Riven Bonds. Vol. I. / A Novel, in Two Volumes

by E. Werner

Ella shivered, and the bouquet fell to the ground. "Signora Biancona," repeated she, in a dull tone.

"The actress who sang his first song in public," continued the Captain, impressively, "for whom, also, his new composition is intended; to whom he goes daily; who enters into all his thoughts and feelings. You know nothing of it as yet, I see in your face, but you must learn it now, before it is too late."

The young wife made no reply; her face was as colourless as the white blossoms which formed the outer circle of the bouquet; silently she stooped, picked it up, and laid it on the table, but no sound, no response came from her lips. Hugo waited for one in vain.

"Do you believe the cruelty of disclosing that which one always hides from every wife has given me any pleasure?" asked he, with suppressed emotion. "Do you think I could not, by some pretence, have covered the man's stupidity, and given myself out as the sender of the unlucky flowers? If I do not act thus, if I discover the whole truth unsparingly, I do it because the danger has become extreme--because only you can still save him; and this you must see clearly. Signora Biancona is about to return to her home, and Reinhold explained to me just now that he must and will continue his studies in Italy. Do you comprehend the connection?"

Ella started. Now, for the first time, a desperate fear broke through the stolid calm of her nature.

"No, no!" she cried, as if beside herself, "He cannot! he dare not. We are married!"

"He dare not?" repeated Hugo. "You know men but little, and your own husband least of all. Do not trust too much to the right which the Church gave you; even this power has its limits, and I fear Reinhold already stands beyond them. To be sure, you have no conception of that burning fiendish passion, which enchains and makes a man powerless--so surrounds him with its bonds, that for its sake he forgets and sacrifices everything. Signora Biancona is one of those demonlike natures which can inspire such passions, and here she is connected with everything which makes up Reinhold's life--with music, art and imagination. Nor Church nor marriage can protect, if the wife cannot protect herself. You are wife, and mother of his child. Perhaps he will listen to your voice, when he will to nothing else."

The young wife's heavily-drawn breath showed how much she suffered, and two tears, the first, rolled slowly down her cheeks as she replied, almost inaudibly, "I will try it."

Hugo came close to her side. "I know I have thrown a lighted brand into the family to-day, which will, perhaps, destroy the last remains of peace," he said, earnestly. "Hundreds of wives would now rush despairingly to their parents, so as, with them or alone, to call their husbands to account, and cause a scene which would break the last bond, and drive him irretrievably from the house. You will not do this, Ella; I know it, therefore I dared do with you what I should not have ventured on so easily with any other woman. What you may say to Reinhold--what you may insist upon, rests with yourself; but do not let him leave you now; do not let him go to Italy!"

He ceased, and seemed to expect an answer--in vain; Ella sat there, her face buried in her hands. She hardly moved as he said good-bye to her. The young Captain saw that she must overcome the blow alone, so he went.