Early in the morning, the young Marquis sought Donna Leonora, his mother, eager to learn if she had sanctioned the intimacy between the King and his wife. She confessed that she had done so, and her motives for the act; which, although it satisfied him that his wife was not so much to blame as he had suspected, did not lessen his anger against his sovereign, or cause him to alter any of the plans of revenge he had harboured in his bosom. His conduct towards the King, when told to his mother, caused that ambitious lady to hurry on events which might otherwise have been longer delayed; for feeling that the Monarch would take the earliest opportunity to punish the insolence of his subject, she determined to use her best endeavours to prevent his having the power to do so.
The young Marquis now returned home with rather a lighter heart; for though he had neglected her, he yet loved his beautiful wife, and was unwilling to part with her. He loved her, but his love was not deep; he had soon discovered that the ardent passion he had once felt was not returned; and though a woman may yet love on through coldness, neglect, and scorn, a man never can; his love depends on its being returned, and it is the perfect confidence that it is so which will alone cause his to endure beyond the first few months of possession.
When he entered his wife’s chamber, he found her seated at the toilet, pale and wan, for sleep had not that night visited her eyes. Too clearly had her fate been revealed to her. The dread future had spoken words of awful warning to her ears, but she, alas! had determined to close her senses to both.
“Theresa!” said her husband, kindly approaching her, “I wronged you; but let this be a warning to you. Whatever others may counsel, remember first to obey your husband’s wishes; and I do not choose to be sneered at, even for the sovereign’s sake, or to win the worthless state secrets which alone Carvalho is likely to confide to his puppet. From henceforth, therefore, when the King thinks fit to come to my palace, refuse to see him. Say such is your husband’s wish; if you obey me not, the consequence be on both your heads. Speak, Theresa, do you hear me?”
At these words of her husband’s, the countenance of Donna Theresa grew yet more pallid. Her voice trembled as she answered, “I cannot promise to obey a command which I may not have power to perform; but, my lord, do not give utterance to those dreadful threats, which you cannot—you dare not execute, for destruction would inevitably overwhelm you, and all engaged with you in them.”
“Let that care be mine,” exclaimed her husband. “The cause is in your hands. Should the King again visit this abode, and you send him not forthwith away, he dies! and his blood be on your head! If I fail, you will have mine to answer for.”
These threats increased yet more the agitation of the young Marchioness. She full well knew her husband was not a man to utter empty vows of vengeance; but could she consent to see no more the man she loved? Could she give up all her long-cherished hopes of power? Yet, if she disobeyed, what a dreadful alternative was presented to her—either she must warn the King of his danger, and thus be an accessory to her husband’s death, perhaps to the destruction of his family, or she must allow the former to run every risk of destruction! Such thoughts rushed tumultuously through her mind; but, alas! pride, ambition, and a fatal contempt of the warnings of her conscience, prevented her following the only secure, because the only right, course. When her husband quitted her, he had yet failed to draw a satisfactory promise from her that she would obey his orders; but he comforted himself with the idea that his threats would have their due effect. How vain were his hopes! What would have made a weak woman tremble, caused Donna Theresa only to persevere more daringly in her course.