Chazeul dissembled well: there was a candor, a straightforwardness in his tone which, notwithstanding all that Rose had seen and known, could not but create a doubt of that insincerity which she had always hitherto attributed to him. She could not help blaming, condemning, disliking him; but still her feelings were softened towards him. There seemed to shine out some good amongst the evil; there was something to redeem all that was wrong--something to qualify the darker points of his character. One, reason, perhaps, why women so often learn to love men whose whole conduct they reprobate, is that, from glimpses of higher qualities, they are brought, by the easy process of regret, to pity those who give themselves up to unbridled passion, as its slaves rather than its votaries. Not that Rose d'Albret could ever have loved him. There was an innate repugnance between her nature and his, which might slumber while no external circumstances called them into active opposition, but which, when once roused, was sure to burst forth into abhorrence on her side. She could be indifferent to him, she could hate him, as their relative position brought them nearer or more remotely in contact; but she could feel nothing like love. Yet he was the first, the only one who since her return to the château had spoken with even gentleness towards her; and in moments of danger and distress, there is something that teaches the weaker part of the human race to cling in some degree to anything that offers them support.
Nevertheless, she would not banish the doubts and suspicions which she had such good cause to entertain; and she replied almost coldly, "My opinion of you, Monsieur de Chazeul, must depend entirely upon your own conduct towards me and others. You will acknowledge, doubtless, that the demeanour of all within these walls towards me since my return, has not been such as to conciliate any kindly feeling on my part."
"It has been harsh and cruel," answered Chazeul, at once; "it has been harsh to us both. No choice has been left, either to you or me."
Rose gazed on him in surprise, but he continued, "Do not misunderstand me, Rose. As far as all the affections of the heart go, my choice, my hopes, have long been fixed on one object alone. The choice I spoke of, as what I would myself have desired, was between pressing you in an unseemly manner on subjects repugnant to your whole feelings at this moment, and leaving you to recover from past griefs, ere you are urged to enter into new ties. It is not necessary to relate to you all that has taken place between me and others. I seek not to cast blame on any one; but believe me, if your heart has been outraged, your best affections set at nought, it has not been with my will. Time will clear your eyes of many clouds; and I would fain let time have its effect. You will find, that I have not been so much to blame as you have been led to believe; that matters have been represented to you as certain, that were very doubtful; and that I have suffered some wrong--at least, a bitter disappointment. I seek not to cast a reproach upon the memory of him who is gone; for doubtless, he believed all that he said; but he should have inquired farther, ere he attempted to take from me that which I value more than any treasure of the earth. Yet I would not myself now press you to a hasty decision for the world. I know time will be my friend. If you be forced to give me your hand at once, as they have determined you shall be, you will only hate me. Give me time; and, if to win your love be hopeless, I will at least win your esteem."
"Oh, Sir! if such be your sentiments," cried Rose, "why do you not join your voice to mine to stop this hasty and indecent proceeding? Why do you not use your influence to avert that terrible moment which we both dread?"
"Because it is in vain," replied the hypocrite; "my influence I have employed, but to no purpose. When my uncle offers me your hand according to the contract, I must take it, or refuse it. Can I, Rose, can I, feeling as I do towards you, choose the latter alternative? I have already urged him not to force us to such a choice.--I will do it again and again, if you but wish it. I will entreat, beseech him, to pause, to wait but till my return from the army. But he has so firmly determined to place our union beyond all doubt before I go, that I fear it will be useless. Some vague doubt, some superstitious fear, of what may take place from delay, seems to possess him; and my mother, I regret to say, encourages him to persevere in his resolution. Yet I will make every effort with both. Only but confide in me, Rose. Want of clear and straightforward confidence between us, has caused too much mischief already. Had you but told me your feelings towards me, had you but informed me of your old affection to another, I might have been grieved, I might have been angry, I might have given way to bursts of rage, it is true; but still, thought would have calmed all down; and much, much that is painful, would have been avoided. But of that no more.--Nay, do not weep,--I came to console, and not to grieve you.-Come, take the fresh air on the ramparts, before the trumpet sounds; and tell me what you would have me do, and I will do it.-I would fain see you use your liberty; for it has pained me to the heart to know the indignity that has been offered you. As we walk, you can speak freely to me; and if by any means I can work your peace, no effort of mine shall be wanting."
His smooth and deceitful words were confirmed by the manner in which he spoke them. He assumed the air of eager sincerity and truth with wonderful skill; and it was impossible that Rose should not be, in some degree, shaken in her opinion of him. But nevertheless, she was not altogether deceived. Although she did not see the object to be gained by this sudden change, yet it was too rapid not to startle and surprise her; and there were also, in the whole piece of acting which he now performed, those slight defects, which, good as it was, would have immediately betrayed to an experienced eye, that it was art, not nature, and which, even to Rose herself, all unacquainted as she was with the ways of the world, suggested doubts and suspicions. She saw that he turned quickly from many of the most important points he spoke of, after briefly touching upon them, and had always an excuse ready for not going deeply into any subject which might have most embarrassed him. It was now, that he would not shock her delicacy; now, that he did not wish to cast blame on others; now, that he did not seek to exculpate or justify himself. In one or two instances these evasions might have been admitted, but they were too frequent; and he also insinuated far more than he said, and more than he might have been able to prove.
It was not exactly that Rose d'Albret marked all these particulars distinctly, but that she received from the whole, joined with her previous knowledge of his character, an indefinite impression of doubt, a fear that he might be trying to deceive her for some purpose which she did not comprehend. Still, as I have said, her opinion of his baseness was in some degree shaken; she thought that, perhaps, he might have better qualities which had been crushed under the weight of evil education and bad example, and which might have led him, had they been cultivated and developed, to higher objects, and a nobler course. He was too, as has before been remarked, the only one who seemed inclined to treat her gently and kindly; and she shrunk from the thought of repelling the first sympathy she had met with since her return.
It was with such mingled feelings then, that she replied, "I am most grateful for your kindness, Monsieur de Chazeul; but I must not deceive you. I must not deceive myself. You must clearly understand that my mind is fixed and resolute in the determination which I expressed to your mother."
"I know not what that is," replied Chazeul, "for I am not acquainted yet with all that has taken place this morning; but," he continued, "you must not suppose that I came here to entrap you into any engagements, from which you must naturally shrink. Indeed my sole object, when I reached your door, was to relieve you from that painful oppression under which you had been placed. I have been led farther than I intended; but I could not make up my mind to neglect the opportunity of removing, at least part of the prejudices which have been created against me in some degree by my own foolish conduct, in some degree perhaps by the representations of others. However, as I said, I came here to entrap you to nothing; and whatever confidence you may think proper to place in me, whatever you may require, or I may do to promote your wishes, or to free you from persecution, such as that which is now mistakenly carried on in my favour, compromises you to nothing, binds you to nothing. Let it be understood between us, that everything, on either side, remains unchanged--I loving you, though perhaps hopeless of return--You retaining every feeling and resolution which time, circumstances, and my future conduct, may not change."