12When Sabine de Mussidan told her lover that she would appeal to thegenerosity of M. de Breulh-Faverlay, she had not calculated on thenecessity she would have for endurance, but had rather listened to thedictates of her heart; and this fact came the more strongly beforeher, when in the solitude of her own chamber, she inquired of herselfhow she was to carry out her promise. It seemed to her very terribleto have to lay bare the secrets of her soul to any one, but the moreso to M. de Breulh-Faverlay, who had asked for her hand in marriage.
She uttered no word on her way home, where she arrived just in time totake her place at the dinner table, and never was a more dismalcompany assembled for the evening meal. Her own miseries occupiedSabine, and her father and mother were suffering from their interviewswith Mascarin and Dr. Hortebise. What did the liveried servants, whowaited at table with such an affectation of interest, care for thesorrows of their master or mistress? They were well lodged and wellfed, and nothing save their wages did they care for. By nine o'clockSabine was in her own room trying to grow accustomed to the thoughtsof an interview with M. de Breulh-Faverlay. She hardly closed her eyesall night, and felt worn out and dispirited by musing; but she neverthought of evading the promise she had made to Andre, or of putting itoff for a time. She had vowed to lose no time, and her lover waseagerly awaiting a letter from her, telling him of the result. In theperplexity in which she found herself, she could not confide in eitherfather or mother, for she felt that a cloud hung over both theirlives, though she knew not what it was. When she left the conventwhere she had been educated, and returned home, she felt that she wasin the way, and that the day of her marriage would be one ofliberation to her parents from their cares and responsibilities. Allthis prayed terribly upon her mind, and might have driven a less pure-minded girl to desperate measures. It seemed to her that it would beless painful to fly from her father's house than to have thisinterview with M. de Breulh-Faverlay. Luckily for her, frail as shelooked, she possessed an indomitable will, and this carried herthrough most of her difficulties.
For Andre's sake, as well as her own, she did not wish to violate anyof the unwritten canons of society, but she longed for the hour tocome when she could acknowledge her love openly to the world. At onemoment she thought of writing a letter, but dismissed the thought asthe height of folly. As the time passed Sabine began to reproachherself for her cowardice. All at once she heard the clang of theopening of the main gates. Peeping from her window, she saw a carriagedrive up, and, to her inexpressible delight, M. de Breulh-Faverlayalighted from it.
"Heaven has head my prayer, and sent him to me," murmured she.
"What do you intend to do, Mademoiselle?" asked the devoted Modeste;"will you speak to him now?""Yes, I will. My mother is still in her dressing-room, and no one willventure to disturb my father in the library. If I meet M. de Breulh-Faverlay in the hall and take him into the drawing-room, I shall havetime for a quarter of an hour's talk, and that will be sufficient."Calling up all her courage, she left her room on her errand. Had Andreseen the man selected by the Count de Mussidan for his daughter'shusband, he might well have been proud of her preference for him. M.
de Breulh-Faverlay was one of the best known men in Paris, and fortunehad showered all her blessings on his head. He was not forty, of anextremely aristocratic appearance, highly educated, and witty; and, inaddition, one of the largest landholders in the country. He had alwaysrefused to enter public life. "For," he would say to those who spoketo him on the matter, "I have enough to spend my money on withoutmaking myself ridiculous." He was a perfect type of what a Frenchgentleman should be--courteous, of unblemished reputation, and full ofchivalrous devotion and generosity. He was, it is said, a greatfavorite with the fair sex; but, if report spoke truly, his discretionwas as great as his success. He had not always been wealthy, and therewas a mysterious romance in his life. When he was only twenty, he hadsailed for South America, where he remained twelve years, and returnedno richer than he was before; but shortly afterward his aged uncle,the Marquis de Faverlay, died bequeathing his immense fortune to hisnephew on the condition that he should add the name of Faverlay tothat of De Breulh. De Breulh was passionately fond of horses; but hewas really a lover of them, and not a mere turfite, and this was allthat the world knew of the man who held in his hands the fates ofSabine de Mussidan and Andre. As soon as he caught sight of Sabine hemade a profound inclination.
The girl came straight up to him.
"Sir," said she, in a voice broken by conflicting emotions, "may Irequest the pleasure of a short private conversation with you?""Mademoiselle," answered De Breulh, concealing his surprise beneathanother bow, "I am at your disposal."One of the footmen, at a word from Sabine, threw open the door of thedrawing-room in which the Countess had thrown down her arms in herduel with Dr. Hortebise. Sabine did not ask her visitor to be seated,but leaning her elbow on the marble mantel-piece, she said, after asilence equally trying to both,--"This strange conduct on my part, sir, will show you, more than anyexplanation, my sincerity, and the perfect confidence with which youhave inspired me."She paused, but De Breulh made no reply, for he was perfectlymystified.
"You are," she continued, "my parents' intimate friend, and must haveseen the discomforts of our domestic hearth, and that though both myfather and mother are living, I am as desolate as the veriest orphan."Fearing that M. de Breulh might not understand her reason for speakingthus, she threw a shade of haughtiness into her manner as sheresumed,--"My reason, sir, for seeing you to-day is to ask,--nay, to entreatyou, to release me from my engagement to you, and to take the wholeresponsibility of the rupture on yourself."Man of the world as he was, M. de Breulh could not conceal hissurprise, in which a certain amount of wounded self-love was mingled.
"Mademoiselle!" commenced he--Sabine interrupted him.
"I am asking a great favor, and your granting it will spare me manyhours of grief and sadness, and," she added, as a faint smileflickered across her pallid features, "I am aware that I am asking buta trifling sacrifice on your part. You know scarcely anything of me,and therefore you can only feel indifference toward me.""You are mistaken," replied the young man gravely; "and you do notjudge me rightly. I am not a mere boy, and always consider a stepbefore I take it; and if I asked for your hand, it was because I hadlearned to appreciate the greatness both of your heart and intellect;and I believe that if you would condescend to accept me, we could bevery happy together."The girl seemed about to speak, but De Breulh continued,--"It seems, however, that I have in some way displeased you,--I do notknow how; but, believe me, it will be a source of sorrow to me for therest of my life."De Breulh's sincerity was so evident, that Mademoiselle de Mussidanwas deeply affected.
"You have not displeased me in any way," answered she softly, "and arefar too good for me. To have become your wife would have made me aproud and happy woman."Here she stopped, almost choked by her tears, but M. de Breulh wishedto fathom this mystery.
"Why then this resolve?" asked he.
"Because," replied Sabine faintly, as she hid her face,--"because Ihave given all my love to another."The young man uttered an exclamation so full of angry surprise, thatSabine turned upon him at once.
"Yes, sir," answered she, "to another; one utterly unknown to myparents, yet one who is inexpressibly dear to me. This ought not toirritate you, for I gave him my love long before I met you. Besides,you have every advantage over him. He is at the foot, while you are atthe summit, of the social ladder. You are of aristocratic lineage,--heis one of the people. You have a noble name,--he does not even knowhis own. Your wealth is enormous,--while he works hard for his dailybread. He has all the fire of genius, but the cruel cares of life dragand fetter him to the earth. He carries on a workman's trade to supplyfunds to study his beloved art."Incautiously, Sabine had chosen the very means to wound this noblegentleman most cruelly, for her whole beauty blazed out as, inflamedby her passion, she spoke so eloquently of Andre and drew such aparallel between the two young men.
"Now, sir," said she, "do you comprehend me? I know the terriblesocial abyss which divides me from the man I love, and the future mayhold in store some terrible punishment for my fidelity to him, but noone shall ever hear a word of complaint from my lips, for----" shehesitated, and then uttered these simple words--"for I love him."M. de Breulh listened with an outwardly impassible face, but thevenomed tooth of jealousy was gnawing at his heart. He had not toldSabine the entire truth, for he had studied her for a long time, andhis love had grown firm and strong. Without an unkind thought the girlhad shattered the edifice which he had built up with such care andpain. He would have given his name, rank, and title to have been inthis unknown lover's place, who, though he worked for his bread, andhad no grand ancestral name, was yet so fondly loved. Many a man inhis position would have shrugged his shoulders and coldly sneered atthe words, "I love him," but he did not, for his nature wassufficiently noble to sympathize with hers. He admired her courage andfrankness, which disdaining all subterfuges, went straight andunhesitatingly to the point she desired to reach. She might beimprudent and reckless, but in his eyes these seemed hardly to befaults, for it is seldom that convent-bred young ladies err in thisway.
"But this man," said he, after a long pause,--"how do you manage everto see him?
"I meet him out walking," replied she, "and I sometimes go to hisstudio.""To his studio?""Yes, I have sat to him several times for my portrait; but I havenever done anything that I need blush to own. You know all now, sir,"continued Sabine; "and it has been very hard for a young girl like meto say all this to you. It is a thing that ought to be confided to mymother."Only those who have heard a woman that they are ardently attached tosay, "I do not love you," can picture M. de Breulh's frame of mind.
Had any one else than Sabine made this communication he would not havewithdrawn, but would have contested the prize with his more fortunaterival. But now that Mademoiselle de Mussidan had, as it were, thrownherself upon his mercy, he could not bring himself to take advantageof her confidence.
"It shall be as you desire," said he, with a faint tinge of bitternessin his tone. "To-night I will write to your father, and withdraw mydemand for your hand. It is the first time that I have ever gone backfrom my word; and I am sure that your father will be highlyindignant."Sabine's strength and firmness had now entirely deserted her. "Fromthe depth of my soul, sir," said she, "I thank you; for by this act ofgenerosity I shall avoid a ............