Valentine (22 page)

The whole conversation was pitched in this key, and was far from intellectual, as will be seen.

“That isn't right,” said Blutty, correcting his friend Georges; “this is Jean Lory's story. He said that he couldn't love anyone but a blonde, but neither blondes nor brunettes would have him ; so that the red-haired girl had to take pity on him.”

“Oh !” said another, “the women have eyes, I tell you.”

“On the other hand,” chimed in a third, “there are some men who cannot see beyond the ends of their noses.”

“Manes habunt,”
observed the Chevalier de Trigaud, who, although he did not understand their conversation, was determined to display his learning.

And he continued his quotation, murdering the Latin without pity.

“Ah! monsieur le chevalier,” said Père Lhéry, “you are talking to deaf men ; we don't know Greek.”

“Perhaps Monsieur Bénédict, who has never learned anything else, can translate it for us,” sneered Blutty.

“The meaning is,” rejoined Bénédict, calmly, “that there are some men like brutes, who have eyes but do not see, and ears but do not hear. That fits in very nicely as you see, with what you were saying just now.”

“Oh! as to ears,” said a short, stout cousin of the groom, who had not previously spoken,
“pardieu!
we have said nothing about them, for a good reason ; we know the consideration one should have for one's friends.”

“And then, too,” said Blutty, “ there are none so deaf as those who won't hear, as the proverb says.”

“There is none so deaf,” interposed Bénédict in a loud voice, “as the man whose ears are stuffed with contempt.”

“Contempt!” cried Blutty, springing to his feet, flushed with wrath, and with gleaming eyes; “contempt !”

“I said contempt,” Bénédict replied, without changing his attitude and not deigning to look at him.

He had no sooner repeated the word than Blutty, raising his glass, filled with wine, threw it at his head; but his hand, trembling with rage, proved a worthless auxiliary. The wine covered the bride's lovely dress with indelible stains, and the glass would certainly have wounded her, had not Bénédict, with no less coolness than dexterity, caught it in his hand without sustaining any injury.

Athénaïs, terribly frightened, rose and threw herself into her mother's arms. Bénédict contented himself with glancing at Blutty, and saying to him with perfect tranquillity :

“But for me there would have been an end of your wife's beauty.”

With that he set the glass down in the centre of the table, and crushed it with a piece of sandstone which happened to be at hand. He dealt it several blows in order to break it into as many pieces as possible; then said, as he scattered them about the table:

“Messieurs, cousins, kinsmen and friends of Pierre Blutty, who has just insulted me, and you yourself, Pierre Blutty, whom I despise with all my heart, I give each of you a bit of this glass. Each bit is a challenge to give me satisfaction, and a portion of the insult to me, which I call upon you to repair.”

“We don't fight with swords, nor sabres, nor pistols,” cried Blutty, in a voice of thunder. “We are not popinjays—
black coats
like you. We haven't taken lessons in courage ; we have it in our hearts and at our finger ends. Take off your coat, monsieur, the dispute will soon be settled.”

And Blutty, grinding his teeth together, began to remove his flower and ribbon-laden coat and to roll up his sleeves to the elbow. Athénaïs, who had fallen fainting into her mother's arms, suddenly rushed forward and threw herself between them, with piercing shrieks. This proof of interest, which Blutty rightly judged to be wholly in Bénédict's behalf, increased his rage. He pushed her away and rushed at Bénédict.

The latter, who was plainly less powerful, but was active and cool, thrust his foot between his legs and threw him down.

Blutty had not risen again when a swarm of his friends threw themselves on Bénédict. He had barely time to draw his pistols from his pocket and present them at their heads.

“Messieurs,” he said, “you are twenty against one ; you are cowards ! If you take a step toward me, four of you will be shot down like dogs.”

The sight calmed their valor for an instant; whereupon Père Lhéry, knowing Bénédict's obstinacy, and fearing a tragic result of the incident, rushed in front of him, and, raising his knotted stick over the heads of the
assailants, pointed to his white hair spattered with the wine which Blutty had thrown at Bénédict. Tears of anger glistened in his eyes.

“Pierre Blutty,” he cried, “you have behaved outrageously to-day. If you think that you can obtain the control of my house by such performances, and drive my nephew out of it, you are sadly mistaken. I am still at liberty to shut the door on you and to keep my daughter. The marriage is not consummated yet. Athénaïs, step behind me.”

The old man took his daughter's arm and drew her roughly toward him. Athénaïs, anticipating his purpose, cried with an accent of hatred and alarm:

“Keep me, father, keep me forever. Defend me from this madman, who insults you and your family! No, I will never be his wife ! I will never leave you !”

And she clung with all her strength to her father's neck.

Pierre Blutty, whose title as his father-in-law's heir was not assured as yet by any legal document, was struck by the force of these arguments. Concealing the wrath which his wife's conduct aroused, he instantly changed his tone.

“I admit that I spoke too quickly,” he said. “If I have failed in my respect to you, father-in law, accept my apologies.”

“Yes, monsieur, you have failed in respect to me, in the person of my daughter, whose clothes bear the marks of your brutality; also, in the person of my nephew, for whom I shall find a way to enforce respect. If you wish your wife and your father-in-law to forget this conduct, offer Bénédict your hand, and let there be an end of all this.”

A large crowd had collected about them, and was awaiting with interest the conclusion of this scene.
Every eye seemed to say to Blutty that he must not give way; but, although Blutty did not lack a certain brute courage, he had as clear an understanding of his own interests as every countryman has. Moreover, he was really very much in love with his wife, and the threat of separation from her alarmed him more than everything else. So he sacrificed the counsels of empty glory to those of common sense, and said after a moment's hesitation:

“Very well, I will obey you, father-in-law, but it comes hard to me, I admit; and I hope you'll give me credit, Athénaïs, for what I am doing to get you.”

“You will never get me, whatever you do,” cried the young woman, who had just noticed the numerous stains with which she was covered.

“Daughter,” rejoined Père Lhéry, who was well able to assume on occasion the dignity and authority of a father, “in your present situation you must have no other will than your father's. I order you to take your husband's arm and make peace between him and your cousin.”

As he spoke, Père Lhéry turned to his nephew, who, during the discussion, had uncocked his pistols and put them out of sight; but, instead of yielding to the friendly push which his uncle attempted to give him, he recoiled from the hand which Pierre Blutty reluctantly offered him.

“Never, uncle !” he replied. “I am sorry that I cannot by obeying you show you my gratitude for the interest you have manifested in me. But it is not in my power to forgive an insult. The most that I can do is to forget it.”

Thereupon, he turned his back and disappeared, imperiously forcing his way through the open-mouthed bystanders.

Bénédict plunged into Raimbault park, and, throwing himself down on the moss in a dark, secluded spot, abandoned himself to the most disheartening reflections. He had just broken the last tie which bound him to life, for he realized fully that, being on such terms with Pierre Blutty, he could no longer maintain direct relations with his kinsman at the farm. That neighborhood, where he had passed so many happy moments, and which was filled to overflowing with reminders of Valentine, he should never see again; or, if he did come thither at rare intervals, it would be as a stranger, without the right to retrace his memories of her, but yesterday so sweet, to-day so filled with gall. It seemed to him that long years of misery already lay between him and those hours so recently flown, and he blamed himself for not having enjoyed them enough. He regretted the momentary outbursts of temper which he had not held in cheek; he bewailed the unfortunate disposition of man, who never realizes the value of his joys until he has lost them.

His existence thenceforth was horrible to contemplate. Surrounded by enemies, he would be the laughing-stock of the province; every day some voice, too humble for him to take the trouble to reply to it, would shout in his ears impudent and stinging mockery; every day he would have to be reminded of the pitiful denouement of his love, and to persuade himself that there was no hope.

However, love of self, which imparts so much energy
to a shipwrecked man at the point of death, inspired Bénédict for a moment with a determination to live on, in spite of everything. He made superhuman efforts to devise some aim, some object of ambition, some charm, no matter what, in life. It was all in vain : his heart refused to admit any other passion than love. Indeed, at twenty years of age, what other passion seems worthy of man ? After that swift and insane existence, which had lifted him above the earth, everything seemed dull and colorless; that which would have been far beyond his hopes a month earlier seemed now unworthy of his desires. There was in the world but one happiness, one love, one woman.

When he had exhausted to no purpose his remaining strength, he fell into a state of deathly loathing for life, and resolved to have done with it. He examined his pistols and walked toward the exit from the park, in order to carry out his plan without disturbing the nuptial fête, the lights of which still gleamed through the foliage.

But he determined first to drain his cup of sorrow to the dregs; he retraced his steps and glided through the shrubbery to the foot of the walls within which Valentine was imprisoned. He followed them at random for some time. All was silence and gloom in that great mansion ; all the servants were at the fête, and the guests had long since retired. Bénédict could hear nothing save the voice of the old marchioness, who seemed considerably excited. It came through the open window of a room on the ground floor. Bénédict crept nearer, and heard certain words which suddenly changed his plans.

“I assure you, madame,” said the marchioness, “that Valentine is seriously ill, and that Monsieur de Lansac must be made to listen to reason.”

“Mon Dieu!
madame,” replied another voice, which Bénédict thought must be the countess's, “ you have a perfect passion for meddling in everything! It seems to me that your intervention or my own at such a time can be nothing less than indelicate.”

“Madame,” retorted the other voice, “I know no indelicacy where my granddaughter's health is concerned.”

“If I didn't know what pleasure you take in holding a different opinion from mine, I should find it difficult to explain this attack of consideration for others.”

“Sneer as much as you please, madame; I just listened at Valentine's door, not knowing what was going on inside, and suspecting something very far from the truth. When I heard the nurse's voice instead of the fond husband's, I went in, and found Valentine in great distress and completely exhausted. I assure you that this is not at all the time——”

“Valentine loves her husband, her husband loves her, and I am quite sure that he will show her all the consideration she demands.”

“Can the bride of a day demand anything, pray? Has she any rights ? Does anyone pay any attention to them ?”

The window was closed at that moment and Bénédict could hear no more. Whatever insane and awful projects frenzy can inspire passed through his brain in that instant.

“O outrageous violation of the most sacred rights!” he exclaimed inwardly; “ shocking tyranny of man over woman ! Marriage, society, all existing institutions, I hate you ! I hate you to the death ! And thou, O God ! thou creating Will, who dost cast us upon earth and dost then refuse to interpose to shape our destinies ; thou who dost abandon the weak to such despotism and
degradation—I curse thee ! Thou dost fall asleep content with having created, caring naught to preserve. Thou dost place within us an intelligent mind, and dost permit misfortune to stifle our faculties! Be thou accursed! accursed be the womb that bore me!”

As he raved thus, the wretched youth cocked his pistols, tore his breast with his nails, and strode forward in his excitement, no longer thinking of remaining hidden. Suddenly his reason, or rather a sort of lucidity in the midst of his frenzy, cast a light upon his path. There was a way of rescuing Valentine from a hateful and dishonoring tyranny ; there was a way of punishing that heartless mother who in cold blood condemned her daughter to legitimate degradation, to the vilest degradation inflicted on woman—to rape.

“Yes, rape!” Bénédict repeated furiously—and we must not forget that Bénédict was of a most excitable and wholly exceptional temperament.—”Everyday, in the name of God and of society, some clown or some dastard obtains the hand of an unfortunate girl, who is forced by her parents, her good name or her poverty to stifle in her heart a pure and sanctified love. And before the eyes of society, which approves and sanctions the outrage, the modest, trembling woman, who has been able to resist the transports of her lover, falls dishonored beneath the kisses of a detested master ! And this must go on !”

And Valentine, the fairest work of creation, the sweet, chaste, simple-hearted Valentine, was among those reserved for that outrage. Her tears, her pallor, her depression, must have enlightened her mother's conscience and alarmed the delicate sensibility of her husband ; but all in vain ! There was nothing that could protect the unfortunate creature from shame—not even the weakness
of disease and the exhaustion of fever! There is one man on earth vile enough to say: “ No matter!” and a mother so icy-hearted as to close her eyes to this crime !