Читать книгу: «Pride: One of the Seven Cardinal Sins», страница 37

CHAPTER XXXII
CONCLUSION

As the little party approached the table where the two contracts lay, Mlle. de Beaumesnil said to Herminie, in subdued tones, but evidently with no little anxiety:

"Alas! the decisive moment has come! What will M. Olivier think? What will he do? If I had committed some terrible crime and it was about to be made public, I could not feel more anxious."

"Courage, Ernestine. You can leave everything to M. de Maillefort without the slightest fear."

If Ernestine experienced dire misgivings in regard to Olivier's scruples, the hunchback was no less uneasy in regard to those of Herminie, who was still ignorant that she had figured in the marriage contract as the adopted daughter of the Marquis de Maillefort, Prince Duc de Haut-Martel.

So it was with considerable inward perturbation that the hunchback now approached the young girl and said:

"You are to sign first, my child."

The notary presented a pen; the girl took it, and, with a hand trembling with joyful emotion, signed, "Herminie."

"Well, my child, why do you stop there?" asked M. de Maillefort, as he saw her about to return the pen to the notary.

And as his protégée turned and looked at him in silent surprise, the hunchback continued:

"Go on, of course, my child, and sign yourself 'Herminie de Maillefort.'"

"Ah, I understand now," Gerald said to his mother, with profound emotion. "M. de Maillefort is the best and most generous of men."

Herminie continued to gaze at the hunchback in speechless astonishment, but at last she said, hesitatingly:

"Why, monsieur, I cannot sign myself 'Herminie de Maillefort.' That name – "

"My child," said the hunchback, in pleading tones, "have you not often told me that you felt a truly filial affection for me?"

"I do, indeed, monsieur."

"And have you not more than once felt that you could best express your gratitude by telling me that I manifested all a father's solicitude for you?"

"Oh, yes, the tenderest, most devoted father's," exclaimed the girl, earnestly.

"Then why should you not take my name?" asked the marquis, with a winning smile. "You have already promised that your son, if you have one, shall bear this name. Besides, are you not by your attachment to me, and by my affection for you, my adopted child? Then why should you not sign this contract as my adopted daughter?"

"I, monsieur?" exclaimed Herminie, unable to believe her own ears. "I your adopted daughter?"

"Yes; think of my audacity. I am famed for it, you know. I even had you so designated in the marriage contract."

"What do you say, monsieur?"

"Tell me," added the hunchback, with tears in his eyes, and in his most persuasive tones, "tell me, do you not think I have justly earned the great happiness of being able to say to every one, 'This is my daughter?' Will you refuse to honour still more, by bearing it, an ever honoured name?"

"Ah, monsieur," said Herminie, unable to restrain her tears, "such kindness as yours – "

"Then sign at once, you obstinate child," said the marquis, smiling, though his eyes were full of tears, "or else our friends here will perhaps imagine that a beautiful and charming creature like you is ashamed to have a poor hunchback like me even for an adopted father."

"Ah, such a thought as that – " exclaimed Herminie, quickly.

"Then sign, sign at once!" urged the marquis.

And with an affectionate movement, he took Herminie's hand, as if to guide her pen, and, drawing her closer, said in a low tone so as not to be overheard:

"Did not the loved one we both mourn implore me to be a father to her daughter?"

Deeply moved by this allusion to her mother, half stunned by this unexpected proposal, and finally vanquished by the affection and gratitude she felt for the marquis, the young girl with a trembling hand affixed the signature of Herminie de Maillefort to the document, little suspecting what a generous gift she was thus accepting from the hunchback, for she had no idea of the amount of his fortune.

Commander Bernard was so deeply affected by this scene, that, hastily approaching the hunchback, he said:

"Monsieur, I am a retired naval officer, and Olivier's uncle. I have the honour of knowing you only by all the good I have heard of you through M. Gerald, and by the aid you so kindly rendered in securing Olivier's promotion; but what you have just done for Mlle. Herminie shows such a generous heart that I beg you will allow me to take you by the hand."

"Very gladly, I assure you, monsieur," said the marquis, responding to the veteran's advances with marked cordiality, "I, too, have the honour of knowing you only by the good I have heard of you through my dear Gerald, M. Olivier's friend. I know, too, the sensible and high-minded advice you gave Gerald in relation to his marriage with Mlle. de Beaumesnil, and, as people of such a keen sense of honour are rare, I deem a meeting with you a most fortunate thing. And it is very pleasant to think that these meetings are likely to be frequent in the future," added the hunchback, smiling, "for you love Ernestine and Olivier as devotedly as I love Herminie and Gerald, and we are certain to spend many a delightful hour with these charming young people."

"Yes; as I have decided to live with Olivier and his wife, I shall see you very often, I hope."

"And I, too, intend to live with my children, Herminie and Gerald, and as our two daughters love each other like sisters, we shall be almost like one happy family."

"Do you know, monsieur, if I were a religious man, the devil take me if I shouldn't say that it was indeed the good God who had assured me such a paradise in my old age. But I forget that these poor children are dying of impatience to sign in their turn.

"So come, mademoiselle," he continued, turning to Ernestine, "and write at once, at the bottom of this page, the name that gives me the right to call you daughter. I really owe my life to you, though," added the old officer, gaily, "so, in our case, the usual order of things is reversed, and it is the daughter who gives life to the father."

Ernestine took the pen from the notary's hand, with a poignant anxiety, which, for divers reasons, was shared by all the other actors in the scene except Olivier and Commander Bernard, and affixed the name of Ernestine Vert-Puis de Beaumesnil to the document. Then, with a trembling hand, she offered the pen to Olivier. With a look of inexpressible happiness, the young man stooped to append his signature to the contract; but he had scarcely written the name of Olivier, when the pen dropped from his fingers, and he remained for a moment leaning over the table, silent and motionless, believing himself, in fact, the victim of an optical delusion, as he saw, above the name he had just begun to write, the signature of Ernestine Vert-Puis de Beaumesnil.

Those around him understood the cause of this astonishment so well, and were so fully prepared for it, that they all maintained a profound silence – all save the commander, who gazed at his nephew for a moment with great surprise, and then exclaimed, excitedly:

"What the devil is the matter with you, my boy? Have you forgotten how to write your name?"

But suddenly the strange silence of the other spectators seemed to strike him, and he turned inquiringly to them; but upon every face, and particularly upon the faces of Ernestine and Herminie, he noticed such a grave, deeply troubled expression, that the veteran, not knowing what to think, but apprehending some serious difficulty, again exclaimed:

"Olivier, my boy, what is the matter? What prevents you from signing?"

"Read that name, uncle," replied the young man, pointing with a trembling finger to Ernestine's signature.

"Ernestine Vert-Puis de Beaumesnil!" exclaimed the old man, bringing the contract closer to his eyes, as if he could not believe what he saw. Then, turning to Ernestine, he cried:

"You – mademoiselle – you, Mlle. de Beaumesnil?"

"Yes, monsieur," said M. de la Rochaiguë; "I, Mlle. de Beaumesnil's guardian, do declare, certify, and affirm that this young lady is my ward. It was for this reason that my presence at her marriage was indispensable."

Olivier had turned frightfully pale, and it was in a strangely altered voice that he said, "Pardon my – my bewilderment, – every one here will understand it. You – Mlle. de Beaumesnil! You, whom I thought poor and alone in the world, – because you told me so. What object could you have had in this deception?"

Seeing how deeply Olivier was wounded, Ernestine felt as if her heart would break. Tears gushed from her eyes, and, clasping her hands beseechingly, she faltered:

"Forgive me, M. Olivier! Oh, forgive me!"

There was such a touching simplicity in the words in which the young girl thus implored forgiveness for being the richest heiress in France, that everybody, even to the baron and Madame de Senneterre, was deeply affected, and even Olivier felt the tears rise to his eyes.

M. de Maillefort felt that it was quite time to make a clear statement of the facts of the case, and effectually silence Olivier's scruples, for the hunchback perceived that the young man was not only amazed and bewildered by the deception Mlle. de Beaumesnil had practised, but that he was also suffering cruelly from the conflict between devoted love and extreme sensitiveness that was raging in his breast.

"Will you have the goodness, M. Olivier, and you, too, commander, to give me your attention for a few moments," said the marquis, "and this mystery, which must both astonish and annoy you, shall be explained. Mlle. de Beaumesnil, an orphan immensely wealthy, very young, and too ingenuous herself to suspect the avaricious motives of those around her, believed the exaggerated praise and the protestations of affection lavished upon her, until, one day, an old friend of her mother's, who was unfortunately powerless to protect her from them, felt that he must at least warn her against the flattery, baseness, deceit, and cupidity of those around her, and assured her that whatever might be the pretext for the devotion manifested towards her, her enormous fortune was the sole cause of it. This revelation was a terrible blow to Mlle. de Beaumesnil. Afterwards, tormented by the fear that she would never be loved except for her wealth, she began to find this distrust of everybody and everything intolerable. So, there being no one to whom she could turn for counsel and encouragement, Mlle. de Beaumesnil courageously resolved to ascertain her real value, inasmuch as this knowledge would enable her to judge of the sincerity of the adulations and attentions that beset her on every side. But how was she to discover the truth? There seemed to be only one way, viz., to divest herself of the prestige that enveloped the rich heiress, and to present herself to entire strangers as a poor and obscure orphan who was obliged to labour hard for her daily bread."

"Enough, monsieur, enough!" cried Olivier, in tones of the deepest admiration. "I understand it all now. What courage she displayed!"

"And she did that?" exclaimed Commander Bernard, clasping his hands ecstatically. "What a brave girl to subject herself to such a test! But I might have known it! A girl who would throw herself under a wagon wheel to prevent me from being crushed by it – !"

"You hear what your uncle says, M. Olivier," said the marquis, "and, whatever Mlle. de Beaumesnil's position may be now, have you not still a heavy debt of gratitude to pay?"

"Ah, monsieur," exclaimed Olivier, "this debt of gratitude, the sacred cause of the deepest affection, I hoped to repay by imploring Mlle. de Beaumesnil to share my lot, – a lot much more fortunate than hers, as I supposed, for I believed her to be both poor and friendless. But now, I – I – "

"One word more, M. Olivier," hastily interrupted the marquis; "Mlle. de Beaumesnil and I both knew and respected your extreme sensitiveness and pride, so, to spare you the slightest feeling of self-reproach, we arranged with M. de la Rochaiguë here to offer to you the alternative of breaking a sacred promise made to a young girl you believed poor and friendless, or of refusing Mlle. de Beaumesnil's hand. You stood this severe test nobly, unhesitatingly sacrificing the certainty of a fabulously rich marriage to your affection for a poor little embroideress. What greater proof of disinterestedness could you or any one give?"

"That is true," said Commander Bernard. "I am as jealous of Olivier's honour as any person could possibly be, but I want to remind him that, though it is undoubtedly wrong to marry a woman for her money, it is equally wrong, when one loves the noblest of creatures, to refuse to keep a solemn promise and to repay a sacred obligation merely because the dear child has a lot of money. Just suppose, Olivier, that Mlle. Ernestine, who was so poor yesterday, has inherited nobody knows how many millions from a relative this morning, and let that be the end of it. This miserable money ought not to be allowed to ruin everybody's happiness, surely."

"Oh, thank you, M. Bernard," exclaimed Ernestine, throwing her arms around the old officer's neck, in a transport of filial affection, "thank you for those kind, wise words which M. Olivier cannot, I am sure, contradict."

"I defy him to do it," said Gerald, taking his friend's hand. "Remember, too, my dear Olivier, what you said to me a few months ago, when there was some talk of my marrying Mlle. de Beaumesnil."

"Besides, is it not Ernestine, the little embroideress that you and I have always loved so much, M. Olivier?" said Herminie, in her turn.

"And you must permit me to say, monsieur," added Madame de Senneterre, "that the disinterestedness you showed in refusing M. de la Rochaiguë's offer has made such a deep impression upon me, that in my eyes you will always be the young man who refused the richest heiress in France to marry a friendless and penniless young girl."

Olivier, though influenced in spite of himself by these proofs of esteem and sympathy, nevertheless experienced a feeling of deep humiliation at the idea of sharing Mlle. de Beaumesnil's immense fortune, so he said:

"I know that I have no right to show myself more fastidious and exacting than the persons around me in matters where honour and delicacy are involved; I know, too, that what I have just heard in relation to Mlle. de Beaumesnil has only increased – if that were possible – my respect and devoted love for her, and yet – " But the marquis, who read Olivier's thoughts, again interrupted him by saying:

"One word more, M. Olivier. You experience a sort of humiliation at the thought of sharing Mlle. de Beaumesnil's large fortune. I could understand this feeling on your part, if you saw in the immense wealth Ernestine brings you merely the means of leading an idle and luxurious life at your wife's expense. Shame and ignominy should, indeed, attach to any man who contracts such a marriage as that. But this will not be your future, M. Olivier, – nor yours, Gerald; for though you and Herminie, my daughter, – my beloved daughter, – are both ignorant of the fact, and though her fortune is not to be compared with Ernestine's, of course, I have settled upon my adopted daughter an income of about one hundred and fifty thousand francs a year from property I have just inherited in Hungary."

"Such a fortune as that for me!" exclaimed Herminie. "Oh, never, never, I beseech you – "

"Listen to me, my child," said the hunchback, interrupting her, "and you, too, listen, M. Olivier. Ernestine, in some touching pages that you will read some day, – pages dedicated to her mother's memory, – in the candour of her noble soul, wrote these words which I shall never forget:

"'I have a yearly income of three million francs!

"'All this wealth for my own use! Why should this be? Why should I have so much and others nothing?

"'This immense fortune, how did I acquire it?

"'Alas! by your death, my father; and yours, my mother.

"'So, to make me rich, I had to lose the two whom I loved best in the world.

"'And in order that I may be so rich, there must, perhaps, be thousands of young girls like Herminie always in danger of want, however irreproachable and laborious their lives may be.'

"Ah," added the marquis, with increasing warmth, "this generous cry of an ingenuous heart, these words, artless as the truth that comes from the mouth of a child, are a revelation. Yes, Ernestine, the inheritance of wealth is a curse when it perpetuates the vices and degradation of an idle and luxurious life; yes, the inheritance of wealth is a curse when it arouses and excites the execrable passions of which you so narrowly escaped becoming the victim, my poor, dear child! Yes, the inheritance of wealth is a sacrilege when it concentrates in selfish hands the millions which should furnish employment and the means of subsistence to thousands of families; but the inheritance of wealth is also ennobling in the highest degree when the inheritor zealously and faithfully performs the sacred, indefinable, imprescriptible duties towards the less favoured of fortune which the possession of great wealth imposes upon him, and when he devotes his life to ameliorating the moral and physical condition of those whom society disinherits in favour of a privileged few. And now," said the hunchback, in conclusion, taking the hands of Herminie and of Olivier, "tell me, my children, do you, who were poor yesterday, see any disgrace or humiliation in becoming rich in accordance with these principles of human fraternity? Do you shrink from the sacred and often difficult duties which must be fulfilled each day with wise discrimination and unwearying devotion – if one would secure forgiveness for that gross inequality against which Ernestine in her noble candour protests, when she says, 'Why should I have so much, and others nothing?'"

"Ah, monsieur," cried Olivier, with enthusiasm, "Mlle. de Beaumesnil's fortune is all too small for a work like that."

And picking up the pen with a hand trembling with joy and happiness, the young man affixed his name to the contract.

"At last!" exclaimed Herminie and Ernestine, in the same breath, throwing themselves into each other's arms.

As M. de Maillefort was entering his carriage in company with Herminie, for the latter was to live in the house of her adopted father henceforth, M. Bouffard, who was still a prey to the most intense curiosity, suddenly presented himself to the hunchback's astonished gaze.

"Ah, M. Bouffard, I am delighted to see you," remarked the marquis. "It is truly said that Providence sometimes employs strange agents to attain its ends, for you are one of these strange agents, my dear M. Bouffard."

"M. le marquis is too kind," responded M. Bouffard, not understanding in the least what the marquis meant.

"Do you know one thing, my dear M. Bouffard? But for your pitiless greed as a landlord, Mlle. Herminie, my adopted daughter, would not be the Duchesse de Senneterre now."

"What, mademoiselle, my pianist, the daughter of a marquis, and the Duchesse de Senneterre!" faltered M. Bouffard, as the hunchback and the young girl stepped into the handsome coupé, which bore them swiftly away.

A short time after the signing of these contracts, the fashionable world was electrified by the following announcement cards:

"M. de la Rochaiguë has the honour to announce the marriage of Mlle. Ernestine de Beaumesnil, his ward, with M. Olivier Raymond."

"M. le Marquis de Maillefort, Prince Duc de Haut-Martel, has the honour to announce the marriage of Mlle. Herminie de Maillefort, his adopted daughter, with M. le Duc Gerald de Senneterre."

THE END