white lies-第1节

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White　Lies

by　Charles　Reade




CHAPTER　I。


Towards　the　close　of　the　last　century　the　Baron　de　Beaurepaire　lived　in　the　chateau　of　that　name　in　Brittany。　　His　family　was　of　prodigious　antiquity；　seven　successive　barons　had　already　flourished　on　this　spot　when　a　younger　son　of　the　house　accompanied　his　neighbor　the　Duke　of　Normandy　in　his　descent　on　England；　and　was　rewarded　by　a　grant　of　English　land；　on　which　he　dug　a　mote　and　built　a　chateau；　and　called　it　Beaurepaire　（the　worthy　Saxons　turned　this　into　Borreper　without　delay）。　　Since　that　day　more　than　twenty　gentlemen　of　the　same　lineage　had　held　in　turn　the　original　chateau　and　lands；　and　handed　them　down　to　their　present　lord。

Thus　rooted　in　his　native　Brittany；　Henri　Lionel　Marie　St。　Quentin　de　Beaurepaire　was　as　fortunate　as　any　man　can　be　pronounced　before　he　dies。　　He　had　health；　rank；　a　good　income；　a　fair　domain；　a　goodly　house；　a　loving　wife；　and　two　lovely　young　daughters；　all　veneration　and　affection。　　Two　months　every　year　he　visited　the　Faubourg　St。　Germain　and　the　Court。　　At　both　every　gentleman　and　every　lacquey　knew　his　name；　and　his　face：　his　return　to　Brittany　after　this　short　absence　was　celebrated　by　a　rustic　fete。

Above　all；　Monsieur　de　Beaurepaire　possessed　that　treasure　of　treasures；　content。　　He　hunted　no　heart…burns。　　Ambition　did　not　tempt　him；　why　should　he　listen　to　long　speeches；　and　court　the　unworthy；　and　descend　to　intrigue；　for　so　precarious　and　equivocal　a　prize　as　a　place　in　the　Government；　when　he　could　be　De　Beaurepaire　without　trouble　or　loss　of　self…respect？　　Social　ambition　could　get　little　hold　of　him；　let　parvenus　give　balls　half　in　doors；　half　out；　and　light　two　thousand　lamps；　and　waste　their　substance　battling　and　manoeuvring　for　fashionable　distinction；　he　had　nothing　to　gain　by　such　foolery；　nothing　to　lose　by　modest　living；　he　was　the　twenty…　ninth　Baron　of　Beaurepaire。　　So　wise；　so　proud；　so　little　vain；　so　strong　in　health　and　wealth　and　honor；　one　would　have　said　nothing　less　than　an　earthquake　could　shake　this　gentleman　and　his　house。　Yet　both　were　shaken；　though　rooted　by　centuries　to　the　soil；　and　by　no　vulgar　earthquake。

For　years　France　had　bowed　in　silence　beneath　two　galling　burdensa　selfish　and　corrupt　monarchy；　and　a　multitudinous；　privileged；　lazy；　and　oppressive　aristocracy；　by　whom　the　peasant　was　handled　like　a　Russian　serf。　　＇Said　peasant　is　now　the　principal　proprietor　of　the　soil。＇

The　lower　orders　rose　upon　their　oppressors；　and　soon　showed　themselves　far　blacker　specimens　of　the　same　breed。　　Law；　religion；　humanity；　and　common　sense；　hid　their　faces；　innocent　blood　flowed　in　a　stream；　and　terror　reigned。　　To　Monsieur　de　Beaurepaire　these　republicansmurderers　of　women；　children；　and　kingsseemed　the　most　horrible　monsters　nature　had　ever　produced；　he　put　on　black；　and　retired　from　society；　he　felled　timber；　and　raised　large　sums　of　money　upon　his　estate。　　And　one　day　he　mounted　his　charger；　and　disappeared　from　the　chateau。

Three　months　after　this；　a　cavalier；　dusty　and　pale；　rode　into　the　courtyard　of　Beaurepaire；　and　asked　to　see　the　baroness。　　She　came　to　him；　he　hung　his　head　and　held　her　out　a　letter。

It　contained　a　few　sad　words　from　Monsieur　de　Laroche…jaquelin。　　The　baron　had　just　fallen　in　La　Vendee；　fighting　for　the　Crown。

From　that　hour　till　her　death　the　baroness　wore　black。

The　mourner　would　have　been　arrested；　and　perhaps　beheaded；　but　for　a　friend；　the　last　in　the　world　on　whom　the　family　reckoned　for　any　solid　aid。　　Dr。　Aubertin　had　lived　in　the　chateau　twenty　years。　　He　was　a　man　of　science；　and　did　not　care　a　button　for　money；　so　he　had　retired　from　the　practice　of　medicine；　and　pursued　his　researches　at　ease　under　the　baron's　roof。　　They　all　loved　him；　and　laughed　at　his　occasional　reveries；　in　the　days　of　prosperity；　and　now；　in　one　great　crisis；　the　protege　became　the　protector；　to　their　astonishment　and　his　own。　　But　it　was　an　age　of　ups　and　downs。　　This　amiable　theorist　was　one　of　the　oldest　verbal　republicans　in　Europe。　　And　why　not？　　In　theory　a　republic　is　the　perfect　form　of　government：　it　is　merely　in　practice　that　it　is　impossible；　it　is　only　upon　going　off　paper　into　reality；　and　trying　actually　to　self…govern　limited　nations；　after　heating　them　white　hot　with　the　fire　of　politics　and　the　bellows　of　bombastthat　the　thing　resolves　itself　into　bloodshed　silvered　with　moonshine。

Dr。　Aubertin　had　for　years　talked　and　written　speculative　republicanism。　　So　they　applied　to　him　whether　the　baroness　shared　her　husband's　opinions；　and　he　boldly　assured　them　she　did　not；　he　added；　〃She　is　a　pupil　of　mine。〃　　On　this　audacious　statement　they　contented　themselves　with　laying　a　heavy　fine　on　the　lands　of　Beaurepaire。

Assignats　were　abundant；　but　good　mercantile　paper；　a　notorious　coward；　had　made　itself　wings　and　fled；　and　specie　was　creeping　into　strong　boxes　like　a　startled　rabbit　into　its　hole。　　The　fine　was　paid；　but　Beaurepaire　had　to　be　heavily　mortgaged；　and　the　loan　bore　a　high　rate　of　interest。　　This；　with　the　baron's　previous　mortgages；　swamped　the　estate。

The　baroness　sold　her　carriage　and　horses；　and　she　and　her　daughters　prepared　to　deny　themselves　all　but　the　bare　necessaries　of　life；　and　pay　off　their　debts　if　possible。　　On　this　their　dependants　fell　away　from　them；　their　fair…weather　friends　came　no　longer　near　them；　and　many　a　flush　of　indignation　crossed　their　brows；　and　many　an　aching　pang　their　hearts；　as　adversity　revealed　the　baseness　and　inconstancy　of　common　people　high　or　low。

When　the　other　servants　had　retired　with　their　wages；　one　Jacintha　remained　behind；　and　begged　permission　to　speak　to　the　baroness。

〃What　would　you　with　me；　my　child？〃　asked　that　lady；　with　an　accent　in　which　a　shade　of　surprise　mingled　with　great　politeness。

〃Forgive　me；　madame；〃　began　Jacintha；　with　a　formal　courtesy；　〃but　how　can　I　leave　you；　and　Mademoiselle　Josephine；　and　Mademoiselle　Rose？　　I　was　born　at　Beaurepaire；　my　mother　died　in　the　chateau：　my　father　died　in　the　village；　but　he　had　meat　every　day　from　the　baron's　own　table；　and　fuel　from　the　baron's　wood；　and　died　blessing　the　house　of　Beaurepaire。　　I　CANNOT　go。　　The　others　are　gone　because　prosperity　is　here　no　longer。　　Let　it　be　so；　I　will　stay　till　the　sun　shines　again　upon　the　chateau；　and　then　you　shall　send　me　away　if　you　are　bent　on　it；　but　not　now；　my　ladiesoh；　not　now！　　Oh！　oh！　oh！〃　　And　the　warm…hearted　girl　burst　out　sobbing　ungracefully。

〃My　child；〃　said　the　baroness；　〃these　sentiments　touch　me；　and　honor　you。　　But　retire；　if　you　please；　while　I　consult　my　daughters。〃

Jacintha　cut　her　sobs　dead　short；　and　retreated　with　a　formal　reverence。

The　consultation　consisted　of　the　baroness　opening　her　arms；　and　both　her　daughters　embracing　her　at　once。　　Proud　as　they　were；　they　wept　with　joy　at　having　made　one　friend　amongst　all　their　servants。　Jacintha　stayed。

As　months　rolled　on；　Rose　de　Beaurepaire　recovered　her　natural　gayety　in　spite　of　bereavement　and　poverty；　so　strong　are　youth；　and　health；　and　temperament。　　But　her　elder　sister　had　a　grief　all　her　own：　Captain　Dujardin；　a　gallant　young　officer；　well…born；　and　his　own　master；　had　courted　her　with　her　parents'　consent；　and；　even　when　the　baron　began　to　look　coldly　on　the　soldier　of　the　Republic；　young　Dujardin；　though　too　proud　to　encounter　the　baron's　irony　and　looks　of　scorn；　would　not　yield　love　to　pique。　　He　came　no　more　to　the　chateau；　but　he　would　wait　hours　and　hours　on　the　path　to　the　little　oratory　in　the　park；　on　the　bare　chance　of　a　passing　word　or　even　a　kind　look　from　Josephine。　　So　much　devotion　gradually　won　a　heart　which　in　happier　times　she　had　been　half　encouraged　to　give　him；　and；　when　he　left　her　on　a　military　service　of　uncommon　danger；　the　woman's　reserve　melted；　and；　in　that　moment　of　mutual　grief　and　passion；　she　vowed　she　loved　him　better　than　all　the　world。

Letters　from　the　camp　breathing　a　devotion　little　short　of　worship　fed　her　attachment；　and　more　than　one　public　mention　of　his　name　and　services　made　her　proud　as　well　as　fond　of　the　fiery　young　soldier。

Still　she　did　not　open　her　heart　to　her　parents。　　The　baron；　alive　at　that　time；　was　exasperated　against　the　Republic；　and　all　who　served　it；　and；　as　for　the　baroness；　she　was　of　the　old　school：　a　passionate　love　in　a　lady's　heart　before　marriage　was　contrary　to　her　notions　of　etiquette。　　Josephine　loved　Rose　very　tenderly；　but　shrank　with　modest　delicacy　from　making　her　a　confidante　of　feelings；　the　bare　relation　of　which　leaves　the　female　hearer　a　child　no　longer。

So　she　hid　her　heart；　and　delicious　first　love　nestled　deep　in　her　nature；　and　thrilled　in　every　secret　vein　and　fibre。

They　had　parted　two　years；　and　he　had　joined　the　army　of　the　Pyrenees　about　one　month；　when　suddenly　all　correspondence　ceased　on　his　part。

Restless　anxiety　rose　into　terror　as　this　silence　continued；　and　starting　and　trembling　at　every　sound；　and　edging　to　the　window　at　every　footstep；　Josephine　expected　hourly　the　tidings　of　her　lover's　death。

Months　rolled　on　in　silence。

Then　a　new　torture　came。　　He　must　not　be　dead　but　unfaithful。　　At　this　all　the　pride　of　her　race　was　fired　in　her。

The　struggle　between　love　and　ire　was　almost　t