Читать книгу Paula Monti; or, The Hôtel Lambert - Эжен Сю - Страница 6

M. Leon de Morville (one of the two dominos who had just entered the anteroom) took off his mask.

The praises bestowed on his countenance were not exaggerated; his features, which were perfect as ideal purity can imagine, almost realised the divine type of the Antinous, only rendered more poetical (if the phrase may be allowed us) by a charming expression of melancholy, an expression completely wanting in the pagan beauty. Long black and curling hair enframed this noble and attractive physiognomy.

Very romantic in love-affairs, M. de Morville had a religious adoration for woman, which had its source in the passionate veneration which he felt for his mother. Of a kind and most considerate nature, a thousand things were told of his delicacy and devotion. When he appeared, the females had no look, no smile, no attention, but for him; and he knew perfectly well how to reply to this general show of admiration with so much tact and well-regulated demeanour, that he never wounded the self-love of any, whilst, but for his romantic fidelity to one whom he had madly loved, and from whom he was separated only by the force of circumstances, he might have had most brilliant and endless love-affairs.

M. de Morville was especially endowed with most delightful manners. His natural affability always inspired him with amiable and complimentary language. The charming equality of his temper was unalterable, even in spite of those deceptions, which, from time to time, came to wound his delicate and sensitive imagination.

Perhaps his disposition was somewhat deficient in its manliness; for, far from being boldly aggressive towards the contemptible and unjust—far from returning evil for evil—far from punishing the treacheries which his generosity often encouraged, M. de Morville had such a horror, or rather such disgust for human infamies, that he turned his eyes away from the culpable, instead of taking vengeance on them.

Instead of crushing a filthy reptile, he would have looked out for some perfumed flower—some white turtledove's nest—some smiling and clear horizon whereon to repose and console his gaze.

This system of constant commiseration continually exposes us to be again bitten by the reptile, whilst we are contemplating heaven in order not to see it. The best things have their inconveniences.

But we must not thus conclude that M. de Morville was deficient in courage. He had too much honour—too much frankness—not to be very brave; and of this he had given ample testimony; but, excepting the injuries which a man never forgives, he shewed himself of such inexhaustible clemency, that, if he had not painfully resented certain wrongs, this clemency would have passed for indifference or disdain.

This sketch of M. de Morville's character was necessary for the proper appreciation of the scene that follows.

We have said that in the anteroom to the box, M. de Morville had taken off his mask, and he awaited with, perhaps, more uneasiness than pleasure, the issue of this mysterious interview.

The female who had accompanied him was masked with extreme care; her hood so covered her, that it was impossible to see even her hair; her very full domino enveloped her figure, whilst large gloves and large shoes concealed her hands and feet, which otherwise are such certain evidences.

The lady appeared agitated: the words which she several times tried to utter expired on her lips.

M. de Morville first broke silence and said,—

"Madame, I received the letter which you were so obliging as to write to me, requesting me to be here and masked, with a signal and words of recognition. Your letter appeared so serious, that, in spite of the uneasiness with which my mother's health fills me, I am here at your bidding."

M. de Morville could not continue. With a hand trembling from emotion, the domino unmasked herself with an effort.

"Madame de Hansfeld!" exclaimed M. de Morville, in extreme astonishment.

It was the princess.