"Then, I swear by yourself (the only oath I know of possessing sufficient power to compel my strict adherence to it) to respect the existence of M. de Hansfeld as carefully as I would do your own," said the mulatto, with a peculiar look, gazing at the same time on Paula as if she would have read the very inmost recesses of her heart; "but, should you ever wish to marry M. de Morville without having to reproach yourself for the death of the prince, a death of which I should be equally innocent as yourself, say but one word—or, no, not even a word—" and Iris, casting her glances around, as though seeking something, and perceiving on the mantel-piece a gold pin, surmounted with an enamelled head, set round with pearls, took it up, saying, "you need only give me back this pin, and without either you or myself being in the eyes of God or man in any manner instrumental in procuring the death of the prince; you shall be free as air and at liberty to espouse M. de Morville. There is nothing that need astonish you in what I say; your greatest desire is for this marriage, while my sole and absorbing wish is for your perfect and unalloyed happiness."
Before the princess could reply, Iris had disappeared.
CHAPTER XXXV
[CONFESSIONS]
The engraver and his daughter were deeply affected by the recital of M. de Hansfeld. The pity of Bertha was excited by the painful situation of a man compelled like Arnold to struggle between his love for his wife and the horrible suspicions he entertained of her murderous intentions towards himself; there seemed to her a singular resemblance in the sorrows of the unhappy husband and her own; both were chained for life to objects wholly unworthy of their affections, and henceforward they must each drag on a weary existence, consuming their days in vain regrets or futile hopes. Still Bertha admitted to herself that her own burden was considerably lightened, since she had met in the preserver of her father a man who had inspired her with a sympathy as sincere as it was pure and innocent.
She neither sought nor desired greater happiness than that of frequently seeing Arnold, and of hearing him converse with Pierre Raimond in a style and manner so winningly cheerful and gay, yet replete with tasteful observations on the literature of the day, as well as on every other subject indicative of an expansive and cultivated mind. We shall not allude to the exquisite delight with which, after Arnold had taken his departure, Bertha listened to the warm and energetic praises of the old engraver concerning the wonderful talent of Arnold, who, in Pierre Raimond's estimation, was one of the most learned, scientific, intelligent individuals, it had ever been his lot to meet.
The day following that in which Iris had held the conversation with her mistress we have just related, M. de Brévannes, irritated by the all-absorbing passion which engrossed his thoughts, as well as by many other causes of extreme anxiety, had resumed his brutal treatment of his wife, whose presence became more and more insupportable to him, persuaded as he was that once freed from his marriage-bonds, he should have both more leisure and better facilities for completing his affair with Madame de Hansfeld, even on the morning of the very day of which we are speaking he had compelled his poor suffering wife to endure a fresh scene of violence and abuse. The time was past when Bertha would have received these reproaches with floods of bitter tears; on the contrary, her heart smote her for finding such ready consolation in the hope and prospect of finding Arnold as usual awaiting her arrival at her father's humble but happy home. Banishing from her mind all recollection of the unkindness she had just experienced, Bertha hastened with eager delight to refresh her worn and wearied spirits in the society of the two persons dearest to her upon earth.
Great was the joy of old Pierre at the unexpected entrance of his daughter, the following day having been the one arranged between them, when last they parted, for her next visit.
"Welcome, my child!" cried the old man, tenderly caressing her, "this is a pleasure I had not ventured to promise myself before to-morrow; but I see—I see—some fresh outbreak of cruel tyranny. Well! never mind, since the brutal treatment of that man who daily cares less and less about you enables you to visit your old father more frequently, I find my dislike to him considerably decrease, and if you are not happy, at least you are no longer absolutely wretched; that is something towards a cure, and I do not despair of seeing you again happy. But what an old fool I am to let you know all the foolish fancies that come into my head at times!"
"No, no, dear father! it is very good and kind of you to try and cheer me up by hopes for the future; tell me, then, what you venture to expect may one day happen to render us both happy?"