Sand_Consuelo.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']

to sink melancholy into his chair, crushed
by age and sorrow, stood with his back to the fire in
the midst of his family circle, taking part in the un-
constrained and almost playful conversation which
lasted without pause until nine o'clock.

" seems to have granted our fervent prayers,"
said the chaplain to the count and the canoness, who
had remained in the drawing room after the baron
and the young people had withdrawn. "
entered this morning upon his thirtieth year,
and this solemn day, which we have all awaited anx-
iously, has passed off with inconceivable calmness
and happiness,"

" ; let us give thanks to ," said the old
count. " do not know whether it is a happy dream
which he has sent us to comfort us for a moment ;
but have been convinced during this whole day,
and especially this evening, that my son is perma-
nently restored."

" beg your pardon, brother," said the canoness,



.



.. 307

" and yours chaplain who have always thought that --
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presence. were grateful for the benefit without
knowing whence it came; and this is all
would have asked of , if she had been consulted.
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her the fear of which tlie stories had
already created,

", my poor friend," said she, "do not trust to
this deceitful calmness ' is the interval which always
occurs between two attacks \ou saw him to day as
he was when came here list ear i if jou
were destined bj the wil! of another to become the
wife of such a \isionary, and if, to overcome your
ticit resistance, thej hid tacitly agreed to keep ou
a captne m this frightful cistJe, with a continual diet
of surprises, terrors and antieties, and with teirs, ex
orcisms and extravagances for jour only diiersion,
while the} aait a cure which they are alas e\pect
ing, but which wdl never happen, jou would be as
disenchanted as am with s fine manners and
with the sweet speeches of the rest of the family."



.



. 309

" is not possible," said , "that they can
wish to marry you against your will to a man whom
you do not love. seem to me to be the idol of
the family."

" will not force me to do anything ; they
know very well that it would be impossible.
they will forget that is not the only husband
who may suit me, and knows when they will
give up the vain hope of seeing me recover the affec-
tion for him which felt at first. then my poor
father, who has a passion for the chase, and has an
opportunity to gratify it here, is very well satisfied in
this wretched castle, and always puts forward some
pretext to delay our departure, which has been dis-
cussed twenty times, but never decided upon. !
if you only knew, dear , some secret for destroy-
ing in a night all the game in the neighborhood, you
would do me the greatest service which any human
being could render me."

" , can only try to amuse you by
making music with you, and by talking with you in
the evenings when you do not feel like sleeping,
try to be an anodyne and a narcotic to you,"

" remind me," said , "that have the
rest of my story to teiJ you. will begin, that may
not keep you up too late.

" days after his mysterious absence, which
he stil! believed had lasted only seven hours,
suddenly noticed that the abbe was no longer at the
castle, and asked where they had sent him.



.



3IO .

" ' presence being no longer necessary,' they
replied, ' lie has gone about his business. you
not noticed it before? '

"' noticed,' said , 'that something was
wanting to my suffering, but did not know wliat it

'" you suffer a great deal, ?' asked the
canon ess.

" ' great deal,' he answered, in the tone of a man
who had been asked how he had slept,

" ' the abbe very disagreeable to you ? ' asked
.

"',' replied , in the same tone,

"' did you not tell us this sooner, my son?
could you bear so long the presence of a man
who was disagreeable to you without letting me know
of your dislike? you doubt, dear child, that
would have put an end to your suffering as soon as
possible ? '

" ' was but a trifling addition to my sorrows,'
said , with frightful tranquillity, 'and your kind-
ness, which never doubted, dear father, could have
lightened them but little in giving me another keeper.'

" ' rather another travelling- companion, my
son. expression you use does but scant justice
to my love.'

" ' was your love which caused your anxiety,
dear father ! could not know the pain you gave
me in sending me away from you and this house,
where my place was appointed by until the time



.



. 311

set for the accomplishment of his designs concerning
me. thought that you were laboring for my cure
and my well-being; , who understood better, than
you what was proper for us both, knew that ought
to assist and obey you. knew my duty and have
done it.'

" ' know your goodness and your affection for us,
, but can you not explain your meaning more
dearly?'

" ' is very easy,' said , ' and the time to
do it has come.'

" spoke so calmly, that we thought we had at
last reached the happy moment when his nature
would cease to become a painful enigma to us.
pressed about him and encouraged him by our looks
and our caresses to unburden himself entirely for the
first time in his life. appeared finally decided to
shoiv us this confidence and spoke as follows :

" ' have always considered me, and you still
consider me, an invalid and a madman. had not
an infinite veneration and love for you all should,
perhaps, dare to measure the depth of the abyss
which separates us, and show you that you are in a
world of error and prejudice, while has
opened to me a sphere of light and truth. you
could not understand me without giving up all that
constitutes your failh, your religion and your security.
, carried away in spite of myself by bursts of
enthusiasm, a few imprudent words escape me,
quickly perceive that have inflicted a frightful pain



.



31 a

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tears, your heai g b y f 1 f

when feel that fill you with grief and terror, fly
and hide myself, to resist the calls of my conscience
and the commands of my destiny. is my ill,
that is my torment, that is my cross and my punish-
ment. you understand me now? '

" uncle, my aunt and the chaplain understood,
up to a certain point, that had constructed for
himself a morality and a religion wholly different
from theirs ; but, timid like all devout people, they
were afraid of going too far, and no longer dared to
encourage his frankness. for me, who then knew
but vaguely the particulars of his childhood and early
youth, did not understand at all. , at that
time was nearly in the same position as you, .
knew very little about and ,
of which have heard so often since then, and the
controversies concerning which, waged between
and the chaplain, have wearied me so intolerably.



.



. 313

therefore waited impatiently for a fuller explanation,
but it did not come.

" ' see,' said , struck by the silence about
him, ' that you do not wish to understand me, for fear
of understanding me too well. it be as you will !
blindness long ago pronounced my sentence.
unhappy, eternally alone, eternally a stranger
amid those lo e h-ive no refuge and support but
the cousolttion wh ch h-is been promised me.'

"' th s consolation, my son?' said
mortally grieved ; ' can it not come from
us, and can we ne\er understand each other? '

" ' , father. us love each other, since
that alone is permitted us. is my witness, that
the immense, the irreparable difference between us
has never diminished the love bear you.'

"' is not that enough?' said the canoness, tak-
ing one of his hands, while his father pressed the other
between his own. ' you not forget your strange
ideas, your odd beliefs, to live in affection among us?'

'" do live in affection. is a blessing which
brings sweetness or bitterness as our religious beliefs
are alike or opposed. hearts are united, dear
aunt, but our intelligences are at war, and it is a great
misfortune for us all. know that it will not end for
several centuries, and that is why am awaiting the
blessing that is promised me in this century, and which
gives me strength to hope.'

" ' is this blessing, ? you not tell
me? '