AFTER suffering fifteen days the agonies of a most violent fever, I began, tho’ by slow degrees, to recover. The first thing I did when I was able to attend to any thing, was to seek for the letter I had received from Adelaida. My mother, who had taken it from me, for fear it should increase my affliction, was obliged to restore it to me. After I had read it several times, I put it into a little silk bag, and placed it on my heart, where I had always kept her picture; and whensoever I was alone, it was always my employment to gaze upon that lovely picture, and read that letter.
My mother, who was of a soft and tender disposition, shared my grief: she likewise thought it best to yield to my first transports, and leave it to time to finish my cure. She permitted me to speak of Adelaida, and sometimes was the first to mention her to me; and perceiving that the only thing which gave me consolation was the thought of being loved by her, she told me that it was she herself that had determined Adelaida to marry.
‘I ask your pardon, my dear son, said she, for the grief I have caused you; I did not imagine you would have felt her loss so deeply. I trembled for your health, and even your life, while you continued under that cruel confinement. I knew your father’s inflexible temper, and was convinced he would never set you at liberty while there was a possibility of your marrying mademoiselle de Lussan. I resolved to speak to that generous young lady: I told her my fears for your health; she partook in them, she felt them perhaps with more force than I did. From that moment I saw her use every endeavour to hasten her marriage; for her father, justly irritated at the proceedings of monsieur de Comminge, had long pressed her to marry: hitherto she had resisted his solicitations, and even his commands. I asked her which of those persons who addressed her, she would chuse? It matters not which, replied she; they are all equal to me, since I cannot be his to whom I have given my heart. Two days after I had this conservation with her, I learned that the marquis de Benavides was preferred to all his rivals; every one was surprised at her choice, and I as much as any other. Benavides has a disagreeable person, his understanding is mean, and his temper extremely bad: this last circumstance made me tremble for poor Adelaida. I was resolved to tell her my apprehensions: I went for that purpose to the house of the countess de Garlande, where we used to meet.’
‘I am prepared, said she, for misery, but I must marry; and since I know it is the only means of procuring your son’s liberty, I reproach myself every moment that I delay this sacrifice: yet this marriage, which I consent to only for his sake, will perhaps be the most cruel of his misfortunes. I will at least convince him by my choice, that his interest was the sole motive which engaged me to it. Pity me, dear Madam, I deserve your pity; and, by my behaviour to Mons. Benavides, I will endeavour to render myself worthy of your esteem.’
My mother afterwards told me, that Adelaida was made acquainted by my father himself, with my having burnt the writings: he publicly upbraided her with it on the day that he lost his process. ‘She confessed to me, added my mother, that she was more affected with your extreme delicacy in concealing so generous an action, than with the action itself.’We passed the days in such conversations: my melancholy was excessive; yet, tho’ deprived of hope, I found a kind of sweetness in the idea of my being still loved.
After a stay of two months, my mother received orders from my father to return to him. He had expressed no concern for my illness, and his cruel treatment of me had extinguished every sentiment of tenderness for him. My mother pressed me to go with her; but I intreated her to consent to my staying in the country: she yielded to my reasons, and left me. I was now once more alone in the midst of my woods, and found so much sweetness in solitude, that I would then have abandoned every thing, and taken up my habitation in some hermit’s cell, had I not been restrained by my tenderness for my mother. I often resolved to endeavour to see Adelaida, but the fear of displeasing her stopt me. At length after long irresolution, I thought I might at least attempt to see Adelaida without being seen by her.
Accordingly, I resolved to send a person in whom I could confide to Bourdeaux, to know where she was, and for this purpose I fixed upon a man who had attended me from my infancy. My mother, during my illness, had restored him to his place about me: he had been with me at the baths; he knew Adelaida; and when I mentioned my design to him, he informed me that he had friends in the house of Benavides. After having given him his orders, which I repeated a thousand times, I caused him to set out from the castle. When he arrived at Bourdeaux, he was informed that Benavides had carried his lady a short time after his marriage to an estate which he had in Biscay. Saint Laurent, for that was my servant’s name, wrote to me to know what he was to do next: I sent him orders to go immediately into Biscay. My desire of seeing Adelaida was so much increased by the hope I had conceived, that it was not possible for me to oppose it any longer.
Saint Laurent returned at the expiration of six weeks, which my anxiety and impatience had lengthened into so many ages. He told me, that, after many fruitless attempts, Benavides having occasion for an architect, he had prevailed upon his friend to present him to him in that quality; that having acquired some knowledge of the art from an uncle, under whose care he had been brought up, he made no scruple to undertake the business Benavides employed him in. ‘I believe, said he, that Madame de Benavides knew me, for she blushed when she first saw me.’
He then told me that she lived the most retired and melancholy life imaginable: that her husband hardly ever quitted her a moment; and that it was said in the house, he was excessively fond of her; but that he gave her no other proof of it, than by his extreme jealousy, which he carried so far, that even his brother had not the liberty of seeing her, but when he was present. I asked my servant some questions about that brother; he told me that he was a very amiable young man, and that the world spoke as much in his favour as they did to the disadvantage of Benavides; and that he appeared to be greatly attached to his sister-in-law.
This discourse made no impression upon me at that time; the unhappy situation of Madame de Benavides, and the desire of seeing her, employed my whole soul. Saint Laurent assured me he had taken proper measures for introducing me into the house of Benavides. ‘He has occasion for a painter, said he to me, to paint an apartment: I promised to bring a good one, and you must undertake this business.’
Nothing now remained but to regulate our departure; I wrote to my mother, and told her I was going to pass some time at the house of one of my friends. This done I set out with Saint Laurent for Biscay: during our journey, I was continually asking him questions concerning Madame de Benavides; I was desirous of knowing the slightest particulars relating to her. Saint Laurent was not able to satisfy my curiosity; he had but few opportunities of seeing her: she was shut up in her own apartment, with no other company but a little dog, of which she was extremely fond. This article touched me particularly: I had presented her with that dog, and I flattered myself that she loved it for my sake. These little things, which escape one in good fortune, affect one sensibly in misery: the heart, in the need it has of consolation, fastens upon every thing which is likely to afford it.
Saint Laurent often mentioned to me the great attachment of young Benavides to his sister-in-law; he added, that he often opposed the furious sallies of his brother’s temper, and, but for his good offices, Adelaida would be still more miserable than she was. He earnestly intreated me to be contented with the pleasure of seeing her, and to make no attempt to speak to her, ‘not because it would endanger your life, added he: that, I know, is too weak a motive to restrain you; but because she will suffer by any imprudence you may be guilty of.’
The liberty of seeing Adelaida appeared to me so great a blessing, that I was fully persuaded that alone would satisfy me, and resolved within myself, and promised Saint Laurent, to behave with the utmost circumspection. After a most tedious journey, as my impatience made it seem, we arrived at Biscay, and was presented to Benavides, who set me to work immediately.
The supposed architect and I were lodged in the same apartment, and to him was committed the care of overseeing the workmen. I had been several days at work before I saw madame de Benavides; at length I perceived her one evening from a window in my own room going to walk in the garden. She had only her little favourite dog with her: her dress was negligent, a kind of languishing melancholy appeared in her looks and motions, and her fine eyes seemed to dwell on the objects around her, without regarding them. Oh heavens! what sweetly painful emotions did my soul feel at the sight of her. I continued leaning on the window the whole time she staid in the garden: it was dark when she returned; so that I could not distinguish her when she passed by my window, but my heart knew it was her.
I saw her a second time in the chapel of the castle; I placed myself in such a manner, that I could look at her the whole time without being observed. She never once turned her eyes upon me: I ought to have rejoiced at this circumstance, since I well knew that if she discovered me, she would be obliged to go out of the chapel; yet I was afflicted at it, and returned to my chamber in greater disquiet than when I left it. I had not yet formed any design of making myself known to her; but I was sensible that I should not be able to resist doing it, if an opportunity offered.
The sight of young Benavides gave me likewise some kind of uneasiness; he often came to see me work, and notwithstanding the seeming distance of our rank, he behaved to me with an obliging familiarity, which ought to have excited my esteem; yet it had no effect on me. His great merit, and the amiableness of his person, which I could not but be sensible of, with-held my gratitude. I was afraid of a rival in him, and a certain impassioned sadness that I perceived in him, which was too like my own not to proceed from the same cause, gave me a suspicion which he soon confirmed.
After asking me one day several questions relating to my condition in life; ‘You are in love, (said he to me, sighing imperceptibly to himself,) the melancholy in which I perceive you continually plunged, persuades me that your heart is not well: tell me the truth; can I do any thing for you? The miserable in general have a claim to my compassion; but there is one sort of grief which I pity more than any other.’ I believe I thanked Don Gabriel, (that was his name,) with a very ill grace, for the kind offers he made to me; however, I could not help owning to him that I was in love: but I told him that time only could produce any change in the state of my fortune. ‘You are not absolutely unhappy, replied he, since you may hope for a change; I know persons who are much more to be pitied than you.’
When I was alone I reflected upon the conversation that had passed betwen Don Gabriel and myself; I concluded that he was in love, and that his charming sister-in-law was the object of his passion: his whole behaviour, which I examined with the utmost attention, convinced me I was not mistaken; I observed him always assiduous about Adelaida; he gazed on her with eyes like mine, yet I was not jealous: my esteem for Adelaida would not admit of such an injurious sentiment; but I could not help fearing, that the company of an agreeable man, who was continually rendering her services that softened the horrors of her present situation, would make her reflections on me be greatly to my disadvantage, whose passion had been productive of nothing but misfortunes to her.
I was full of these thoughts, when one day I saw Adelaida enter the room where I was painting, led by Don Gabriel. ‘Why, said she, do you press me to come and look at the ornaments of this apartment? you know I have no taste for these things.’ ‘I hope, madam, (said I, looking earnestly upon her, and bowing low,) that if you will deign to cast your eyes upon what is here, you will find something not unworthy your attention.’
Adelaida, struck with the sound of my voice, turned instantly towards me. I perceived she knew me, for she blushed and bent her eyes on the ground, and, after pausing a moment, she left the room without giving me a look, saying, that the smell of the paint was disagreeable to her.
I remained behind, terrified, confused, and overwhelmed with grief. Adelaida had not deigned to give me a second look; she would not even shew that she was enough interested in my disguise to express any signs of resentment at it. What have I done, said I, I am indeed come hither contrary to her commands; but if she still loves me, she would pardon a fault that proceeded from the excess of my passion for her. I now concluded, that since Adelaida no longer loved me, she must of necessity have bestowed her heart upon another. This idea filled me with a grief so new and violent, that I thought I had never been truly miserable till then.
Saint Laurent, who came from time to time to see me, entering the room that moment, found me in an agitation that made him tremble. ‘What ails you, sir, said he to me, what has happened to you?’ ‘I am undone, replied I; Adelaida no longer loves me: she no longer loves me, repeated I; it is but too true, alas! I never had reason to complain of my fate till this cruel moment: what torment would I now endure to purchase this blessing which I have lost! this blessing which I preferred to all things, and which in the midst of my greatest miseries, filled my heart with so soft a joy.’
I continued a long time to exclaim in this manner, while Saint Laurent in vain endeavoured to draw from me the cause of my grief. At length I related to him what had happened. ‘I see nothing in all this, said he, which ought to drive you to the despair I see you in. Madam de Benavides is certainly offended at your rash attempt. She was desirous of punishing you by appearing indifferent; and perhaps she was apprehensive of betraying herself, if she had looked upon you.’
‘No, no, interrupted I, they who love have no such command over themselves in those first emotions; the heart alone is listened to. I must see her, added I, I must reproach her with her change. Alas! after giving herself to another, ought she to take away my life by so cruel an indifference? why did she not leave me in my prison, there I should have been happy, had I been assured of her love.’
Saint Laurent fearing that any one should see me in the condition I was in, obliged me to retire to the chamber where we both lay. I past the whole night in tormenting myself; my thoughts were at strife with each other; in one moment I condemned my suspicions, and the next relapsed into them again. I thought it unjust to wish that Adelaida should preserve a tenderness which rendered her miserable. In those moments, I reproached myself for loving her less than my own satisfaction. ‘Why should I wish to live, said I to Saint Laurent, if she loves another: I will endeavour to speak to her, only to bid her an eternal adieu: she shall hear no reproaches from my mouth; my grief, which I cannot conceal from her, shall speak for me.’
When this point was resolved upon, it was agreed that I should leave Biscay as soon as I should have an interview with her; we then began to consider upon the necessary means of procuring it. Saint Laurent told me that we must seize the first opportunity that offered, when Don Gabriel went to hunt, as he often did, and Benavides was employed in his domestic affairs; for which he always set apart two mornings in the week. He then made me promise, that to avoid giving any suspicion, I should go on with my painting, as usual; but that I should likewise declare, that I was under a necessity of returning soon to my own country.
Accordingly I resumed my former employment. I had almost, without perceiving it, some hope that Adelaida would come again into that apartment; every noise that I heard gave me an emotion I was scarce able to bear. In this situation I remained several days, and then losing all hope of seeing Adelaida in that manner, I eagerly sought for some moment in which I might be so fortunate as to find her alone. At length this moment came; I was going as usual to my work, when I saw Adelaida passing to her own apartment. I knew that Don Gabriel went out early that morning to hunt, and I had heard Benavides talking in a low hall of the castle, to one of his farmers; so that I was pretty certain of finding her alone.
I entered her apartment with so much precipitation, that Adelaida saw me not till I was very near her: she would have retired to her closet as soon as she perceived me, but I catched hold of her robe, and prevented her. ‘Do not fly from me, madam, said I to her, suffer me this last time to enjoy the blessing of beholding you: I shall never importune you more. I am going far from you, to die with grief for the miseries I have been the cause of to you; and for the loss of your heart. I wish Don Gabriel may be more fortunate than I have been.’
Adelaida, whose surprise had hitherto prevented her from speaking, interupted me at these words, and giving me a look of mingled tenderness and anger, ‘What, said she, dare you make me reproaches? dare you suspect me?—you—.’ The tone with which she pronounced these last words, brought me instantly at her feet. ‘No, my dear Adelaida, interupted I, no, I have no suspicion that is injurious to you: pardon a few distracted words, which my heart disavows.’
‘I pardon you all, said she to me, provided you depart immediately, and never attempt to see me more. Reflect, that it is for your sake I am the most miserable creature in the world; would you give me cause to reproach myself with being the most criminal.’ ‘I will do every thing you command me, replied I, but only promise that you will not hate me.’
Although Adelaida had several times desired me to rise, yet I still continued at her feet. To those who truly love, this attitude has a thousand secret charms. I was still kneeling, when Benavides suddenly opened the chamber door. Transported with rage, he flew towards his wife, and drawing his sword, “Thou shalt die, perfidious woman,” cried he, and would have infallibly killed her, had I not thrown myself between them, and put by his sword with my own.
‘Wretch! cried Benavides, you first shall feel my vengeance,’ and at the same time gave me a wound on my shoulder. I did not love life well enough to be solicitous for the preservation of it; but my hatred to Benavides would not suffer me to abandon it to his fury: this cruel attempt upon the person of his wife, deprived me almost of reason. I threw myself upon him, and plunging my sword in his body, he fell at my feet without sense or motion. The servants, drawn by the cries of madame de Benavides, entered the room that moment, and several of them throwing themselves upon me, disarmed me, while I made no effort to defend myself. The sight of madame de Benavides bathed in tears, and kneeling by her husband, left me no sensibility of any thing but her grief. I was dragged out of her chamber into another, and the door fastened upon me.
There it was, that delivered up to my own reflections, I saw the abyss into which I had plunged madame de Benavides: the death of her husband, killed before her eyes, and killed by me, could not fail of giving rise to suspicions against her. How did I not reproach myself! I had been the cause of her first misfortunes, and I had now completed her ruin by my imprudence. My imagination continually represented to me the dreadful condition in which I had left her. I acknowledge that she had just reasons to hate me, and I did not murmur at it. The only consolation I had, was in the hope that I was not known. The idea of being taken for an assassin, and a robber, which on any other occasion would have made me tremble with horror, now gave me joy. Adelaida knew the innocence of my, intentions, and Adelaida was the whole world to me.
Impatient to be interrogated, that I might clear the honour of Adelaida, I passed several hours in the most racking inquietude: in the middle of the night my chamber door was opened, and I saw Don Gabriel enter.
(To be continued.)