Without rejoinder, Father Ferdinand left me; and, burying my face on my arms, I remained in the same state of mind as a condemned criminal who has just heard an order given for his instant execution. I was not one, however, to shake before any mortal man. I felt, too, that with the power to have won happiness for myself by wronging him I was just about to see, I had sacrificed my own peace rather than act ungratefully towards him. This feeling nerved my heart for whatever might come, and by the time that the five minutes were over, I was slowly descending the great staircase towards the library. I knew not how Monsieur de Villardin would treat me, and I almost feared, from some casual traits which I had remarked in his character, that he might demean himself haughtily towards me. Such a method was not that calculated to govern or affect one of my disposition; and, as I passed through the saloon, and crossed the very spot where I had seen Madame de Villardin stand with the Count de Mesnil, a number of services which at different times I had rendered to the Duke rose up before my eyes, and I advanced with a firmer step, from feeling that the balance of obligation was not altogether against myself. As I passed by the mirrors, I saw that I was deadly pale; but I could not help that; and, opening the door, I entered the library with more command over myself than I had thought I could assume.
Monsieur de Villardin was alone, and striding up and down the room in a state of agitation that it is impossible to describe. He was at the farther end of the chamber when I entered, but immediately turned round and paused for a moment, gazing upon me with a quivering lip. I took a step or two more forward, and then waited for him to begin; but he said nothing, and, advancing rapidly towards me, threw his arms around me as if I had been his child, exclaiming--"Oh! De Juvigny!"
It overpowered me at once: pride--and resolution, and firmness, all gave way; and I wept like a woman, while he mingled his tears with mine.
"This is too much," said Monsieur de Villardin. "Sit down, my dear boy, and let us speak as calmly as possible over an event that has made me more wretched than you can conceive."
Casting myself into the seat opposite to that in which he usually sat, I leaned my head forward upon the table, and suffered him to proceed, while feelings that defy all language struggled fearfully in my bosom.
"De Juvigny," he said, in a low, earnest voice, "my friend, my benefactor, my more than son--twice have you saved my life, once have you saved my child, ever have you counselled me aright even as a boy--you have watched my couch of sickness, you have calmed me in the moment of passion, you have laboured to prevent me from committing crime, you have striven to sooth the voice of remorse, you have sought far and near to find consolation for my grief--and now, what is it I am called to do? I have to make you miserable. I have to inflict upon you the bitterest pangs that a heart like yours can suffer. I have to deny you the only gift which could fittingly recompense the benefits you have conferred upon me; and all this, because I foolishly engaged myself by a promise, ere I knew how much misery it would cause to fulfil it. Believe me, my dear boy,--believe me, upon my honour,--that were it not for that promise, I would set all the world's maxims of pride, and ambition, and avarice at nought: and, knowing none so worthy or so noble as yourself, would bestow upon you my sweet child as contentedly as if you were a king:--but oh! De Juvigny, that promise--that fatal promise!"
I did not forget that he had made me, too, a promise in former years, to grant me any boon that I might ask; and the idea certainly had crossed my mind, as I had descended to the library, to demand its execution now. But he had met me so differently from the manner in which I had expected to be met, that all my feelings were changed in a moment; and, as he spoke, I could make no reply; for his generous kindness shook and agitated mc far more than if he had piled upon my head the bitterest of reproaches.
"Our excellent friend, Father Ferdinand," continued Monsieur de Villardin, "has pointed out to me the cause of all your conduct during the last campaign. Strange your behaviour certainly has appeared in my eyes; and, if I remember right, the change took place when I told you of the promise I had given, and gave you news that must have blasted all your hopes for ever."
"My lord, I never entertained a hope," I replied. "Although, I believe, without boldness, I may say that my race is as noble as your own, yet I came before you as an exiled adventurer, without home, without country, without fortune; and most presumptuous would it have been for me to entertain a hope under such circumstances. The change in my conduct, or rather the end of my happiness for life, took place as soon as I discovered what were the feelings which I had been nourishing in my bosom. It did, perhaps, add somewhat to the load, to know that Mademoiselle de Villardin was destined to wed a man she did not love; but that knowledge destroyed no hopes, for I had entertained none."
Monsieur de Villardin gazed upon me thoughtfully for several minutes, and then said,--"De Juvigny, I am almost afraid to ask you; yet answer me sincerely, and fear not that I shall blame you, for I have been too faulty a being myself to have any title to chide with others where passion is concerned. Tell me, is Laura acquainted with your feelings towards her?"