“No doubt,” she added, with an instinctive and natural feeling, never wholly or for a long time dormant—“no doubt, when the time comes which I look forward to with hope—the time when he will be restored to me, other regrets will revive. But then, his condemnation, only too certain, puts an end to all hope in that direction. The conspirator acquitted, or even pardoned, might win a heart in which love perhaps still pleads his cause; but the haughty Vera will never bestow a thought on the returned exile from Siberia. I resign myself, therefore—and, after all, Gabrielle is charming, and, as far as I know, he never loved any one else as well. You will perhaps say that a quick fire is soon extinguished in George's heart. I know that well, but it is very certain that this young girl's devotion is calculated to foster the love she has inspired, and even to revive it if deadened by the revolutionary tempest he has passed through. As for me, I know, if anything can make me endure this fearful separation, it is the thought that this beautiful and noble creature, who is better fitted than any one else to preserve him from despair, will be with him in his exile.”
In the princess' eyes, Gabrielle was, in spite of the pure generosity of her love, only a pis-aller, or rather she was only something relatively to herself. She overwhelmed her to-day with attentions and caresses as before she abruptly dismissed her, and as she would be quite ready to do again [pg 311] if a sudden turn of fortune brought about chances more favorable to her wishes. But, even if all these sentiments were evident, they could not change Gabrielle's determination or diminish her courage. Her fate was already united in heart to George's. Everything but this thought, and the anticipated joys and sacrifices connected with it, became indifferent to her. Calm and serene, she made all the preparations for her departure without haste or anxiety, and was equally mindful of her dear old friend, for whom she reserved the rich furs and all the other things which the princess had been careful to provide for herself as a protection against the cold.
The days, however, passed rapidly away, and as the time of separation approached, more courage was required for those she was to leave behind than for herself.
And when the farewell hour at length arrived, and she knelt in church with Clement, to utter a last prayer, the All-Seeing Eye saw to which of the two belonged at that moment the palm of devotedness and sacrifice.
Part Fourth. The Immolation.
L'amour vrai, c'est l'oubli de soi.
XLVIII.
Our travellers were already far away, having pursued their journey for more than twelve days without stopping. In spite of the increasing severity of the weather, Fleurange and her companion went as far as Berlin, and even beyond, without suffering from the cold—thanks to the numerous precautions taken by the princess to protect them from it. But at Königsberg they were obliged to leave the comfortable carriage in which they had travelled thus far, for they wished, above all things, to travel fast, and they had the Strand to cross (the only way to St. Petersburgh at that season), that is to say, the narrow tongue of sandy soil that extends along the Baltic as far as the arm of the sea which separates Prussia from Courland like a wide canal, and then forms the basin or inland lake of Kurishe Haff. This bounds the Strand at the right, whereas at the left its dreary coast is shut in between the sea and the high dunes of sand which ward off the winds from the scattered habitations of this desolate region, all situated so as to face the lake and turn their backs on the sea.
The princess' carriage remained, therefore, at Königsberg, to await the return of Fleurange's travelling companions. She took with her, however, the rich furs, so warm and light, with which she had been provided, to wrap around Mademoiselle Josephine, in spite of her resistance. As for herself, she reserved a cloak of sufficiently thick material to protect her from the cold, not wishing to accustom herself to comforts she must afterwards be deprived of.
The change from one carriage to another was promptly effected, and the small calèche in which they were closely seated was soon on its way over the Strand towards Memel, which they hoped to reach the same [pg 312] evening. Clement, in front, gazed with secret horror on the desolate aspect of nature. Everything around him seemed a fitting prelude to that Inferno of ice towards which he was escorting her whom he would gladly have sheltered from too rude a summer breeze.