"There was," said Consuelo, with a blush. "Usually this idea was not mingled with that of his love, to which it seemed strange: when it did arise, however, a deathly chill passed through my veins."
"And the breath of the man you call Leverani inspired you with new life?"
"That, too, is true. Should not such instincts be stifled by our will?"
"Why? Has God suggested them for nothing? Has he authorised you to abjure your sex, and to pronounce in marriage either the vestal vow or the more degrading asseveration of slavery. The passiveness of slavery has something like the coldness and degradation of prostitution. Did God intend any being should be so degraded? Woe to the children sprung from such unions! God inflicts some disgrace on them; their organization is either incomplete, or they are delirious or stupid. They do not belong altogether to humanity, not having been begotten according to that law of humanity which requires reciprocity of ardor and a community of feeling between man and woman. Where that reciprocity is not, there is no equality; where equality is crushed, there is no real union. Be sure, then, that God, far from commanding your sex to make such sacrifices, forbids and refuses them the right to make them. Such a suicide is base, and far more cowardly than the renunciation of life. The vow of continence is inhuman and anti-social, but continence with love is monstrous. Deflect, Consuelo, and if you persist in thus annihilating yourself, think on the part you assign your husband, should he adopt it without understanding your submission. Unless he be deceived, I can assure you he will never receive you: deceived, however, by your devotion, intoxicated by your generosity, would he not seem to you either strangely selfish or egotistical? Would you not degrade him in your eyes, as you really would in the presence of God, by thus ensnaring his candor and making it almost impossible for him not to succumb? Where would his grandeur and delicacy be, did he not read the pallor of your lips and the tears in your eyes? Can you flatter yourself that hatred would not enter your heart in spite of yourself, mingled with shame and regret at not having been understood or comprehended? No: woman, you have no right to deceive the love in your bosom; you would rather have a right to suppress it. Whatever cynics and philosophers say in relation to the passive condition of the feminine sex in the order of nature, what always will distinguish man from brutes, will be discernment in love and the right to choose. Vanity and cupidity makes the majority of marriages sworn prostitution, as the old Lollards called it. Devotion and generosity alone can guide the heart to such results. Virgin, it has been my duty to instruct you in delicate matters, which the purity of your life prevented you from foreseeing or analysing. When a mother marries her daughter, she reveals to her a portion of what she has hitherto concealed, with more or less prudence and wisdom. You had no mother when you pronounced, with an enthusiasm which was rather fanatical than human, an oath to belong to a man whom you loved in an incomplete manner. A mother—given you to-day to assist and enlighten you in your new relations at the hour of the divorce or definitive sanction of this strange marriage—this mother, Consuelo, is myself; for I am not a man but a woman."
"You a woman!" said Consuelo, looking with surprise at the thin and blue, but delicate and really feminine hand which during this discourse had taken possession of hers.
"This pale and broken old man," said the strange confessor, "this suffering old being (whose stifled voice no longer indicated her sex) is a woman overpowered by grief, disease, and anxiety rather than by age. I am not more than sixty, Consuelo, though in this dress, which I wear only as an Invisible, I seem an ill-tempered octogenarian. In other particulars, as in this, I am but a ruin; yet I was a tall, healthy-looking, beautiful and an imposing woman. At thirty I was already bent, and trembling as you see me. Would you know, my child, the cause of this decay? It was a misfortune, from which I wish to preserve you—an incomplete love, an unfortunate attachment, a terrible effort of courage and resignation, which for ten years bound me to a man I esteemed, but could not love. A man would not have been able to tell you what are the sacred rights and true duties of a woman in love. They made their laws and ideas without consulting us. I have, however, often enlightened the minds of my associates in this particular, and they have had the courage and nerve to hear me. Believe me, I was aware if they did not place themselves in direct contact with you, they would not have the key to your heart, and would perhaps condemn you to complete degradation, to endless suffering, whilst your virtue looked for happiness. Now, open your heart to me, Consuelo. Do you love Leverani?"
"Alas! I love him. The fact is but too true," said Consuelo, placing the hand of the mysterious sybil on her lip. "His presence terrifies me more than Albert's did. This terror, however, is mixed with strange pleasures. His arms are a magnet which attracts me to him; and when his lips press my brow, I am transported to another world, where I live and breathe differently from here."
"Well, Consuelo, you must love this man, and forget Albert. Now I pronounce the divorce: it is my duty and my right to do so."
"Whatsoever you may say, I cannot submit to this sentence until I have seen Albert—until he has spoken to and renounced me without regret—until he relieves me from my promise without contempt."
"Either you do not know Albert, or you fear him. I know him, and have a stronger claim on him than on yourself, and can speak in his name. We are alone, Consuelo, and I can open my heart to you, that not being forbidden. Although I belong to the supreme council of the Invisibles, their nearest disciples shall never know me. My situation and yours are, however, peculiar. Look at my withered face, and see if my features are not familiar to you."