Chapter IX.

Waikato Times, Volume X, Issue 579, 5 February 1876, Page 1 (Supplement)

Chapter IX.

It ii two years later, Since the begin Mng of July Madam de lints has Oeen installed for the season at Deauville with her mother and children. She lived at ' Rose Villa.' the garden of which opened on a terrace between the Casino and the Downs. She was continually surrounded by a number of friends from Paris, particularly Mesdamcs de Mogos and u'Rstreny ; Madame de Mogcs, v\ ith whom she luid unfortunately renewed he ancient friendship, was at Yilhers : the Duchess at Houelgate. The threo cousins visited each other continually and formed the necleus of a brilliant cotorio in which melancholy was unknown. Some of their wmier wultzers were scattered about the seashore, and continued to animate the dullness of country life. 'I hey wore charged with inventing and executing every day some nowdivertisrnents,on 1 irnl or on sea; sailing excursions, huntinj? parties, riding parties, dinners on the green turf, and journeys home by the soft light of the moon. Sometimes tins brilliant company invaded some one of the casinos witli their merry-making, but generally they danced among themselves ; or they played little comedies; sometimes in their own| salons, sometimes in the tamarisk groves, which were brilliantly illumiued by Venetian lanterns. A lively spirit of gallantry was manifested in all tin*. It was, in «hort, a kind of gaj life which plc.iM'il everybody except Madame FitZsfPrald who followed in its wake with much fatigue, and Monsieur de Rms, who did not follow it at all. He had lived, as usual, in his bouse in Paris, and only made shou and rure visits to llose Villa, to keep up appearances in the eyes of society and the servants There had never been between himself and wife the least shadow of a scene or an explanation. It was that miserable condition of deaf and permanent hostility, which is known in so many households, where | oneeannot say a word wiiliout being contradicted by tho other, and where every word i-» an unpleasant allusion, a bitter reproach or on exhibition of spite. Mme. de Rias rejoiced to see the somber and ironical lace ot her husband sink bi'low her horizon. On the contrary, Mmc Fitzgerald brought into play all her resources to keep near her a son-in-law who had not certainly realized all her fondest hopes, but for him she still entertained great regard. ' What astonishes me in my son-in-law,' she said, confidentially, to Mine de la Veyle, 'is his conduct toward my daughter. Suppose he deceives her ; suppose he ruis atter other demoiselles. W e see these things every day. But why, with all that, should he bo offended at hii wife ? To me he is charming, quite charming ; for he is a man who can be extremely agreeable when he wishes.' 'I have no doubt ot it — the beast !' murmured the old Marchioness. ' Well, with my daughter he is extremely sullen and morose. Not satisfied with having betrayed her by day aud by night he actually sulks at the poor girl. On the part ot a man so spintuelle as ray son-in-law this seems to mo incomptchensible. What does he wish of ray daughter ? Let him deceive her as much as ho pleases, hut at least let Luna treat her kindly. That is but right. If ho does not my poor daughter will end by betraying him. I have the most euure faith in her principles, but after all she is not made of stone. I love my son-in-law also, despite his undoubted faults, and I should be very sorry to see anything happen to vex him. But, really, lie is too thoughtless, —too thoughtless.' 'Heis a fool,' said the Marchioness, ' a fool, I tell you. Let us talk no more about him.' The alarm which had been awakened by the instincts of a woman and a mother in the bosom of Madame Fitzgerald, was unhappily soon justified. Madame de Rias had arrived at that fatal hour which the experience of her husband had predicted to her Little by little she began to lose interest in the pleasures which had intoxicated her youth. Her dresses, the ballroom and the perpetua 1 fete of her life no longer sufficed her, Her imagination and her heart both required Nome new object to feed upun, something of more serious, permanent interest. And there was no lack of gentlemen around her ready to aid in gratifying these new-born inclinations. In the gay groups of the world united by a common interest in the pursuit of pleasure, is always to be found some one person whoHe privilege it is to provoke feminine coquetries, and to show a conquest is not, only a gratification to the heart, but a triumph to the pride. This agreeable role was filled in the circle of Madame de Rias by ihe Viscount Uoger j de Pontis, a relation of the Duke d'Estreny ' After having dissipated his fortune in the coulisses and on the turf, he enrolled himself when twenty-five years old in a regiment of Hussars. Here he behaved so valiantly that he was soon promoted the rank of Lieutenant. But an unexpected fortune again dropped into his hands and he returned to civil life. His follies, his courage, his adventures in love and war were powerful recommendations to the ladies. They loved him for his entertaining qualities, perhaps even more for his vices, He would ride a dozen leagues on horseback to buy a ekein of silk to lay at their feet. He sang romantic songs for them, and gay* them lessons in riding. He always led the cotillion, arranged charades, excursions, lunches, fireworks and all those little episodes which are so pleasing to the female mind. He was always ready and anxious to please them, gay and nimble as a page, and gupplo and ardent as a Logae. Despite all these characteristics of an amiable fool, Viscount de Fontis was at bottom a man, and above all a libertine, of large experience and very dangerous. He was fascinated by Mmc de Rias, and he read her thoroughly the instant they met. He understood that a place near this high-toned woman could not be obtained at once by a mere Hussar, and he instituted a series of strategic move, ments. His first move was to linger in her train but little, while he paid tsiiduous attention* to her two cousins. Mmc de

Riis who was t iir» floflcr of th« eonipnn iml Km'-'.v herself to be so, com fire' 'i sort of spite toward him, and son] pretended to return disdain for disd.ini fins, was just", what M de Pontis wnntod and ho scored a match to his credit. H« wont to her and ai exolanation followed ' His coldness was out of resppcfc to he It was not usual to pay too ninny attentionto a woman like her. Why ? Because 1 was understood thnt she was elevated f.iabove these vulgar gallantries And then— should he tell Iht all ? _ Well, th< fact, wns she had frightened him. It wa Istrange, but it was true. A woman of her stamp could only inspire a serious and lasting attaehment — une grande passion, and M. do Pontis was determined not to be betrayed info a passion of this nnture breause ho well understood what a terrible empire she would gain over li ; s life. He did wrong perhaps to feel <-o, for such a passion would no doubt, put an endro the life of folly which he had hitherto led, a life for whie'i he now began to blush. \t would bo his salvation. Still he was afrnid.' On this text ho had a volume of pretty things to say — and ho said them. The notion of ruining herself to save this hussir seemed a (rifle strange to M"idarne de I'm nt first. She was, however, very ! greatly flattered at being selected ibore all others to work thi3 modern miracle, and thonch denying to herself that she was either worthy or capable, she, nevertheless allowed her young heart to cherish the pleading chimera. In brief, this intrigue, quietly pursued, was rapidly hastening on a grave catastrophe, when the apparition of a third person throw a serious obstacle in. the way of the Viscount's game. Near the end of.Tuly Madame de Lauris, whoso husband had again taken to the fica. rejoined the Marchioness de la Veyle at Trouvil'e. She was accompanied by her brother, Henri de Kevern whose name has already appeared in these pages, but whom we now introduce for the first time to the reader. M de Kevcn was a man whoso cold and slightly austere exterior concealed a soul of profound depths of love Fie still carried in his heart the picture of a young wife, beautiful and charming whom he had lost a dozen years ago. His grief when the blow first fell was so poignant that his sister feared that he might comm t some fatal act. But he started on a foreign tour, the interest and perils of which did something toward softening the anguish of his life, but which did not succeed in banishing his grief. Ho had preserved in all his travels a melancholy demeanor, which repelled the g-iy world from him. and in that wav he escaped vexatious acquaintances. When ho returned to France ho lived for the most part in the country, scarcely ever seeing his sister, whose passionate affec tion was continually devising schemes to draw him from his retirement. A conjugal fidelity so extraordinary had passed info | a legend in Parisian society, where M. de Kevern was looked upon as a hero by the worn 1 n and as a hypocrite by the men. The day after her arrival Mme. de Lauris hastened to the house of Mmc de Rias, to whom "he had always been bound by the strongest ties of affection, though her youthful wisdom condemned a course of life wmch Mme. de Rias excused herself for adopting on account of her husband's abandonment and her domestic troubles After the first greetings, and while they i were telling each other the news of them selves, Mmo. de Rias said: 1 Apropos, my dear, you never could guess what happened to mo. I have a lover.' ' Only one,' asked Mmo. de Lauris. Mme. de Itais blushed lightly. She answered quickly and laughingly, ' Oh, a^ for that, one can find a sufficient variety of them here ; but this one is quite new to the place ; and boides, he bothers me ; for his face is very familiar, and still 1 can't think There I have seen it before Perhaps it was in dream. Ho is a very I funny man, too For three days ho has followed mo wherever I went, whether on foot or on horseback. Yesterday I was ai Prouville and F saw him there, in every store which I entered. This morning be was waiting for me when I l»ft the church. This kind of espionage is becoming positively annoying.' ' Who is iho man ?' 1 He is a very Hue-looking man, with a destinguished, bnt somewhat wild look I hardly know what to call it. What do you advise ? Shall I let him go on ?' ' I advise you pay on attention to him In the first place are you quits sure that you are the object of his attentions ?' * Child !' exclaimed Mme. Eias, shrugging her shoulders, ' Look ! there he is now.' They were seated at the end of the salon in an open window which looked out upon the terrace. Mme. de Lauris lo"ked at the mysteeious unknown whom Mrae. do Rias pointed out, and burst into immoderate laughter. 'Is that your lover ? 'she nsked. ' Well my dear, I trust you will never have one e.mer to rid yourself of.' ' You know him?' asked Mme. de Rias quickly, Without answering Mme. de Lauris put her head from tke window, and shaking her handkerchief, called softly, ' Henri !' 1 Monsieur do Kevern !' cried Mme. de Kias. ' Himself, my dear. He reached here a few days before me. I intended to introduce him to you some time, and a better time then now could not be. As for his following you and watching you, poor man ! he is very innocent in it all I can assure you ; 1 can explain the mystery to you in a word ; You look very much like his wife ' M. de Kevern, responding to the call of his sister, more with an air of submission than of enthusiasm, had quietly opened the little gate of of the garden which surrounded the villa, and slowly ascended the outer steps of the salon. The two young wives advanced to meet him. • Brother,' said Mme. de Lauris, •my cousin de Rias.' Mmc de Rial, who hardly remembered to have ever seen M. do Kerfcrn before, but who knew his story perfectly well, did not meet in him that kind of sentimental and dolorous man whom she had imagined. Small and robust, with sunburned skin an 1 black hair, he had the air of an officer of Chasseurs. The look which he cast on her with evident curiosity was firm, almost hard. He sat down for a few moments and aiked her about her children, her tastes, her amusements,

voeived her answers with n cold and li>fant air, and finally retun>.>>l lo h"valk, loafing ]ier searpply pleased with iis visit or liis manners. ' \nrt you say that I remind him of his viQ; ?' she asked of Mmc do Lauris. Hfery mufh I was struck by the ccmblfince a long while ago, and [ was Mire he would perceive it ' ' And you think that ho has perceived t?" 1 Ho his told mo so.' ' One would sny that he objects to this rpsemblance. It is not, however, my fault.' ' Who said that he objected to it ? My brother has not pleased you, I see.' ' How do you suppose he could please me ? lie is of a shade too dark for my style of beauty. But he is your brother, and therefore I like him, Do you want me to adore him ? If so, oniy tell me.' ' No ; not that. But }»o agreeable to him, I beg of you. lam so anxious to save him fromjjhimself. Ho is unhappy. He is good. I owe everything to him You know it was he who brought me up.' ' And. who mado you the little pearl that you are.' interrupted Mmc de Itias, kissing In 1 ? cousin cordially. ' Well, rest easy, mv deal ; wo will draw him from his sombre reflection^. He doesn't look very jolly ; we will make him so.' Madame de Laur>s, always intent on ontioine; her brother from his «elf-enforced solitude, had by means of much persuasion, induced him to go with her to Trouville. She calculated on tho easy manners and familiar habits which character'/? the bathers to draw him gently into the activities of lifi\ The strange resemblance to his wife which nature had irrpressed on the face of his cousin, and the particular attraction which that resemblance would offer to her brother j certainly did not enter into her calculations. But she saw in this a chance of success, which she determined, without any scruple, to grasp Madame de Rias, on her side, understood at once the role which she was expected to play in the diplomat* y of Madame de Lauris, and she accepted it as >\ service to a friend, perhaps also induced shmewhat by curiosity and somewhat by malice. Thi<» innocent little plot was not destined to receive from M. de Kevern as much resistance ns was feared. He consented to dine at Mme. de Rias' house the next day. At tho soiree which followed she invited him to make one of tho country party for the following day in which his sister and herself were to participate. Again he accepted, and so easily that she began to believe that M. de Kevern was a man whose reputation as a lover of solitude had been thrust iinon him undeserved. ' His supreme innoence is beginning to weigh upon him,' she said laughingly to her cousin Do Moges, On their return from the fete champef re where M. dp Kevern had shown himsplf in an encouraging light, there was a ball at Mme. de Rias' house. She thought it a good joke to show her power by forcing this inconsolable widowpr to dance with her. and running up to him suddenly she fried to draw him away for a waltz. M. de Kevern rafu«ed her somewhat abruptly, at the same time casting on hpr an iry glance. Unused to cheeks of this kind the young wife spitefully made him a profound bow, and hastened away to hide her confusion in the arms of tho Viscount Roger, who asked for nothing better. The waltz over, she lighted a cigaret'e, and assumed an air of charming bravado M. de Kavern approached her, bowed smilingly, and said : 4 1 beg your pardon. I was somewhat surly just now, wa«s I not ?' ' I regarded you so.' 'Madame,' said he. 'let us understand each other. Out of friendship to mv sister, and to gain an opportunity of meeting you, I consented once again to appear in society. I tried to come here and make no trouble in the fete. I did not wish to bring with me my personal griefs, but you know them. Why do you not respect them ? Wriy do you try to make me ridiculous ? It is not right It is not acting the part of a friend, and I was hoping that in you I had found a fiiend.' In these simple words there was a tone of frankness and of confidence which appealed to Mme. de Rias, whose heart, though seared, was not hardened. She extended her hand at M. de Kevern and said, with affected gayety, ' A second sister, then.' 'If you please.' After a pause and a puff of the cigarette, 9he assumed a more serious air. 'It is certain,' she said' ' that I shall never need a brother.' M. de Kevern bowed, without answering. 1 Do you not think so ?, ' You tell me so ' ' If you were displeased you would scold me, would you not ?' ' May be. Right here, if you say so.' ' Very well ; let us hear.' • Well,' said he laughing, ' I don't like to see you smoking.' A red tint mounted the beautiful face of the youne wife and she dropped the cigarette. 'Your command is obeyed,' she said, and took her seat at the piano. During the day 9 which followed Mmc, de Rias submitted all her actions and movements to the control and approbation of M. de Kevern. She consulted him on her toilets — were they too gaudy p On her style of walking — was she graceful enough ? On certain expressions which she constantly used — were they too familiar? Did he approve of her wearing yellow boots? Should she carry a cane? M. de Kevcrn lent himself to this child's play in a tranquilly ironical style which was oftentimes disdainful But she could not fail to see that he generally condemned everything that she said, and all that she did, as a whole and in their details. ' Decidedly, my dear,' she said one day to Mme. de Laruis, ' your brother is a constitutional fault-finder.' This fault finder, however, claimed her , attention and ruled her. Tho strong person* 1 ity of M. de Kevern, his intellectual superiority, the romantic tinge to bis life, the strength of nil character, at times energetio and at times gentle, inspired for him a reupeot mingled with affection. Perhaps it oDly depended on him Co gaia in her heart the place which the Viscount de Po ttis had usurped ; but M. de K«vera neror thought of thkt. lie devoted himself strictly to the fraternal obligations which Madame de Rue had imposed on him, and when his young friend, Inspired by her coquettish habits, tried to fan a flirtation from their relations, hit levere looks and brusque language pot a ■top at one* to theu irregular mantuvtrt.

"Women unfortunately, do not like to bo hilf lovkl ; and Mrue. do Rias, in tho crms which hhe was j<a««in<', desirous to implant i pisHi'nnate interest in his life, wns lens disposed than any of them to accept the •■l'mplo pleasures of mutml sympathy The ficrv Viscount, aroused hy theie evpnts, re''onM"d his exertions to carry off the prize. Ho vpntuml to vvrite and his letters wre rpcpivcd. To one who could unders^nnd thpm tho frpqnpnt 'asidps,' the glances of Mib eye«, the suppliant apoeals on the one ■udp, and the tender answer on the other, all innonncpd the awiftlv-approaching and fatal ending; of the adventure These symptons oneht tbe less to have escaped th<« eyes of M. de Kevern, since Wme de Rias sppmed to take a strange delight in showing them to him. There are in Hip hearts of women mysteries so profonnd that we c»nnot undpttnke to gupss even why Mmc dp Rias, bo desirous nsually to ple"se M de Kevern, snbtnitted him to thess trials, which could not bnt prove extremely disagreeable. £he did more than this. One beautiful evening in August, ai they were returning on horpehack from the countrvhonse of M. dp Moses, where they h<d dined, she suddenly separated from tbe Viscount Roeer, and joined M do Kevern. who was riding a little to one side of thp caviicide and taking; advantage of *he shadei of the ni?ht and the trpps. ghe addressed him in this singular lanETnijfe • ' Monßieur, I have nomething to say to you ' ' vv>n, m*dame ' ' Your friendship to me is very precious — mo«t prpcioiis ' ' T am very hnprtv to know it ' ' But do yon think that f'ipndshinpreci^ns ai i»- ?q. cm fi'l voi^ in a woman's heart ?' ' H is a subjpct that I never have con Bldprnd ' Q 1 ' Very wpII Tf some time a sentiment mire powerful shonld pain control of ray life — »"d T should sacrifice mv du^v to it, could I then count on your friendship for m» ?' ' said T)e Kevern coldly. 'No ' And wbv not' Wonld it not be for me. in mv misfortnnft in mv sin, if you will, more useful and more precious than evpr '' ' Vcrv pocgihly Rtih it doe»n't suit me to b» made thp copfiiint of a pniUv love.' ' Is i*" b«pTin^e v^u would be jfalous ?' ' I should not bo jpaloui, for I hive, no lovb tor yon. and nev»r can have The sonvonirs whi^h yon recill to me defend me arrn'n^t vonr«elf. Eut I shou'd not wi*h yon to dishonor thpq* souvenirs. Do you undpr^fand me now ?' ' No.' she replied. ' it is too subtle for me,' and eivine the rpin to her hors* she rejoined the miin eroun from whence he could hear her merry laughter ringing out louder than all fh« rest. On tbe reftirn « snoper awa'tel the party in M. de Mo?p*' cha'et at Vill*>ri. Of course ♦■here was dan<"'nsr until morning M de Kevern who wished t-o draw his sister away, re r n^^d to stop nt Villera and continued wit-h h«r on b!«i road to Trouville They had pacorted Mnrie dp Itiss in the morning, •»nd it was natnral that she should return in th»ir comrnny But she did not wish to Ip-jvr »o parly, »nd it was arranged that she should bo conducted home later by h°r con«ii Do Mope*, who nevar went to bed until the lost s'ru'n had been playd and the last figure pxecutpd. After a few minutes' silent travel in the oharm of a Summer night, M de Kevern said siHdenlv to his tister, 'Louise, that poor child is lost '' ' Tiogt •' pripd Mmc de L'uris. ' Ye« lost. She is dvinj of ennui. Her hnshsnd is either a brute or a fool— which is he ?' (To he continued J