"You are right, my good friend; for the sight of this wretch would render still more torturing these terrible recollections, to which are attached so many incurable griefs; from the death of my father to that of my poor little girl—I do not know but that the more I advance in life, the more I feel the loss of this child. How I should have adored her! how dear and precious to me had been this fruit of my first love, of my first and pure belief, or, rather, my young illusions!"
"Stay, my lord; I see with pain the increasing sway which these regrets, as fruitless as cruel, have upon your mind."
After a pause, Rudolph said to Murphy: "I can now make a confession to you, my old friend. I love—yes, I love passionately a woman worthy of the most noble and devoted affection. Ah! it is since my heart is opened anew to all the delights of love, since I am predisposed to tender emotions, that I feel more vividly the loss of my daughter."
"Nothing can be plainer, my lord; and, pardon the comparison, but, in the same manner as certain men are joyous and benevolent in their intoxication, you are good and generous in your love."
"Yet my hatred of the wicked is also become deep; my aversion to Sarah increases, doubtless with my grief for the death of my child. I imagine that this bad mother has neglected her; that her ambitious hopes once ruined by my marriage, the countess, in her selfish egotism, has abandoned our child to mercenary hands, and that my daughter perhaps died from want of care. It is also my fault; I did not then know the extent of the sacred duties of paternity. When the true character of Sarah was suddenly revealed to me, I should have at once taken my daughter from her, to watch over her with love and solicitude. I ought to have foreseen that the countess could never be more than an unnatural mother. It is my fault, my fault!"
"Grief causes your highness to err. Could you, after such a fatal event had happened, defer for one day the long journey imposed on you—as—"
"As an expiation! You are right, my friend," said Rudolph, sorrowfully.
"Have you heard anything from the countess since my departure, my lord?"
"No: since her infamous accusations, which twice came near proving the ruin of Madame d'Harville, I have no news of her. Her presence here annoys me; it seems that my evil spirit is near me, that some new misfortune threatens me."
"Patience, your highness, patience. Happily, Germany is interdicted for her, and Germany expects us."