Yes: terrible—terrible were the feelings which Laura’s husband experienced for the six or eight minutes that this scene lasted. There was a woman whose beauty excited universal admiration,—a woman in all the splendour of female loveliness;—and this woman was his wife—his own wedded wife,—a wife whom he could rush forward and claim in a moment, if he chose! And that woman was now coquetting before his eyes—coquetting with a studied purpose to annoy him. Oh! he could understand it all,—the means which had been adopted to induce him and his two companions to proceed to the Champs Elysées at that hour—the pretended accident of the parasol—and the smiles and tender looks which Laura now bestowed upon one who was entirely a stranger to her:—yes—all, all was now clear to Charles Hatfield,—and he was on the point of springing forward—not to catch Laura to his breast and claim her as his spouse—but to upbraid and expose her,—when he suddenly recollected that a portion of the agreement entered into between his father and her, was to the effect that she likewise was to be secure against molestation or recognition on his part, as well as he on hers. This reminiscence compelled the unhappy young man to restrain his feelings; and as he was forced to subdue his ire, his jealousy only became the more painful, because it required a vent of some kind or another. He writhed—he positively writhed before her eyes;—and now he was humiliated as well as tortured to such an intolerable degree!
Laura had cast down her looks and had called up a blush to her smooth cheeks, when she made to the handsome Castelcicalan the remark that we have last recorded: but almost immediately afterwards she raised her countenance again, and smiling with an archness so enchantingly sweet that it would have moved the rigid features of an octogenarian anchorite to admiration, she said: “At all events, signor, should I visit Montoni in the course of this summer, my stay would be very short—for I purpose to become a great traveller, and to travel very rapidly also. To-morrow I set out for Vienna.”
“Vienna!” repeated the Castelcicalan, in astonishment. “Surely Paris possesses greater attractions than the cold, dull, formal Austrian capital?”
“Oh! of that I must judge for myself,” exclaimed Laura, laughing—at the same time showing by her manner that she thought their conversation had lasted long enough.
The young Italian was too well-bred to attempt to detain her: but it was nevertheless with evident reluctance that he stepped back from the carriage-door and raised his hat in farewell salutation. Laura inclined her head gracefully in acknowledgment of his courtesy, and the vehicle drove on rapidly, the way before it being now comparatively clear.
Oh! what triumph was in her heart, as she threw herself back in the carriage and reflected upon all the incidents of the scene that had just occurred,—a scene which had not occupied ten minutes, and which had nevertheless stirred up so many and such varied feelings! Her vanity had been gratified by the homage paid to her beauty; and her malignity had for the time been assuaged by the contemplation of the almost mortal agonies endured by her husband. She had asserted the empire of her charms over even the very heart that ought to cherish hatred against her: she had inspired with the maddest jealousy the soul that was bound to think of her with loathing and abhorrence. She felt all the pride of a woman wielding a sceptre more despotic than that of a queen,—a sceptre which was as a magic wand in her hand, casting spells upon even those who detested, as well as those who admired her!
CHAPTER CLXIII.
LAURA AND ROSALIE.
Yes—it was a great triumph for Laura Mortimer,—a triumph all the greater, inasmuch as she knew that the agitation and rage of her husband could not speedily pass away; and that, when his friends had leisure to observe his emotions and seek an explanation, he would not dare to afford them any!
She had, moreover, made statements to the young Castelcicalan which he would doubtless repeat to Charles Hatfield, whom they were well calculated to mystify relative to her future proceedings; for the reader scarcely requires to be told that she had not the slightest intention to repair to Vienna nor to visit Italy.