“For,” says Dr. Shrapnel, “the world and nature, which are opposed in relation to our vital interests, each agrees to demand of us a perfect victory, on pain otherwise of proving it a stage performance; and the victory over the world, as over nature, is over self: and this victory lies in yielding perpetual service to the world, and none to nature: for the world has to be wrought out, nature to be subdued.”
The interior of the house was like a change of elements to Beauchamp. He had never before said to himself, “I have done my best, and I am beaten!” Outside of it, his native pugnacity had been stimulated; but here, within the walls where Renée lay silently breathing, barely breathing, it might be dying, he was overcome, and left it to circumstance to carry him to a conclusion. He went up-stairs to the drawing-room, where he beheld Madame d’Auffray in conversation with Rosamund.
“I was assured by Madame la Comtesse that I should see you to-day,” the French lady said as she swam to meet him; “it is a real pleasure”: and pressing his hand she continued, “but I fear you will be disappointed of seeing my sister. She would rashly try your climate at its worst period. Believe me, I do not join in decrying it, except on her account: I could have forewarned her of an English Winter and early Spring. You know her impetuosity; suddenly she decided on accepting the invitation of Madame la Comtesse; and though I have no fears of her health, she is at present a victim of the inclement weather.”
“You have seen her, madame?” said Beauchamp. So well had the clever lady played the dupe that he forgot there was a part for him to play. Even the acquiescence of Rosamund in the title of countess bewildered him.
“Madame d’Auffray has been sitting for an hour with Madame de Rouaillout,” said Rosamund.
He spoke of Roland’s coming.
“Ah?” said Madame d’Auffray, and turned to Rosamund: “you have determined to surprise us: then you will have a gathering of the whole family in your hospitable house, Madame la Comtesse.”
“If M. la Marquis will do it that honour, madame.”
“My brother is in London,” Madame d’Auffray said to Beauchamp.
The shattering blow was merited by one who could not rejoice that he had acted rightly.