[CHAPTER XV.]
Although I loved Monsieur de Villardin sincerely, and left my interest in his heart in a very precarious state, yet I acknowledge that I was delighted to ride away from the Prés Vallée. Ever since the death of Monsieur de Mesnil, a gloom had fallen over the place, of which I could not divest it for a moment. These sensations would probably have worn away in a few days, although I began to think more seriously about human life than I formerly did, had not Monsieur de Villardin seemed to feel so deeply upon the subject himself. His regret and melancholy were a constant excitement to my own; and though, of course, the feelings that I experienced were far less poignant than his, and no other internal torment was added to the awful memories which oppressed me, yet the cloud that overcast his days shadowed mine also; and the sight of all the little traits which revealed how painfully he remembered the death of the Count, constantly recalled to my mind the share that I also had taken therein.
Besides this, my mind was fretted and annoyed at beholding continually the anxieties, suspicions, and cares, to which Monsieur de Villardin made himself a prey; the destruction of an amiable woman's happiness, and the misery of a man I loved. I have said fretted and annoyed, because latterly a degree of impatience, which sometimes almost mastered my respect, had mingled with the grief that the sight of such a state of things had first occasioned in my bosom. From all these causes, my feelings, instead of being painful, were joyful in a high degree, on quitting the scenes which, a few months before, had appeared to me so beautiful and peaceful that I had fancied I could dwell in them for ever; and each mile as I rode on seemed to take more and more of the load from off my heart.
It was the morning of a bright and beautiful day in spring; and as I suppose that there are few people who do not feel themselves happier when the aspect of the world is cheerful around them, the pleasure I experienced in getting away from scenes of discomfort and pain was augmented by the warm sunshine and the clear sky. The thirst of novelty, too, still fresh upon me, made me feel delighted with the journey; and the hope that this change in our dwelling would ultimately lead to a change in the general chain of events, had no small share in the joy with which I set out. The truth was, that though I had certainly met with a sufficient stock of adventures since I had lived with Monsieur de Villardin to occupy my time abundantly, yet they had not been (if I except those which occurred during the first few weeks) of a kind that at all suited my disposition. Enterprise of almost any sort I liked and enjoyed; but the excitement which I had lately felt was of a gloomy and of a sombre character, which saddened without satisfying--oppressed, but did not please me. Now, however, I anticipated other scenes and other pleasures; and though in truth I had not the slightest reason to suppose that any alteration would really take place, yet fancy can always supply abundance of materials for the architecture of hope; and as I journeyed on, I gave imagination full scope to work her will, in building up gay edifices in the distant prospect.
Nothing occurred to amuse or interest me in the course of my journey except the simple change of scenery; but as the country through which we passed was very beautiful, and the season one which shows off the loveliness of nature to the greatest advantage, what between fair objects flitting before my eyes as I rode along, and gay dreams rising up in my own bosom, the road did not seem long, nor the time tedious. It was night when we reached the Château of Dumont, and as the gossip of the one château had been, of course, regularly transmitted to the other, by the servants and messengers that were continually passing to and fro between them, I found that the two or three domestics by whom the house was at this time tenanted, were prepared to receive me with every sort of deference and respect, having heard that I was an especial favourite with their lord, and that he had declared he regarded me as his own son.
The next morning, at breakfast, I was visited by the intendant, and delivered to him the letters with which I was charged, and which he proceeded to read in my presence. After asking me for some explanations, in regard to the Duke's will, on two or three points which did not appear very clear to him, he added, "Here is one letter, monsieur, referring to yourself alone, and as I suppose you are well acquainted with the contents, I have only to say, that I shall be very happy to accompany you immediately."
I assured him, in reply, that I was perfectly ignorant of his meaning, as I had not been before aware that his lord had written anything concerning me at all.
"The Duke orders me here," said the intendant in reply, laying before me the letter he had just opened, "to put you in possession of the lands and houses of Juvigny, which, he says, he ceded to you, by a deed of gift, about two months ago. If, therefore, you are inclined to take possession this morning, I shall have much pleasure in walking down with you, and formally making over to you the lands, as well as pointing out the boundaries of the farm and the dependencies thereunto attached."
It is not to be supposed that so young and new a proprietor as myself would be very unwilling to see and take possession of the first property he ever had in his life; and, thanking the intendant, whom I began to look upon as a very civil person indeed, I willingly agreed to accompany him to my territory of Juvigny. As the place itself and the road that conducted thither are memorable in my little history, on many accounts, I must be permitted to describe that morning's walk, step by step, as we proceeded.
We set out, then, about half-past nine, and took our way across a broad terrace, which extended in front of the château, and which, at either extremity, sloped away into a fine road, broad enough for either horses or carriages. In front, however, it was supported by a perpendicular stone facing of about six feet high, at the bottom of which lay an extensive flower-garden, reached by a wide flight of ten steps; and, beyond the garden, again extended a fine park, laid out in walks and alleys, containing about three square miles of ground, on either side of a deep and rapid river, which, passing between high banks, took its way, through the midst of the estate, towards the sea, at which it arrived without mingling its waters with any other stream. Across this river the various paths, with which the park was intersected, were carried over a number of bridges, built in very good taste, some of stone and some of wood, as the character of the scene immediately around seemed to require. Over one of these, which consisted of a light wooden arch, the intendant and myself took our way, after having passed through the flower-garden and a considerable part of the park. This direction, I found, was followed, in order to cut across a bend in the river; for, after issuing forth through a postern door into the country beyond the park, we again crossed the stream by another bridge, and proceeded along its course, pursuing a path which wound in and out through a scene of mingled rock and wood as wild and varied as ever I beheld.