a woman of thirty-第21章

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At　first　the　Marquise　saw　nothing　but　these　salient　characteristics；　but　at　the　first　word　she　was　struck　by　the　sweetness　of　the　speaker's　voice。　Looking　at　him　more　closely；　she　saw　that　the　eyes　under　the　grizzled　eyebrows　had　shed　tears；　and　his　face；　turned　in　profile；　wore　so　sublime　an　impress　of　sorrow；　that　the　Marquise　recognized　the　man　in　the　cure。

〃Madame　la　Marquise；　the　rich　only　come　within　our　province　when　they　are　in　trouble。　It　is　easy　to　see　that　the　troubles　of　a　young；　beautiful；　and　wealthy　woman；　who　has　lost　neither　children　nor　relatives；　are　caused　by　wounds　whose　pangs　religion　alone　can　soothe。　Your　soul　is　in　danger；　madame。　I　am　not　speaking　now　of　the　hereafter　which　awaits　us。　No；　I　am　not　in　the　confessional。　But　it　is　my　duty；　is　it　not；　to　open　your　eyes　to　your　future　life　here　on　earth？　You　will　pardon　an　old　man；　will　you　not；　for　importunity　which　has　your　own　happiness　for　its　object？〃

〃There　is　no　more　happiness　for　me；　monsieur。　I　shall　soon　be；　as　you　say；　in　your　province；　but　it　will　be　for　ever。〃

〃Nay；　madame。　You　will　not　die　of　this　pain　which　lies　heavy　upon　you；　and　can　be　read　in　your　face。　If　you　had　been　destined　to　die　of　it；　you　would　not　be　here　at　Saint…Lange。　A　definite　regret　is　not　so　deadly　as　hope　deferred。　I　have　known　others　pass　through　more　intolerable　and　more　awful　anguish；　and　yet　they　live。〃

The　Marquise　looked　incredulous。

〃Madame；　I　know　a　man　whose　affliction　was　so　sore　that　your　trouble　would　seem　to　you　to　be　light　compared　with　his。〃

Perhaps　the　long　solitary　hours　had　begun　to　hang　heavily；　perhaps　in　the　recesses　of　the　Marquise's　mind　lay　the　thought　that　here　was　a　friendly　heart　to　whom　she　might　be　able　to　pour　out　her　troubles。　However；　it　was；　she　gave　the　cure　a　questioning　glance　which　could　not　be　mistaken。

〃Madame；〃　he　continued；　〃the　man　of　whom　I　tell　you　had　but　three　children　left　of　a　once　large　family　circle。　He　lost　his　parents；　his　daughter；　and　his　wife；　whom　he　dearly　loved。　He　was　left　alone　at　last　on　the　little　farm　where　he　had　lived　so　happily　for　so　long。　His　three　sons　were　in　the　army；　and　each　of　the　lads　had　risen　in　proportion　to　his　time　of　service。　During　the　Hundred　Days；　the　oldest　went　into　the　Guard　with　a　colonel's　commission；　the　second　was　a　major　in　the　artillery；　the　youngest　a　major　in　a　regiment　of　dragoons。　Madame；　those　three　boys　loved　their　father　as　much　as　he　loved　them。　If　you　but　knew　how　careless　young　fellows　grow　of　home　ties　when　they　are　carried　away　by　the　current　of　their　own　lives；　you　would　realize　from　this　one　little　thing　how　warmly　they　loved　the　lonely　old　father；　who　only　lived　in　and　for　themnever　a　week　passed　without　a　letter　from　one　of　the　boys。　But　then　he　on　his　side　had　never　been　weakly　indulgent；　to　lessen　their　respect　for　him；　nor　unjustly　severe；　to　thwart　their　affection；　or　apt　to　grudge　sacrifices；　the　thing　that　estranges　children's　hearts。　He　had　been　more　than　a　father；　he　had　been　a　brother　to　them；　and　their　friend。

〃At　last　he　went　to　Paris　to　bid　them　good…bye　before　they　set　out　for　Belgium；　he　wished　to　see　that　they　had　good　horses　and　all　that　they　needed。　And　so　they　went；　and　the　father　returned　to　his　home　again。　Then　the　war　began。　He　had　letters　from　Fleurus；　and　again　from　Ligny。　All　went　well。　Then　came　the　battle　of　Waterloo；　and　you　know　the　rest。　France　was　plunged　into　mourning；　every　family　waited　in　intense　anxiety　for　news。　You　may　imagine；　madame；　how　the　old　man　waited　for　tidings；　in　anxiety　that　knew　no　peace　nor　rest。　He　used　to　read　the　gazettes；　he　went　to　the　coach　office　every　day。　One　evening　he　was　told　that　the　colonel's　servant　had　come。　The　man　was　riding　his　master's　horsewhat　need　was　there　to　ask　any　questions？the　colonel　was　dead；　cut　in　two　by　a　shell。　Before　the　evening　was　out　the　youngest　son's　servant　arrivedthe　youngest　had　died　on　the　eve　of　the　battle。　At　midnight　came　a　gunner　with　tidings　of　the　death　of　the　last；　upon　whom；　in　those　few　hours；　the　poor　father　had　centered　all　his　life。　Madame；　they　all　had　fallen。〃

After　a　pause　the　good　man　controlled　his　feelings；　and　added　gently：

〃And　their　father　is　still　living；　madame。　He　realized　that　if　God　had　left　him　on　earth；　he　was　bound　to　live　on　and　suffer　on　earth；　but　he　took　refuge　in　the　sanctuary。　What　could　he　be？〃

The　Marquise　looked　up　and　saw　the　cure's　face；　grown　sublime　in　its　sorrow　and　resignation；　and　waited　for　him　to　speak。　When　the　words　came；　tears　broke　from　her。

〃A　priest；　madame；　consecrated　by　his　own　tears　previously　shed　at　the　foot　of　the　altar。〃

Silence　prevailed　for　a　little。　The　Marquise　and　the　cure　looked　out　at　the　foggy　landscape；　as　if　they　could　see　the　figures　of　those　who　were　no　more。

〃Not　a　priest　in　a　city；　but　a　simple　country　cure；〃　added　he。

〃At　Saint…Lange；〃　she　said；　drying　her　eyes。

〃Yes；　madame。〃

Never　had　the　majesty　of　grief　seemed　so　great　to　Julie。　The　two　words　sank　straight　into　her　heart　with　the　weight　of　infinite　sorrow。　The　gentle；　sonorous　tones　troubled　her　heart。　Ah！　that　full；　deep　voice；　charged　with　plangent　vibration；　was　the　voice　of　one　who　had　suffered　indeed。

〃And　if　I　do　not　die；　monsieur；　what　will　become　of　me？〃　The　Marquise　spoke　almost　reverently。

〃Have　you　not　a　child；　madame？〃

〃Yes；〃　she　said　stiffly。

The　cure　gave　her　such　a　glance　as　a　doctor　gives　a　patient　whose　life　is　in　danger。　Then　he　determined　to　do　all　that　in　him　lay　to　combat　the　evil　spirit　into　whose　clutches　she　had　fallen。

〃We　must　live　on　with　our　sorrowsyou　see　it　yourself；　madame；　and　religion　alone　offers　us　real　consolation。　Will　you　permit　me　to　come　again？to　speak　to　you　as　a　man　who　can　sympathize　with　every　trouble；　a　man　about　whom　there　is　nothing　very　alarming；　I　think？〃

〃Yes；　monsieur；　come　back　again。　Thank　you　for　your　thought　of　me。〃

〃Very　well；　madame；　then　I　shall　return　very　shortly。〃

This　visit　relaxed　the　tension　of　soul；　as　it　were；　the　heavy　strain　of　grief　and　loneliness　had　been　almost　too　much　for　the　Marquise's　strength。　The　priest's　visit　had　left　a　soothing　balm　in　her　heart；　his　words　thrilled　through　her　with　healing　influence。　She　began　to　feel　something　of　a　prisoner's　satisfaction；　when；　after　he　has　had　time　to　feel　his　utter　loneliness　and　the　weight　of　his　chains；　he　hears　a　neighbor　knocking　on　the　wall；　and　welcomes　the　sound　which　brings　a　sense　of　human　friendship。　Here　was　an　unhoped…for　confidant。　But　this　feeling　did　not　last　for　long。　Soon　she　sank　back　into　the　old　bitterness　of　spirit；　saying　to　herself；　as　the　prisoner　might　say；　that　a　companion　in　misfortune　could　neither　lighten　her　own　bondage　nor　her　future。

In　the　first　visit　the　cure　had　feared　to　alarm　the　susceptibilities　of　self…absorbed　grief；　in　a　second　interview　he　hoped　to　make　some　progress　towards　religion。　He　came　back　again　two　days　later；　and　from　the　Marquise's　welcome　it　was　plain　that　she　had　looked　forward　to　the　visit。

〃Well；　Mme。　la　Marquise；　have　you　given　a　little　thought　to　the　great　mass　of　human　suffering？　Have　you　raised　your　eyes　above　our　earth　and　seen　the　immensity　of　the　universe？the　worlds　beyond　worlds　which　crush　our　vanity　into　insignificance；　and　with　our　vanity　reduce　our　sorrows？〃

〃No；　monsieur；〃　she　said；　〃I　cannot　rise　to　such　heights；　our　social　laws　lie　too　heavily　upon　me；　and　rend　my　heart　with　a　too　poignant　anguish。　And　laws　perhaps　are　less　cruel　than　the　usages　of　the　world。　Ah！　the　world！〃

〃Madame；　we　must　obey　both。　Law　is　the　doctrine；　and　custom　the　practice　of　society。〃

〃Obey　society？〃　cried　the　Marquise；　with　an　involuntary　shudder。　〃Eh！　monsieur；　it　is　the　source　of　all　our　woes。　God　laid　down　no　law　to　make　us　miserable；　but　mankind；　uniting　together　in　social　life；　have　perverted　God's　work。　Civilization　deals　harder　measure　to　us　women　than　nature　does。　Nature　imposes　upon　us　physical　suffering　which　you　have　not　alleviated；　civilization　has　developed　in　us　thoughts　and　feelings　which　you　cheat　continually。　Nature　exterminates　the　weak；　you　condemn　them　to　live；　and　by　so　doing；　consign　them　to　a　life　of　misery。　The　whole　weight　of　the　burden　of　marriage；　an　institution　on　which　s