Chapter 51 Pyramus and Thisbe
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ABOUT
TWO-THIRDS of the way along the Faubourg Saint-Honorиж, and in the rear of one of the
most imposing mansions in this rich neighborhood, where the various houses
vie with each other for elegance of design and magnificence of
construction, extended a large garden, where the wide-spreading
chestnut-trees raised their heads high above the walls in a solid rampart,
and with the coming of every spring scattered a shower of delicate pink
and white blossoms into the large stone vases that stood upon the two
square pilasters of a curiously wrought iron gate, that dated from the
time of Louis XII. This noble entrance, however, in spite of its striking
appearance and the graceful effect of the geraniums planted in the two
vases, as they waved their variegated leaves in the wind and charmed the
eye with their scarlet bloom, had fallen into utter disuse. The
proprietors of the mansion had many years before thought it best to
confine themselves to the possession of the house itself, with its thickly
planted court-yard, opening into the Faubourg Saint-Honorиж, and to the garden shut in by this gate, which
formerly communicated with a fine kitchen-garden of about an acre. For the
demon of speculation drew a line, or in other words projected a street, at
the farther side of the kitchen-garden. The street was laid out, a name
was chosen and posted up on an iron plate, but before construction was
begun, it occurred to the possessor of the property that a handsome sum
might be obtained for the ground then devoted to fruits and vegetables, by
building along the line of the proposed street, and so making it a branch
of communication with the Faubourg Saint-Honorиж
itself, one of the most important thoroughfares in the city of Paris. In
matters of speculation, however, though "man proposes,"
"money disposes." From some such difficulty the newly named
street died almost in birth, and the purchaser of the kitchen-garden,
having paid a high price for it, and being quite unable to find any one
willing to take his bargain off his hands without a considerable loss, yet
still clinging to the belief that at some future day he should obtain a
sum for it that would repay him, not only for his past outlay, but also
the interest upon the capital locked up in his new acquisition, contented
himself with letting the ground temporarily to some market-gardeners, at a
yearly rental of 500 francs. And so, as we have said, the iron gate
leading into the kitchen-garden had been closed up and left to the rust,
which bade fair before long to eat off its hinges, while to prevent the
ignoble glances of the diggers and delvers of the ground from presuming to
sully the aristocratic enclosure belonging to the mansion, the gate had
been boarded up to a height of six feet. True, the planks were not so
closely adjusted but that a hasty peep might be obtained through their
interstices; but the strict decorum and rigid propriety of the inhabitants
of the house left no grounds for apprehending that advantage would be
taken of that circumstance. Horticulture
seemed, however, to have been abandoned in the deserted kitchen-garden;
and where cabbages, carrots, radishes, pease, and melons had once
flourished, a scanty crop of lucerne alone bore evidence of its being
deemed worthy of cultivation. A small, low door gave egress from the
walled space we have been describing into the projected street, the ground
having been abandoned as unproductive by its various renters, and had now
fallen so completely in general estimation as to return not even the
one-half per cent it had originally paid. Towards the house the
chestnut-trees we have before mentioned rose high above the wall, without
in any way affecting the growth of other luxuriant shrubs and flowers that
eagerly dressed forward to fill up the vacant spaces, as though asserting
their right to enjoy the boon of light and air. At one corner, where the
foliage became so thick as almost to shut out day, a large stone bench and
sundry rustic seats indicated that this sheltered spot was either in
general favor or particular use by some inhabitant of the house, which was
faintly discernible through the dense mass of verdure that partially
concealed it, though situated but a hundred paces off. Whoever
had selected this retired portion of the grounds as the boundary of a
walk, or as a place for meditation, was abundantly justified in the choice
by the absence of all glare, the cool, refreshing shade, the screen it
afforded from the scorching rays of the sun, that found no entrance there
even during the burning days of hottest summer, the incessant and
melodious warbling of birds, and the entire removal from either the noise
of the street or the bustle of the mansion. On the evening of one of the
warmest days spring had yet bestowed on the inhabitants of Paris, might be
seen negligently thrown upon the stone bench, a book, a parasol, and a
work-basket, from which hung a partly embroidered cambric handkerchief,
while at a little distance from these articles was a young woman, standing
close to the iron gate, endeavoring to discern something on the other side
by means of the openings in the planks,--the earnestness of her attitude
and the fixed gaze with which she seemed to seek the object of her wishes,
proving how much her feelings were interested in the matter. At that
instant the little side-gate leading from the waste ground to the street
was noiselessly opened, and a tall, powerful young man appeared. He was
dressed in a common gray blouse and velvet cap, but his carefully arranged
hair, beard and mustache, all of the richest and glossiest black, ill
accorded with his plebeian attire. After casting a rapid glance around
him, in order to assure himself that he was unobserved, he entered by the
small gate, and, carefully closing and securing it after him, proceeded
with a hurried step towards the barrier. At
the sight of him she expected, though probably not in such a costume, the
young woman started in terror, and was about to make a hasty retreat. But
the eye of love had already seen, even through the narrow chinks of the
wooden palisades, the movement of the white robe, and observed the
fluttering of the blue sash. Pressing his lips close to the planks, he
exclaimed, "Don't be alarmed, Valentine--it is I!" Again the
timid girl found courage to return to the gate, saying, as she did so,
"And why do you come so late to-day? It is almost dinner-time, and I
had to use no little diplomacy to get rid of my watchful mother-in-law, my
too-devoted maid, and my troublesome brother, who is always teasing me
about coming to work at my embroidery, which I am in a fair way never to
get done. So pray excuse yourself as well as you can for having made me
wait, and, after that, tell me why I see you in a dress so singular that
at first I did not recognize you." "Dearest
Valentine," said the young man, "the difference between our
respective stations makes me fear to offend you by speaking of my love,
but yet I cannot find myself in your presence without longing to pour
forth my soul, and tell you how fondly I adore you. If it be but to carry
away with me the recollection of such sweet moments, I could even thank
you for chiding me, for it leaves me a gleam of hope, that if you did not
expect me (and that indeed would be worse than vanity to suppose), at
least I was in your thoughts. You asked me the cause of my being late, and
why I come disguised. I will candidly explain the reason of both, and I
trust to your goodness to pardon me. I have chosen a trade." "A
trade? Oh, Maximilian, how can you jest at a time when we have such deep
cause for uneasiness?" "Heaven
keep me from jesting with that which is far dearer to me than life itself!
But listen to me, Valentine, and I will tell you all about it. I became
weary of ranging fields and scaling walls, and seriously alarmed at the
idea suggested by you, that if caught hovering about here your father
would very likely have me sent to prison as a thief. That would compromise
the honor of the French army, to say nothing of the fact that the
continual presence of a captain of Spahis in a place where no warlike
projects could be supposed to account for it might well create surprise;
so I have become a gardener, and, consequently, adopted the costume of my
calling." "What
excessive nonsense you talk, Maximilian!" "Nonsense?
Pray do not call what I consider the wisest action of my life by such a
name. Consider, by becoming a gardener I effectually screen our meetings
from all suspicion or danger." "I
beseech of you, Maximilian, to cease trifling, and tell me what you really
mean." "Simply,
that having ascertained that the piece of ground on which I stand was to
let, I made application for it, was readily accepted by the proprietor,
and am now master of this fine crop of lucerne. Think of that, Valentine!
There is nothing now to prevent my building myself a little hut on my
plantation, and residing not twenty yards from you. Only imagine what
happiness that would afford me. I can scarcely contain myself at the bare
idea. Such felicity seems above all price--as a thing impossible and
unattainable. But would you believe that I purchase all this delight, joy,
and happiness, for which I would cheerfully have surrendered ten years of
my life, at the small cost of 500 francs per annum, paid quarterly?
Henceforth we have nothing to fear. I am on my own ground, and have an
undoubted right to place a ladder against the wall, and to look over when
I please, without having any apprehensions of being taken off by the
police as a suspicious character. I may also enjoy the precious privilege
of assuring you of my fond, faithful, and unalterable affection, whenever
you visit your favorite bower, unless, indeed, it offends your pride to
listen to professions of love from the lips of a poor workingman, clad in
a blouse and cap." A faint cry of mingled pleasure and surprise
escaped from the lips of Valentine, who almost instantly said, in a
saddened tone, as though some envious cloud darkened the joy which
illumined her heart, "Alas, no, Maximilian, this must not be, for
many reasons. We should presume too much on our own strength, and, like
others, perhaps, be led astray by our blind confidence in each other's
prudence." "How
can you for an instant entertain so unworthy a thought, dear Valentine?
Have I not, from the first blessed hour of our acquaintance, schooled all
my words and actions to your sentiments and ideas? And you have, I am
sure, the fullest confidence in my honor. When you spoke to me of
experiencing a vague and indefinite sense of coming danger, I placed
myself blindly and devotedly at your service, asking no other reward than
the pleasure of being useful to you; and have I ever since, by word or
look, given you cause of regret for having selected me from the numbers
that would willingly have sacrificed their lives for you? You told me, my
dear Valentine, that you were engaged to M. d'Epinay, and that your father
was resolved upon completing the match, and that from his will there was
no appeal, as M. de Villefort was never known to change a determination
once formed. I kept in the background, as you wished, and waited, not for
the decision of your heart or my own, but hoping that providence would
graciously interpose in our behalf, and order events in our favor. But
what cared I for delays or difficulties, Valentine, as long as you
confessed that you loved me, and took pity on me? If you will only repeat
that avowal now and then, I can endure anything." "Ah,
Maximilian, that is the very thing that makes you so bold, and which
renders me at once so happy and unhappy, that I frequently ask myself
whether it is better for me to endure the harshness of my mother-in-law,
and her blind preference for her own child, or to be, as I now am,
insensible to any pleasure save such as I find in these meetings, so
fraught with danger to both." "I
will not admit that word," returned the young man; "it is at
once cruel and unjust. Is it possible to find a more submissive slave than
myself? You have permitted me to converse with you from time to time,
Valentine, but forbidden my ever following you in your walks or
elsewhere--have I not obeyed? And since I found means to enter this
enclosure to exchange a few words with you through this gate--to be close
to you without really seeing you--have I ever asked so much as to touch
the hem of your gown or tried to pass this barrier which is but a trifle
to one of my youth and strength? Never has a complaint or a murmur escaped
me. I have been bound by my promises as rigidly as any knight of olden
times. Come, come, dearest Valentine, confess that what I say is true,
lest I be tempted to call you unjust." "It
is true," said Valentine, as she passed the end of her slender
fingers through a small opening in the planks, and permitted Maximilian to
press his lips to them, "and you are a true and faithful friend; but
still you acted from motives of self-interest, my dear Maximilian, for you
well knew that from the moment in which you had manifested an opposite
spirit all would have been ended between us. You promised to bestow on me
the friendly affection of a brother. For I have no friend but yourself
upon earth, who am neglected and forgotten by my father, harassed and
persecuted by my mother-in-law, and left to the sole companionship of a
paralyzed and speechless old man, whose withered hand can no longer press
mine, and who can speak to me with the eye alone, although there still
lingers in his heart the warmest tenderness for his poor grandchild. Oh,
how bitter a fate is mine, to serve either as a victim or an enemy to all
who are stronger than myself, while my only friend and supporter is a
living corpse! Indeed, indeed, Maximilian, I am very miserable, and if you
love me it must be out of pity." "Valentine,"
replied the young man, deeply affected, "I will not say you are all I
love in the world, for I dearly prize my sister and brother-in-law; but my
affection for them is calm and tranquil, in no manner resembling what I
feel for you. When I think of you my heart beats fast, the blood burns in
my veins, and I can hardly breathe; but I solemnly promise you to restrain
all this ardor, this fervor and intensity of feeling, until you yourself
shall require me to render them available in serving or assisting you. M.
Franz is not expected to return home for a year to come, I am told; in
that time many favorable and unforeseen chances may befriend us. Let us,
then, hope for the best; hope is so sweet a comforter. Meanwhile,
Valentine, while reproaching me with selfishness, think a little what you
have been to me--the beautiful but cold resemblance of a marble Venus.
What promise of future reward have you made me for all the submission and
obedience I have evinced?--none whatever. What granted me?--scarcely more.
You tell me of M. Franz d'Epinay, your betrothed lover, and you shrink
from the idea of being his wife; but tell me, Valentine, is there no other
sorrow in your heart? You see me devoted to you, body and soul, my life
and each warm drop that circles round my heart are consecrated to your
service; you know full well that my existence is bound up in yours--that
were I to lose you I would not outlive the hour of such crushing misery;
yet you speak with calmness of the prospect of your being the wife of
another! Oh, Valentine, were I in your place, and did I feel conscious, as
you do, of being worshipped, adored, with such a love as mine, a hundred
times at least should I have passed my hand between these iron bars, and
said, 'Take this hand, dearest Maximilian, and believe that, living or
dead, I am yours--yours only, and forever!'" The poor girl made no
reply, but her lover could plainly hear her sobs and tears. A rapid change
took place in the young man's feelings. "Dearest, dearest
Valentine," exclaimed he, "forgive me if I have offended you,
and forget the words I spoke if they have unwittingly caused you
pain." "No,
Maximilian, I am not offended," answered she, "but do you not
see what a poor, helpless being I am, almost a stranger and an outcast in
my father's house, where even he is seldom seen; whose will has been
thwarted, and spirits broken, from the age of ten years, beneath the iron
rod so sternly held over me; oppressed, mortified, and persecuted, day by
day, hour by hour, minute by minute, no person has cared for, even
observed my sufferings, nor have I ever breathed one word on the subject
save to yourself. Outwardly and in the eyes of the world, I am surrounded
by kindness and affection; but the reverse is the case. The general remark
is, 'Oh, it cannot be expected that one of so stern a character as M.
Villefort could lavish the tenderness some fathers do on their daughters.
What though she has lost her own mother at a tender age, she has had the
happiness to find a second mother in Madame de Villefort.' The world,
however, is mistaken; my father abandons me from utter indifference, while
my mother-in-law detests me with a hatred so much the more terrible
because it is veiled beneath a continual smile." "Hate
you, sweet Valentine," exclaimed the young man; "how is it
possible for any one to do that?" "Alas,"
replied the weeping girl, "I am obliged to own that my
mother-in-law's aversion to me arises from a very natural source--her
overweening love for her own child, my brother Edward." "But
why should it?" "I
do not know; but, though unwilling to introduce money matters into our
present conversation, I will just say this much--that her extreme dislike
to me has its origin there; and I much fear she envies me the fortune I
enjoy in right of my mother, and which will be more than doubled at the
death of M. and Mme. de Saint-Mижran,
whose sole heiress I am. Madame de Villefort has nothing of her own, and
hates me for being so richly endowed. Alas, how gladly would I exchange
the half of this wealth for the happiness of at least sharing my father's
love. God knows, I would prefer sacrificing the whole, so that it would
obtain me a happy and affectionate home." "Poor
Valentine!" "I
seem to myself as though living a life of bondage, yet at the same time am
so conscious of my own weakness that I fear to break the restraint in
which I am held, lest I fall utterly helpless. Then, too, my father is not
a person whose orders may be infringed with impunity; protected as he is
by his high position and firmly established reputation for talent and
unswerving integrity, no one could oppose him; he is all-powerful even
with the king; he would crush you at a word. Dear Maximilian, believe me
when I assure you that if I do not attempt to resist my father's commands
it is more on your account than my own." "But
why, Valentine, do you persist in anticipating the worst,--why picture so
gloomy a future?" "Because
I judge it from the past." "Still,
consider that although I may not be, strictly speaking, what is termed an
illustrious match for you, I am, for many reasons, not altogether so much
beneath your alliance. The days when such distinctions were so nicely
weighed and considered no longer exist in France, and the first families
of the monarchy have intermarried with those of the empire. The
aristocracy of the lance has allied itself with the nobility of the
cannon. Now I belong to this last-named class; and certainly my prospects
of military preferment are most encouraging as well as certain. My
fortune, though small, is free and unfettered, and the memory of my late
father is respected in our country, Valentine, as that of the most upright
and honorable merchant of the city; I say our country, because you were
born not far from Marseilles." "Don't
speak of Marseilles, I beg of you, Maximilian; that one word brings back
my mother to my recollection--my angel mother, who died too soon for
myself and all who knew her; but who, after watching over her child during
the brief period allotted to her in this world, now, I fondly hope,
watches from her home in heaven. Oh, if my mother were still living, there
would be nothing to fear, Maximilian, for I would tell her that I loved
you, and she would protect us." "I
fear, Valentine," replied the lover, "that were she living I
should never have had the happiness of knowing you; you would then have
been too happy to have stooped from your grandeur to bestow a thought on
me." "Now
it is you who are unjust, Maximilian," cried Valentine; "but
there is one thing I wish to know." "And
what is that?" inquired the young man, perceiving that Valentine
hesitated. "Tell
me truly, Maximilian, whether in former days, when our fathers dwelt at
Marseilles, there was ever any misunderstanding between them?" "Not
that I am aware of," replied the young man, "unless, indeed, any
ill-feeling might have arisen from their being of opposite parties--your
father was, as you know, a zealous partisan of the Bourbons, while mine
was wholly devoted to the emperor; there could not possibly be any other
difference between them. But why do you ask?" "I
will tell you," replied the young girl, "for it is but right you
should know. Well, on the day when your appointment as an officer of the
Legion of honor was announced in the papers, we were all sitting with my
grandfather, M. Noirtier; M. Danglars was there also--you recollect M.
Danglars, do you not, Maximilian, the banker, whose horses ran away with
my mother-in-law and little brother, and very nearly killed them? While
the rest of the company were discussing the approaching marriage of
Mademoiselle Danglars, I was reading the paper to my grandfather; but when
I came to the paragraph about you, although I had done nothing else but
read it over to myself all the morning (you know you had told me all about
it the previous evening), I felt so happy, and yet so nervous, at the idea
of speaking your name aloud, and before so many people, that I really
think I should have passed it over, but for the fear that my doing so
might create suspicions as to the cause of my silence; so I summoned up
all my courage, and read it as firmly and as steadily as I could." "Dear
Valentine!" "Well,
would you believe it? directly my father caught the sound of your name he
turned round quite hastily, and, like a poor silly thing, I was so
persuaded that every one must be as much affected as myself by the
utterance of your name, that I was not surprised to see my father start,
and almost tremble; but I even thought (though that surely must have been
a mistake) that M. Danglars trembled too." "'Morrel,
Morrel,' cried my father, 'stop a bit;' then knitting his brows into a
deep frown, he added, 'surely this cannot be one of the Morrel family who
lived at Marseilles, and gave us so much trouble from their violent
Bonapartism--I mean about the year 1815.'--'Yes,' replied M. Danglars, 'I
believe he is the son of the old shipowner.'" "Indeed,"
answered Maximilian; "and what did your father say then,
Valentine?" "Oh,
such a dreadful thing, that I don't dare to tell you." "Always
tell me everything," said Maximilian with a smile. "'Ah,'
continued my father, still frowning, 'their idolized emperor treated these
madmen as they deserved; he called them 'food for powder,' which was
precisely all they were good for; and I am delighted to see that the
present government have adopted this salutary principle with all its
pristine vigor; if Algiers were good for nothing but to furnish the means
of carrying so admirable an idea into practice, it would be an acquisition
well worthy of struggling to obtain. Though it certainly does cost France
somewhat dear to assert her rights in that uncivilized country.'" "Brutal
politics, I must confess." said Maximilian; "but don't attach
any serious importance, dear, to what your father said. My father was not
a bit behind yours in that sort of talk. 'Why,' said he, 'does not the
emperor, who has devised so many clever and efficient modes of improving
the art of war, organize a regiment of lawyers, judges and legal
practitioners, sending them in the hottest fire the enemy could maintain,
and using them to save better men?' You see, my dear, that for picturesque
expression and generosity of spirit there is not much to choose between
the language of either party. But what did M. Danglars say to this
outburst on the part of the procureur?" "Oh,
he laughed, and in that singular manner so peculiar to
himself--half-malicious, half-ferocious; he almost immediately got up and
took his leave; then, for the first time, I observed the agitation of my
grandfather, and I must tell you, Maximilian, that I am the only person
capable of discerning emotion in his paralyzed frame. And I suspected that
the conversation that had been carried on in his presence (for they always
say and do what they like before the dear old man, without the smallest
regard for his feelings) had made a strong impression on his mind; for,
naturally enough, it must have pained him to hear the emperor he so
devotedly loved and served spoken of in that depreciating manner." "The
name of M. Noirtier," interposed Maximilian, "is celebrated
throughout Europe; he was a statesman of high standing, and you may or may
not know, Valentine, that he took a leading part in every Bonapartist
conspiracy set on foot during the restoration of the Bourbons." "Oh,
I have often heard whispers of things that seem to me most strange--the
father a Bonapartist, the son a Royalist; what can have been the reason of
so singular a difference in parties and politics? But to resume my story;
I turned towards my grandfather, as though to question him as to the cause
of his emotion; he looked expressively at the newspaper I had been
reading. 'What is the matter, dear grandfather?' said I, 'are you
pleased?' He gave me a sign in the affirmative. 'With what my father said
just now?' He returned a sign in the negative. 'Perhaps you liked what M.
Danglars said?' Another sign in the negative. 'Oh, then, you were glad to
hear that M. Morrel (I didn't dare to say Maximilian) had been made an
officer of the Legion of Honor?' He signified assent; only think of the
poor old man's being so pleased to think that you, who were a perfect
stranger to him, had been made an officer of the Legion of Honor! Perhaps
it was a mere whim on his part, for he is falling, they say, into second
childhood, but I love him for showing so much interest in you." "How
singular," murmured Maximilian; "your father hates me, while
your grandfather, on the contrary--What strange feelings are aroused by
politics." "Hush,"
cried Valentine, suddenly; "some one is coming!" Maximilian
leaped at one bound into his crop of lucerne, which he began to pull up in
the most ruthless way, under the pretext of being occupied in weeding it. "Mademoiselle,
mademoiselle!" exclaimed a voice from behind the trees. "Madame
is searching for you everywhere; there is a visitor in the
drawing-room." "A
visitor?" inquired Valentine, much agitated; "who is it?" "Some
grand personage--a prince I believe they said--the Count of Monte Cristo."
"I
will come directly," cried Valentine aloud. The name of Monte Cristo
sent an electric shock through the young man on the other side of the iron
gate, to whom Valentine's "I am coming" was the customary signal
of farewell. "Now,
then," said Maximilian, leaning on the handle of his spade, "I
would give a good deal to know how it comes about that the Count of Monte
Cristo is acquainted with M. de Villefort." |
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