lucile-第9节

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　rested　Unreclaim'd　in　your　hands。〃　　A　reproach　seem'd　suggested　By　these　words。　　To　meet　it；　Lord　Alfred　look'd　up　（His　gaze　had　been　fix'd　on　a　blue　Sevres　cup　With　a　look　of　profound　connoisseurshipa　smile　Of　singular　interest　and　care；　all　this　while。）　He　look'd　up；　and　look'd　long　in　the　face　of　Lucile；　To　mark　if　that　face　by　a　sign　would　reveal　At　the　thought　of　Miss　Darcy　the　least　jealous　pain。　He　look'd　keenly　and　long；　yet　he　look'd　there　in　vain。　〃You　are　generous；　Madam；〃　he　murmur'd　at　last；　And　into　his　voice　a　light　irony　pass'd。　He　had　look'd　for　reproaches；　and　fully　arranged　His　forces。　　But　straightway　the　enemy　changed　The　position。


XIII。


　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃Come！〃　gayly　Lucile　interposed；　With　a　smile　whose　divinely　deep　sweetness　disclosed　Some　depth　in　her　nature　he　never　had　known；　While　she　tenderly　laid　her　light　hand　on　his　own；　〃Do　not　think　I　abuse　the　occasion。　　We　gain　Justice；　judgment；　with　years；　or　else　years　are　in　vain。　From　me　not　a　single　reproach　can　you　hear。　I　have　sinn'd　to　myselfto　the　worldnay；　I　fear　To　you　chiefly。　　The　woman　who　loves　should；　indeed；　Be　the　friend　of　the　man　that　she　loves。　　She　should　heed　Not　her　selfish　and　often　mistaken　desires；　But　his　interest　whose　fate　her　own　interest　inspires；　And　rather　than　seek　to　allure；　for　her　sake；　His　life　down　the　turbulent；　fanciful　wake　Of　impossible　destinies；　use　all　her　art　That　his　place　in　the　world　find　its　place　in　her　heart。　I；　alas！I　perceived　not　this　truth　till　too　late；　I　tormented　your　youth；　I　have　darken'd　your　fate。　Forgive　me　the　ill　I　have　done　for　the　sake　Of　its　long　expiation！〃


XIV。


　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Lord　Alfred；　awake；　Seem'd　to　wander　from　dream　on　to　dream。　　In　that　seat　Where　he　sat　as　a　criminal；　ready　to　meet　His　accuser；　he　found　himself　turn'd　by　some　change；　As　surprising　and　all　unexpected　as　strange；　To　the　judge　from　whose　mercy　indulgence　was　sought。　All　the　world's　foolish　pride　in　that　moment　was　naught；　He　felt　all　his　plausible　theories　posed；　And；　thrill'd　by　the　beauty　of　nature　disclosed　In　the　pathos　of　all　he　had　witness'd；　his　head　He　bow'd；　and　faint　words　self…reproachfully　said；　As　he　lifted　her　hand　to　his　lips。　　'Twas　a　hand　White；　delicate；　dimpled；　warm；　languid；　and　bland。　The　hand　of　a　woman　is　often；　in　youth；　Somewhat　rough；　somewhat　red；　somewhat　graceless；　in　truth；　Does　its　beauty　refine；　as　its　pulses　grow　calm；　Or　as　Sorrow　has　cross'd　the　life…line　in　the　palm？


XV。


The　more　that　he　look'd；　that　he　listen'd；　the　more　He　discover'd　perfections　unnoticed　before。　Less　salient　than　once；　less　poetic；　perchance；　This　woman　who　thus　had　survived　the　romance　That　had　made　him　its　hero；　and　breathed　him　its　sighs；　Seem'd　more　charming　a　thousand　times　o'er　to　his　eyes。　Together　they　talk'd　of　the　years　since　when　last　They　parted；　contrasting　the　present；　the　past。　Yet　no　memory　marr'd　their　light　converse。　　Lucile　Question'd　much；　with　the　interest　a　sister　might　feel；　Of　Lord　Alfred's　new　life；of　Miss　Darcyher　face；　Her　temper；　accomplishmentspausing　to　trace　The　advantage　derived　from　a　hymen　so　fit。　Of　herself；　she　recounted　with　humor　and　wit　Her　journeys；　her　daily　employments；　the　lands　She　had　seen；　and　the　books　she　had　read；　and　the　hands　She　had　shaken。　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　In　all　that　she　said　there　appear'd　An　amiable　irony。　　Laughing；　she　rear'd　The　temple　of　reason；　with　ever　a　touch　Of　light　scorn　at　her　work；　reveal'd　only　so　much　As　their　gleams；　in　the　thyrsus　that　Bacchanals　bear；　Through　the　blooms　of　a　garland　the　point　of　a　spear。　But　above；　and　beneath；　and　beyond　all　of　this；　To　that　soul；　whose　experience　had　paralyzed　bliss；　A　benignant　indulgence；　to　all　things　resign'd；　A　justice；　a　sweetness；　a　meekness　of　mind；　Gave　a　luminous　beauty；　as　tender　and　faint　And　serene　as　the　halo　encircling　a　saint。


XVI。


Unobserved　by　Lord　Alfred　the　time　fleeted　by。　To　each　novel　sensation　spontaneously　He　abandon'd　himself　with　that　ardor　so　strange　Which　belongs　to　a　mind　grown　accustom'd　to　change。　He　sought；　with　well…practised　and　delicate　art；　To　surprise　from　Lucile　the　true　state　of　her　heart；　But　his　efforts　were　vain；　and　the　woman；　as　ever；　More　adroit　than　the　man；　baffled　every　endeavor。　When　he　deem'd　he　had　touch'd　on　some　chord　in　her　being；　At　the　touch　it　dissolved；　and　was　gone。　　Ever　fleeing　As　ever　he　near　it　advanced；　when　he　thought　To　have　seized；　and　proceeded　to　analyze　aught　Of　the　moral　existence；　the　absolute　soul；　Light　as　vapor　the　phantom　escaped　his　control。


XVII。


From　the　hall；　on　a　sudden；　a　sharp　ring　was　heard。　In　the　passage　without　a　quick　footstep　there　stirr'd；　At　the　door　knock'd　the　negress；　and　thrust　in　her　head；　〃The　Duke　de　Luvois　had　just　enter'd；〃　she　said；　〃And　insisted〃　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃The　Duke！〃　cried　Lucile　（as　she　spoke；　The　Duke's　step；　approaching；　a　light　echo　woke）。　〃Say　I　do　not　receive　till　the　evening。　　Explain；〃　As　she　glanced　at　Lord　Alfred；　she　added　again；　〃I　have　business　of　private　importance。〃　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　There　came　O'er　Lord　Alfred　at　once；　at　the　sound　of　that　name；　An　invincible　sense　of　vexation。　　He　turn'd　To　Lucile；　and　he　fancied　he　faintly　discern'd　On　her　face　an　indefinite　look　of　confusion。　On　his　mind　instantaneously　flash'd　the　conclusion　That　his　presence　had　caused　it。　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　He　said；　with　a　sneer　Which　he　could　not　repress；　〃Let　not　ME　interfere　With　the　claims　on　your　time；　lady！　when　you　are　free　From　more　pleasant　engagements；　allow　me　to　see　And　to　wait　on　you　later。〃　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The　words　were　not　said　Ere　he　wish'd　to　recall　them。　　He　bitterly　read　The　mistake　he　had　made　in　Lucile's　flashing　eye。　Inclining　her　head　as　in　haughty　reply；　More　reproachful　perchance　than　all　utter'd　rebuke；　She　said　merely；　resuming　her　seat；　〃Tell　the　Duke　He　may　enter。〃　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　And　vex'd　with　his　own　words　and　hers；　Alfred　Vargrave　bow'd　low　to　Lucile　de　Nevers；　Pass'd　the　casement　and　enter'd　the　garden。　　Before　His　shadow　was　fled　the　Duke　stood　at　the　door。


XVIII。


When　left　to　his　thoughts　in　the　garden　alone；　Alfred　Vargrave　stood；　strange　to　himself。　　With　dull　tone　Of　importance；　through　cities　of　rose　and　carnation；　Went　the　bee　on　his　business　from　station　to　station。　The　minute　mirth　of　summer　was　shrill　all　around；　Its　incessant　small　voices　like　stings　seem'd　to　sound　On　his　sore　angry　sense。　　He　stood　grieving　the　hot　Solid　sun　with　his　shadow；　nor　stirr'd　from　the　spot。　The　last　look　of　Lucile　still　bewilder'd；　perplex'd；　And　reproach'd　him。　　The　Duke's　visit　goaded　and　vex'd。　He　had　not　yet　given　the　letters。　　Again　He　must　visit　Lucile。　　He　resolved　to　remain　Where　he　was　till　the　Duke　went。　　In　short；　he　would　stay；　Were　it　only　to　know　when　the　Duke　went　away。　But　just　as　he　form'd　this　resolve；　he　perceived　Approaching　towards　him；　between　the　thick…leaved　And　luxuriant　laurels；　Lucile　and　the　Duke。　Thus　surprised；　his　first　thought　was　to　seek　for　some　nook　Whence　he　might；　unobserved；　from　the　garden　retreat。　They　had　not　yet　seen　him。　　The　sound　of　their　feet　And　their　voices　had　warn'd　him　in　time。　　They　were　walking　Towards　him。　　The　Duke　（a　true　Frenchman）　was　talking　With　the　action　of　Talma。　　He　saw　at　a　glance　That　they　barr'd　the　sole　path　to　the　gateway。　　No　chance　Of　escape　save　in　instant　concealment！　　Deep…dipp'd　In　thick　foliage；　an　arbor　stood　near。　　In　he　slipp'd；　Saved　from　sight；　as　in　front　of　that　ambush　they　pass'd；　Still　conversing。　　Beneath　a　laburnum　at　last　They　paused；　and　sat　down　on　a　bench　in　the　shade；　So　close　that　he　could　not　but　hear　what　they　said。


XIX。


LUCILE。

Duke；　I　scarcely　conceive　。　。　。

LUVOIS。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Ah！　forgive！　。　。　。　I　desired　So　deeply　to　see　you　to…day。　　You　retired　So　early　last　night　from　the　ball　。　。　。　this　whole　week　I　have　seen　you　pale；　silent；　preoccupied　。　。　。　speak；　Speak；　Lucile；　and　forgive　me！　。　。　。　I　know　that　I　am　A　rash　foolbut　I　love　you！　I　love　you；　Madame。　More　than　language　can　say！　　Do　not　deem；　O　Lucile；　That　the　love　I　no　longer　have　strength　to　conceal　Is　a　passing　caprice！　　It　is　strange　to　my　nature；　It　has　made　me；　unknown　to　myself；　a　new　creature。　I　implore　you　to　sanction　and　save　the　new　life　Which　I　lay　at　your　feet　with　this　prayerBe　my　wife　Stoop；　and　raise　me！　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Lord　Alfred　could　scarcely　restrain　The　sudden；　acute　pang　of　anger　and　pain　With　which　he　had　heard　this。　　As　though　to　some　wind　The　leaves　of　the　hush'd；　windless　laurels　behind　The　two　thus　in　converse　were　suddenly　stirr'd。　The　sound　half　betrayed　him。　　They　started。　　He　heard　The　low　voice　of　Lucile；　but　so　faint　was　its　tone　That　her　answer　escaped　him。　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Luvois　hurried　on；　As　though　in　remonstrance　with　what　had　been　spoken。　〃Nay；　I　know　it；　Lucile！　but　your　heart　was　not　broken　By　the　trial　in　which　all　its　fibres　were　proved。　Love；　perchance；　you　mistrust；　yet　you　need　to　be　loved。　You　mistake　your　own　feelings。　　I　fear　you　mistake　What　so　ill　I　interpret；　those　feelings　which　make　Words　like　these　vague　and　feeble。　　Whatever　your　heart　May　have　suffer'd　of　yore；　this　can　only　impart　A　pity　profound　to　the　love　which　I　fee