CHAPTER X.
Josephine wrestled long and terribly with nature in that old oak-tree.But who can so struggle forever? Anguish, remorse, horror, despair, andlove wrenched her to and fro; and O mysterious human heart! gleams ofa mad fitful joy shot through her, coming quick as lightning, going asquickly, and leaving the despair darker. And then the fierce struggle ofthe soul to make itself heard! More than once she had to close her mouthwith her hand: more than once she seized her throat not to cry out. Butas the struggle endured, she got weaker and weaker, and nature mightierand mightier. And when the wounded hero fell on his knees so close toher; when he who had resisted death so bravely for her, prepared to giveup life calmly for her, her bosom rose beyond all control: it seemed tofill to choking, then to split wide open and give the struggling soulpassage in one gasping sob and heart-stricken cry. Could she have pentthis in she must have died.
It betrayed her. She felt it had: so then came the woman'sinstinct--flight: the coward's impulse--flight: the chaste wife'sinspiration--flight. She rushed from her hiding-place and made wildlyfor the house.
But, unluckily, Camille was at that moment darting round the tree: sheran right into the danger she meant to flee. He caught her in his arms.He held her irresistibly. "I have got her; I have got her," he shoutedin wild triumph. "No! I will not let you go. None but God shall evertake you from me, and he has spared you to me. You are not dead: youhave kept faith as I have: you have lived. See! look at me. I am alive,I am well, I am happy. I told Rose that I suffered. If I had sufferedI should remember it. It is all gone at sight of you, my love! my love!Oh, my Josephine! my love!"
His arm was firm round her waist. His glowing eyes poured love upon her.She felt his beating heart.
All that passed in her then, what mortal can say? She seemed two women:that part of her which could not get away from his strong arm lost allstrength to resist, it yielded and thrilled under his embrace, her bosomheaving madly: all that was free writhed away from him; her face wasaverted with a glare of terror, and both her hands put up between hiseyes and it.
"You turn away your head. Rose, she turns away. Speak for me. Scold her;for I don't know how to scold her. No answer from either; oh, what hasturned your hearts against me so?"
"Camille," cried Rose--the tears streaming down her cheeks--"my poorCamille! leave Beaurepaire. Oh, leave it at once."
Returned towards her with a look of inquiry.
At that Josephine, like some feeble but nimble wild creature on whoma grasp has relaxed, writhed away from him and got free: "Farewell!Farewell!" she cried, in despair's own voice, and made swiftly for thehouse.
Camille stood aghast, and did not follow her.
Now ere she had gone many steps who should meet her right in front butJacintha.
"Madame Raynal, the baroness's carriage is just in sight. I thoughtyou'd like to know." Then she bawled proudly to Rose, "I was the firstto call her madame;" and off went Jacintha convinced she had donesomething very clever.
This blow turned those three to stone.
Josephine had no longer the power or the wish to fly. "Better so," shethought, and she stood cowering.
The great passions that had spoken so loud were struck dumb, and a deepsilence fell upon the place. Madame Raynal's quivering eye turned slowlyand askant towards Camille, but stopped in terror ere it could see him.For she knew by this fearful stillness that the truth was creeping onCamille. And so did Rose.
At last Camille spoke one word in a low whisper.
"Madame?"
Dead silence.
"White? both in white?"
Rose came between him and Josephine, and sobbed out, "Camille, it wasour doing. We drove her to it. O sir, look how afraid of you she is. Donot reproach her, if you are a man."
He waved her out of his way as if she had been some idle feather, andalmost staggered up to Josephine.
"It is for you to speak, my betrothed: are you married?"
The poor creature, true to her nature, was thinking more of him thanherself. Even in her despair it flashed across her, "If he knew all, hetoo would be wretched for life. If I let him think ill of me he may behappy one day." She cowered the picture of sorrow and tongue-tied guilt.
"Are you a wife?"
"Yes."
He winced and quivered as if a bullet had pierced him.
"This is how I came to be suspected; she I loved was false."
"Yes, Camille."
"No, no!" cried Rose; "don't believe HER: she never suspected you. Wehave brought her to this, we alone."
"Be silent, Rose! oh, be silent!" gasped Josephine.
"I lived for you: I would have died for you; you could not even wait forme."
A low moan, but not a word of excuse.
"What can I do for you now?"
"Forget me, Camille," said she despairingly, doggedly.
"Forget you? never, never! there is but one thing I can do to show youhow I loved you: I will forgive you, and begone. Whither shall I go?whither shall I go now?"
"Camile, your words stab her."
"Let none speak but I," said Camille; "none but I have the right tospeak. Poor weak angel that loved yet could not wait: I forgive you. Behappy, if you can; I bid you be hap-py."
The quiet, despairing tones died away, and with them life seemed to endto her, and hope to go out. He turned his back quickly on her. He criedhoarsely, "To the army! Back to the army, and a soldier's grave!"Then with a prodigious effort he drew himself haughtily up in marchingattitude. He took three strides, erect and fiery and bold.
At the next something seemed to snap asunder in the great heart, and theworn body that heart had held up so long, rolled like a dead log uponthe ground with a tremendous fall.
White Lies Page 10
