Flor. Nay, sir, desist—these recollections shake your mind too strongly.
De Val. No, no—let me proceed. I can command myself—Florian! I wooed and won an angel for my bride—my expression is not a lover’s rhapsody—at this distant period, seriously I pronounce it—Eugenia approached as closely to perfection as the Creator has permitted to his creature! Such as she was, to say I loved her were imperfect phrase! my passion was enthusiasm—was idolatry! Our marriage-bed was early blessed with increase—and as my lip greeted with a father’s kiss the infant, my heart bounded with a new transport towards its mother.—My felicity seemed perfect! Now, Florian, mark! My country a second time called me to her battles; I left my kinsman, Longueville, to guard the dear-ones of my soul at home, then sped to join our army in a distant province. I was wounded and made prisoner by the enemy. When I recovered health and liberty, I found a rumour of my death had in the interval prevailed through France. I trembled lest Eugenia should receive the tale, and flew in person to prevent her terrors. It was evening when I reached the hills of Languedoc, and looked impatiently towards my cheerful home beneath. I looked—the last sunbeam glared redly upon smoking ruins! Oh! oh! the blood now chills and curdles round my heart—the wolves of war had rushed by night upon my slumbering fold—fire and sword had desolated all. I called upon my wife and my infant. I trembled on their ashes while I called! (he sinks back exhausted in his chair.)
Flo. Tremendous hour! so dire a shock might well have paralized a Roman firmness.
De Val. (resuming faintly.) Florian, there is a grief that never found its image yet in words. I prayed for death—nay, madness! but heaven, for its own best purposes, denied me either boon. I was ordained still to live, and still be conscious of my misery. For many weeks I wandered through the country, silent, sullen, stupified! My people watched, but dared not comfort me. Abjuring social life, I plunged into the deepest solitudes, to shun all commerce with my kind. ’Twas at the close of a sultry day, the last of August, that I entered a forest at the foot of the Cevennes, and worn with long fatigue and misery, stretched myself upon the moss for momentary rest. On the sudden, a faint and feeble moan pierced my ear; instinctively I moved the branches at my side, and at the foot of a rude stone-cross beheld a desolate infant, unnaturally left to perish in the wilderness! It was famishing—expiring. I raised it to my breast, and its little arms twined feebly round my neck Florian! thou wert heaven’s gracious instrument to reclaim a truant to his duties! Welcome! I cried to thee, young brother in adversity!—“thou art deserted by thy mortal parents, and my heavenly father has forsaken me!” From that moment I felt I had a motive left to cherish life, since my existence could be useful to a fellow-being—my wanderings finished, and I settled in Alsace. Eighteen years have followed that event; but I shall not comment on their course.
Flor. (with energy.) Yet, sir, those years must not, shall not pass forgotten. Deeds of generous charity have made them sacred, and an orphan’s blessing wafts their eulogy to heaven—he casts himself at De Valmont’s feet). Friend! protector! more than parent! the beings who had called me into life denied my claim, and you performed the duties nature had renounced. Ah! sir, I am thoughtless, volatile, my manners wild—but, from my inmost soul, I love, I reverence, I bless my benefactor!
De Val. Rise young man! your virtues have repaid my cares. Here let us dismiss the past, and advert to the future. Geraldine is my heiress; my niece and my vassals must receive the same master: both are objects of my care, and I would confide them only to a man of honor. Florian! let Geraldine become your wife—be you hereafter the protector of my people.
Flor. Merciful powers! what is it that I hear? I?—the child of accident and mystery: a wretched foundling: I?
De Val. Young man, your sentiments and your actions have proved themselves the legitimate offspring of honor, and I require no pedigree for limbs and features. Fortune forbade you to inherit a name, but she has granted you a prouder boast: you have founded one. Common men vaunt of the actions of their forefathers, but the superior spirit declares his own! Nay, no reply—I never form or break a resolution lightly. I know your heart: I am acquainted with Geraldine’s; they beat responsive to each other—your passion has my consent: your marriage shall receive my blessing. Farewell.
He exits suddenly, and prevents Florian by his action from any reply.
Flor. Heard I aright? Yes, he pronounced it—“Geraldine is thine.” Earth’s gross substantial touch is felt no more: I mount in air, and rest on sunbeams! Oh! if I dream now—royal Mab! abuse me ever with thy dear deceits; for in serious wakeful hours, truth ne’er can touch my senses with a joy so bright. O! I could sing, dance, laugh, shout; and yet methinks, had I a woman’s privilege, I’d rather weep; for tears are pleasure’s oracles as well as grief’s.