reach for that pistol?' ‘But I implore you –' ‘You
shall
not go to him,' replied the Commandant's wife, forcing her daughter to sit down again, ‘and if he does not come by this evening, I shall leave the house with you tomorrow.' The Marquise said that this would be a hard and unfair way to act, but her mother answered (for she could already hear sobs approaching from a distance): ‘You need not worry; here he is already!' ‘Where?' asked her daughter, and sat listening. ‘Is there someone there at the door, quite
convulsed with –?' ‘Of course!' replied the Commandant's wife; ‘he wants us to open it for him.' ‘Let me go!' cried the Marquise, leaping from her chair. But her mother answered: ‘Giulietta, if you love me, stay where you are!' – and at that very moment the Commandant entered the room, holding his handkerchief to his face. His wife placed herself directly between him and her daughter and turned her back on him. ‘My dearest father!' cried the Marquise, stretching out her arms towards him. ‘You shall not budge, I tell you!' said her mother. The Commandant stood there in the room, weeping. ‘He is to apologize to you,' continued his wife. ‘Why has he such a violent temper, and why is he so obstinate? I love him but I love you too; I respect him, but I respect you too. And if I must choose, then you are a finer person than him, and I shall stay with you.' The Commandant was standing bent almost double and weeping so loudly that the walls re-echoed. ‘Oh, my God, but –' exclaimed the Marquise, suddenly giving up the struggle with her mother, and taking out her handkerchief to let her own tears flow. Her mother said: ‘It's just that he can't speak!' and moved a little to one side. At this the Marquise rose, embraced her father, and begged him to calm himself. She too was weeping profusely. She asked him if he would not sit down, and tried to draw him on to a chair; she pushed one up for him to sit on; but he made no answer, he could not be induced to move, nor even sit down, but merely stood there with his face bowed low over the ground, and wept. The Marquise, holding him upright, half turned to her mother and said she thought he would make himself ill; her mother too seemed on the point of losing her composure, for he was going almost into convulsions. But when he had finally seated himself, yielding to the repeated pleas of his daughter, and the latter, ceaselessly caressing him, had sunk down at his feet, his wife returned to her point, declared that it served him right, and that now he would no doubt come to his senses; whereupon she departed and left the two of them in the room.