Читать книгу The Knight of Malta - Эжен Сю - Страница 16

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After having shut the door which communicated with her father’s rooms. Reine walked mechanically to the table standing in the embrasure of the window. What was her astonishment to see on this table a little picture encased in a frame of filigree, set with precious stones.

Her heart beat violently; she recalled the crystal vase, and a secret presentiment told her that this picture had some mysterious connection with the adventure among the rocks of Ollioules.

She approached it, trembling.

The perfection of this picture, painted on vellum, in imitation of ancient manuscripts, was incredible.

It represented the scene in the gorges of Ollioules at the very moment when the baron, embracing his daughter, had extended his hand to the young stranger; at a distance on the rock, Pog and Trimalcyon, the two foreign personages of whom we have spoken, appeared to command the scene.

Although Reine had seen these two men but a moment, the likeness in the picture was so striking that she recognised them. She shuddered involuntarily at the sinister expression of Fog’s face, easily known by his long red beard and the bitter smile which contracted his lips.

The features of the baron, as well as those of Reine, were rendered with surprising fidelity and perfect art, although the faces were scarcely larger than the nail of the little finger. They were drawn with a delicacy which was marvellous.

Notwithstanding the inimitable skill displayed in this ravishing picture, an odd, extravagant thing destroyed its harmony and effect.

The pose, person, and costume of Erebus—the strange young man—were perfectly portrayed; but his head disappeared beneath a small cloud, in the centre of which was represented the enamelled dove already portrayed on the crystal vase.

This omission was strange, and perhaps cleverly calculated, inasmuch as Reine, in spite of her fear and astonishment, could not help calling memory to her aid in order to complete the portrait of the stranger.

She saw it in her own mind, instead of on the vellum which she held in her hand.

There was, besides, on the part of the stranger, a sort of delicacy in thus effacing his own features under a symbol which represented to his mind the most precious memory of that day; or he may have adopted this means to quiet the scruples of the young girl, should she decide to keep the picture.

In order to comprehend the struggle between the desire to keep the picture and the resolve to destroy it, which rose in the young girl’s mind, we must say a few words about Reine’s love for Honorât de Berrol, and her own sentiments after the adventure in the gorges of Ollioules.

Honorât de Berrol was an orphan and distant relative of Raimond V. He had considerable fortune, his estates lying near those of the baron, and community of interest as well as other ties bound the chevalier and the old gentleman.

For two or three years Honorât came almost every day to Maison-Forte. The chevalier was the impersonation of rectitude, sincerity, and honour. His education, without being extraordinary, was superior to that of most young men of his age.

He was actively occupied in the management of his estates; his order and his economy were remarkable, although, when an opportunity presented itself, he knew how to be generous.

His mind was not unusual, but he had plenty of good sense and reason, and his character, naturally charming, could be firm and decided when circumstances demanded it.

His predominating characteristic was a love of justice. Little given to enthusiasm or exaggeration, and supremely happy in his position, he looked forward to his marriage with the baron’s daughter with a pure and serene joy.

There was no romantic aspect to this love. Before allowing himself to fall in love with Reine, Honorât had frankly expressed his intentions to the baron, and asked him to learn his daughter’s feelings.

The good gentleman, who never temporised or resorted to half-measures, replied to Honorât that the alliance would be agreeable to him, and at once told Reine of the chevalier’s proposal.

Reine was then sixteen years old; she was pleased with the appearance and bearing of the Chevalier de Berrol, for the manners of most of the country gentlemen who visited Maison-Forte suffered much by comparison with those of her amiable relative.

Reine accepted the baron’s plans, and the baron wrote at length to his brothers, the commander and Father Elzear, without whose advice he did nothing, concerning the happy betrothal.

Their response was favourable to Honorât, and the marriage was fixed for the Christmas celebration which would follow the young girl’s eighteenth birthday.

Thus passed two years in the midst of sweet hopes and a pure, calm love.

Honorât, serious and gentle, began at once his part as mentor, and by degrees acquired a great ascendancy over the mind of Reine.

Raimond V. loved his daughter so foolishly and idolatrously, that the happy influence of Honorât saved her from her father’s weakness.

The girl had lost her mother when she was in the cradle, and had been reared under the eyes of the baron by Stephanette’s mother, an excellent woman, and, although happily endowed with good instincts, had been permitted to indulge her caprice at will.

Her lively imagination exaggerated sympathy and antipathy, and she often received the wise and reasonable suggestions of Honorât with mischievous irony and even resentment.

Legend and romance were the mental food she craved, and often in thought she pictured herself as the heroine of some strange adventure. Honorât would dissipate these fantastic visions by a breath, and not infrequently reproached Reine, with as much good-humour as gaiety, for these vagabond imaginations.

But these little differences were soon forgotten. Reine would confess her wrong-doing with adorable frankness, and the beautiful affection of the two lovers seemed only to increase.

Unconsciously, Reine began to feel the influence of Honorât more and more in her daily life, and instead of indulging herself in vague reveries and foolish imaginations, occupied her mind with graver thoughts. She recognised the nothingness of her former dreams, and every step of this wise and happy way served to establish her love for Chevalier de Berrol.

Her mind and character had undergone such a complete transformation under the influence of Honorât, that her father, sometimes, when he had gone beyond the limits of temperance, would say in jest that Reine was becoming insupportably serious.

The sentiment of Reine for Honorât was by no means a passionate love, nourished by difficulties and uncertainties, but a calm, sincere, and reasonable affection, in which the young girl recognised, with a sort of tender veneration, the superior reason of her betrothed.

Such were the sentiments of Mlle, des Anbiez when the fatal meeting in the rocks of Ollioules took place.

The first time that she saw Erebus, placed her under the influence of a profound sentiment of gratitude; he had just saved the baron’s life.

Reine, perhaps, might never have observed the surprising beauty of the stranger, but for the startling circumstances by which he was presented to her.

The fact that he had just delivered her father from a frightful danger was the most powerful fascination that Erebus could offer.

No doubt the charm was broken when, after the few words uttered by his companions, his countenance and manner changed, and he had the audacity to press his lips to hers. The features of the stranger, that a moment before possessed a beauty so pure, and an amiability so lovely, seemed suddenly to disappear under the mask of an insolent libertine.

Since that day, Erebus appeared to her always under these two different physiognomies.

Sometimes she tried to banish from her memory all thought of an audacious stranger, who had insolently robbed her of what she would have given to her father’s saviour with reluctance. Again, she would dream, with a deep sentiment of gratitude, that her father owed his life to this same stranger who at first seemed so courageous and so timid.

Unhappily for Reine’s repose of mind, Erebus united and justified, so to speak, these two distinct natures, and in her thought she gave him sometimes her admiration, and sometimes her contempt.

So she wavered between these two sentiments.

Thus the natural exaggeration of her character, rather suppressed than destroyed, was excited by this singular adventure.

The unknown one seemed to her the genius of good and the genius of evil.

Involuntarily, her excitable mind tried to penetrate the secret of this double power.

Reine herself was made aware of her morbid mental condition only by the tender reproaches of Honorât, who accused her of distraction. For the first time, then, Reine realised with horror the empire that the unknown person had gained over her mind; she resolved to escape from it, but the resistance with which she endeavoured to drive Erebus from her mind, only made her think of him the more.

In her vexation she shed bitter tears, and sought refuge and diversion in the calm and wise conversation of Honorât.

Nothing could make her forget the past. Notwithstanding his goodness and kindness, her betrothed seemed to weary her, and even wound her.

She dared not open her heart to him. The baron, too, was the best of fathers, yet absolutely incapable of comprehending the unaccountable anguish of his daughter.

Concentrated by silence, and overexcited by solitude, a sentiment mingled with curiosity, admiration, and almost hatred, began to take deep root in the heart of Reine.

Many times she shuddered to see that the gravity of Honorât oppressed her. In her thought she reproached him for having nothing in his career that was adventurous or romantic.

She compared his peaceful and uniform life with the mystery which surrounded the stranger.

Then, ashamed of such thoughts, she sought to fix her hopes upon her approaching union with Honorât,—a union so sacred that, in the fulfilment of its duties, every foolish dream and imagination would be effaced.

Such was the state of Reine’s heart when, by an inexplicable mystery, she found in the same day two objects, the sight of which redoubled her anguish and excited every power of her imagination.

This stranger, or one of his agents, was then near her, though invisible.

She could not suspect the servants within the walls of Maison-Forte of being in collusion with the stranger. All of them were old servants, grown gray in the service of Raimond V.

Reared, so to speak, by them, she was too well acquainted with their life and morality to believe them capable of underhand manoeuvres. The fact that the picture was placed on her praying-stool in her chamber, disquieted her above all.

She was on the point of going to her father and telling him all, but an instinctive love of the marvellous restrained her; she feared to break the charm. Her romantic character found a sort of pleasure, mingled with fear, in this mystery.

Inaccessible to superstition, of a firm and decided mind, and recognising the fact that, after all, there was nothing really dangerous in allowing this strange adventure to take its course, Reine reassured herself, after searching her chamber and the connecting one very carefully.

She took up the picture again, looked at it for some time, then, after dreaming awhile, she threw it into the fire.

She followed the destruction of this little masterpiece with a melancholy gaze.

By a strange chance the vellum, detached from the frame, caught first on both sides.

Thus the figure of Erebus burned the last and was outlined a moment on the burning embers,—then a light flame leaped upon it, and all disappeared.

Reine remained a long time gazing in the fireplace, as though she still saw there the picture which had been consumed.

The clock of Maison-Forte struck two in the morning; the young girl returned to her senses, went to bed, and, for a long time, tried to fall asleep.