"He is too noble," said Josephine, "and too wise.For, if he did, Ishould respect him less, and my husband more than I do--if possible."Certainly Camille was not the sort of nature that detracts, but the reason he avoided Raynal's name was simply that his whole internal battle was to forget such a man existed.From this dream he was rudely awakened every hour since he joined the family, and the wound his self-deceiving heart would fain have skinned over, was torn open.But worse than this was the torture of being tantalized.He was in company with Josephine, but never alone.Even if she left the room for an instant, Rose accompanied her and returned with her.
Camille at last began to comprehend that Josephine had decided there should be no private interviews between her and him.Thus, not only the shadow of the absent Raynal stood between them, but her mother and sister in person, and worst of all, her own will.He called her a cold-blooded fiend in his rage.Then the thought of all her tenderness and goodness came to rebuke him.But even in rebuking it maddened him."Yes, it is her very nature to love; but since she can make her heart turn whichever way her honor bids, she will love her husband; she does not now; but sooner or later she will.Then she will have children--(he writhed with anguish and fury at this thought)--loving ties between him and her.He has everything on his side.I, nothing but memories she will efface from her heart.Will efface? She must have effaced them, or she could not have married him." I know no more pitiable state of mind than to love and hate the same creature.But when the two feelings are both intense, and meet in an ardent bosom, such a man would do well to spend a day or two upon his knees, praying for grace divine.For he who with all his soul loves and hates one woman is next door to a maniac, and is scarcely safe an hour together from suicide or even from homicide;this truth the newspapers tell us, by examples, every month; but are wonderfully little heeded, because newspapers do not, nor is it their business to, analyze and dwell upon the internal feelings of the despairing lover, whose mad and bloody act they record.With such a tempest in his heart did Camille one day wander into the park.And soon an irresistible attraction drew him to the side of the stream that flowed along one side of it.He eyed it gloomily, and wherever the stagnant water indicated a deeper pool than usual he stopped, and looked, and thought, "How calm and peaceful you are!"He sat down at last by the water-side, his eyes bent on a calm, green pool.
It looked very peaceful; and it could give peace.He thought, oh!
what a blessing; to be quit of rage, jealousy, despair, and life, all in a minute!
Yet that was a sordid death for a soldier to die, who had seen great battles.Could he not die more nobly than that? With this he suddenly felt in his pocket; and there sure enough fate had placed his pistols.He had put them into this coat; and he had not worn this coat until to-day.He had armed himself unconsciously."Ah!"said he; "it is to be; all these things are preordained." (This notion of fate has strengthened many a fatal resolution.) Then he had a cruel regret.To die without a word; a parting word.Then he thought to himself, it was best so; for perhaps he should have taken her with him.
"Sir! colonel!" uttered a solemn voice behind him.
Absorbed and strung up to desperation as he was, this voice seemed unnaturally loud, and discordant with Camille's mood; a sudden trumpet from the world of small things.
It was Picard, the notary.
"Can you tell me where Madame Raynal is?""No.At the chateau, I suppose."
"She is not there; I inquired of the servant.She was out.You have not seen her, colonel?""Not I; I never see her."
"Then perhaps I had better go back to the chateau and wait for her:
stay, are you a friend of the family? Colonel, suppose I were to tell you, and ask you to break it to Madame Raynal, or, better still, to the baroness, or Mademoiselle Rose.""Monsieur," said Camille coldly, "charge me with no messages, for Icannot deliver them.I AM GOING ANOTHER WAY.""In that case, I will go to the chateau once more; for what I have to say must be heard."Picard returned to the chateau wondering at the colonel's strange manner.
Camille, for his part, wondered that any one could be so mad as to talk to him about trifles; to him, a man standing on the brink of eternity.Poor soul, it was he who was mad and unlucky.He should have heard what Picard had to say.The very gentleness and solemnity of manner ought to have excited his curiosity.
He watched Picard's retiring form.When he was out of sight, then he turned round and resumed his thoughts as if Picard had been no more than a fly that had buzzed and then gone.
