White Lies

by Charles Reade

  CHAPTER XI.

  The baroness and Aubertin were just getting out of their carriage, whensuddenly they heard shrieks of terror in the Pleasaunce. They came withquaking hearts as fast as their old limbs would carry them. They foundRose and Josephine crouched over the body of a man, an officer.

  Rose was just tearing open his collar and jacket. Dard and Jacintha hadrun from the kitchen at the screams. Camille lay on his back, white andmotionless.

  The doctor was the first to come up. "Who! what is this? I seem to knowhis face." Then shaking his head, "Whoever it is, it is a bad case.Stand away, ladies. Let me feel his pulse."

  Whilst the old man was going stiffly down on one knee, Jacintha uttereda cry of terror. "See, see! his shirt! that red streak! Ah, ah! it isgetting bigger and bigger:" and she turned faint in a moment, and wouldhave fallen but for Dard.

  The doctor looked. "All the better," said he firmly. "I thought hewas dead. His blood flows; then I will save him. Don't clutch me so,Josephine; don't cling to me like that. Now is the time to show yourbreed: not turn sick at the sight of a little blood, like that foolishcreature, but help me save him."

  "Take him in-doors," cried the baroness.

  "Into our house, mamma?" gasped Rose; "no, no."

  "What," said the baroness, "a wounded soldier who has fought for France!leave him to lie and die outside my door: what would my son say to that?He is a soldier himself."

  Rose cast a hasty look at Josephine. Josephine's eyes were bent on theground, and her hands clenched and trembling.

  "Now, Jacintha, you be off," said the doctor. "I can't have cowardsabout him to make the others as bad. Go and stew down a piece of goodbeef for him. Stew it in red wine and water."

  "That I will: poor thing!"

  "Why, I know him," said the baroness suddenly; "it is an oldacquaintance, young Dujardin: you remember, Josephine. I used to suspecthim of a fancy for you, poor fellow! Why, he must have come here to seeus, poor soul."

  "No matter who it is; it is a man. Now, girls, have you courage, haveyou humanity? Then come one on each side of him and take hands beneathhis back, while I lift his head and Dard his legs."

  "And handle him gently whatever you do," said Dard. "I know what it isto be wounded."

  These four carried the lifeless burden very slowly and gently across thePleasaunce to the house, then with more difficulty and caution up thestairs.

  All the while the sisters' hands griped one another tight beneath thelifeless burden, and spoke to one another. And Josephine's arm upheldtenderly but not weakly the hero she had struck down. She avoided Rose'seye, her mother's, and even the doctor's: one gasping sob escaped her asshe walked with head half averted, and vacant, terror-stricken eyes, andher victim on her sustaining arm.

  The doctor selected the tapestried chamber for him as being most airy.Then he ordered the women out, and with Dard's help undressed the stillinsensible patient.

  Josephine sat down on the stairs in gloomy silence, her eyes on theground, like one waiting for her deathblow.

  Rose, sick at heart, sat silent too at some distance. At last she saidfaintly, "Have we done well?"

  "I don't know," said Josephine doggedly. Her eyes never left the ground.

  "We could not let him die for want of care."

  "He will not thank us. Better for him to die than live. Better for me."

  At this instant Dard came running down. "Good news, mesdemoiselles, goodnews! the wound runs all along; it is not deep, like mine was. He hasopened his eyes and shut them again. The dear good doctor stopped theblood in a twinkle. The doctor says he'll be bound to save him. I mustrun and tell Jacintha. She is taking on in the kitchen."

  Josephine, who had risen eagerly from her despairing posture, claspedher hands together, then lifted up her voice and wept. "He will live! hewill live!"

  When she had wept a long while, she said to Rose, "Come, sister, helpyour poor Josephine."

  "Yes, love, what shall we do?"

  "My duty," faltered Josephine. "An hour ago it seemed so sweet," andshe fell to weeping patiently again. They went to Josephine's room. Shecrept slowly to a wardrobe, and took out a gray silk dress.

  "Oh, never mind for to-day," cried Rose.

  "Help me, Rose. It is for myself as well; to remind me every moment I amMadame Raynal."

  They put the gray gown on her, both weeping patiently. It will be knownat the last day, all that honest women have suffered weeping silently inthis noisy world.

  Camille soon recovered his senses and a portion of his strength: thenthe irritation of his wound brought on fever. This in turn retiredbefore the doctor's remedies and a sound constitution, but it leftbehind it a great weakness and general prostration. And in this statethe fate of the body depends greatly on the mind.

  The baroness and the doctor went constantly to see him, and soothe him:he smiled and thanked them, but his eager eyes watched the door for onewho came not.

  When he got well enough to leave his bed the largest couch was sent upto him from the saloon; a kind hand lined the baron's silk dressing-gownfor him warm and soft and nice; and he would sit or lie on his couch, ortake two turns in the room leaning upon Rose's shoulder, and glad of thesupport; and he looked piteously in her eyes when she came and when shewent. Rose looked down; she could do nothing, she could say nothing.

  With his strength, Camille lost a portion of his pride: he pined for asight of her he no longer respected; pined for her, as the thirsty pinefor water in Sahara.

  At last one day he spoke out. "How kind you are to me, Rose! how kindyou all are--but one."

  He waited in hopes she would say something, but she held her tongue.

  "At least tell me why it is. Is she ashamed? Is she afraid?"

  "Neither."

  "She hates me: it is true, then, that we hate those whom we havewounded. Cruel, cruel Josephine! Oh, heart of marble against which myheart has wrecked itself forever!"

  "No, no! She is anything but cruel: but she is Madame Raynal."

  "Ah! I forgot. But have I no claim on her? Nearly four years she hasbeen my betrothed. What have I done? Was I ever false to her? I couldforgive her for what she has done to me, but she cannot forgive me. Doesshe mean never to see me again?"

  "Ask yourself what good could come of it."

  "Very well," said Camille, with a malicious smile. "I am in her way. Isee what she wants; she shall have it."

  Rose carried these words to Josephine. They went through her like asword.

  Rose pitied her. Rose had a moment's weakness.

  "Let us go to him," she said; "anything is better than this."

  "Rose, I dare not," was the wise reply.

  But the next day early, Josephine took Rose to a door outside the house,a door that had long been disused. Nettles grew before it. She produceda key and with great difficulty opened this door. It led to thetapestried chamber, and years ago they used to steal up it and peep intothe room.

  Rose scarcely needed to be told that she was to watch Camille, andreport to her. In truth, it was a mysterious, vague protection againsta danger equally mysterious. Yet it made Josephine easier. But sounflinching was her prudence that she never once could be prevailed onto mount those stairs, and peep at Camille herself. "I must starve myheart, not feed it," said she. And she grew paler and more hollow-eyedday by day.

  Yet this was the same woman who showed such feebleness and irresolutionwhen Raynal pressed her to marry him. But then dwarfs feebly drewher this way and that. Now giants fought for her. Between a feebleinclination and a feeble disinclination her dead heart had driftedto and fro. Now honor, duty, gratitude,--which last with her was apassion,--dragged her one way: love, pity, and remorse another.

  Not one of these giants would relax his grasp, and nothing yieldedexcept her vital powers. Yes; her temper, one of the loveliest Heavenever gave a human creature, was soured at times.

  Was it a wonder? There lay the man she loved pining for her; cursing herfor her cruelty, and alternately pra
ying Heaven to forgive him and tobless her: sighing, at intervals, all the day long, so loud, so deep, sopiteously, as if his heart broke with each sigh; and sometimes, for helittle knew, poor soul, that any human eye was upon him, casting asidehis manhood in his despair, and flinging himself on the very floor, andmuffling his head, and sobbing; he a hero.

  And here was she pining in secret for him who pined for her? "I am not awoman at all," said she, who was all woman. "I am crueller to him than atiger or any savage creature is to the victim she tears. I must cure himof his love for me; and then die; for what shall I have to live for? Heweeps, he sighs, he cries for Josephine."

  Her enforced cruelty was more contrary to this woman's nature than blackis to white, or heat to cold, and the heart rebelled furiously at times.As when a rock tries to stem a current, the water fights its way on moresides than one, so insulted nature dealt with Josephine. Not only didher body pine, but her nerves were exasperated. Sudden twitches cameover her, that almost made her scream. Her permanent state was utterdespondency, but across it came fitful flashes of irritation; and thenshe was scarce mistress of herself.

  Wherefore you, who find some holy woman cross and bitter, stop a momentbefore you sum her up vixen and her religion naught: inquire the historyof her heart: perhaps beneath the smooth cold surface of duties welldischarged, her life has been, or even is, a battle against someself-indulgence the insignificant saint's very blood cries out for: andso the poor thing is cross, not because she is bad, but because she isbetter than the rest of us; yet only human.

  Now though Josephine was more on her guard with the baroness than withRose, or the doctor, or Jacintha, her state could not altogether escapethe vigilance of a mother's eye.

  But the baroness had not the clew we have; and what a difference thatmakes! How small an understanding, put by accident or instruction on theright track, shall run the game down! How great a sagacity shall wanderif it gets on a false scent!

  "Doctor," said the baroness one day, "you are so taken up with yourpatient you neglect the rest of us. Do look at Josephine! She is ill,or going to be ill. She is so pale, and so fretful, so peevish, which isnot in her nature. Would you believe it, doctor, she snaps?"

  "Our Josephine snap? This is new."

  "And snarls."

  "Then look for the end of the world."

  "The other day I heard her snap Rose: and this morning she half snarledat me, just because I pressed her to go and console our patient. Hush!here she is. My child, I am accusing you to the doctor. I tell him youneglect his patient: never go near him."

  "I will visit him one of these days," said Josephine, coldly.

  "One of these days," said the baroness, shocked. "You used not to be sohard-hearted. A soldier, an old comrade of your husband's, woundedand sick, and you alone never go to him, to console him with a word ofsympathy or encouragement."

  Josephine looked at her mother with a sort of incredulous stare. Then,after a struggle, she replied with a tone and manner so spiteful and icythat it would have deceived even us who know her had we heard it. "Hehas plenty of nurses without me." She added, almost violently, "Myhusband, if he were wounded, would not have so many, perhaps not haveone."

  With this she rose and went out, leaving them aghast. She sat down inthe passage on a window-seat, and laughed hysterically. Rose heard herand ran to her. Josephine told her what her mother had said to her.Rose soothed her. "Never mind, you have your sister who understands you:don't you go back till they have got some other topic."

  Rose out of curiosity went in, and found a discussion going on. Thedoctor was fathoming Josephine, for the benefit of his companion.

  "It is a female jealousy, and of a mighty innocent kind. We are so takenup with this poor fellow, she thinks her soldier is forgotten."

  "Surely, doctor, our Josephine would not be so unreasonable, so unjust,"suggested her mother.

  "She belongs to a sex, be it said without offending you, madame, amongwhose numberless virtues justice does not fill a prominent place."

  The baroness shook her head. "That is not it. It is a piece of prudery.This young gentleman was a sort of admirer of hers, though she did notadmire him much, as far as I remember. But it was four years ago; andshe is married to a man she loves, or is going to love."

  "Well, but, mamma, a trifling excess of delicacy is surely excusable."This from Rose.

  "No, no; it is not delicacy; it is prudery. And when people are sick andsuffering, an honest woman should take up her charity and lay down herprudery, or her coquetry: two things that I suspect are the same thingin different shapes."

  Here Jacintha came in. "Mademoiselle, here is the colonel's broth;Madame Raynal has flavored it for him, and you are to take it up to him,and keep him company while he eats it."

  "Come," cried the baroness, "my lecture has not been lost."

  Rose followed Jacintha up-stairs.

  Rose was heart and head on Raynal's side.

  She had deceived him about Josephine's attachment, and felt all the moredesirous to guard him against any ill consequences of it. Then he hadbeen so generous to her: he had left her her sister, who would have goneto Egypt, and escaped this misery, but for her.

  But on the other hand,

  --Gentle pity Tugged at her heartstrings with complaining cries.

  This watching of Camille saddened even her. When she was with him hispride bore him up: but when he was alone as he thought, his anguish anddespair were terrible, and broke out in so many ways that often Roseshrank in terror from her peep hole.

  She dared not tell Josephine the half of what she saw: what she did tellher agitated her so terribly: and often Rose had it on the tip of hertongue to say, "Do pray go and see if you can say nothing that willdo him good;" but she fought the impulse down. This battle of feeling,though less severe than her sister's, was constant; it destroyed hergayety. She, whose merry laugh used to ring like chimes through thehouse, never laughed now, seldom smiled, and often sighed.

  Dr. Aubertin was the last to succumb to the deep depression, but histime came: and he had been for a day or two as grave and as sad as therest, when one day that Rose was absent, spying on Camille, he took thebaroness and Josephine into his confidence; and condescended finally toask their advice.

  "It is humiliating," said he, "after all my experience, to be obliged toconsult unprofessional persons. Forty years ago I should have been TOOWISE to do so. But since then I have often seen science baffled anduntrained intelligences throw light upon hard questions: and your sexin particular has luminous instincts and reads things by flashes thatwe men miss with a microscope. Our dear Madame Raynal suspected thatplausible notary, and to this day I believe she could not tell us why."

  Josephine admitted as much very frankly.

  "There you see," said the doctor. "Well, then, you must help me in thiscase. And this time I promise to treat your art with more respect."

  "And pray who is it she is to read now?" asked the baroness.

  "Who should it be but my poor patient? He puzzles me. I never knew apatient so faint-hearted."

  "A soldier faint-hearted!" exclaimed the baroness. "To be sure these menthat storm cities, and fire cannon, and cut and hack one another with somuch spirit, are poor creatures compared with us when they have to liequiet and suffer."

  The doctor walked the room in great excitement. "It is not his woundthat is killing him, there's something on his mind. You, Josephine,with your instincts do help me: do pray, for pity's sake, throw off thatsublime indifference you have manifested all along to this man's fate."

  "She has not," cried the baroness, firing up. "Did I not see her lininghis dressing-gown for him? and she inspects everything that he eats: doyou not?"

  "Yes, mother." She then suggested in a faltering voice that time wouldcure the patient, and time alone.

  "Time! you speak as if time was a quality: time is only a measure ofevents, favorable or unfavorable; it kills as many as it cures."
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br />   "Why, you surely would not imply his life is in any danger?" This wasthe baroness.

  "Madame, if the case was not grave, should I take this unusual step? Itell you if some change does not take place soon, he will be a dead manin another fortnight. That is all TIME will do for him."

  The baroness uttered an exclamation of pity and distress. Josephine puther hand to her bosom, and a creeping horror came over her, and then afaintness. She sat working mechanically, and turning like ice within.After a few minutes of this, she rose with every appearance of externalcomposure and left the room. In the passage she met Rose coming hastilytowards the salon laughing: the first time she had laughed this many aday. Oh, what a contrast between the two faces that met there--the onepale and horror stricken, the other rosy and laughing!

  "Well, dear, at last I am paid for all my trouble, and yours, by adiscovery; he never drinks a drop of his medicine; he pours it into theashes under the grate; I caught him in the fact."

  "Then this is too much: I can resist no longer. Come with me," saidJosephine doggedly.

  "Where?"

  "To him."