Once more Delormais paused as though in deep reflection. The silence in the room was only broken by the faint ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Outside not a sound disturbed the sleeping world. Not a breath stirred in all the corridors of the old palace that had seen better days. We waited until the spirit should move him again.
CHAPTER XI.
MONSEIGNEUR.
Great conflict—Returning to Paris—Count Albert married—Marriages declined—Love buried in the grave of Arouya—Frivolities—Napoleon at the Tuileries—Illness—Doctors' errors—Days of horror—Vow registered—Between life and death—Victory—Home again—Abbé's objections—Resolve strengthened—Death of the Abbé—Taking vows—Life of energy and action—Rapid sketch—Sympathies—All ordained—"Monseigneur"—"Mon ami"—Cry of the watchmen—Candles wax dim and blue—Wandering in dreams—False prophet—H. C. rises with the lark—Beauty of Gerona—Pathetic scene—Colonel administers consolation—Widow's heart sings for joy—In the cloisters again—Good-bye—In the cathedral—Anselmo—Sunshine over all—Miguel—On the ruined citadel—Anselmo's signal—A glory departs.
"I HAVE told you of the great romance of my life," he presently continued. "Now let me tell you of its great conflict.
"After many wanderings I returned to Paris. Here the great world opened wide its doors to me. In a short time I was l'enfant de la maison amongst all people worth knowing. Count Albert had married one of the most charming women in the great world. You can picture my welcome. Few days passed but I spent some portion of my time with them. I was naturally sought after, my wealth and position rendering that inevitable. Fathers proposed marriage for their daughters after the French fashion, offering the bribe of large dowries. But they knew not my secret. All my love was buried in a quiet Algerian grave, within sight of the ever-sounding sea. I had never loved before; I should never love again. I shuddered at the idea of a mere mariage de convenance. Love and love only could make the chains of matrimony bearable. Who could love again after such a love, such a marriage as mine?
"I soon felt the life of Paris feverish, enervating. There was no rest, or repose, or freedom about it. A wild series of frivolities succeeded each other: court ceremonies—Napoleon III. reigned at the Tuileries—balls, receptions, the life of the clubs. I hated wine, yet indulged freely in it to help me through the days. I had not been made for this kind of life; all the better parts of my nature were being stifled. Still I went on from week to week, partly because I could not tear myself away from Albert and his charming wife.
"At last I fell ill of a nervous malady which prostrated my strength. The doctors ordered brandy in large doses. They should rather have forbidden it. The day came when I saw that brandy was my master. I could not live without it. Nothing could exceed my horror when I made the discovery. Then the moral struggle began, and that my nature was strong only made the conflict more severe. But the evil was more physical than mental or moral and so far beyond my control.
"At length, almost in despair, sick of this frivolous, aimless life, I vowed to devote my days to the service of Heaven if I might be permitted to conquer.
"Again I fell ill, but this time of a malady for which all stimulant was forbidden. For weeks I kept my bed, part of the time hovering between life and death. Heaven was merciful. My vow had been heard, my prayer answered. When I recovered, the victory had been gained for me. I hated the very sight of all stimulant. From that hour nothing stronger than tea or coffee has passed my lips.
"I left Paris and returned to my home in Provence. What delight, what repose, what charm I found there. Paradise had once more opened its gates. There, with the Abbé, I spent a whole year in calm and quiet retreat. Health and vigour of mind, strength of body, returned to me.