prince zilah — volume 3 by claretie, jules, 1840-1913

8/14/2019 Prince Zilah Volume 3 by Claretie, Jules, 1840-1913

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PRINCEZILAH

ByJULESCLARETIE

BOOK3.

CHAPTERXXIV

ALITTLEPARISIANROMANCE

TheveryeveningofthedaywhenthepackageoflettershadkilledinAndrasallhappinessandallfaith,theHungarianprincepresentedhimselfintheRued'Aumale,toseekMichelMenko.

Menko!Thatboywhomhehadlovedalmostasabrother,thatmanforwhomhehadhopedagloriousfuture,Michel,MichelMenko,hadbetrayedhim,andstruckhimwiththeperfidyofacoward.Yes,atthedoorofthechurch,whenitwastoolate,orrather,atatimewhentheblowwouldbesurerandthewoundmoredeadly--thenMenkohadsaidtohim:"MydearPrince,thewomanwhomyoulove,thewomanwhomyouhavemarried,hasbeenmymistress.Here,read,seehowshelovedme!"

HadMichelbeenbeforehim,Andraswouldhaveseizedtheyoungmanbythethroat,andstrangledhimonthespot;but,whenhereachedtheRued'Aumale,hedidnotfindMenko.

"TheCountlefttownyesterday,"saidtheservant,inanswertohisquestion.

"Yesterday!Wherehashegone?"


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"TheCountmusthavetakenthesteamerto-dayatHavreforNewYork.TheCountdidnottellusexactlywherehewasgoing,however,buttoAmerica,somewhere.Weonlyknow,thecoachmanPierre,andmyself,thattheCountwillnotreturnagaintoParis.Wearestillinhisservice,however,andaretoawaithisorders."

Hesitatingalittle,theservantadded:

"HaveInotthehonortospeaktoPrinceZilah?"

"Why?"askedAndras.

Thevaletrepliedwithahumblebutverysincereair:

"Because,ifMonseigneurshouldhearfromtheCount,andthereisanyquestionofthepackagewhichItooktoMaisons-LafittethismorningforMonseigneur--"

"Well?"saidAndras.

"MonseigneurwouldgreatlyobligemeifhewouldnotlettheCountknowthatIdidnotfulfilhisorderslastevening."

"Lastevening?Whatdoyoumean?Explainyourself!"saidthePrince,

sternly.

"Whenheleftyesterday,theCountexpresslyorderedmetotakethepackagetoMonseigneurthatveryevening.IbegMonseigneur'spardon;butIhadaninvitationtoawedding,andIdidnotcarryouttheCount'sinstructionsuntilthismorning.But,asMonseigneurwasnotathome,ItookthetraintoMaisons-Lafitte.IhopethatIdidnotarrivetoolate.TheCountwasveryparticularaboutit,andIshouldbeverysorryifmynegligencehasdoneanyharm."

Andraslistened,gazingintentlyuponthefaceoftheservant,whowasalittlediscountenancedbythissilentinquisition.

"SoCountMenkowishedthepackagetobedeliveredtomeyesterday?"

"IbegMonseigneurnottotelltheCountthathewasnotobeyed."

"Yesterday?"repeatedAndras.

"Yes,yesterday,Monseigneur.TheCountdeparted,thinkingitwouldbedone;and,indeed,hehadarighttothinkso.Iamverycareful,Monseigneur,verycareful;andifMonseigneurshouldsomedayhaveneedofa--"

ThePrincestoppedthevaletwithagesture.ItwasrepugnanttoAndrastohavethismanmixedupinasecretofhislife;andsuchasecret!

ButthedomesticwasevidentlyignorantwhatacommissionMenkohadconfidedtohim:inhiseyes,thepackage,containingsuchletters,waslikeanyotherpackage.Andraswaspersuadedofthisbytheattitudeoftheman,humiliatedathavingfailedinhisduty.

Awordmoreexchangedwiththevalet,andAndraswouldhavefelthumiliatedhimself.ButhehadgainedfromtheconversationtheideathatMenkohadnotwishedtoinsulthiminhishappiness,buttorevealalltohimbeforetheceremonyhadyetbeencelebrated.Itwasasatrocious,butnotsocowardly.MenkohadwishedtoattackMarsa,rather


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thanAndras;thiswasvisibleintheexpresscommandsgiventohisvalet.Anduponwhatatriflehaditdepended,whetherthenameofZilahshouldbebornebythiswoman!Uponwhat?Uponaservant'sfeast!Lifeisfullofstrangechances.Thehandsofthatlow-bornvalethadheldforhourshishappinessandhishonor--hishonor,AndrasZilah's--thehonorofallhisrace!

ThePrincereturnedtohishotel,whichhehadleftthatmorningthinkingthathewouldsoonbringtherethewomanhethenadored,butwhomhenowdespisedandhated.Oh!hewouldknowwhereMenkohadgone;himhecouldpunish;asforMarsa,shewasnowdeadtohim.

Butwhere,inthewhirlpooloftheNewWorld,wouldthisMichelMenkodisappear?andhowcouldhefindhim?

Thedayspassed;andZilahhadacquiredalmostthecertaintythatMenkohadnotembarkedatHavre.PerhapshehadnotquittedEurope.Hemight,somedayoranother,inspiteofwhatthevalethadsaid,reappearinParis;andthen--

Meanwhile,thePrinceledthelifeofamanwoundedtotheheart;seekingsolitude,andshuttinghimselfinhishotel,intheRueBalzac,likeawolfinhisden;receivingnoonebutVarhely,andsometimestreatingevenoldYanskicoldly;then,suddenlyemergingfromhisretirement,

andtryingtotakeuphislifeagain;appearingatthemeetingsoftheHungarianaidsociety,ofwhichhewaspresident;showinghimselfattheraces,atthetheatre,orevenatBaronessDinati's;longingtobreakthedullmonotonyofhisnowruinedlife;and,withasortofbravado,lookingsocietyandopinionfullintheface,asiftosurpriseasmileorasneerathisexpense,andpunishit.

Hehad,however,norighttocomplainofthesentimentwhichwasfeltforhim,foreveryonerespectedandadmiredhim.Atfirst,itistrue,society,andinparticularthatsocietyofParisianforeignersinwhichPrinceAndrasmingled,hadtriedtofindoutwhyhehadbrokensosuddenlywiththewomanhehadcertainlymarriedforlove.Publiccuriosity,arousedandexcited,hadsoughttodivinethesecretofthe

romance."Ifitdoesnotgetintothenewspapers,"theysaid,"itwillbefortunate."AndsocietywasevenastonishedthatthejournalshadnotalreadydiscoveredthekeytothisParisianmystery.

Butsociety,afterallasfickleasitiscurious(oneofitslittleviceschasingawaytheother),turnedsuddenlytoanothersubject;forgottheruptureofMarsaandAndras,andsawinZilahonlyasuperiorbeing,whoseloftysoulforcedrespectfromthefrivoloussetaccustomedtolaughateverything.

Aloftysoul,yes,butasoulintorment.Varhelyalone,amongthemall,knewanythingofthesufferingwhichAndrasendured.Hewasnolongerthesameman.Hishandsomeface,withitskindlyeyesandgravesmile,

wasnowconstantlyovershadowed.Hespokeless,andthoughtmore.Onthesubjectofhissadnessandhisgrief,Andrasneverutteredawordtoanyone,noteventohisoldfriend;andYanski,silentfromthedaywhenhehadbeenanunconsciousmessengerofill,hadnotoncemadeanyallusiontothepast.

Althoughheknewnothing,Varhelyhad,nevertheless,guessedeverything,andatonce.TheblowwastoodirectandtoocruellysimplefortheoldHungariannottohaveimmediatelyexclaimed,withrage:


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"Thosewerelove-letters,andIgavethemtohim!IdiotthatIwas!Iheldthoselettersinmyhand;Imighthavedestroyedthem,orcrammedthemonebyonedownMenko'sthroat!Butwhocouldhavesuspectedsuchaninfamy?Menko!Amanofhonor!Ah,yes;whatdoeshonoramounttowhenthereisawomaninquestion?Imbecile!Anditisirreparablenow,irreparable!"

VarhelyalsowasanxioustoknowwhereMenkohadgone.TheydidnotknowattheAustro-Hungarianembassy.Itwasacompletedisappearance,perhapsasuicide.IftheoldHungarianhadmettheyoungman,hewouldatleasthavegottenridofpartofhisbile.Buttheangrythoughtthathe,Varhely,hadbeenassociatedinavilerevengewhichhadtouchedAndras,was,fortheoldsoldier,aconstantcauseforill-humorwithhimself,andathingwhich,inameasure,poisonedhislife.

Varhelyhadlongbeenamisanthropehimself;buthetriedtostruggleagainsthisowntemperamentwhenhesawAndraswrappinghimselfupinbitternessandgloomythoughts.

Littlebylittle,Zilahallowedhimselftosinkintothatstatewherenotonlyeverythingbecomesindifferenttous,butwherewelongforanothersuffering,furtherpain,thatwemayuttermorebittercries,moreirritatedcomplaintsagainstfate.Itseemsthenthateverythingisdarkaboutus,andourendlessnightistraversedbymorbidvisions,and

peopledwithphantoms.Thesickman--fortheonewhosufferssuchtortureissick--wouldwillinglyseekanewsorrow,likethosewoundedmenwho,seizedwithfrenzy,opentheirwoundsthemselves,andirritatethemwiththepointofaknife.Then,misanthropyanddisgustoflifeassumeaphaseinwhichpainisnotwithoutacertaincharm.Thereisaspeciesofvoluptuousnessinthisappetiteforsuffering,andthesuffererbecomes,asitwere,enamoredofhisownagony.

WithZilah,thissadstatewasduetoasortofinsurrectionofhisloyaltyagainstthemanyinfamiestobemetwithinthisworld,whichhehadbelievedtobeonlytoofullofvirtues.

Henowconsideredhimselfanidiot,afool,forhavingallhislife

adoredchimeras,andfollowed,aschildrendopassingmusic,thefanfaresofpoeticchivalry.Yes,faith,enthusiasm,love,weresomanycheats,somanylies.Allbeingswho,likehimself,wereworshippersoftheideal,alldreamersofbetterthings,allloversoflove,wereinevitablydoomedtodeception,treason,andthestupidironiesoffate.And,fullofangeragainsthimself,hispessimismofto-daysneeringathisconfidenceofyesterday,heabandonedhimselfwithdelighttohisbitterness,andhetookkeenjoyinrepeatingtohimselfthatthesecretofhappinessinthislifewastobelieveinnothingexcepttreachery,andtodefendoneselfagainstmenasagainstwolves.

Veryrarely,hisrealfrank,truenaturewouldcometothefore,andhewouldsay:

"Afterall,arethecowardiceofoneman,andthelieofonewoman,tobeconsideredthecrimeofentirehumanity?"

Whyshouldhecurse,hewouldthink,otherbeingsthanMarsaandMenko?Hehadnorighttohateanyoneelse;hehadnoenemythatheknewof,andhewashonoredinParis,hisnewcountry.

Noenemy?No,notone.Andyet,onemorning,withhisletters,hisvaletbroughthimajournaladdressedto"PrinceZilah,"and,on


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unfoldingit,Andras'sattentionwasattractedtotwoparagraphsinthecolumnheaded"EchoesofParis,"whichweremarkedwithared-leadpencil.

Itwasanumberof'L'Actualite',sentthroughthepostbyanunknownhand,andtheredmarkswereevidentlyintendedtopointouttothePrincesomethingofinteresttohimself.

Andrasreceivedfewjournals.Asuddendesireseizedhim,asifhehadapresentimentofwhatitcontained,tocastthisoneintothefirewithoutreadingit.Foramomenthehelditinhisfingersreadytothrowitintothegrate.Thenafewwordsreadbyaccidentinvinciblypreventedhim.

Heread,atfirstwithpoignantsorrow,andthenwithadullrage,thetwoparagraphs,oneofwhichfollowedtheotherinthepaper.

"Asadpieceofnewshascometoourears,"ranthefirstparagraph,"apieceofnewswhichhasafflictedalltheforeigncolonyofParis,andespeciallytheHungarians.ThelovelyandcharmingPrincessZ.,whosebeautywasrecentlycrownedwithagloriouscoronet,hasbeentaken,afteraconsultationoftheprincesofscience(thereareprincesinallgrades),totheestablishmentofDr.Sims,atVaugirard,therivalofthecelebratedasylumofDr.Luys,atIvry.Togetherwiththenumerous

friendsofPrinceA.Z.,wehopethatthesuddenmaladyofthePrincessZ.willbeofshortduration."

SoMarsawasnowthepatient,almosttheprisoner,ofDr.Sims!TheordersofDr.Fargeashadbeenexecuted.Shewasinaninsaneasylum,andAndras,despitehimself,feltfilledwithpityashethoughtofit.

Buttheredmarksurroundedboththisfirst"EchoofParis,"andtheonewhichfollowedit;andZilah,impellednowbyeagercuriosity,proceededwithhisreading.

Butheutteredacryofragewhenhesaw,printedatfulllength,givenovertocommoncuriosity,totheeagernessofthepublicforscandal,and

tothemalignityofblockheads,adirectallusiontohismarriage--worsethanthat,theveryhistoryofhismarriageplacedinanoutrageousmannernexttotheparagraphinwhichhisnamewasalmostopenlywritten.TheeditorofthesocietyjournalpasseddirectlyfromtheinformationinregardtotheillnessofPrincessZ.toanallegoricaltaleinwhichAndrassawthesecretofhislifeandthewoundsofhisheartlaidbare.

ALITTLEPARISIANROMANCELikemostoftheParisianromancesofto-day,thelittleromanceinquestionisanexoticone.Parisbelongstoforeigners.WhentheParisians,whosenamesappearinthechroniclesoffashion,arenotAmericans,Russians,Roumanians,Portuguese,English,Chinese,orHungarians,theydonotcount;theyarenolongerParisians.The

ParisiansofthedayareParisiansofthePrater,oftheNewskiPerspectiveorofFifthAvenue;theyarenolongerpurebloodedParisians.WithintenyearsfromnowtheboulevardswillbesituatedinChicago,andonewillgotopasshiseveningsattheEdenTheatreofPekin.So,thisisthelatestParisianromance:OnceuponatimetherewasinParisagreatlord,aMoldavian,oraWallachian,oraMoldo-Wallachian(inaword,aParisian--aParisianoftheDanube,ifyoulike),whofellinlovewithayoungGreek,orTurk,orArmenian(alsoofParis),asdark-browedasthenight,asbeautifulastheday.Thegreatlordwasofacertainage,that


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is,anuncertainage.ThebeautifulAthenianorGeorgian,orCircassian,wasyoung.Thegreatlordwasgenerallyconsideredtobeimprudent.Butwhatistobedonewhenoneloves?Marryordon'tmarry,saysRabelaisorMoliere.Perhapstheybothsaidit.Well,atallevents,thegreatlordmarried.Itappears,ifwell-informedpeoplearetobebelieved,thatthegreatWallachianlordandthebeautifulGeorgiandidnotpasstwohoursaftertheirmarriagebeneaththesameroof.Theverydayoftheirwedding,quietly,andwithoutscandal,theyseparated,andthereasonofthisrupturehasforalongtimepuzzledParisianhigh-life.Itwasremarked,however,thattheseparationofthenewly-marriedpairwascoincidentwiththedisappearanceofaveryfashionableattachewho,someyearsago,wasoftenseenridingintheBois,andwhowasthenconsideredtobethemostgracefulwaltzeroftheViennese,orMuscovite,orCastiliancolonyofParis.Wemight,ifwewereindiscreet,constructawholedramawiththesethreepeopleforourdramatispersonae,;butwewishtoprovethatreporters(differentinthisfromwomen)sometimesknowhowtokeepasecret.Forthoseladieswhoare,perhaps,stillinterestedinthesilkymoustachesofthefugitiveex-diplomat,wecanadd,however,thathewasseenatBrusselsashorttimeago.Hepassedthroughtherelikeashootingstar.Someonewhosawhimnoticedthathewasratherpale,andthatheseemedtobestillsufferingfromthewoundsreceivednotlongago.AsforthebeautifulGeorgian,theysaysheisindespair

atthedepartureofherhusband,thegreatWallachianlord,who,inspiteofhisill-luck,isreallyaPrinceCharming.

AndrasZilahturnedrapidlytothesignatureofthisarticle.The"EchoesofParis"weresignedPuck.Puck?WhowasthisPuck?Howcouldanunknown,ananonymouswriter,aretailerofscandals,bepossessedofhissecret?ForAndrasbelievedthathissufferingwasasecret;hehadneverhadanideathatanyonecouldexposeittothecuriosityofthecrowd,asthiseditorofL'Actualitehaddone.HefeltanincreasedrageagainsttheinvisibleMichelMenko,whohaddisappearedafterhisinfamy;anditseemedtohimthatthisPuck,thisunknownjournalist,wasanaccompliceorafriendofMichelMenko,andthat,behindthepseudonymofthewriter,heperceivedthehandsomeface,twistedmoustacheandhaughty

smileoftheyoungCount.

"Afterall,"hesaidtohimself,"weshallsoonfindout.MonsieurPuckmustbelessdifficulttounearththanMichelMenko."

Herangforhisvalet,andwasabouttogoout,whenYanskiVarhelywasannounced.

TheoldHungarianlookedtroubled,andhisbrowswerecontractedinafrown.Hecouldnotrepressamovementofangerwhenheperceived,uponthePrince'stable,themarkednumberofL'Actualite.

Varhely,whenhehadanafternoontogetridof,usuallywenttothe

Palais-Royal.Hehadlivedfortwentyyearsnotfarfromthere,inalittleapartmentnearSaint-Roch.Drinkinginthefreshair,underthestripedawningoftheCafedelaRotunde,hereadthejournals,oneaftertheother,orwatchedthesparrowsflyaboutandpeckupthegrainsinthesand.Childrenranhereandthere,playingatball;and,abovethenoiseofthepromenaders,arosethemusicofthebrassband.

ItwaschieflythepoliticalnewshesoughtforintheFrenchorforeignjournals.Heranthroughthemallwithhisnoseinthesheets,whichheheldstraightoutbythewoodenfile,likeaflag.Witharapidglance,


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hefellstraightupontheHungariannameswhichinterestedhim--Deaksometimes,sometimesAndrassy;andfromaGermanpaperhepassedtoanEnglish,Spanish,orItalianone,making,ashesaid,atourofEurope,acquaintedashewaswithalmostallEuropeanlanguages.

AnhourbeforeheappearedatthePrince'shouse,hewasseatedintheshadeofthetrees,scanning'L'Actualite',whenhesuddenlyutteredanoathofanger(anHungarian'teremtete!')ashecameacrossthetwoparagraphsalludingtoPrinceAndras.

Varhelyreadthelinesovertwice,toconvincehimselfthathewasnotmistaken,andthatitwasPrinceZilahwhowasdesignatedwiththeskilfullyveiledinnuendoofanexpertjournalist.Therewasnochancefordoubt;theindistinctnationalityofthegreatlordspokenofthinlyveiledtheMagyarcharacteristicsofAndras,andtheparagraphwhichprecededthe"LittleParisianRomance"wasveryskilfullyarrangedtoletthepublicguessthenameoftheherooftheadventure,whilegivingtotheanecdoterelatedthepiquancyoftheanonymous,thatvelvetmaskofscandal-mongers.

ThenVarhelyhadonlyoneidea.

"Andrasmustnotknowofthisarticle.Hescarcelyeverreadsthejournals;butsomeonemayhavesentthispapertohim."

AndtheoldmisanthropehurriedtothePrince'shotel,thinkingthis:thattherealwaysexistpeoplereadytoforwardparagraphsofthiskind.

Whenheperceived'L'Actualite'uponthePrince'stable,hesawthathissurmisewasonlytoocorrect,andhewasfuriouswithhimselfforarrivingtoolate.

"Whereareyougoing?"heaskedAndras,whowasputtingonhisgloves.

ThePrincetookupthemarkedpaper,foldeditslowly,andreplied:

"Iamgoingout."

"Haveyoureadthatpaper?"

"Themarkedpartofit,yes."

"Youknowthatthatsheetisneverread,ithasnocirculationwhatever,itlivesfromitsadvertisements.Thereisnouseintakinganynoticeofit."

"Iftherewerequestiononlyofmyself,Ishouldnottakeanynoticeofit.ButtheyhavemixedupinthisscandalthenameofthewomantowhomIhavegivenmyname.Iwishtoknowwhodidit,andwhyhedidit."

"Oh!fornothing,forfun!BecausethisMonsieur--howdoeshesignhimself?--Puckhadnothingelsetowriteabout."

"Itiscertainlyabsurd,"remarkedZilah,"toimaginethatamancanliveintheideal.Ateverysteptherealitysplashesyouwithmud."

Ashespoke,hemovedtowardthedoor.

"Whereareyougoing?"askedVarhelyagain.


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"Totheofficeofthisjournal."

"Donotcommitsuchanimprudence.Thearticle,whichhasmadenostirasyet,willbereadandtalkedofbyallParisifyoutakeanynoticeofit,anditwillbeimmediatelycommenteduponbythecorrespondentsoftheAustrianandHungarianjournals."

"Thatmatterslittletome!"saidthePrince,resolutely."Thosepeoplewillonlydowhattheirtradeobligesthemto.But,beforeeverything,Iamresolvedtodomyduty.Thatismypartinthismatter."

"ThenIwillaccompanyyou."

"No,"repliedAndras,"Iaskyounottodothat;butitisprobablethatto-morrowIshallrequestyoutoserveasmysecond."

"Aduel?"

"Exactly."

"WithMonsieur--Puck?"

"Withwhoeverinsultsme.Thenameisperfectlyimmaterial.Butsinceheescapesmeandsheisirresponsible--andpunished--Iregardasan

accompliceoftheirinfamyanymanwhomakesallusiontoitwitheithertongueorpen.And,mydearVarhely,Iwishtoactalone.Don'tbeangry;Iknowthatinyourhandsmyhonorwouldbeasfaithfullyguardedasinmyown."

"Withoutanydoubt,"saidVarhely,inanoddtone,pullinghisroughmoustache,"andIhopetoproveittoyousomeday."

CHAPTERXXV

THEHOMEOF"PUCK"

PrinceZilahdidnotobserveatallthemarkedsignificanceoldYanskigavetothislastspeech.HeshookVarhely'shand,enteredacab,and,castingaglanceatthejournalinhishands,heorderedthecoachmantodrivetotheofficeof'L'Actualite',RueHalevy,neartheOpera.

Thesocietyjournal,whoseaimwasrepresentedbyitstitle,haditsquartersonthethirdfloorinthatsemi-Englishsectionwherebars,excursionagencies,steamboatoffices,andmanufacturersoftravelling-bagsgivetothestreetsasortofBritannicaspect.Theofficeof'L'Actualite'hadonlyrecentlybeenestablishedthere.PrinceZilchreadthenumberoftheroomuponabrasssignandwentup.

Intheouterofficetherewereonlytwoorthreeclerksatworkbehindthegrating.Noneofthesehadtherighttorevealthenameshiddenunderpseudonyms;theydidnotevenknowthem.Zilchperceived,throughanopendoor,thereporters'room,furnishedwithalongtablecoveredwithpens,ink,andpadsofwhitepaper.Thisroomwasempty;thejournalwasmadeupintheevening,andthereporterswereabsent.

"Isthereanyonewhocananswerme?"askedthePrince.


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"Probablythesecretarycan,"repliedaclerk."Haveyouacard,Monsieur?or,ifyouwillwriteyournameuponabitofpaper,itwilldo."

Andrasdidso;theclerkopenedadoorinthecorridoranddisappeared.Afteraminuteortwohereappeared,andsaidtothePrince:

"Ifyouwillfollowme,MonsieurFreminwillseeyou."

Andrasfoundhimselfinthepresenceofapleasant-lookingmiddle-agedman,whowaswritingatamodestdeskwhentheHungarianentered,andwhobowedpolitely,motioninghimtobeseated.

AsZilchsatdownuponthesofa,thereappeareduponthethresholdofadoor,oppositetheonebywhichhehadentered,asmall,dark,elegantlydressedyoungman,whomAndrasvaguelyrememberedtohaveseensomewhere,hecouldnottellwhere.Thenewcomerwasirreproachableinhisappearance,withhisclothesbuiltinthelatestfashion,snowylinen,palegraygloves,silver-headedcane,andasingleeyeglass,danglingfromasilkencord.

HebowedtoZilch,and,goinguptothesecretary,hesaid,rapidly:

"Well!sinceTourillonisaway,IwillreporttheEnghienraces.Iam

goingtherenow.Enghienisn'thighlydiverting,though.Theswellsandtheprettywomensorarelygothere;theydon'taffectEnghienanymore.Butdutybeforeeverything,eh,Fremin?"

"Youwillhavetohurry,"saidFremin,lookingathiswatch,"oryouwillmissyourtrain."

"Oh!Ihaveacarriagebelow."

Heclappedhisconfrereontheshoulder,bowedagaintoZilah,andhurriedaway,whileFremin,turningtothePrince,said:

"Iamatyourservice,Monsieur,"andwaitedforhimtoopenthe

conversation.

ZilahdrewfromhispocketthecopyofL'Actualite,andsaid,veryquietly:

"Ishouldliketoknow,Monsieur,whoismeantinthisarticlehere."

And,foldingthepaper,withthepassagewhichconcernedhimuppermost,hehandedittothesecretary.

Freminglancedatthearticle.

"Yes,Ihaveseenthisparagraph,"hesaid;"butIamentirelyignorant

towhomitalludes.Iamnotevencertainthatitisnotafabrication,inventedoutofwholecloth."

"Ah!"saidZilah."Theauthorofthearticlewouldknow,Isuppose?"

"Itishighlyprobable,"repliedFremin,withasmile.

"Willyoutellme,then,thenameofthepersonwhowrotethis?"

"Isn'tthearticlesigned?"


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"ItissignedPuck.Thatisnotaname."

"Apseudonymisanameinliterature,"saidFremin."Iamoftheopinion,however,thatonehasalwaystherighttodemandtoseeafacewhichiscoveredbyamask.Butthepersonwhomakesthisdemandshouldbepersonallyinterested.Doesthisstory,towhichyouhavecalledmyattention,concernyou,Monsieur?"

"Suppose,Monsieur,"answeredZilah,alittledisconcerted,forheperceivedthathehadtodowithacourteous,well-bredman,"supposethatthemanwhoismentioned,orratherinsulted,here,weremybestfriend.Iwishtodemandanexplanationofthepersonwhowrotethisarticle,andtoknow,also,ifitwasreallyajournalistwhocomposedthoselines."

"Youmean?--"

"Imeanthattheremaybepeopleinterestedinhavingsuchanarticlepublished,andIwishtoknowwhotheyare."

"Youareperfectlyjustified,Monsieur;butonlyonepersoncantellyouthat--thewriterofthearticle."

"Itisforthatreason,Monsieur,thatIdesiretoknowhisname."

"Hedoesnotconcealit,"saidFremin."Thepseudonymisonlydesignedasastimulanttocuriosity;butPuckisacorporealbeing."

"Iamgladtohearit,"saidZilah."Now,willyoubekindenoughtogivemehisname?"

"PaulJacquemin."

Zilahknewthenamewell,havingseenitattheendofareportofhisriverfete;buthehardlythoughtJacquemincouldbesowellinformed.SincehehadlivedinFrance,theHungarianexilehadnotbeenaccustomed

toregardParisasasortofgossipingvillage,whereeverythingisfoundout,talkedover,andcommenteduponwitheagercuriosity,andwhereeveryone'saimistoappeartohavethebestandmostcorrectinformation.

"Imustaskyounow,Monsieur,whereMonsieurPaulJacqueminlives?"

"RueRochechouart,atthecorneroftheRuedelaTourd'Auvergne."

"Thankyou,Monsieur,"saidAndras,rising,theobjectofhiscallhavingbeenaccomplished.

"Onemoment,"saidFremin,"ifyouintendtogoatoncetoMonsieur

Jacquemin'shouse,youwillnotfindhimathomejustnow."

"Whynot?"

"Becauseyousawhimhereafewminutesago,andheisnowonhiswaytoEnghien."

"Indeed!"saidthePrince."Verywell,Iwillwait."

HebadefarewelltoFremin,whoaccompaniedhimtothedoor;and,when


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seatedinhiscarriage,hereadagaintheparagraphofPuck--thatPuck,who,inthecourseofthesamearticle,referredmanytimestothebrilliancyof"ourcolleagueJacquemin,"andcomplacentlycitedthewitticismsof"ourcleverfriendJacquemin."

ZilahrememberedthisJacqueminnow.Itwashewhomhehadseentakingnotesupontheparapetofthequay,andafterwardatthewedding,wherehehadbeenbroughtbytheBaronessDinati.ItwasJacqueminwhowassuchafavoritewiththelittleBaroness;whowasoneofthelicenseddistributorsofcelebrityandquasi-celebrityforallthosewholiveupongossipandforgossip-greatladieswholovetoseetheirnamesinprint,andactresseswildoveranewrole;whowasoneofthechroniclersoffashion,receivedeverywhere,flattered,caressed,petted;whomthePrincehadjustseen,veryelegantwithhisstickandeyeglass,andhiscareless,disdainfulair;andwhohadsaid,likeamanaccustomedtoeverymagnificence,fatiguedwithluxury,blasewithpleasure,andcaringonlyforwhatistrulypschutt(tousethelatestslang):"Prettywomensorarelygothere!"

Zilahthoughtthat,astheBaronesshadaparticularpredilectionforJacquemin,itwasperhapsshe,who,inhergaychatter,hadrelatedthestorytothereporter,andwho,withoutknowingitprobably,assuredlywithoutwishingit,hadfurnishedanarticlefor'L'Actualite'.Inallhonor,JacqueminwasreallythespoiledchildoftheBaroness,the

directoroftheentertainmentsatherhouse.Withalittlemoreconceit,Jacquemin,whowasbynomeanslackinginthatquality,however,mighthavebelievedthattheprettylittlewomanwasinlovewithhim.Thetruthis,theBaronessDinatiwasonlyinlovewiththereporter'sarticles,thosesocietyarticlesinwhichheneverforgother,butpaid,withastringofprintedcompliments,forhischampagneandtruffles.

"Andyet,"thoughtZilah,"no,uponreflection,IamcertainthattheBaronesshadnothingtodowiththisoutrage.Neitherwithintentionnorthroughimprudencewouldshehavegivenanyofthesedetailstothisman."

NowthatthePrinceknewhisrealname,hemighthavesenttoMonsieur

Puck,Varhely,andanotherofhisfriends.Jacqueminwouldthengiveanexplanation;forofreparationZilahthoughtlittle.Andyet,fullofanger,andnothavingMenkobeforehim,helongedtopunishsomeone;hewished,that,havingbeenmadetosuffersohimself,someoneshouldexpiatehispain.Hewouldchastisethisbutterflyreporter,whohaddaredtointerferewithhisaffairs,andwreakhisvengeanceuponhimasifhewerethecowardwhohadfled.And,besides,whoknew,afterall,ifthisJacqueminwerenottheconfidantofMenko?VarhelywouldnothaverecognizedinthePrincethegenerousZilahofformertimes,fullofpity,andreadytoforgiveaninjury.

AndrascouldnotmeetJacqueminthatday,unlesshewaitedforhimattheofficeof'L'Actualite'untiltheraceswereover,andhetherefore

postponedhisintendedinterviewuntilthenextday.

Abouteleveno'clockinthemorning,afterasleeplessnight,hesought-theRueRochechouart,andthehouseFreminhaddescribedtohim.Itwasthere:anoldweather-beatenhouse,withanarrowentranceandacorridor,inthemiddleofwhichflowedadirty,foul-smellingstreamofwater;theroomoftheconciergelookedlikeablackholeatthefootofthestaircase,thebalustersandwallsofwhichwerewetwithmoistureandstreakedwithdirt;ahouseofpoorworking-people,manystorieshigh,andbuiltinthetimewhenthisquarterofPariswasalmosta


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suburb.

Andrashesitatedatfirsttoenter,thinkingthathemustbemistaken.HethoughtoflittleJacquemin,daintyandneatasifhehadjuststeppedoutofabandbox,andhisdisdainfulremarksupontheracesofEnghien,wheretheswellsnolongerwent.Itwasnotpossiblethathelivedhereinthiswretched,shabbyplace.

TheconciergerepliedtothePrince,however,whenheaskedforJacquemin:"Yes,Monsieur,onthefifthfloor,thedoortotheright;"andZilahmountedthedarkstairs.

Whenhereachedthefifthfloor,hedidnotyetbelieveitpossiblethattheJacqueminwholivedtherewastheonehehadseenthedaybefore,theonewhomBaronessDinatipetted,"ourwittycolleagueJacquemin."

Heknocked,however,atthedoorontheright,ashehadbeendirected.Noonecametoopenit;buthecouldhearwithinfootstepsandindistinctcries.Hethenperceivedthattherewasabell-rope,andhepulledit.Immediatelyheheardsomeoneapproachingfromwithin.

Hefeltasingularsensationofconcentratedanger,unitedtoafearthattheJacqueminhewasinsearchofwasnotthere.

Thedooropened,andawomanappeared,young,ratherpale,withprettyblondhair,somewhatdisheveled,anddressedinablackskirt,withawhitedressing-sackthrownoverhershoulders.

Shesmiledmechanicallyassheopenedthedoor,and,asshesawastrangeface,sheblushedcrimson,andpulledhersacktogetherbeneathherchin,fasteningitwithapin.

"MonsieurJacquemin?"saidAndras,takingoffhishat.

"Yes,Monsieur,heliveshere,"repliedtheyoungwoman,alittleastonished.

"MonsieurJacquemin,thejournalist?"askedAndras.

"Yes,yes,Monsieur,"sheansweredwithaproudlittlesmile,whichZilahwasnotslowtonotice.Shenowopenedthedoorwide,andsaid,steppingasidetoletthevisitorpass:

"Willyoutakethetroubletocomein,Monsieur?"Shewasnotaccustomedtoreceivecalls(Jacqueminalwaysmakinghisappointmentsattheoffice);but,asthestrangermightbesomeonewhobroughtherhusbandwork,asshecalledit,shewasanxiousnottolethimgoawaybeforesheknewwhathiserrandwas.

"Pleasecomein,Monsieur!"

ThePrinceentered,and,crossingtheentryintwosteps,foundhimselfinasmalldining-roomopeningdirectlyoutofthekitchen,wherethreetinylittlechildrenwereplaying,theyoungest,whocouldnothavebeenmorethaneighteenmonths,crawlingaboutonthefloor.Upontheraggedoilclothwhichcoveredthetable,Zilahnoticedtwopairsofmen'sgloves,onegray,theotheryellow,andaheapofsoiledwhitecravats.Uponawoodenchair,bytheopendoorofthekitchen,wasatubfullofshirts,whichtheyoungwomanhaddoubtlessbeenwashingwhenthebellrang.


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ThecriesZilahhadheardcamefromthechildren,whowerenowsilent,staringatthetallgentleman,wholookedattheminsurprise.

Theyoungwomanwassmallandverypretty,butwiththepalloroffatigueandoverwork;herlipswerebeautifullychiselled,butalmostcolorless;andshewassothinthatherfigurehadthefrailappearanceofanunformedgirl.

"Willyousitdown,Monsieur?"sheasked,timidly,advancingacane-bottomedchair.

Everythinginthesepoorlodgingswasofthemostshabbydescription.Inacrackedmirrorwithabrokenframewerestuckcardsofinvitation,theatrechecks,andraceticketsadmittingtothegrandstand.UponacheaplittletablewithbrokencornerswasaheapofNewYear'scards,bonbonboxes,andnovelswithsoilededges.Uponthefloor,nearthechildren,weresomeremnantsoftoys;andthecradleinwhichthebabysleptatnightwaspushedintoacornerwithachild'schair,thearmsofwhichweregone.

Zilahwasbothastonishedandpained.Hehadnotexpectedtoencounterthiswretchedplace,thepoorlycladchildren,andthewoman'stimidsmile.

"IsMonsieurJacqueminathome?"heaskedabruptly,desiringtoleaveatonceifthemanwhomhesoughtwasnotthere.

"No,Monsieur;buthewillnotbelongaway.Sitdown,Monsieur,please!"

Sheentreatedsogently,withsuchanuneasyairatthethreateneddepartureofthismanwhohaddoubtlessbroughtsomegoodnewsforherhusband,thatthePrincemechanicallyobeyed,thinkingagainthattherewasevidentlysomemistake,andthatitwasnot,itcouldnotbe,herethatJacqueminlived.

"Isitreallyyourhusband,Madame,whowritesunderthesignatureofPuckin'L'Actualite'?"heasked.Thesameproudsmileappearedagainuponherthin,wanface.

"Yes,Monsieur,yes,itisreallyhe!"shereplied.ShewassohappywheneveranyonespoketoherofherPaul.ShewasinthehabitoftakingcopiesofL'Actualitetotheconcierge,thegrocer,andthebutcher;andshewassoproudtoshowhowwellPaulwrote,andwhatfineconnectionshehad--herPaul,whomshelovedsomuch,andforwhomshesatuplateatnightwhenitwasnecessarytopreparehislinenforsomegreatdinnerorsupperhewasinvitedto.

"Oh!itisindeedhe,Monsieur,"shesaidagain,whileZilahwatchedher

andlistenedinsilence."Idon'tliketohavehimusepseudonyms,ashecallsthem.Itgivesmesomuchpleasuretoseehisrealname,whichisminetoo,printedinfull.Onlyitseemsthatitisbettersometimes.Puckmakespeoplecurious,andtheysay,Whocanitbe?HealsosignedhimselfGavrocheintheRabelais,youknow,whichdidnotlastverylong.Youareperhapsajournalistalso,Monsieur?"

"No,"saidZilah.

"Ah!Ithoughtyouwere!But,afterall,perhapsyouareright.Itisa


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hardprofession,Isometimesthink.Youhavetobeoutsolate.Ifyouonlyknew,Monsieur,howpoorPaulisforcedtoworkevenatnight!Ittireshimso,andthenitcostssomuch.Ibegyourpardonforleavingthosegloveslikethatbeforeyou.Iwascleaningthem.Hedoesnotlikecleanedgloves,though;hesaysitalwaysshows.Well,Iamawoman,andIdon'tnoticeit.AndthenItakesomuchcareofallthat.Itisnecessary,andeverythingcostssodear.YouseeI--Gustave,don'tslapyourlittlesister!younaughtyboy!"

Andgoingtothechildren,hersweet,frankeyesbecomingsadataquarrelbetweenherlittleones,shegentlytookthebabyawayfromtheoldestchild,whocried,andwentintoacornertopout,regardinghismotherwiththesameimpudentairwhichZilahhadperceivedinthecurlofJacquemin'slipswhenthereportercomplainedofthedearthofprettywomen.

"Itiscertainlyveryastonishingthathedoesnotcomehome,"continuedtheyoungwife,excusingtoZilahtheabsenceofherPaul."Heoftenbreakfasts,however,inthecity,atBrebant's.Itseemsthatitisnecessaryforhimtodoso.Yousee,attherestauranthetalksandhearsnews.Hecouldn'tlearnallthatheknowshereverywell,couldhe?Idon'tknowmuchofthingsthatmustbeputinanewspaper."

Andshesmiledalittlesadsmile,makingevenofherhumilityapedestal

forthehusbandsodeeplylovedandadmired.

Zilahwasbeginningtofeelillatease.Hehadcomewithanger,expectingtoencounterthelittlefopwhomhehadseen,andhefoundthishumbleanddevotedwoman,whospokeofherPaulasifshewerespeakingofherreligion,andwho,knowingnothingofthelifeofherhusband,onlylovinghim,sacrificedherselftohiminthisalmostcruelpoverty(astrangecontrasttothelifeofluxuryJacqueminledelsewhere),withtheholytrustofherunselfishlove.

"Doyouneveraccompanyyourhusbandanywhere?"askedAndras.

"I?Oh,never!"shereplied,withasortoffright."Hedoesnotwish

it--andheisright.Yousee,Monsieur,whenhemarriedme,fiveyearsago,hewasnotwhatheisnow;hewasarailwayclerk.Iwasaworking-girl;yes,Iwasaseamstress.Thenitwasallright;weusedtowalktogether,andwewenttothetheatre;hedidnotknowanyone.Itisdifferentnow.Yousee,iftheBaronessDinatishouldseemeonhisarm,shewouldnotbowtohim,perhaps."

"Youaremistaken,Madame,"saidtheHungarian,gently."Youaretheonewhoshouldbebowedtofirst."

Shedidnotunderstand,butshefeltthatacomplimentwasintended,andsheblushedveryred,notdaringtosayanymore,andwonderingifshehadnotchattedtoomuch,asJacqueminreproachedherwithdoingalmost

everyday.

"DoesMonsieurJacquemingooftentothetheatre?"askedAndras,afteramoment'spause.

"Yes;heisobligedtodoso."

"Andyou?"

"Sometimes.Nottothefirstnights,ofcourse.Onehastodress


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handsomelyforthem.ButPaulgivesmetickets,oh,asmanyasIwant!Whentheplaysarenolongerdrawingmoney,Igowiththeneighbors.ButIprefertostayathomeandseetomybabies;whenIamsittinginthetheatre,andtheyareleftinchargeoftheconcierge,Ithink,Supposeanythingshouldhappentothem!Andthatideatakesawayallmypleasure.Still,ifPaulstayedhere--buthecannot;hehashiswritingtodointheevenings.Poorfellow,heworkssohard!Well!"withasigh,"Idon'tthinkthathewillbebackto-day.Thechildrenwilleathisbeefsteak,that'sall;itwon'tdothemanyharm."

Asshespoke,shetooksomepiecesofmeatfromanalmostemptycupboard,andplacedthemonthetable,excusingherselffordoingsobeforeZilah.

Andhecontemplated,withanemotionwhicheverywordofthelittlewomanincreased,thispoor,miserableapartment,wherethewifelived,takingcareofherchildren,whilethehusband,MonsieurPuckorMonsieurGavroche,paradedatthefancyfairsoratthetheatres;figuredattheraces;tastedtheBaronessDinati'swines,caringonlyforJohannisbergwiththeblueandgoldsealof1862;andgavetoPotelandChabot,inhisarticles,lessonsingastronomy.

ThenMadameJacquemin,feelinginstinctivelythatshehadthesympathyofthissad-facedmanwhospoketoherinsuchagentlevoice,relatedherlifetohimwiththeeasyconfidencewhichpoorpeople,whoneverseethe

greatworld,possess.Shetoldhim,withatendersmile,theentirelyParisianidyloftheloveoftheworking-girlforthelittleclerkwholovedhersomuchandwhomarriedher;andoftheexcursionstheyusedtotaketogethertoSaint-Germain,goingthird-class,andeatingtheirdinneruponthegreengrassunderthetrees,andthenenjoyingthefunnydoingsofthepaintedclowns,theilluminations,themusic,andthedancing.Oh!theydancedanddancedanddanced,untilshewassotiredthatshesleptallthewayhomewithherheadonhisshoulder,dreamingofthehappydaytheyhadhad.

"Thatwasthebesttimeofmylife,Monsieur.Wewerenoricherthanwearenow;butweweremorefree.Hewaswithmemore,too:now,hecertainlymakesmeveryproudwithhisbeautifularticles;butIdon't

seehim;Idon'tseehimanymore,anditmakesmeverysad.Oh!ifitwerenotforthat,althoughwearenotmillionaires,Ishouldbeveryhappy;yes,entirely,entirelyhappy."

Therewas,inthesimple,gentleresignationofthispoorgirl,sacrificedwithoutknowingit,suchdevotedloveforthemanwho,inreality,abandonedher,thatPrinceAndrasfeltdeeplymovedandtouched.Hethoughtoftheoneleadingalifeofpleasure,andtheotheralifeoffatigue;ofthishouseholdtouchingononesidepoverty,and,ontheother,wealthandfashion;andhedivined,fromtheinnocentwordsofthisyoungwife,thehardshipsofthishome,halfdesertedbythehusband,andthenervousnessandpeevishnessofJacqueminreturningtothispoorplaceafteranightattherestaurantsoraballatBaroness

Dinati's.HeheardthecuttingvoiceoftheelegantlittlemanwhomhishumblewifecontemplatedwiththeeyesofaHindooadoringanidol;hewaspresent,inimagination,atthosetragicallysorrowfulsceneswhichthewifeborewithhertendersmile,poorwoman,knowingofthelifeofherPaulonlythosedutiesofluxurywhichsheherselfimagined,remainingaseamstressstilltosewthebuttonsontheshirtsandglovesofherhusband,andabsolutelyignorantofalltheentertainmentswhere,inanevening,wouldsometimesbelost,atagameofcards,thewholemonthlysalaryofMonsieurPuck!AndZilahsaidtohimself,thatthiswas,perhaps,thefirsttimethatthiswomanhadeverbeenbroughtin


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contactwithanythingpertainingtoherhusband'sfashionablelife--andinwhatshape?--thatofamanwhohadcometodemandsatisfactionforaninjury,andtosaytoJacquemin:"Ishallprobablykillyou,Monsieur!"

Andgradually,beforethespectacleofthisprofoundlove,ofthishumbleandholydevotionoftheunselfishmartyrwithtimid,wistfuleyes,wholeanedoverherchildren,andsaidtothem,sweetly,"Yes,youarehungry,Iknow,butyoushallhavepapa'sbeefsteak,"whilesheherselfbreakfastedoffalittlecoffeeandacrustofbread,AndrasZilahfeltallhisangerdieaway;andanimmensepityfilledhisbreast,ashesaw,asinavisionofwhatthefuturemighthavebroughtforth,aterriblesceneinthispoorlittlehousehold:thepalefair-hairedwife,alreadywastedandwornwithconstantlabor,leaningoutofthewindowyonder,orrunningtothestairsandseeing,coveredwithblood,wounded,woundedtodeathperhaps,herPaul,whomhe,Andras,hadcometoprovoketoaduel.

Ah!poorwoman!Neverwouldhecausehersuchanguishandsorrow.BetweenhisswordandJacquemin'simpertinentlittleperson,werenowthissad-eyedcreature,andthosepoorlittlechildren,whoplayedthere,forgotten,halfdeserted,bytheirfather,andwhowouldgrowup,Heavenknowshow!

"IseethatMonsieurJacqueminwillnotreturn,"hesaid,risinghurriedly,"andIwillleaveyoutoyourbreakfast,Madame."

"Oh!youdon'ttroublemeatall,Monsieur.Ibegyourpardonagainforhavinggivenmychildrentheirbreakfastbeforeyou."

"Farewell,Madame,"saidAndras,bowingwiththedeepestrespect.

"Then,youarereallygoing,Monsieur?Indeed,Iamafraidhewon'tcomeback.ButpleasetellmewhatIshallsaytohimyourerrandwas.Ifitissomegoodnews,Ishouldbesoglad,soglad,tobethefirsttotellittohim.Youare,perhaps,althoughyousaynot,theeditorofsomepaperwhichisabouttobestarted.Hespoketome,theotherday,ofa

newpaper.Hewouldliketobeadramaticcritic.Thatishisdream,hesays.Isitthat,Monsieur?"

"No,Madame;and,totellyouthetruth,thereisnolongeranyneedformetoseeyourhusband.ButIdonotregretmyvisit;onthecontrary--Ihavemetanoblewoman,andIofferhermydeepestrespect."

Poor,unhappygirl!Shewasnotusedtosuchwords;sheblushinglyfalteredherthanks,andseemedquitegrievedatthedepartureofthisman,fromwhomshehadexpectedsomegoodluckforherhusband.

"ThelifeofParishasitssecrets!"thoughtZilah,asheslowlydescendedthestairs,whichhehadmountedinsuchadifferentframeof

mind,soshortatimebefore.

Whenhereachedthelowerlanding,helookedup,andsawtheblondheadoftheyoungwoman,leaningoverabove,andthelittlehandsofthechildrenclutchingthedamprailing.

ThenPrinceAndrasZilahtookoffhishat,andagainbowedlow.

OnhiswayfromtheRueRochechouarttohishotelhethoughtofthethin,palefaceoftheParisiangrisette,whowouldslowlypineaway,deceived


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anddisdainedbythemanwhosenameshebore.Suchafinename!PuckorGavroche!

"Andshewoulddieratherthansoilthatname.ThisJacqueminhasfoundthispearlofgreatprice,andhiditawayundertheguttersofParis!AndI--Ihaveencountered--what?Amiserablewomanwhobetrayedme!Ah!menandwomenaredecidedlythevictimsofchance;puppetsdestinedtobruiseoneanother!"

Onenteringhishotel,hefoundYanskiVarhelythere,withananxiouslookuponhisruggedoldface.

"Well?"

"Well-nothing!"

AndZilahtoldhisfriendwhathehadseen.

"Adrollcity,thisParis!"hesaid,inconclusion."Iseethatitisnecessarytogoupintothegarretstoknowitwell."

Hetookasheetofpaper,satdown,andwroteasfollows:

MONSIEUR:--YouhavepublishedanarticleinregardtoPrinceAndras

Zilah,whichisanoutrage.AdevotedfriendofthePrincehadresolvedtomakeyoupaydearlyforit;butthereissomeonewhohasdisarmedhim.Thatsomeoneistheadmirablewomanwhobearssohonorablythenamewhichyouhavegivenher,andlivessobravelythelifeyouhavedoomedherto.MadameJacqueminhasredeemedtheinfamyofMonsieurPuck.Butwhen,inthefuture,youhavetospeakofthemisfortunesofothers,thinkalittleofyourownexistence,andprofitbythemorallessongivenyouby--ANUNKNOWN.

"Now,"saidZilah,"besokind,mydearVarhely,astohavethisnotesenttoMonsieurPuck,attheofficeof'L'Actualite'andaskyourdomestictopurchasesometoys,whateverhelikes--hereisthemoney--andtakethemtoMadameJacquemin,No.25RueRochechouart.Threetoys,

becausetherearethreechildren.Thepoorlittlethingswillhavegainedsomuch,atallevents,fromthisoccurrence."

CHAPTERXXVI

"AMIAVENGED?"

Afterthisepisode,thePrincelivedamoresolitaryexistencethanbefore,andtroubledhimselfnofurtherabouttheoutsideworld.Whyshouldhecare,thatsomepenny-alinerhadslippedthoseodiouslines

intoanewspaper?Hissorrowwasnotthepublishingofthetreachery,itwasthetreacheryitself;andhishourlysufferingcausedhimtolongfordeathtoendhistorture.

"AndyetImustlive,"hethought,"iftoexistwithadaggerthroughone'sheartistolive."

Then,toescapefromthepresent,heplungedintothememoriesofthewar,asintoabathofoblivion,astrangeoblivion,wherehefoundallhispatrioticregretsofotherdays.Heread,withspasmodiceagerness,


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thebooksinwhichGeorgeiandKlapka,theactorsofthedrama,presentedtheirexcuses,orpouredforththeircomplaints;anditseemedtohimthathiscountrywouldmakehimforgethislove.

Inthemagnificentpicture-gallery,wherehespentmostofhistime,hiseyesresteduponthebattle-scenesofMatejks,thePolishartist,andthelandscapesofMunkacsy,thatpainterofhisowncountry,whotookhisnamefromthetownofMunkacs,wheretraditionsaysthattheMagyarssettledwhentheycamefromtheOrient,agesago.Thenabitterlongingtookpossessionofhimtobreatheadifferentair,toflyfromParis,andplaceawidedistancebetweenhimselfandMarsa;totakeatriparoundtheworld,wherenewscenesmightsoftenhisgrief,or,betterstill,someaccidentputanendtohislife;and,besides,chancemightbringhimincontactwithMenko.

But,justashewasreadytodepart,asortoflassitudeoverpoweredhim;hefelttheinertsensationofawoundedmanwhohasnotthestrengthtomove,andheremainedwherehewas,sadlyandbitterlywonderingattimesifheshouldnotappealtothecourts,dissolvehismarriage,anddemandbackhisnamefromtheonewhohadstolenit.

Appealtothecourts?Theideaofdoingthatwasrepugnanttohim.What!toheartheproudandstainlessnameoftheZilahsresound,nolongerabovetheclashofsabresandtheneighingoffurioushorses,

butwithinthewallsofacourtroom,andinpresenceofagapingcrowdofsensationseekers?No!silencewasbetterthanthat;anythingwasbetterthanpublicityandscandal.Divorce!Hecouldobtainthat,sinceMarsa,herminddestroyed,waslikeonedead.Andwhatwouldadivorcegivehim?Hisfreedom?Hehaditalready.Butwhatnothingcouldgiveback,washisruinedfaith,hisshatteredhopes,hishappinesslostforever.

AttimeshehadawilddesiretoseeMarsaagain,andventoncemoreuponherhisangerandcontempt.WhenhehappenedtoseethenameofMaisons-Lafitte,hisbodytingledfromheadtofoot,asbyanelectricshock.Maisons!Thesunlitgarden,theshadedalleys,theglowingparterresofflowers,theoldoaks,thewhite-walledvilla,allappearedbeforehim,

brutallydistinct,likealost,orratherpoisoned,Eden!And,besides,she,Marsa,wasnolongerthere;andthethoughtthatthewomanwhomhehadsopassionatelyloved,withherexquisite,flower-likeface,wasshutupamongmaniacsatVaugirard,causedhimtheacutestagony.TheasylumwhichwasMarsa'sprisonwassoconstantlyinhismindthathefeltthenecessityofflight,inordernottoallowhisweaknesstogetthebettorofhim,lestheshouldattempttoseeMarsaagain.

"WhatacowardIam!"hethought.

OneeveningheannouncedtoVarhelythathewasgoingtothelonelyvillaofSainte-Adresse,wheretheyhadsomanytimestogetherwatchedtheseaandtalkedoftheircountry.

"Iamgoingtheretobealone,mydearYanski,"hesaid,"buttobewithyouistobewithmyself.Ihopethatyouwillaccompanyme."

"Mostcertainly,"repliedVarhely.

ThePrincetookonlyonedomestic,wishingtoliveasquietlyandprimitivelyaspossible;butVarhely,reallyalarmedattherapidchangeinthePrince,andtheterriblepallorofhisface,followedhim,hopingatleasttodistracthimandarousehimfromhismorbidnessbytalking


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overwithhimthegreatdaysofthepast,andeven,ifpossible,tointeresthiminthehumblelivesofthefishermenabouthim.

Zilahandhisfriend,therefore,passedlonghoursupontheterraceofthevilla,watchingthesunsetattheirfeet,whilethegrayish-blueseawasenvelopedinaluminousmist,andthefadinglightwasreflectedupontheredwallsandwhiteblindsofthehouses,andtingedwithglowingpurplethedistanthillsofIngouville.

Thiscalm,quietspotgraduallyproduceduponAndrasthesalutaryeffectofabathafteranightoffeverishexcitement.Hisreflectionsbecamelessbitter,and,strangetorelate,itwasrougholdYanskiVarhely,who,byhistendernessandthoughtfulness,ledhisfriendtoamoreresignedframeofmind.

Veryoften,afternightfall,wouldZilahdescendwithhimtotheshorebelow.Thesealayattheirfeetaplainofsilver,andthemoonbeamsdancedoverthewavesinbrokenlinesofluminousatoms;boatspassedtoandfro,theirredlightsflashinglikeglowworms;anditseemedtoAndrasandVarhely,astheyapproachedthesea,recedingoverthewet,gleamingsands,thattheywerewalkinguponquicksilver.

Astheystrolledandtalkedtogetherhere,itseemedtoAndrasthatthisgriefwas,forthemoment,carriedawaybythefresh,saltbreeze;and

thesetwomen,inadifferentmannerbuffetedbyfate,resembledtwowoundedsoldierswhomutuallyaidoneanothertoadvance,andnottofallbythewaybeforethecombatisover.YanskimadespecialeffortstorouseinAndrastheoldmemoriesofhisfatherland,andtoinspireinhimagainhisloveforHungary.

"Ah!Iusedtohavesomanyhopesanddreamsforherfuture,"saidAndras;"butidealistshavenochanceintheworldofto-day;sonowIamamanwhoexpectsnothingoflifeexceptitsending.AndyetIwouldliketoseeonceagainthatoldstonecastlewhereIgrewup,fullofhopes!Hopes?Bah!prettybubbles,thatisall!"

Onemorningtheywalkedalongthecliffs,pastthelowshantiesofthe

fishermen,asfarasHavre;and,astheyweresaunteringthroughthestreetsofthecity,VarhelygraspedthePrince'sarm,andpointedtoanannouncementofaseriesofconcertstobegivenatFrascatibyabandofHungariangipsies.

"There,"hesaid,"youwillcertainlyemergefromyourretreattohearthoseairsoncemore."

"Yes,"repliedAndras,afteramoment'shesitation.

Thateveningfoundhimatthecasino;buthiswoundseemedtoopenagain,andhishearttobegraspedasinanironhand,ashelistenedtotheplaintivecriesandmoansoftheTziganimusic.Hadthestringsofthe

bowsplayedtheseczardasuponhisownsinews,laidbare,hewouldnothavetrembledmoreviolently.Everynoteofthewell-knownairsfelluponhisheartlikeacorrosivetear,andMarsa,inallherdark,tawnybeauty,rosebeforehim.TheTziganiplayednowthewaltzeswhichMarsausedtoplay;thentheslow,sorrowfulplaintofthe"SongofPlevna;"andthentheairofJanosNemeth's,theheart-breakingmelody,tothePrincelikethelamentofhislife:'TheWorldholdsbutOneFairMaiden'.AndateverynotehesawagainMarsa,theoneloveofhisexistence.


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"Letusgo!"hesaidsuddenlytoYanski.

But,astheywereabouttoleavethebuilding,theyalmostranintoalaughing,merrygroup,ledbythelittleBaronessDinati,whoutteredacryofdelightassheperceivedAndras.

"What,you,mydearPrince!Oh,howgladIamtoseeyou!"

Andshetookhisarm,alltheclanwhichaccompaniedherstoppingtogreetPrinceZilah.

"WehavecomefromEtretat,andwearegoingbackthereimmediately.TherewasafairatHavreintheQuartierSaint-Francois,andwehaveeatenupallwecouldlayourhandson,brokenallAuntSally'spipes,andpurchasedallthechinahorrorsandhideouspincushionswecouldfind.Theyarealloverthereinthebreak.WearegoingtorafflethematEtretatforthepoor."

ThePrincetriedtoexcusehimselfandmoveon,butthelittleBaronessheldhimtight.

"Whydon'tyoucometoEtretat?Itischarmingthere.Wedon'tdoanythingbuteatanddrinkandtalkscandal--Oh,yes!Yamadasometimesgivesussomemusic.Comehere,Yamada!"

TheJapaneseapproached,inobediencetohercall,withhiseternalgrinuponhisqueerlittleface.

"MydearPrince,"rattledontheBaroness,"youdon'tknow,perhaps,thatYamadaisthemostParisianofParisians?Uponmyword,theseJapanesearetheParisiansofAsia!JustfancywhathehasbeendoingatEtretat!HehasbeenwritingaFrenchoperetta!"

"Japanese!"correctedYamada,withanapologeticbow.

"Oh,Japanese!ParisianJapanese,then!Atallevents,itisveryfunny,andthetitleisLittleMoo-Moo!Thereisasceneonboarda

flower-deckedboat!Oh,itissoamusing,sooriginal,sonatural!andadelightfulsongforLittleMoo-Moo!"

Then,asZilahglancedatVarhely,uneasy,andanxioustogetaway,theBaronesspuckeredupherrosylipsandsangthestanzasoftheJapanesemaestro.

Why,sungbyJudicorTheo,itwouldcreateafurore!AllPariswouldbesinging.

"Oh,bytheway,"shecried,suddenlyinterruptingherself,"whathaveyoudonetoJacquemin?Yes,myfriendJacquemin?"

"Jacquemin?"repeatedZilah;andhethoughtofthegarretintheRueRochechouart,andthegentle,fairhairedwoman,whowasprobablyatthisverymomentleaningoverthecribsofherlittlechildren--thechildrenofMonsieurPuck,societyreporterof'L'Actualite'

"Yes!Why,Jacqueminhasbecomeasavage;oh,indeed!aregularsavage!IwantedtobringhimtoEtretat;butno,hewouldn'tcome.Itseemsthatheismarried.Jacqueminmarried!Isn'titfunny?Hedidn'tseemlikeamarriedman!Poorfellow!Well,whenIinvitedhim,herefused;andtheotherday,whenIwantedtoknowthereason,heansweredme(that


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iswhyIspeaktoyouaboutit),'AskPrinceZilah'!So,tellmenow,whathaveyoudonetopoorJacquemin?"

"Nothing,"saidthePrince.

"Oh,yes,youhave;youhavechangedhim!He,whousedtogoeverywhereandbesojolly,nowhideshimselfinhisden,andisneverseenatall.Justseehowdisagreeableitis!Ifhehadcomewithus,hewouldhavewrittenanaccountin'L'Actualite'ofLittleMoo-Moo,andYamada'soperettawouldalreadybecelebrated."

"So,"continuedtheBaroness,"whenIreturntoParis,Iamgoingtohunthimup.Areporterhasnorighttomakeabearofhimself!"

"Don'tdisturbhim,ifhecaresforhishomenow,"saidZilah,gravely."Nothingcancompensateforone'sownfireside,ifonelovesandisloved."

AtthefirstwordsofthePrince,theBaronesssuddenlybecameserious.

"Ibegyourpardon,"shesaid,droppinghisarmandholdingouthertinyhand:"pleaseforgivemeforhavingannoyedyou.Oh,yes,Iseeit!Ihaveannoyedyou.Butbeconsoled;wearegoingatonce,andthen,youknow,thatifthereisacreaturewholovesyou,respectsyou,

andisdevotedtoyou,itisthislittleidiotofaBaroness!Goodnight!"

"Good-night'."saidAndras,bowingtotheBaroness'sfriends,YamadaandtheotherParisianexotics.

Gladtoescape,VarhelyandthePrincereturnedhomealongtheseashore.Fragmentsoftheczardasfromtheilluminatedcasinoreachedtheirearsabovetheswishofthewaves.Andrasfeltirritatedandnervous.EverythingrecalledtohimMarsa,andsheseemedtobeoncemoretakingpossessionofhisheart,asavineputsforthfreshtendrilsandclingsagaintotheoakafterithasbeentornaway.

"Shealsosuffers!"hesaidaloud,aftertheyhadwalkedsomedistanceinsilence.

"Fortunately!"growledVarhely;andthen,asifhewishedtoeffacehisharshness,headded,inavoicewhichtrembledalittle:"Andforthatreasonsheis,perhaps,notunworthyofpardon."

"Pardon!"

ThiscryescapedfromZilahinaccentsofpainwhichstruckVarhelylikeaknife.

"Pardonbeforepunishing--theother!"exclaimedthePrince,angrily.

Theother!YanskiVarhelyinstinctivelyclinchedhisfist,thinking,withrage,ofthatpackageofletterswhichhehadheldinhishands,andwhichhemighthavedestroyedifhehadknown.

Itwastrue:howwaspardonpossiblewhileMenkolived?

Nowordmorewasspokenbyeitheruntiltheyreachedthevilla;thenPrinceZilahshookYanski'shandandretiredtohischamber.Lightinghislamp,hetookoutandreadandreread,forthehundredthtime


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perhaps,certainletters--lettersnotaddressedtohim--thoseletterswhichVarhelyhadhandedhim,andwithwhichMichelMenkohadpracticallystruckhimthedayofhismarriage.

Andrashadkeptthem,readingthemoverattimeswithaneagerdesireforfurthersuffering,drinkinginthisspeciesofpoisontoirritatehismentalpainashewouldhaveinjectedmorphinetosootheaphysicalone.Theseletterscausedhimasensationanalogoustothatwhichgivesreposetoopium-eaters,acruelshockatfirst,sharpastheprickofaknife,then,thepainslowlydyingaway,aheavystupor.

ThewholestorywasrevivedintheselettersofMarsatoMenko:--alltheignorant,credulousloveoftheyounggirlforMichel,thenherenthusiasmforloveitself,ratherthanfortheobjectofherlove,andthen,again--forMenkohadreservednothing,butsentalltogether--thebittercontemptofMarsa,deceived,forthemanwhohadliedtoher.

Therewere,inthesenotes,afreshnessofsentimentandayouthfulcredulitywhichproducedtheimpressionofaclearmorninginearlyspring,allthefranknessandfaithofamindignorantofevilanddestituteofguile;then,inthelaterones,thespontaneousoutburstofaheartwhichbelievesithasgivenitselfforever,becauseitthinksithasencounteredincorruptibleloyaltyandundyingdevotion.

Ashereadthemover,Andrasshookwithangeragainstthetwowhohaddeceivedhim;andalso,andinvoluntarily,hefeltanindefined,timidpityforthewomanwhohadtrustedandbeendeceived--apityheimmediatelydroveaway,asifhewereafraidofhimself,afraidofforgiving.

"WhatdidVarhelymeanbyspeakingtomeofpardon?"hethought."AmIyetavenged?"

ItwasthisconstanthopethatthedaywouldcomewhenjusticewouldbemetedouttoMenko'streachery.ThelettersprovedconclusivelythatMenkohadbeenMarsa'slover;buttheyproved,atthesametime,thatMichelhadtakenadvantageofherinnocenceandignorance,andlied

outrageouslyinrepresentinghimselfasfree,whenhewasalreadyboundtoanotherwoman.

AllnightlongAndrasZilahsatthere,inflictingtortureuponhimself,andtakingabitterdelightinhisownsuffering;engravinguponhismemoryeverywordoflovewrittenbyMarsatoMichel,asifhefelttheneedoffreshpaintogivenewstrengthtohishatred.

Thenextmorningatbreakfast,Varhelyastonishedhimbyannouncingthathewasgoingaway.

"ToParis?"

"No,toVienna,"repliedYanski,wholookedsomewhatpalerthanusual.

"Whatanidea!Whatareyougoingtodothere,Varhely?"

"AngeloVallaarrivedyesterdayatHavre.Hesentformetocometohishotelthismorning.Ihavejustbeenthere.Vallahasgivenmesomeinformationinregardtoamatterofinteresttomyself,whichwillrequiremypresenceatVienna.SoIamgoingthere."

PrinceZilahwasintimatelyacquaintedwiththeVallaofwhomVarhely


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spoke;hehadbeenoneofthewitnessesofhismarriage.VallawasaformerministerofManin;and,sincethesiegeofVenice,hehadlivedpartlyinParisandpartlyinFlorence.HewasamanforwhomAndrasZilahhadthegreatestregard.

"Whendoyougo?"askedthePrinceofVarhely.

"Inanhour.IwishtotakethefastmailfromParisthisevening."

"Isitsoverypressing,then?"

"Verypressing,"repliedVarhely."Thereisanothertowhoseearstheaffairmaypossiblycome,andIwishtogetthestartofhim."

"Farewell,then,"saidAndras,considerablysurprised;"comebackassoonasyoucan."

HewasastonishedatthealmostviolentpressureofthehandwhichVarhelygavehim,asifheweredepartingforaverylongjourney.

"Whydidn'tVallacometoseeme?"heasked."HeisoneofthefewIamalwaysgladtosee."

"Hehadnotime.Hehadtobeawayagainatonce,andheaskedmeto

excusehimtoyou."

ThePrincedidnotmakeanyfurtherattempttofindoutwhatwasthereasonofhisfriend'ssuddenflight,forVarhelywasalreadydescendingthestepsofthevilla.

Andrasthenfeltaprofoundsensationofloneliness,andhethoughtagainofthewomanwhomhisimaginationpicturedhaggardandwanintheasylumofVaugirard.

CHAPTERXXVII

"WHATMATTERSITHOWMUCHWESUFFER?"

TwohoursafterVarhelyhadgone,asortoffeverishattractiondrewPrinceAndrastothespotwhere,thenightbefore,hehadlistenedtotheTziganaairs.

Again,butalonethistime,hedrankintheaccentsofthemusicofhiscountry,andsoughttoremembertheimpressionproduceduponhimwhenMarsahadplayedthisairorthatone,thissadsongorthatczardas.Hesawheragainasshestoodonthedeckofthesteamer,watchingthechildrenonthebargeastheythrewherkissesoffarewell.More

troubledthanever,nervousandsuffering,Zilahreturnedhomelateintheafternoon,openedthedeskwherehekeptMarsa'sletters,andonebyone,impelledbysomeinexplicablesentiment,heburnedthem,theflameofthecandledevouringthepaper,whosesubtleperfumemountedtohisnostrilsforthelasttimelikeadyingsigh,whilethewindcarriedoff,throughthewindowintotheinfinite,theblackdustofthosefatefulletters,thoseremnantsofdeadpassionandoflovebetrayed--andthepastwassweptaway.

Thesunwasslowlydescendinginanatmosphereoffire,whiletoward


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HavreasilverymistoverthehillsandshoreheraldedtheapproachofchasteDian'sreign.Thereflectionsofthesunsettingedwithredandorangethefishingboatsfloatingoverthecalmsea,whilealongfierystreakmarkedthewateronthehorizon,growingnarrowerandnarrower,andchangingtoorangeandthentopaleyellowasthediskofthesungraduallydisappeared,andthenightcameon,envelopingthenowinactivecity,andthemanwhowatchedthedisappearanceofthelastfragmentsofadetestedlove,oftheloveofanother,ofalovewhichhadtornandbruisedhisheart.And,strangetosay,forsomeinexplicablereason,PrinceAndrasZilahnowregrettedthedestructionofthoseodiousletters.Itseemedtohim,withasingulardisplacementofhispersonality,thatitwassomethingofhimself,sinceitwassomethingofher,thathehaddestroyed.Hehadhushedthatvoicewhichsaidtoanother,"Iloveyou,"butwhichcausedhimthesamethrillasifshehadmurmuredthewordsforhim.Theywerelettersreceivedbyhisrivalwhichthewindcarriedout,animpalpabledust,overthesea;andhefelt--suchfollyisthehumanheartcapableof--thebitterregretofamanwhohasdestroyedalittleofhispast.

Theshadowscreptoverhimatthesametimethattheycreptoverthesea.

"Whatmattersithowmuchwesuffer,orhowmuchsufferingwecause,"hemurmured,"when,ofallourloves,ourhearts,ourselves,thereremains,afterashortlapseoftime--what?That!"Andhewatchedthelastatom

ofburnedpaperfloatawayinthedeepeningtwilight.

CHAPTERXXVIII

THESTRICKENSOUL

HislonelinessnowweighedheavilyuponAndras.HisnerveswereshakenbythememorieswhichtheczardasoftheTziganimusicianshadevoked;anditseemedtohimthattheplacewasdesertednowthattheyhaddeparted,andVarhelyhadgonewiththem.Intheeternalsymphonyofthe

sea,thelappingofthewavesupontheshingleatthefootoftheterrace,onenotewasnowlacking,theresonantnoteoftheczimbalomyonderinthegardensofFrascati.ThevibrationoftheczimbalomwaslikeacallsummoninguptheimageofMarsa,andthisimagetookinvinciblepossessionofthePrince,who,withasortofsorrowfulangerwhichheregardedashatred,triedinvaintodriveitaway.

WhatwastheuseofremainingatSainte-Adresse,whenthememorieshesoughttofleecametofindhimthere,andsinceMarsa'spresencehaunteditasifshehadlivedtherebyhisside?

HequittedHavre,andreturnedtoParis;buttheveryeveningofhisreturn,inthebustleandmovementoftheChamps-Elysees,thelongavenue

dottedwithlights,theflaminggas-jetsofthecafeconcerts,theburstsofmusic,hefoundagain,asiftheTziganawerecontinuallypursuinghim,thesamephantom;despitethenoiseofpeopleandcarriagesupontheasphalt,theechoesofthe"SongofPlevna,"playedquitenearhimbysomeHungarianorchestra,reachedhimasupontheseashoreatHavre;andhehastenedbacktohishotel,toshuthimselfup,tohearnothing,seenothing,andescapefromthefantastic,hauntingpursuitofthisinevitablevision.

Hecouldnotsleep;feverburnedinhisblood.Herose,andtriedto


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"Thedoctor,"saidAndras,calmly,"wouldlike--yourniecetoseemeagain?"

"Yes,yes;andspeaktoyou.Yousee,youaretheonlyoneforwhom--"

ThePrinceinterruptedtheGeneral,whoinstantlybecameasmuteasifhewereinthepresenceoftheCzar.

"Itiswell.ButwhatDoctorFargeasasksofmewillcausemeintensesuffering."

Vogotzinedidnotopenhislips.

"Seeheragain?Hewishestoreviveallmysorrow,then!"

Vogotzinewaited,motionlessasifonparade.

Afteramomentortwo,Andrassayingnomore,theGeneralthoughtthathemightspeak.

"Iunderstand.Iknewverywellwhatyouranswerwouldbe.Itoldthedoctorso;buthereplied,'Itisaquestionofhumanity.ThePrincewillnotrefuse.'"

FargeasmusthaveknownPrinceZilah'scharacterwellwhenheusedthewordhumanity.ThePrincewouldnothaverefusedhispitytothelowestofhumanbeings;andso,nevermindwhathissufferingsmightbe,ifhispresencecoulddoanygood,hemustobeythedoctor.

"WhendoesDoctorFargeaswishmetogo?"

"Wheneveryouchoose.ThedoctorisjustnowatVaugirard,onavisittohiscolleague,and--"

"Donotletuskeephimwaiting!"

Vogotzine'seyesbrightened.

"Thenyouconsent?Youwillgo?"

Hetriedtouttersomewordofthanks,butAndrascuthimshort,saying:

"Iwillorderthecarriage."

"Ihaveacarriage,"saidVogotzine,joyously."Wecangoatonce."

Zilahwassilentduringthedrive;andVogotzinegazedsteadilyoutofthewindow,withoutsayingaword,asthePrinceshowednodesiretoconverse.

Theystoppedbeforeahighhouse,evidentlybuiltinthelastcentury,andwhichwasprobablyformerlyaconvent.TheGeneraldescendedheavilyfromthecoupe,rangthebell,andstoodasidetoletZilahpassbeforehim.

ThePrince'semotionwasbetrayedinacertainstiffnessofdemeanor,andinhisslowwalk,asifeverymovementcosthimaneffort.Hestrokedhismoustachemechanically,andglancedaboutthegardentheywerecrossing,asifheexpectedtoseeMarsaatonce.


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Dr.FargeasappearedverymuchpleasedtoseethePrince,andhethankedhimwarmlyforhavingcome.Athin,light-hairedman,withapensivelookandsuperbeyes,accompaniedFargeas,andthephysicianintroducedhimtothePrinceasDr.Sims.

Dr.Simssharedtheopinionofhiscolleague.Havingtakentheinvalidaway,andseparatedherfromeverythingthatcouldrecallthepast,thephysiciansthought,that,bysuddenlyconfrontingherwithapersonsodeartoherasPrinceZilah,theshockandemotionmightrouseherfromhermorbidstate.

FargeasexplainedtothePrincewhyhehadthoughtitbesttotransporttheinvalidfromMaisons-LafittetoVaugirard,andhethankedhimforhavingapprovedofhisdetermination.

ZilahnoticedthatFargeas,inspeakingofMarsa,gavehernonameortitle.Withhisusualtact,thedoctorhaddivinedtheseparation;andhedidnotcallMarsathePrincess,but,intonesfullofpity,spokeofherastheinvalid.

"Sheisinthegarden,"saidDr.Sims,whenFargeashadfinishedspeaking."Willyouseehernow?"

"Yes,"saidthePrince,inavoicethattrembledslightly,despitehis

effortstocontrolit.

"Wewilltakealookatherfirst;andthen,ifyouwillbesokind,showyourselftohersuddenly.Itisonlyanexperimentwearemaking.Ifshedoesnotrecognizeyou,herconditionisgraverthanIthink.Ifshedoesrecognizeyou,well,Ihopethatweshallbeabletocureher.Come!"

Dr.SimsmotionedthePrincetoprecedethem.

"ShallIaccompanyyou,gentlemen?"askedVogotzine.

"Certainly,General!"

"Yousee,Idon'tlikelunatics;theyproduceasingulareffectuponme;theydon'tinterestmeatall.Butstill,afterall,sheismyniece!"

Andhegaveasharppulltohisfrock-coat,ashewouldhavetightenedhisbeltbeforeanassault.

Theydescendedashortflightofsteps,andfoundthemselvesinalargegarden,withtreesacenturyold,beneathwhichwereseveralmenandwomenwalkingaboutorsittinginchairs.

Alarge,newbuilding,onestoryhigh,appearedatoneendofthegarden;inthiswerethedormitoriesofDr.Sims'spatients.

"Arethosepeopleinsane?"askedZilah,pointingtothepeacefulgroups.

"Yes,"saidDr.Sims;"itrequiresastretchoftheimaginationtobelieveit,doesitnot?Youcanspeaktothemaswepassby.Allthesehereareharmless."

"Shallwecrossthegarden?"

"Ourinvalidisbelowthere,inanothergarden,behindthathouse."


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Ashepassedby,Zilahglancedcuriouslyatthesepoorbeings,whobowed,orexchangedafewwordswiththetwophysicians.Itseemedtohimthattheyhadthehappylookofpeoplewhohadreachedthedesiredgoal.Vogotzine,coughingnervously,keptclosetothePrinceandfeltveryillatease.Andras,onthecontrary,foundgreatdifficultyinrealizingthathewasreallyamonglunatics.

"See,"saidDr.Sims,pointingoutanoldgentleman,dressedinthestyleof1840,likeanold-fashionedlithographofabeauofthetimeofGavarni,"thatmanhasbeenmorethanthirty-fiveyearsintheinstitution.Hewillnotchangethecutofhisgarments,andheisverycarefultohavehistailormakehisclothesinthesamestylehedressedwhenhewasyoung.Heisveryhappy.HethinksthatheistheenchanterMerlin,andhelistenstoVivian,whomakesappointmentswithhimunderthetrees."

Astheypassedtheoldman,hisneckimprisonedinahighstock,hissurtoutcutlongandverytightinthewaist,andhistrousersveryfullaboutthehipsandverycloseabouttheankles,hebowedpolitely.

"Good-morning,DoctorSims!Good-morning,DoctorFargeas!"

Then,asthedirectoroftheestablishmentapproachedtospeak,heplaced

afingeruponhislips:

"Hush,"hesaid."Sheisthere!Don'tspeak,orshewillgoaway."AndhepointedwithasortofpassionatevenerationtoanelmwhereVivianwasshutup,andwhenceshewouldshortlyemerge.

"Poordevil!"murmuredVogotzine.

ThiswasnotwhatZilahthought,however.Hewonderedifthishappyhallucinationwhichhadlastedsomanyyears,theseeternallove-sceneswithVivian,love-sceneswhichnevergrewstale,despitetheyearsandthewrinkles,werenottheidealformofhappinessforabeingcondemnedtothisearth.Thispoeticalmonomaniaclivedwithhisdreamsrealized,

finding,inanasylumofVaugirard,allthefascinationsandchimerasoftheBretonlandofgoldenblossomsandpinkheather,alltheintoxicating,languorouscharmoftheforestofBroceliande.

"HehaswithinhisgraspwhatShakespearewascontentonlytodreamof.Insanityis,perhaps,simplytheidealrealized:"

"Ah!"repliedDr.Fargeas,"buttherealneverlosesitsgrip.Whydoesthismonomaniacpreserveboththegarmentsofhisyouth,whichpreventhimfromfeelinghisage,andthedreamofhislife,whichconsoleshimforhislostreason?Becauseheisrich.Hecanpaythetailorwhodresseshim,therentofthepavilionheinhabitsbyhimself,andthespecialservantswhoservehim.Ifhewerepoor,hewouldsuffer."

"Then,"saidZilah,"thequestionofbreadcomesupeverywhere,evenininsanity."

"Andmoneyisperhapshappiness,sinceitallowsofthepurchaseofhappiness."

"Oh!"saidthePrince,"forme,happinesswouldbe--"

"What?"


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"Forgetfulness."

AndhefollowedwithhiseyesVivian'slover,whonowhadhiseargluedtothetrunkofthetree,andwaslisteningtothevoicewhichspokeonlytohim.

"Thatmanyonder,"saidDr.Sims,indicatingaman,stillyoung,whowascomingtowardthem,"isatalentedwriterwhosenovelsyouhavedoubtlessread,andwhohaslostallideaofhisownpersonality.Onceagreatreader,henowholdsallliteratureinintensedisgust;fromhavingwrittensomuch,hehasgrowntohaveaperfecthorrorofwordsandletters,andheneveropenseitherabookoranewspaper.Hedrinksinthefreshair,cultivatesflowers,andwatchesthetrainspassatthefootofthegarden."

"Ishehappy?"askedAndras.

"Veryhappy."

"Yes,hehasdrunkofthewatersofLethe,"rejoinedthePrince.

"Iwillnottellyouhisname,"whisperedDr.Sims,astheman,athin,dark-haired,delicate-featuredfellow,approachedthem;"but,ifyou

shouldspeaktohimandchancetomentionhisname,hewouldrespond'Ah!yes,Iknewhim.Hewasamanoftalent,muchtalent.'Thereisnothinglefttohimofhisformerlife."

AndZilahthoughtagainthatitwasafortunatelottobeattackedbyoneofthesecerebralmaladieswheretheentirebeing,withitsburdenofsorrows,isplungedintothedeep,darkgulfofoblivion.

Thenoveliststoppedbeforethetwophysicians.

"Themid-daytrainwasthreeminutesandahalflate,"hesaid,quietly:"Imentionthefacttoyou,doctor,thatyoumayhaveitattendedto.Itisaveryseriousthing;forIaminthehabitofsettingmywatch

bythattrain."

"Iwillseetoit,"repliedDr.Sims."Bytheway,doyouwantanybooks?"

Inthesamequiettonetheotherresponded:

"Whatfor?"

"Toread."

"Whatistheuseofthat?"

"Oranynewspapers?Toknow--"

"Toknowwhat?"heinterrupted,speakingwithextremevolubility."No,indeed!Itissogoodtoknownothing,nothing,nothing!Dothenewspapersannouncethattherearenomorewars,nomorepoverty,illness,murders,envy,hatredorjealousy?No!Thenewspapersdonotannouncethat.Then,whyshouldIreadthenewspapers?Good-day,gentlemen."

ThePrinceshudderedatthebitterlogicofthismadman,speakingwith


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theshrilldistinctnessoftheinsane.ButVogotzinesmiled.

"Why,theseidiotshaverathergoodsense,afterall,"heremarked.

Whentheyreachedtheendofthegarden,Dr.Simsopenedagatewhichseparatedthemalefromthefemalepatients,andAndrasperceivedseveralwomenwalkingaboutinthealleys,someofthemalone,andsomeaccompaniedbyattendants.Inthedistance,separatedfromthegardenbyaditchandahighwall,wastherailway.

Zilahcaughthisbreathasheenteredtheenclosure,wheredoubtlessamongthefemaleformsbeforehimwasthatoftheonehehadloved.HeturnedtoDr.Simswithanxiouseyes,andasked:

"Isshehere?"

"Sheishere,"repliedthedoctor.

ThePrincehesitatedtoadvance.Hehadnotseenhersincethedayhehadfelttemptedtokillherasshelayinherwhiterobesathisfeet.Hewonderedifitwerenotbettertoretracehisstepsanddeparthastilywithoutseeingher.

"Thisway,"saidFargeas."Wecanseethroughthebusheswithoutbeing

seen,canwenot,Sims?"

"Yes,doctor."

Zilahresignedhimselftohisfate;andfollowedthephysicianswithoutsayingaword;hecouldhearthepantingrespirationofVogotzinetrudgingalongbehindhim.AllatoncethePrincefeltasensationasofaheavyhandrestinguponhisheart.Fargeashadexclaimed:

"Theresheis!"

Hepointed,throughthebranchesofthelilac-bushes,totwowomenwhowereapproachingwithslowsteps,onealight-hairedwomaninanurse's

dress,andtheotherinblackgarments,asifinmourningforherownlife,Marsaherself.

Marsa!ShewascomingtowardZilah;inamoment,hewouldbeabletotouchher,ifhewished,throughtheleaves!EvenVogotzineheldhisbreath.

ZilaheagerlyquestionedMarsa'sface,asiftoreadthereonasecret,todecipheraname--Menko'sorhisown.Herexquisite,delicatefeatureshadtherigidityofmarble;herdarkeyeswerestaringstraightahead,liketwospotsoflight,wherenothing,nothingwasreflected.Zilahshudderedagain;shealarmedhim.

Alarmandpity!Helongedtothrustasidethebushes,andhastenwithextendedarmstowardthepalevisionbeforehim.Itwasasifthemovingspectreofhislovewerepassingby.But,withastrongeffortofwill,heremainedmotionlesswherehewas.

OldVogotzineseemedveryillatease.Dr.Fargeaswasverycalm;and,afteraquestioningglanceathiscolleague,hesaiddistinctlytothePrince:

"Nowyoumustshowyourself!"


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Thephysician'sorder,farfromdispleasingZilah,waslikemusicinhisears.Hewasbeginningtodoubt,if,afterall,Fargeasintendedtoattempttheexperiment.Helonged,withkeendesire,tospeaktoMarsa;toknowifhislook,hisbreath,likeapuffofwindoverdyingashes,wouldnotrekindleasparkoflifeinthosedull,glassyeyes.

Whatwasshethinkingof,ifshethoughtatall?Whatmemoryvacillatedtoandfrointhatvacantbrain?Thememoryofhimself,orof--theother?Hemustknow,hemustknow!

"Thisway,"saidDr.Sims."Wewillgototheendofthealley,andmeetherfacetoface."

"Courage!"whisperedFargeas.

Zilahfollowed;and,inafewsteps,theyreachedtheendofthealley,andstoodbeneathaclumpofleafytrees.ThePrincesaw,comingtohim,withaslowbutnotheavystep,Marsa--no,anotherMarsa,thespectreorstatueofMarsa.

FargeasmadeasigntoVogotzine,andtheRussianandthetwodoctorsconcealedthemselvesbehindthetrees.

Zilah,tremblingwithemotion,remainedaloneinthemiddleofthewalk.

ThenursewhoattendedMarsa,haddoubtlessreceivedinstructionsfromDr.Sims;for,assheperceivedthePrince,shefellbacktwoorthreepaces,andallowedMarsatogoonalone.

Lostinherstupor,theTziganaadvanced,herdarkhairruffledbythewind;and,stillbeautifulalthoughsothin,shemovedon,withoutseeinganything,herlipsclosedasifsealedbydeath,untilshewasnotthreefeetfromZilah.

Hestoodwaiting,hisblueeyesdevouringherwithalook,inwhichthereweremingledlove,pity,andanger.WhentheTziganareachedhim,and

nearlyranintohiminherslowwalk,shestoppedsuddenly,likeanautomaton.Theinstinctofanobstaclebeforeherarrestedher,andshestoodstill,neitherrecoilingnoradvancing.

Afewstepsaway,Dr.FargeasandDr.Simsstudiedherstonylook,inwhichtherewasasyetneitherthoughtnorvision.

Stillenvelopedinherstupor,shestoodthere,hereyesriveteduponAndras.Suddenly,asifaninvisibleknifehadbeenplungedintoherheart,shestartedback.Herpalemarblefacebecametransfigured,andanexpressionofwildterrorsweptacrossherfeatures;shakingwithanervoustrembling,shetriedtocallout,andashrillcry,whichrenttheair,burstfromherlips,halfopen,likethoseofatragicmask.

Hertwoarmswerestretchedoutwiththehandsclasped;and,fallinguponherknees,she--whoselightofreasonhadbeenextinguished,whoforsomanydayshadonlymurmuredthesad,singingrefrain:"Idonotknow;Idonotknow!"--faltered,inavoicebrokenwithsobs:"Forgive!Forgive!"

Thenherfacebecamelivid,andshewouldhavefallenbackunconsciousifZilahhadnotstoopedoverandcaughtherinhisarms.

Dr.Simshastenedforward,and,aidedbythenurse,relievedhimofhis


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burden.

PoorVogotzinewasaspurpleasifhehadhadastrokeofapoplexy.

"But,gentlemen,"saidthePrince,hiseyesburningwithhottears,"itwillbehorribleifwehavekilledher!"

"No,no,"respondedFargeas;"wehaveonlykilledherstupor.Nowleavehertous.AmInotright,mydearSims?Shecanandmustbecured!"

CHAPTERXXIX

"LETTHEDEADPASTBURYITSDEAD"

PrinceAndrashadheardnonewsofVarhelyforalongtime.HeonlyknewthattheCountwasinVienna.

Yanskihadtoldthetruthwhenhesaidthathehadbeensummonedawaybyhisfriend,AngeloValla.

Theywereverymuchastonished,attheAustrianministryofforeign

affairs,toseeCountYanskiVarhely,who,doubtless,hadcomefromParistoasksomefavoroftheminister.TheAustriandiplomatssmiledastheyheardthenameoftheoldsoldierof'48and'49.So,thefamousfusionofpartiesproclaimedin1875continued!Everydaysomesulkerofformertimesralliedtothestandard.HerewasthisVarhely,who,atonetime,ifhehadsetfootinAustria-Hungary,wouldhavebeenspeedilycastintotheCharlesbarracks,thejailofpoliticalprisoners,nowsendinginhiscardtotheministeroftheEmperor;anddoubtlesstheministerandtheoldcommanderofhussarswould,someevening,togetherpledgethenewstarofHungary,inabeakerofrosyCrement!

"Thesearequeerdayswelivein!"thoughttheAustriandiplomats.

Theminister,ofwhomYanskiVarhelydemandedanaudience,hisExcellencyCountJosefLadany,hadformerlycommandedalegionofMagyarstudents,greatlyfearedbythegrenadiersofPaskiewisch,inHungary.ThesoldiersofJosefLadany,afterthreateningtomarchuponVienna,hadmanytimesheldincheckthegrenadiersandCossacksofthefield-marshal.Spiritedandenthusiastic,hisfairhairfloatingabovehisyouthfulforeheadlikeanaureole,Ladanymadewarlikeapatriotandapoet,recitingtheversesofPetoefiaboutthecamp-fires,andsettingoutforbattleasforaball.Hewasmagnificent(Varhelyrememberedhimwell)attheheadofhisstudents,andhisfloating,yellowmoustacheshadcausedtheheartofmorethanonelittleHungarianpatriottobeatmorequickly.

Varhelywouldexperiencerealpleasureinmeetingoncemorehisoldcompanioninarms.Herememberedoneafternooninthevineyards,whenhishussars,despitetheobstaclesofthevinesandtheirregularground,hadextricatedLadany'slegionfromtheattackoftworegimentsofRussianinfantry.JosephLadanywass

prince zilah — volume 3 by claretie, jules, 1840-1913

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