“When he came down to the castle some months ago, and told me to have it cleaned and fitted up for the reception of its future lady, I could scarcely credit my ears; and wondered who would marry, and risk her happiness, with a man like him: and when he brought you here, and I saw how beautiful and innocent you were, I trembled for the future. I never intended to tell you this; and master trusted to my fidelity to him, that you should never discover the secret of the uninhabited wing of the castle. You are not more grieved than I that chance or curiosity should have directed you there; your trust in monsieur I know is broken; but, dear lady, I feel it my duty to tell you, that you lean upon a broken stick if you depend on him for faith.”
“Hush! Pasiphae; oh! be still; don’t say any thing against him: how miserable I feel! I cannot believe that my Rinaldo can be so depraved; that he, whom I trusted to reform, to render a better, wiser man, could act with such brutality towards a woman.”
My soul sickened with horror at such an inhuman action; and I soliloquized, “This was the man whose glowing description of the wrongs and troubles of his childhood had so interested and beguiled me; this was the man who had begged me to exert my influence to reform and purify his heart; who had promised, were I his Mentor, to be as gentle as Telemachus; who had entreated me to be his guardian angel, to warn him from the evils he had committed, yet deprecated: this was the man.”
Truly, reason might have reproached me with over self-confidence, and blind trust in the boy-god Cupid, who had so cheated me. And I had dreamed of future years of tranquil happiness and companionship, after the first flush of love had faded, and that profiting by past errors, virtue hereafter should be his patroness; and this was the man on whom I purposed working these miracles. He, who could wantonly inflict personal violence on a woman, and then keep a senseless idiot housed like a dog in an uninhabited part of the house. The veil which shrouded my eyes, was being lifted off, like the mysterious veils of Isis, which conceal the grotesque absurdity of the image adored.
Perceiving Pasiphae still standing before me, her eyes filled with sympathetic tears, I said, “Pasiphae, my good woman, you can go; I would rather be alone; I feel very sad; you had better return to the room; she may awake and miss you.”
“You look very unhappy, dear lady, had I not better stay a little while with you?”
“No, no, I prefer being alone; go.”
She departed; and then thought usurped her sway; I wished my husband were there then, at that moment, to have told him what I thought of his conduct; but when I reconsidered it, I saw it would do no good; for to reproach a man with his vices, only alienates his affections, and gains his dislike; it does not convince his understanding, for that will not be convinced; nor better his heart, for he always thinks that could not be bettered; and indeed, I think they are quite right, not often being troubled with any. A roar of words is generally the only result, and contempt and hatred the inevitable consequence. I was determined, however, to speak of it to Monsieur de Serval on his return. Then, distressed in mind, caring not if I died that night, I sought my pillow, and wept till lost in the oblivion of slumber.